His voice thick and gravelly, Eks said, “I was with you.”
“Good. Where did we go?”
“We went to Butler University. To the admissions office. We were there till six, then we took a tour of the campus. Then we drove home. I helped you with your science project.” Ekhard puffed while he worked hard, digging fast. The hole was nearly long enough.
Scrawny yet strong, Ekhard worked out, lifting weights at the school gym every day. That’s where he had met Suzanne. While practicing a routine with the other cheerleaders, she had noticed him. Said she thought he was cute. Caryn knew the relationship had begun as a superficial attraction.
“What about Suzanne? Did she call the house?”
Ekhard threw the shovel to the side and then stooped to push the blanketed body into the hole. “Yeah. She rode her bike. She was going to meet Becky at the movie theater.”
Caryn tossed the shoe on the blanket. She stood to get out of the way while Ekhard put the finishing touches on the mound, kicking leaves over it. He leaned on the shovel, and Caryn chucked the hammer into the woods.
The siblings made their way back to the car, but not before stripping off their blood-spattered clothing and putting it in a large garbage bag. They wiped themselves with a solution of watered-down bleach, something Caryn had seen on an episode of Law and Order, then dropped the towel and bottle into the bag too. They placed the bag in a dumpster behind the drugstore on the way home. The next morning, they took Suzanne’s bicycle apart and dropped it into a different dumpster.
Caryn saw that Eks was never the same afterward. He became quiet, opting out of entertainments like school football games. He avoided hanging out with his friends and mostly stayed in his room until the end of the school year. Only Caryn knew that guilt saddled him. It rode him like a deadly virus.
CHAPTER 56
MORGAN
Over a week had passed since Jenny’s interview. Morgan had gone to Bloomington for Thanksgiving and spent a few extra days there. Being away from work, she had actually slept. It had been good to see her family again. Morgan had helped out in the kitchen when her mom came down with a respiratory virus. And it was nice cooking for family and feeling useful. There, she wasn’t alone. When she returned to the station, Morgan texted Donnie. While staring at her phone, she walked right into Rob.
“Hey. No texting and walking,” he joked.
Embarrassed, Morgan hid her phone.
He greeted her with a friendly smile. “I wanted to call. Figured the only way to talk to you is to see you in person.”
Rob looked good—a tall, refreshing drink, complete with all the nutrients she needed. Out of uniform, Rob’s tight red T-shirt rippled as he tucked his hands into his pockets. She couldn’t keep from gazing at his muscular shoulders and chest. She’d missed him.
Offering an open invitation, he asked, “Are you free later?”
Rob moved fast, but Morgan had grown used to that.
“Let me take you out to dinner,” he said. “I don’t like the way we left things last time.”
So many things spun through her head. I’m not ready. I’m not good at relationships.
“Gretta wants to see you,” he urged.
“Really? Gretta?” The smile on her face grew. Rob knew how to coax her. For that, she liked him against her will.
“Well, if Gretta is coming to dinner, then I’m in.”
Her sarcasm didn’t get past Rob. “She has a new bone to show you.”
“I’d love to see it.”
“How’s my little minx?”
Hot embarrassment crept up Morgan’s spine at the sound of the voice. Behind her, Stan Williams had put a hand on her elbow.
“Look, Stan …”
“What are you doing tonight? You owe me. Let’s finish where we left off.”
And to think she was going to apologize for getting him put on administrative leave. She guessed he was returning to work now. But the thought of Stan near her made Morgan want to shower.
“Sorry, Stan. I can’t.” Won’t. Not ever.
“Too bad. I’ll check in with you again soon, you hear?” He nodded at Rob.
It became clear that Stan felt he had gained the right to make Morgan’s life a living hell. What he was dishing out, Morgan had had enough of. “No, Stan. You won’t. You won’t call, you won’t check in with me. I don’t want you near me. If you so much as look at me sideways, I’ll report you for sexual harassment. Do you understand? Leave me alone!” Tension lifted from her shoulders.
