Jax grudgingly allowed himself to be distracted. “What evidence?”
This time it was Ash who carefully ensured there was no one around. “Robert Hutton lied about his alibi the night that Tiffany Holloway was killed.”
“Robert Hutton? The one who works in the district attorney’s office?”
“Yep.”
Jax hissed in shock. Or maybe it was horror. No detective ever wanted to think about a suspect who might create a media frenzy. Politicians. Business leaders. Fellow cops. Members of the clergy. Whether the person was guilty or innocent, it always ended badly for the detective.
“Where did he claim to be?” Jax demanded. He hadn’t gone through the old Butcher files. Not yet.
“Meeting with Remi’s mother at her estate.”
Jax studied his brother’s face, waiting to see if this was some sick joke. “Seriously?” he finally demanded.
Ash nodded. “Which was why we didn’t go any further with the investigation despite the fact he had phone calls from the victim.” He reached for his coat, pulling out a sheet of paper that had been carefully folded and tucked in an inner pocket. He placed it on the desk. “I think he needs a second glance.”
Jax unfolded the paper and quickly skimmed through the short interview. Robert had said he’d spent the evening having dinner with Liza Harding-Walsh at her estate to plan a fancy ball for his charity. He then claimed he drove to his town house at ten o’clock and spent two hours going through case notes for an upcoming trial before he went to bed.
Jax glanced back up at his brother. “No one talked to Remi’s mother?”
“I didn’t.” Ash released a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know about Gage. He never said anything about Hutton after our initial interview.”
Jax made a mental note to go through Gage’s files to see if he had any official interview with his wife. For now, he concentrated on why Ash was convinced the alibi was bogus. “What makes you assume Hutton lied?”
“Remi was sick that night and returned home early from a study group,” Ash said. “Neither her mother nor Hutton were there.”
Jax didn’t ask if Remi was certain it was the same night. It was a question Ash would have asked. “Could they have moved the meeting?”
“Possibly, but I’d like to know why he specifically said he was at the estate the entire evening.”
Jax grimaced. Damn. There was no getting around it. He was going to have to get a new statement from Hutton. “So would I,” he said.
Ash stepped toward the desk. “I want to go with you when you question him.”
Jax snorted. Had his brother lost his mind? “No way.”
Predictably, Ash refused to accept Jax’s refusal. All the Marcel boys were stubborn, but Ash had an extra dose of pigheadedness.
“Look, if you make it an official visit, you’re going to cause a shitstorm,” Ash said with a smooth logic. “If the two of us happen to stop by the country club for a casual drink and run into the man . . .” The younger man shrugged. “He can’t protest.”
“He also won’t be forced to answer our questions,” Jax reminded his brother. “Plus, if he does become a suspect, he’ll have ample opportunity to create a new lie to cover his ass before I can haul him into the station.”
“He’s going to lawyer up anyway,” Ash insisted. “If we approach him casually, we can catch him off guard. He’ll be more likely to give something away.”
Jax swallowed a frustrated sigh. His brother could be a pain in the ass, but he was also making a good point. The second Hutton sensed his alibi had fallen apart he would have the full power of the district attorney’s office behind him. Any investigation would come to a screeching halt.
“I’ll think about it,” he hedged, not prepared to give Ash any promises. Then, he deliberately changed the conversation. “Now answer my question.”
Ash pretended to be puzzled. “What question?”
“What did you do last night?” He stabbed a finger toward his aggravating sibling. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”
Ash chuckled, then his smile slowly faded. As if the memories from the previous night were creeping back into his thoughts. “I made a brief visit to speak with Doug,” he admitted.
“Shit. I knew it.” Jax clenched his hands into tight fists. He’d debated about passing along the information he’d discovered. He’d wanted them to know that Doug Gates had a history of violence, but Ash was always overprotective when it came to Remi. Right now, he was in extreme vigilante mode. Any hint of a threat to his onetime fiancée was bound to send him over the edge. “Is he pressing charges?”
