“Is she sick?” Earl asked.
“Don’t tell me she has early-onset Alzheimer’s,” Harriett said. “What Estella suffered through, no one should.”
“Michelle is unwell, but we can’t comment further than that,” Paige offered. “But the sooner we find her, the better.”
“I haven’t seen her in town in months,” Harriett said sorrowfully.
“Mrs. Gilbert, you commented on Michelle’s father leaving town when she was a young girl,” Paige started, “but have you seen him since he enlisted?”
Harriett looked away and crossed her arms. “I haven’t, no.”
“Okay.” Paige nodded. “Would you happen to know why Michelle’s father left his young family?”
Again husband and wife met each other’s eyes and held a private, silent conversation.
“Should we tell them, Earl?” Harriett said, barely above a whisper.
Earl’s mouth set in a frown. “It was just rumor.”
I sat up straighter. “What was rumor?” The thing with rumors was they usually contained a nugget of truth.
Harriett flicked her gaze from her husband to me. “It wasn’t no rumor. It was the truth.”
“Mrs. Gilbert, it might help us,” Paige said gently.
Harriett’s left hand started to shake, and she cradled it in her right. “When Estella was in college, she was raped. Dang sad, too, because she was in love with Frank. He married her, though, not long after.”
Paige clenched her teeth. “And…Michelle, she—”
“Yes,” Harriett said. “She could be the possible result of the rape.”
I leaned back in my chair. Frank might not even be Michelle’s biological father. Had Michelle found out about the rape, and did it have anything to do with her killing spree?
“What my wife hasn’t said…” Earl paused, and his mouth twitched like he didn’t want to put what he had to say next into words. “The rumor was that Estella hadn’t just been raped by one man, but by four.”
Four men? Was it Wise, Miller, Sherman, and Reid? I felt the blood drain from my face.
Harriett sniffled, and tears were beading in her eyes. I glanced at Paige, and she was pale and barely holding herself together. The man she’d set out to talk to in California was one of four who’d raped her friend.
The chime over the door sounded, and a man wearing blue jeans and a sweat-stained T-shirt came into the diner.
“Hey, Earl, Harriett,” he said as a greeting.
“George,” Earl replied.
“Just sit wherever you’d like, and we’ll be with ya in a second,” Harriett added, her voice rather quaky.
George sat at a table in the back corner. He must have sensed our conversation was more of a confidential nature.
“Before we go,” I said, “can you take another look at the photo Paige showed you?”
Paige brought it up for them again. “Are any of the men who raped Estella in that photograph?”
“Allegedly,” Earl said firmly. “Who allegedly raped her. My wife and I don’t want to be gettin’ anyone in trouble.”
“Is that a yes or a no?” I pressured.
“Earl’s right.” Harriett reached for her husband’s hand. “We can’t say. We weren’t there.”
“But you lied when you said you didn’t recognize them,” I confronted them.
Harriett’s face became a hardened mask. “We’re not going to be bullied into talking.”
Earl stood again, positioning himself behind his wife. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“Is there a problem there, Earl?” George asked.
Earl held up a hand to stay the local wannabe hero. “We’re fine. Be right with you.”
George grimaced at Paige and me.
Paige made the first move to leave the diner, and I followed her lead.
“Not exactly warm and fuzzy at the Sunset Diner,” Paige said, pulling out her sunglasses.
“Especially when we started talking about the rape. And we didn’t even have a chance to ask them about the Mavises.”
“Maybe Jack and Kelly will have luck on that front with Frank Evans.”
“Maybe.” I was starting to think the credit card theft was just a presented opportunity for Michelle.
Paige’s eyes went dark and glazed over like her mind was on something else, and I had a feeling I knew what. “You all right?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
We loaded into the SUV, and I snapped my seat belt into place. “Guess we could have just gotten our motive, though.”
“Quite possibly. Her mother was raped, and she was the product of that assault,” Paige summarized, “but how does that trigger Michelle now after all these years? I think we can both agree that it was likely the four victims who’d raped the mother?”
