He threw his keys on the stand by the door, heeled off his shoes, came through the foyer into the living room where the lights were down low. I was curled on the sofa in sweats and cushy socks, with a laptop and a cup of hot cocoa.
“How did you know about Gloria Orr?” he asked. No hello, or how are you holding up, or so much as a kiss. My alarm bells started jangling.
“She was the missing member from the support group. No one’s heard from her in three days. I told you that. And my stuff said her name in my head. So I found her address on the net and went to see her. Found her dead.”
“Looks like an overdose,” he said.
“Not according to Gloria.”
He closed his eyes slow. I could see the strain on his face. He didn’t have lines around his mouth, he had dimples. This was not the Mason I was used to seeing.
“I asked ‘who killed you,’ and she said, ‘not just me.’ That was all I got. Other than the medallion–”
“Matched the one in the professor’s car, and in the photo of Ivy Newman,” he said. “I saw that, too.” He wasn’t right. I felt it.
“I made you cocoa. Well, I dumped the packet into the mug. Water’s still hot.”
He nodded, but didn’t move to go to the kitchen to get it. He looked dead on his feet. I got up, set my mug on the coffee table and went over to him. “Hey, are you okay?”
He pressed his lips, looked away a little, tried to talk and then had to swallow before he could get a word out. “I think Jeremy knows, Rache. I think somehow, he already knows.”
“Knows what?” I knew the answer before I finished the question. “You mean about Eric?”
He nodded. “I said we’d tell him everything as soon as he’s back home. But I think he already knows.”
The breath left my lungs like it was evacuating the place. “This was probably inevitable.”
“Probably.” He sank onto the sofa, pulled my laptop around to face him. I hadn’t bothered closing it. “What’s all this?”
“Medallion research. The image is Nemesis, Goddess of Vengeance. Also known as Rhamnousia, which I gather also translates to Goddess of Vengeance.”
He glanced quickly my way, then back to the images I’d pulled up. In some of them, the goddess was winged. In some she carried a set of scales. But in all of them, she wielded a double-edged sword and was apparently very pissed off.
I wandered to the kitchen, poured hot water into his mug, and carried it back, stirring as I went.
“This links Gloria Orr to the murders.”
“Links all of them to the murders,” I said. “Potentially, anyway.” I handed him the mug and sat down beside him, leaning over him to click through the photos I’d taken. “I think almost all the group members wear one. Look, see? Several of them are wearing chains around their necks. Ivy’s is the only one with the medallion visible. The rest are tucked into their blouses.”
His brows bent and he leaned closer to the screen.
“I’ve been mulling this all afternoon. This is a support group for victims of childhood sexual assault, all of them wearing a symbol of retribution.”
“They’re vigilantes,” he said.
“Maybe not all of them. Otherwise, why would Gloria be dead?”
“She couldn’t handle the guilt.”
“No. I said suicide and she screamed in my ear, ‘No fucking way’.”
He looked at me, waited, like he thought I’d say more. Then he said, “Is that everything?”
I frowned.
“Did you take anything from the crime scene? Or leave anything behind?”
“No.”
“Did anyone see you there?”
“I don’t think so. No one but Amy, at least.”
“Have you talked to Ivy about this?”
“Ivy? Why the hell would I talk to Ivy about this?”
He stared at me for a long moment, not answering, and I rose slowly from the sofa. “Mason, why the third degree?”
“I’m just asking, Rache. I’m Just asking.”
“And I’m just answering. No. I have not talked to Ivy about this.”
He nodded slowly, then said, “If they all have the same pendant, then we just need to figure out which one is missing to know who killed the professor.”
“And who killed all the others,” I said.
“Not all the others. Ivy killed Dwayne,” he said. “You know it and I know it.” He took out his phone and started tapping its screen.
Inner Bitch said, Doesn’t matter what you know. It’s what you can prove.
And we don’t have a shred of evidence against Ivy, I thought back. NFP is inadmissible.
We arrived in the courtroom promptly, and sat right behind Jeremy and Celia Moon. The District Attorney presenting the case was not a Rachel de Luca fan. He had expressed the opinion online that my books were bullshit, to which I had replied something along the lines of, “you wouldn’t know a good book if I smacked you upside the head with one, which I’d be happy to prove, should we ever meet.”
I shouldn’t have done that, especially considering that I used to think the same thing about my books.
We all rose as the judge walked in. Jeremy looked back at us, and it was a knife in my heart to see the fear in his eyes. He was scared shitless.
“Be seated.” The judge was a large black man who looked like a body builder, had close cropped salt and pepper hair, and square framed red glasses. I loved that particular style choice.
“I’ve seen the evidence and I’m ready to set bail, unless either side has anything to add. Counsel?”
Celia Moon rose from her chair. “Your honor, we have several witnesses who say the professor provoked Mr. Brown deliberately. We want to reiterate that my client is profusely sorry for losing his temper, but also that punching someone who richly deserves it does not indicate a capacity for murder.”
“Oh, come on! His DNA was found in the car, your honor!” The prosecutor didn’t even get up on his feet.
They have DNA? Holy fuck.