“Not unless he wants to explain the telescope he was using to spy on Remi,” Ash growled.
Doug Gates was spying on Remi? Jax carefully planted his palms flat on his desk. It was his way of ensuring he didn’t grab for his gun.
“Bastard,” he breathed. “Do I need to get an arrest warrant?”
Ash shook his head, his expression grim. “I’ve taken care of it for now.”
Uh-oh. “Is he dead?” Jax demanded.
“No, but he will be if I catch him anywhere around Remi,” Ash said without hesitation.
Jax quashed his instinct to have the perv hauled to the station. As much as he wanted to beat the crap out of Doug Gates, Ash could handle the creepy neighbor. It was Jax’s duty to find the Butcher. “Do you think he’s a suspect?”
“Not really.” Ash gave a shake of his head, frustration clearly etched on his face. “But I can’t rule him out either.”
“Then we keep him on the list of suspects and continue searching for evidence.”
“While Remi stays in danger.”
“She has a lot of people looking out for her,” Jax reminded his brother, knowing the words were empty. Nothing would comfort Ash. Not until the Butcher was behind bars. Or dead.
Ash paused, visibly struggling to regain command of his temper. “Have you found anything in the old files?” he at last asked.
Jax grimaced. “I’m not sure.”
“That’s less than helpful,” Ash said in dry tones.
Jax reached to angle the computer screen on his desk. “Grab a seat. I have something I want to show you.”
“Okay.” Ash found an extra chair pushed against the nearby wall and placed it next to Jax. “What’s going on?”
Jax tapped on the keyboard. “I couldn’t find any cases that fit the MO of the Butcher.”
Ash muttered a curse under his breath. “But?”
“But I used one of our new search programs.” Jax brought up the files he’d found. “They can comb through thousands of files for patterns. First, I looked for anyone who’d been killed by having their throats cut, both male and female. Then I expanded the search to other cities. I couldn’t find anything. Finally I put in the physical characteristics of the Butcher’s prime targets and searched for any deaths in the past five years. I got a few hits.”
Ash leaned forward. “Show me.”
“The first victim I found is Carla Tester.” Jax enlarged the picture of the pretty, dark-haired woman with a plump face and bright smile. “Twenty-four years old. She worked for the Chicago Transit Authority and died four years ago.” Jax brought up the next photo. Once again, the female was dark-haired with pretty features. This one had green eyes and a few freckles sprinkled over her pale skin. “Beth Sampson. Eighteen. She was in her freshman year of college. She died three years ago.” Jax pulled up the last picture. The female was older than the others, but she had dark hair and greenish-blue eyes. “Ariel Midland. She was twenty-seven and a hairdresser. She died last year.”
Ash sent him a furious glare. “Why didn’t anyone tag them with the Butcher killings?”
That had been Jax’s first question. The women fit the profile. At least when it came to the physical description of the Butcher’s victims.
Then he’d studied the complete records and understood why any connection to the Butcher had been missed.
&
nbsp; “Each of the women burned to death in a house fire,” he said. “There was no reason to think there was foul play in any of their deaths.”
“Three separate house fires?” Ash snorted. “And that didn’t raise any questions?”
“They were all at least a year apart,” Jax reminded him.
“None of the victims had their throats slit?”
“The bodies were all badly burned and I don’t think they did more than a superficial exam. It was assumed they were tragic accidents, not victims of a serial killer.”
“Damn.” Ash sat back, obviously trying to process the new information. “I don’t suppose you can get the bodies exhumed? If we could discover the exact cause of death, and if they had the telltale mark on their breast, we could be certain they were the work of the Butcher.”
Jax made a sound of disgust. His brother had obviously been gone from the department too long.
“Are you kidding? I’d need a lot more than a hunch to get the money or a warrant to have the bodies dug up.”
“Are you going to investigate them?”