Stan stepped backward. “Okay,” was his quiet response. His cheeks reddened. Then he strode past Rob, saying, “Good luck with that,” as he brushed elbows with him.
Rob merely nodded at him and watched him go. To Morgan, he whispered, “I’d beat him up, but you have it handled.”
Morgan felt satisfaction fill her chest. She stood a little taller.
“Do you want to talk?” Rob asked as his hand took hers.
She nodded. “I do.” She looked down the hall.
Olivia Hawthorn jogged toward them. She pushed past IMPD officers and civilians. Some of her hair had escaped the confines of a tight bun. “Morgan, there you are. I’ve been trying to reach you and Donnie. I have something really important to show you regarding DNA evidence.”
Torn, Morgan looked up at Rob.
Olivia pleaded. “Come back to the lab with me. You’ve got to see this. Now. It has to do with Suzanne Aiken.”
“Talking will have to wait,” Morgan said to Rob.
Kindly, he smiled. “It’s okay. I understand.”
More than anything, she wanted to spend the rest of the day with him. As she looked up at his dark, forgiving eyes, she knew everything would be okay. “I’ll be in touch. I swear I will. I just have to …”
“Tonight?”
“Morgan?” Olivia called.
Morgan reluctantly pulled her hand from Rob’s. “I will. I promise.”
“If you don’t call, I know where you live.” He smiled.
She returned the grin, regretting, for a change, that work took so much of her time. “You do,” she said as an invitation.
“Okay, you two.” Olivia’s overbearing impatience pulled Morgan away. “Put the love affair on pause. This evidence can’t wait.”
Morgan followed Olivia, feeling Rob’s magnetic pull the entire way to the lab.
“Early this morning results came back, and I’ve been dying to tell you. Where’s your partner?”
Morgan checked her phone to see if Donnie had returned her text. He hadn’t. “I’ve texted him, he’s probably on his way here.”
When they arrived at the lab, Olivia closed the door. “Results from your DNA test came in today. Normally, we can’t get much DNA from a hair sample. Luckily—for us, not for the blonde—the hair was ripped out with follicles intact. The DNA from that coffee cup you gave me matches the hair in Suzanne’s hand.” Olivia stared at Morgan as if waiting to deliver a punch line.
Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. “It is Caryn Klein’s hair.”
“Yes.” Olivia said.
This was what she had waited her whole life for. Morgan wanted to jump for joy. The killer was Caryn! Elation washed over her, followed by dread. It hadn’t been Ekhard all along. Then he couldn’t have killed Fay. “You’re positive?” Enthusiasm drained from her.
“It’s Caryn Klein’s hair. Do you want to see the test results?” Olivia asked.
“No. I believe you.”
The urgency of the situation fell on Morgan. She thanked Olivia and ducked out of the lab, heading straight for her desk. There, she gathered her things and beelined to her rented car. Donnie still hadn’t replied to her text, so Morgan dialed his number. The call went straight to voice mail. Where is Donnie?
On the way to Caryn’s condo, Morgan called for backup.
CHAPTER 57
MORGAN
Two Indianapolis Metro Police cars followed Morgan to arrest Caryn for the murder of Suzanne Aiken. W
hat else had Caryn done? Had she murdered Hallie Marks? Did Caryn know where Ekhard was? He was still implicated in Hallie’s murder.
U.S. Marshals were hunting Ekhard down. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with him. Morgan wanted to be the one to grill Ekhard in the interrogation room because her dream of becoming a U.S. Marshall was growing brighter all the time. After this case closed and Donnie moved up to Lieutenant Holbrooke’s position, she would send in her application.
The impending sense of closure allowed Morgan to exhale.
A wet frozen mixture had been falling again today. She looked at the empty seat next to her and sank down a little lower. Donnie would have driven his SUV with four-wheel drive. Where the hell was he? She regretted doing this alone—Donnie would want to be by her side when she made the arrest—but she had to bring Caryn in now.
Morgan and the other cars arrived with their sirens off, not wanting their suspect to flee the scene. With the engine still running, she got cautiously out of the car and skated to the door across slippery pavement. Four police officers fell into step behind her.