“Transferred from the professor himself when he got in immediately after a physical altercation with my client,” Moon stated.
“And what about the other victims?” the prosecutor snapped. Still not getting up, acting like he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.
“Other victims?” Judge Reynolds lowered his glasses halfway down his nose.
“The police department has a string of unsolved homicides with similarities to the professor’s abduction.”
Celia was shaking her head the whole time the DA spoke. “Absolutely false, your honor. Those bodies were dumped in locations where they would be easily found. The professor is still missing, and we have no reason to believe he's been killed.”
“Four of the five victims were tortured before they were killed,” the DA said. “Maybe the professor hasn’t yet suffered enough to die.”
A soft cry, and then a woman got up and hurried out of the courtroom. The professor's wife. Man, this DA was a heartless bastard. A loud murmur rose from the people in the courtroom.
The judge pounded his gavel and everyone settled down. Then he nodded at the DA to continue.
“Your Honor, the defendant’s mother is in a locked psych unit for a string of grisly murders.”
Celia said, “That’s meaningless, inadmissible, and a transparent attempt to influence this court! Your Honor, there has never been a serial killer whose offspring was also a serial killer–”
“That we know of,” the DA said over her.
“–and we’re not even sure that’s what we have in this case.” Celia Moon never even paused in her rant. “This young man intends to enter the police academy after college. He’s the nephew and ward of a decorated detective and a spiritual self-help author.”
The DA snorted.
I tried to set his hair on fire with my eyes.
“He has a clean record,” Celia went on. “He’s an outstanding young man.”
The judge pursed his l
ips and nodded slowly. Then he looked at the DA and said, “Any bad blood between you and this family, Taylor?”
“Not unless you count him publicly trashing my work all over the net,” I said, on my feet and out of order.
The judge gave me a look. “When I want to hear from you, Ms. de Luca, I will tell you so. Sit down.”
“Sorry, Your Honor.” I sat.
“Your Honor, may I speak?”
I was surprised to hear Chief Vanessa Cantone’s dulcet tones from the back of the courtroom, and turned to see her standing up, facing the judge.
“Chief Cantone, if you feel you have something significant to add, by all means.”
She said, “I know Jeremy Brown quite well, the entire family, as a matter of fact. These are good people. I do not believe for a minute that this young man is capable of true violence. A punch in the nose when provoked, sure, but who among us hasn’t done that?” She looked around. The DA reluctantly raised his hand. Celia rolled her eyes. “Further, I can reiterate that we have not determined the other recent murders are the work of the same killer, and have even less basis for suspecting the professor’s disappearance is connected to them.”
The judge nodded slowly, then looked right at Jeremy. “You have anything to say, Mr. Brown?”
“I’m innocent, Your Honor. But if I hadn’t been drinking, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now. For that, I’m more sorry than I can say. I'm sorry for what this is doing to my family, especially my little brother. But not for myself. This is all my own fault. I’m done with alcohol, and I mean it. I deserve to go through hell for being such an idiot. But I did not abduct or harm Professor Ashton.” He looked the judge right in the eye when he said it.
The judge saw his soul, I think. “I’m going to release you on house arrest. You’ll wear an ankle monitor, submit to random, unannounced drug and alcohol testing, and stay within one hundred yards of your uncle’s home at all times. Be on your best behavior, son. You mess up, you live in a cell until trial.”
“Yes, sir. Understood. Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Your Honor,” the prosecutor said. “I object strenuously to this–”
“Shut up, Taylor. I’ve made my decision. Trial date is set for…three weeks from today. You’ll receive official notification.” He banged his gavel. “Get out. Bailiff, call the next case.”
Two officers came in, spoke briefly to Jere and Celia, too low for me to hear, then took Jeremy out a side door.
“Wait…where–?"
Celia held up a hand. “They need to put the ankle monitor on. It’ll be a minute. Come with me, you can drive him home.”
We walked out the main entrance of the courtroom into a hall with domes and hardwood and art deco lights. Chief V came out behind us, rocking her short skirt and blazer combo like nobody’s business.
“Mason, a minute?”
He turned to her. He was still furious, turned back and walked away without a word.
I hung back. “Thank you for helping out in there, Chief," I said.
“I did what I could.”
“You lied. We all know the murders are connected.”
“Not officially.”
“Still, I appreciate it.”
“I know you do. I hope Mason does, too.”
“He does. And if it’s any comfort, he’s a little pissed at me, too, right now.”
“What did you do?”
I shrugged.
“Are you…” She glanced around us before continuing, then lowered her voice, “…getting anything on all this?”
“I’m getting close,” I said.
“You two are investigating this off the books, aren’t you?”
“What do you think?”
“Don’t fuck up the case, Rachel, and don’t let Mason fuck up his career. Be careful.”
“I know. We know.”
“Okay. Good.” She looked at her watch. “I have to go.”
It had to do with this mess, I felt it to my toes. “Where?” I asked.
She looked at me. “I do have other cases besides this one, you know.”
“Yeah, but where you’re going has to do with this one.”
She held my eyes. “It creeps me out when you do that.”
“I don’t fucking care. And you might as well tell me, because I’ll just follow you if you don’t.”