“Yes.” Jax held up a hand as Ash’s lips parted, no doubt intending to remind him that Remi’s life was in danger. “I promise.”
Ash sent him a rueful smile. “Thanks. Was there anything else?”
“No.” About to send Ash back to Remi, Jax abruptly recalled the reason he was at the office before any reasonable person should be up on a Sunday morning. “Wait.” He reached for the folder he’d shoved toward the back of his desk. “This file was found taped under a drawer in Gage’s desk after his death.”
“Taped?” Ash frowned in confusion, and Jax felt a stab of disappointment. He’d hoped his brother might have some idea why Gage had it hidden, and what the strange markings might mean.
Ash reached to grab the file. “What is it?”
“Hell if I know.”
The younger man spread out the papers, his frown deepening as he glanced over the scribbled notes. “It looks like it’s written in gibberish.”
“None of his other files match this?” Jax pressed.
“No.” Ash reached for a map of Chicago that had been photocopied. He pointed toward one of the red circles that had presumably been placed there by Gage. “Those mark where the bodies were found,” he said, his fingers moving to the numbers written next to the circle. “And the dates.”
Jax had managed to work out that much. He reached for the map and turned it over to reveal the numbers that were penciled on the back. “This is a list of dates as well.” He grabbed a second sheet of paper where he’d made his own notes. He touched the first column of numbers. “Some match the nights of the murders.” He moved his finger toward the second column. “But not all of them.”
Ash studied the list in silence, then he gave a shake of his head. He reached to shuffle through the remaining papers.
“Everything is in initials,” Ash muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “There’s no way to know what they mean.”
“Could be names of suspects,” Jax suggested. “Or maybe places?”
Ash shoved the papers back in the folder and rose to his feet. “I’ll go back through the notes I pulled out of storage to see if I can find anything that might give us a clue about these.”
Jax nodded. If Gage had wanted the folder to be a part of the official investigation, he wouldn’t have hidden it in his desk. “You’ll let me know?”
“Yeah.”
Ash reached for his coat and Jax leaned back in his seat, once again feeling a surge of satisfaction. He hated the reason that his brother was back in town, but he was going to enjoy his company while he was there. “Mom said you stopped by,” Jax said.
“I did my duty.” Ash slid on his coat, pressing a hand to the center of his chest. “As commanded.”
Jax smiled. Ash was like all the Marcel boys. He adored his mother.
“Did she offer you the fatted calf?”
Amusement sparkled in Ash’s eyes. “No, but I did get my favorite lasagna and a slice of her homemade chocolate cake with hot caramel dribbled over the top.”
Jax rolled his eyes. “Spoiled.”
“No way,” Ash protested. “Nate was spoiled. You were the favorite, and the rest of us were just the forgotten middle.”
Jax snorted. They’d all been loved. Perhaps he was closer to their father than the rest of them, but only because the older man had been eager to get away from a pack of screaming babies and the only way was to take Jax to a ball game or camping for the weekend.
“Speaking of Nate, did Mom tell you he’s coming home next week?” Jax said.
“Yes. I’ve also been ordered to be fitted for my tux before I leave town.”
Jax grimaced. No one was happier for Nate than he was. He hadn’t met his youngest brother’s fiancée, but she sounded perfect for Nate. Still, the thought of being trapped for hours in a formal tux that included a bow tie and one of those stupid cummerbunds was enough to give him a rash.
“Christ. I need to do that too. I keep putting it off in the hopes that Nate will come to his senses and decide to elope,” he muttered.
“I don’t think it’s Nate’s decision,” Ash said dryly.
“No, I suppose not.” Jax heaved a glum sigh.
Ash reached out to pat his shoulder. “I need to get back to Remi.”
Jax nodded. “Stay safe.”
Chapter Eleven
Ash drove back to Remi’s house, slowing as he passed the patrol car to give the cop a small wave. The officer gave a nod and pulled away from the curb as Ash parked in the driveway. He stepped out of the car but, walking toward the front door, he abruptly decided on a detour.