When she found the outer door locked, Morgan backed away and ordered another officer to open it. A hulky officer with a shaved head ran back to his vehicle and returned with a crowbar. In the silence that followed, Morgan’s heart pounded against her chest. He jammed the metal crowbar between the door and its frame. With a satisfying crack and crackle, the glass of the outer door broke. An alarm shrieked throughout the building as the security wires signaled entry.
Morgan darted into the building past people in the lower level who had opened their doors. She dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time; the officers followed.
At Caryn’s door, Morgan stopped to catch her breath. With one hand on her weapon and the other knocking, she shouted, “Caryn Klein, this is Detective Jewell.” She knocked again, this time harder. “Ms. Klein, this is Detective Jewell. Open up!”
The deafening sound of Morgan’s breath split the silence. She nodded at the bald officer and quietly asked his name.
“Officer O’Brian, ma’am,” he answered.
“Open the door, O’Brian,” Morgan commanded.
He leaned forward and pressed his ear against Caryn’s door. With one hand holding a pistol against his chest, he turned the knob and threw his weight into it. He stormed in ahead of Morgan with his pistol out in front of him. Morgan followed, her weapon at the ready.
Lights were on, and the odor of food filled the air. The condo was quiet. With her weapon raised, Morgan surveyed the living room ahead of her and turned to her right, toward the kitchen.
On the floor between the sink and island, a man lay crumpled facedown. Blood pooled under his head.
Morgan holstered her weapon and dropped to her knees beside Ekhard Klein’s dead body.
CHAPTER 58
MORGAN
The call came from Donnie’s wife, Angie. She said the accident was bad. The driver of a Chevy pickup had slid through a red light going forty mph and hit the passenger side of Donnie’s car. Etta had been driving.
Morgan drove as fast as possible on slick roads—only forty-five on the highway—to Community Hospital on the north side of Indy. When she arrived at the surgery center, Angie and the girls were sitting huddled together in the stark gray waiting room. As she approached them, Annabel rushed to give her a warm, loving hug.
“His shoulder was shattered,” Angie said. “He’s been in surgery for an hour.” She looked like she was about to cry, then held it back.
Etta wore a brand-new supportive collar around her neck. She slumped in a chair, resting at a stiff angle on Angie’s shoulder.
Morgan shook her head in disbelief. “God, Angie, I wish you’d called me earlier.”
“I know. I wanted to, but we were in the ER with Etta.” She pulled her daughter closer.
“Is it whiplash?” Morgan sank into the chair next to Etta and touched her arm.
Weakly Etta replied, “I don’t know.”
“They said it’s muscle strain. The doctors are just being cautious.” Angie looked at her injured daughter and brushed Etta’s long brown hair out of her face. “She’s exhausted. Painkillers are probably kicking in. They did X-rays. Nothing’s out of place.”
Morgan gave Etta a squeeze, then shrugged off her coat.
Angie peeled herself out from under Etta, who looked at her fearfully. “I’m not going far, baby. I need to talk to Morgan.”
Annabel took her mother’s seat on the bench and cuddled her sister.
Morgan followed Angie to the window at the far end of the waiting room. “How is he?”
“Etta feels so bad. They used the jaws of life to get him out of the car. It wasn’t her fault at all. I keep trying to explain that to her.” Angie looked down at her hands where she toyed with her wedding ring.
“His right shoulder?”
“Shattered. His upper arm, the shoulder blade and this one,” she pointed to her clavicle, “are destroyed. This surgery is only to reset the bones temporarily. The plan is to eventually replace the entire joint once the surrounding tissue is healed.”
Morgan shook her head. The implications about Donnie’s career and future job security hit her in the gut. She felt nauseated.
Angie stared out the window. “I always expected to be in the hospital waiting room someday. I just figured it would be work-related.”
Morgan nodded. “He’s been very lucky.”