“I’d say that seems likely.”
“Still, why now?”
Paige’s question had me stumped for a few seconds as I sorted through the facts we knew. Michelle had joined the Marines, maybe in search of her father. Had Estella told her daughter, and she ran away to deal with it, to get answers from Frank? Estella had died eight months ago, her mind a mess from the merciless disease. Eight months ago. That was two months before the first murder. Had the rape come out as a deathbed confessional, or had the ugly truth been festering inside of Michelle for years?
Paige looked away and shook her head. Her voice was carried on a fine breath. “I can’t even imagine being Michelle and finding out I was the result of rape, and assuming she didn’t know until she left the Marines… That had to cut even more. Before that, she would have thought her biggest heartbreak had been her father leaving.”
“Then she’d be faced with not even knowing if the man she’d grieved from childhood was, in fact, her father.”
“Yeah, it’s sickening. She’d feel so unwanted, like she didn’t belong.”
“Maybe like she shouldn’t even exist.”
“I think we definitely found our trigger,” she said with conviction.
Silence fell between us for a few seconds.
“A couple things, though.” Paige spoke slowly and deliberately. “It looks like Frank Evans is Michelle’s next target. But why?”
“Could be that Michelle didn’t know which men had raped her mother?” I hitched my shoulders. “Or maybe she still held him responsible for it happening, for some reason.”
“Okay,” Paige said but didn’t sound satisfied by my response. “And here’s something niggling at me. Reid and Wise recognized Michelle. How? Michelle would have just been a young girl, or a baby, last they knew. Did they keep tabs on her, and if so, why?”
“Huh, I have another idea.” I took out my phone and called Nadia. “Can you fire me over a photo of Estella Evans?”
Seconds later, Paige and I were looking at the spitting image of Michelle Evans.
-
Forty-Eight
Baltimore, Maryland
Saturday, October 26th, 1:30 PM Eastern Standard Time
Kelly couldn’t imagine being wanted dead by her own flesh and blood. She wondered if her dad had known that one day his raised fists would cost him his life at his wife’s hand. But she couldn’t dwell on that. Whenever she gave her father a personality, feelings, she’d start down a dark, twisty rabbit hole she didn’t want to visit. But Frank Evans seemed to be handling the possibility better than most people might.
Frank had finished his coffee, and the empty cup sat at his feet. He’d just told them that Estella had been raped when they’d been engaged. “At the time, I had no idea about the rape or that Michelle could have been one of theirs. We eloped within a month of her pregnancy, which I came to find out later—much later—was because she wanted to get married before she got a baby bump. I was just flattered she wanted to get married right awa
y. Estella never told me why she’d been in such a rush until after we’d been married for six years. She started putting on weight and eating anything she could get her hands on, until one day, she just broke down. She told me she was eating to fill a hole and then came out about the rape.” Frank screwed up his face in disgust and rage.
Kelly’d seen victims of sexual assault struggle with self-worth for decades, even after going on to find love, getting married, and having children. So many didn’t realize rape was a violation that lasted a lifetime. “And that’s when you left?” The question was off Kelly’s lips before she could think them through; her heart was thumping, and her stomach tossing. When Estella needed Frank the most, he’d bolted—and he had the nerve to tell them he loved Estella last night! But then, how could a person deal with the fact they’d lived a lie for six years?
“Yeah,” he replied sourly. “I’m douche of the year.”
“You told us you met the four men at summer school. Tell us a bit more,” Jack requested.
“Um…” Frank hitched his shoulders. “We hit it off as quick friends and started hanging out after class and on weekends. I introduced them to Estella, and everything seemed fine. They liked her, and she liked them.” He bit his bottom lip. “Everything was great—at least I thought it was. It makes it easier when the girl you love likes your friends, and they her.” He was staring into space and wringing his hands. “Guess they liked her too much. Every one of them took a turn.” He balled his fists.
Kelly glanced at Jack to see if he’d noticed, and he glimpsed at her. He’d caught it.
“Some friends, eh,” Frank added. “All four of them even had the nerve to stand up for me at my wedding. Fucking sons of bitches.”