She sighed, rolled her eyes. “We found a body yesterday.”
“Gloria Orr, I know.”
“Of course you know. Why wouldn’t you know?”
“So?”
“She rents a storage unit out in the sticks. We found a receipt in her papers. We’re meeting the owner there to get a look inside.”
“I want to come, too.”
“No shit, and Mason too, I bet, but I can’t let you.”
“Yes, you can.”
“You want me fired? You want some hard ass in here who hates you both? No. Go home. Take care of Jeremy. I’ll fill you in as much as I can, and Mason’s faithful partner will tell him everything that I can’t.” My eyes must’ve widened, because she said, “What? You think I don’t know Rosie’s keeping him apprised? I tried shutting that down, but the other cops keep Rosie apprised. They love Mason.”
“He’s a lovable guy."
“Go home.” She walked away, down the hall toward the exit.
I ran the other way, the way Mason and Celia had gone. Just when I worried I wouldn’t find them, they came out a door with Jeremy between them. Thank God.
I ran up to them, hugged Jeremy’s neck, and he hugged me back. Mason looked dour.
“Celia,” I said. “I need a minute with my guys.”
Celia nodded “I’ll meet you out front.”
As soon as she was out of earshot, I said, “Gloria Orr had a storage unit. Cantone’s on her way there. I need to be there when they bust it open.”
“I’ll go,” Mason said.
“Yeah, and get fired, or worse,” I said.
“Who’s Gloria Orr?” Jeremy asked.
“Mace will fill you in on the way home.” I looked my man in the eyes. “I might be able to get something the cops can’t. Please, let me do this."
I told him with my eyes, with my heart, that I needed his trust. I told him this was an important moment. And I think he heard me.
He took out his keys, handed them over. "Take the car. I'll find us a ride."
“Thank you. I love you. Both of you. See you at home.”
I took the keys and ran down the hall to the exits, hoping I could still catch sight of Vanessa’s car so I could follow her. As I went, I heard Jeremy ask, “So? Who’s Gloria Orr?”
16
Mason thanked Celia for the ride and he and Jeremy headed for the house. He stopped at the door. “All right, here’s the deal-I have to go out in a little bit. Don’t go anywhere.”
“I’m not gonna go anywhere," Jeremy replied, like he should've known that. But Mason's faith in the kid's common sense was a little bit shaky at the moment, so he reiterated his point. "That monitor has been activated by now."
"I'm aware of that. The little green light was a pretty big clue." He turned his ankle and hiked up the leg of his jeans to illustrate his point.
“Your brother will be back in two hours. I’ll be back by then, too.” He looked at Jeremy, shook his head. "I don't know if I can just leave you on your own after all you've been through today."
“Or maybe you just don't trust me,” Jeremy said.
“I do trust you. I don’t expect you to do anything deliberately. I am a little bit afraid you’ll stumble headfirst into more trouble, though. Maybe for perfectly legitimate reasons but still..."
Jeremy sighed. Then he said, “I guess I had that coming.” Then he tapped his phone to life and turned its face toward Mason’s, showing him some texts. “Misty’s on her way over. See? I’m not going anywhere.”
Two hours alone with his girlfriend. Okay, he wasn’t going anywhere. Mason felt better. Then he clapped Je
re by his nape, and pressed their foreheads together. “I love you. You know that, right?”
“Psssh.” He turned his head away. “I know it. I love you, too. You going off to solve the crime and save my ass?"
“Gonna do my best.” He let go of Jeremy’s neck, opened the door and they went inside. Jeremy headed upstairs, probably to make sure he was minty fresh for Misty.
He brewed a cup of coffee, went into the living room and opened Rachel’s laptop. He knew her password. She knew his. They didn’t have any reason to keep them from each other. He logged in and found the photo file, automatically backed up from her phone. She’d named it "Victim Vigilantes."
He smiled a little and wondered if she was thinking of novelizing the case once it was solved. She’d always talked about writing a thriller.
He copied the whole file to himself, then forwarded it to Chief Cantone’s personal cell number, and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“What the hell is this?”
“List of suspects we should round up for questioning,” he said.
"Right. And it came to you by magic, being that you're supposed to be staying out of this case."
"By magic. Yeah. Gloria Orr and these other women were members of the same support group. They all have the same pendant as the one we found in Ashton’s car. It's a vengeance goddess, by the way. The license plates will ID them. Run the tags."
“I can do that. It's flimsy on cause, though."
"I don't want you to do anything but pick them up for questioning. And coordinate it so they don’t have time to contact each other, get their stories straight or whatever.”
“That makes sense.”
“And tell me when it’s go-time.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to pick up one of them myself.”
“But you’re on leave."
"So take me off leave."
He heard her exhale nasally, could picture the slight flare of her nostrils because he'd seen it on many occasions when he'd pushed her patience to the brink. "Any one in particular?” she asked at length.
“Yes.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Mason?”
“Nothing I can prove,” he said. “Nothing there's a shred of evidence for. Yet. If there was, you'd have it. My kid's on the line here."
Girl Blue (A Brown and de Luca Novel Book 7) Page 16