Rounding the edge of the house, he crossed the short distance to peer into Doug Gates’s window. He made no effort to hide his approach. He wanted the man to know he was keeping a close watch on him. A quick glance assured him the telescope was gone, and no one was in the dining room or kitchen. Satisfied that the perv had learned his lesson, at least for now, he continued to the backyard.
He did a quick glance around, not expecting to see anything. The sun was shining brightly, and despite the frigid air, there were already people bustling around the neighborhood. But even as he turned toward the house, there was a rustle in one of the bushes next to the small porch.
Ash was moving before he could consider that whoever was lurking in the shadows might have a gun. His only thought was making sure they didn’t slip away.
Shoving his arms into the branches, he grasped the quilted material of a coat. Then, gritting his teeth, he pulled the wiggling stranger out of the bushes. There was a blast of foul language from his captive as Ash threw him down and pinned his arms to the hard ground.
“What’s your damage, you freak? Let me go,” the man yelled.
No, not a man, Ash realized as he gazed into the hood of the coat. The narrow face was dotted with blemishes and a few scraggly whiskers on his chin. He couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen years old.
“Not a chance,” Ash rasped, glaring down at the intruder.
This couldn’t be the Butcher. The kid would still have been in grade school when the first woman was murdered. But he might be working for the killer.
Fear flared through the boy’s pale eyes, but he remained belligerent. “I haven’t done nothing wrong.”
“First off, you’re trespassing on private property,” Ash snapped. “I can probably add stalking and invasion of privacy to the list.”
The boy stopped his struggles, his expression suddenly wary. “What are you? A cop?”
“Something like that.”
“Why are you staying with Ms. Walsh? I saw a patrol car earlier.” He paused to lick his lips. “Is she in trouble?”
There was genuine concern in the kid’s voice that made Ash hesitate. Surely if he was the lookout for a crazed serial killer, he would have some convincing cover story? And if he was a common thief, how did he know Remi’s name?
“How d
o you know Ms. Walsh?” he demanded.
“She’s my teacher. At the youth center.”
The words barely left the boy’s mouth when the sliding door opened and Remi stepped onto the back porch.
“Ash?”
“Go back inside,” he commanded.
A waste of breath, of course. She stubbornly moved to the edge of the porch to gaze down at the boy who was lying spread-eagle on the ground.
“Drew? What’s going on?”
The kid eagerly turned his head toward Remi. “I came here to see you and this lunatic attacked me.”
“You can let him go, Ash,” Remi said.
He hesitated. He felt like an idiot holding down a boy who was half his weight, but this was no time to make mistakes. “You know him?”
“Yes,” she quickly assured him. “He’s Drew Tyson. One of my students.”
Cautiously, Ash released his hold on the boy’s arms. “I caught him hiding in the bushes.”
With the awkward movements of a boy who was still adjusting to a recent growth spurt, Drew scrambled to his feet. Next to him, Ash pushed himself upright and grabbed the boy’s coat and yanked it open. A quick glance assured him there weren’t any weapons hidden beneath the thick material. Drew glared at him but clearly accepted that Ash wasn’t going to let him anywhere near Remi unless he was sure he wasn’t carrying.
“I was waiting for the cop to leave,” Drew said to Remi.
“Cop?” Remi sent the boy a puzzled glance. “What cop?”
Drew pointed toward the corner of the block. “The one who was parked over there.”
Remi turned her head, arching her brows in a silent question.
Ash shrugged. “Jax has a few uniforms keeping an eye on the house when they can,” he told her.
“Jax asked them to be there?” she pressed.
He shrugged. “You know how overprotective he is.” She gave a resigned shake of her head, but before she could chide him, Ash was returning his attention to the boy who was regarding them with a curious expression. “Why are you creeping around here?”
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