* * *
It was eight o’clock before the surgeon emerged from Donnie’s three-hour operation. Morgan offered to take Etta and Annabel so Angie could stay with Donnie, but Angie remained a pillar of strength for her girls. Since there was no chance Donnie would wake up, she chose to take the girls home for the night, as Etta needed rest.
Shaken up by the event, Morgan stayed. By 2:00 AM, Donnie still hadn’t woken, and no progress had been made in the hunt for Caryn Klein. At 5:00 AM, Morgan sat near Donnie’s hospital bed. Unable to sleep, she needed to talk to her partner and get his feedback.
“Caryn is our killer, Donnie. Think of that. Suzanne’s case is solved,” she said.
It took another minute for Morgan to muster the strength to continue. “Ekhard is dead too. Caryn killed him.” It meant that Morgan’s search for Fay’s killer was over too.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you this. We knew that Ekhard had been changing his name every few years. Anna Clare remembered that he’d once used the name Larry.” Or Linus, she’d said. Morgan took it as the clue she’d been looking for. “Donnie, even if Ekhard wasn’t the one who killed Fay, I’d be happy to settle it. I think I can finally stop searching for her killer.”
She exhaled and dropped her gaze to the silver ring that her brother had given her. “I know I’ve put you through a lot over the years. I’ve been too … obsessed. You were right. It’s time to put that part of my life behind me. Time to let it go.”
The peaceful rise and fall of Donnie’s slumbering chest comforted Morgan. His right arm was fitted with a sling below the heavily bandaged shoulder. The only noises in the room were Donnie’s sleep-breathing and the occasional beep of an automatic IV drip timer. “Now all that’s left is to find Caryn Klein.”
For Donnie, Morgan thought, this is the pits.
But it is different for me.
CHAPTER 59
MORGAN: 15 Years Ago
Dr. Taylor sat in a pale-yellow antique chair facing Morgan from across the room. Between them Psychology Today magazines covered the glass coffee-table, leaving only a corner available for the pitcher of water and a stack of plastic cups.
Morgan slumped in the couch with her arms crossed and her hoodie pulled so far over her head it almost covered her eyes.
“PITS, or Perpetration-Induced Traumatic Stress, is a very real condition, Morgan,” Dr. Taylor continued, her voice smooth and caressing. Like silk. “You are experiencing one of the symptoms right now.”
Morgan shook her head so slightly it fe
lt like a jiggle. Inside, her inner voice was screaming No!
“That symptom is loss of memory. Morgan, the very fact that you don’t remember leads me to believe that you saw something so terrible, so horrific, that your mind has shut that event down.”
“I didn’t see anything,” Morgan grumbled.
“From everything you’ve told me, I believe that you went looking for your friend.”
“I would remember.” Morgan sat up. Ready to leave, she put her hands on her knees.
Dr. Taylor held up her hand. Thin fingers raised toward the ceiling in a universal sign for stop. Morgan did.
“Perpetration-Induced Trauma isn’t the end of the world.” The doctor said this so gently—as if giving Morgan a gift. “Before you go, I want to explain to you what other symptoms you may eventually experience with this disorder.”
Morgan’s face puckered with anger and resentment. How could this be happening? She decided not to believe a word Dr. Taylor said, yet she remained frozen by her held-up hand.
“Your brain has responded to seeing something that it doesn’t want to believe. You may feel like you need to avoid Fay’s house and her mother. You may even want to avoid your friends because they remind you of her. I believe that if you seek those friends out, it may trigger the memory.”
“Not happening.”
“Since this has been going on for more than six months, I don’t know when you will regain your memory of the event. It has reached the chronic stage.”
Morgan shifted weight to her feet, preparing to stand up. The doctor reinforced the hand signal and Morgan fell to her seat again.
“When it does surface, you may be unable to sleep. You may experience a renewed flood of memories associated with your friend Fay. You may become uninterested in your normal activities, and you may decide to put some distance between yourself and your friends.”
“Why are you telling me all this irrelevant bullshit?”
“I want you to know there’s no telling when your PITS will manifest. But someday you will remember what happened to Fay.”
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