Kelly couldn’t imagine what it would have been like for Estella if these men, a.k.a. friends of her husband, were always hanging around. “It must have been hard on you, too,” she empathized.
“That’s why I left. She’d betrayed me by not telling me, and I looked—and felt—like a damn fool. And I couldn’t stand looking at her anymore. Estella or Michelle—truth be told. But it was mostly me who I hated, who I wanted to punish. If it hadn’t been for me, Estella never would have had to go through what she had. And Michelle, well, every time I looked at her, I wondered who the father was. One day I’d see Rob in her; another day Darrell; and around it would go with all four of them.”
“Did you ever confront any of your so-called friends?” Jack asked.
“Nope.” A pulse tapped in Frank’s cheeks. “Another reason I enlisted. If I ever saw any of their faces again, I’d have killed them.”
Kelly was finding it hard to believe he just ran away like a scared dog with its tail tucked between its legs, and Jack must have, too, given the question he’d just asked.
“That would have taken a lot of self-control,” she said, shivers dancing across the back of her neck, over her shoulders, and down her arms. Something was starting to feel way off here. Was his current anger evidence of pent-up emotions, or indicative that Frank had taken action himself? Then there was another possibility that flittered through Kelly’s mind as quick as a flash of lightning. “Mr. Evans, you’re aware that we found a photo of you with these men when you were all younger in Michelle’s apartment.”
“Yeah, you showed it to me.”
“Do you know where she would have gotten the photo?”
“Maybe Estella? She’s the one who took the picture. That’s all I can think, anyway.” Frank wiped his sweaty forehead with the palm of his left hand again.
“Really? She held on to a photo of her husband, who left her, and the four men who raped her?” Kelly didn’t bother to mask her skepticism. She wanted a reaction.
“She must have…I mean, I don’t know where else Michelle would have gotten it from.”
Kelly wasn’t buying his words, and a theory was starting to form in her mind. “You think that Michelle found out that her mother was raped—and possibly by these men? Estella showed her the picture even?”
“It’s possible,” Frank said.
“Then, maybe she…” Kelly rolled her hand.
Frank’s eyes widened. “She killed them for what they did to her mother.”
Kelly’s approach had worked: father had turned on the daughter in a flash. But she wanted to know one more thing before she asked Jack to join her in the hall. “Mr. Evans, do you know a couple named Edna and David Mavis? They’re from Bridgeport, California, where you grew up.”
Frank’s brow crinkled. “The name sounds familiar. Ah, yeah, Rachelle Mavis. She was Edna and David’s daughter and a good friend of Estella’s. They’d known each other since they were little.”
Kelly tried to contain her excitement at finally having a connection between the stolen card and Michelle. Just like Michelle had done with dropping the name Estella at the Lucky Pub, she was leaving a breadcrumb back to California—back to the scene of the real crime in her mind—by swiping the Mavises’ credit card information. She looked at Jack and said, “Can we talk in the hall for a minute?”
Jack led the way out, and they walked to the end of the corridor, well out of earshot from Frank’s apartment, but still within view if he tried to leave.
“I think Frank’s involved—and maybe even working with Michelle,” she put out. “You saw how quickly he turned on Michelle in there. Yesterday, he was defending her. I apply a little pressure, hook him, and he’s all about her guilt. He knows exactly how Michelle came into possession of that photo, because he gave it to her. I feel it. There’s no way Estella would hold on to that photo. Frank took advantage of Michelle’s vulnerability, of her fragile state of being. I think he moved in around the time of Estella’s death. Michelle would be at her lowest point, having just lost her mother, having experienced an active war zone, suffering from PTSD. She’d be wanting a place to belong in the world—even more so if she’d just found out how she’d come into the world. That’s assuming Estella told her, but it could have just as well been Frank. I think he commissioned his own daughter to carry out the murders. Though he says he hasn’t seen her in years.”
“People say a lot of things.” Jack tapped his shirt pocket.
“Sadly true. We’ve got to have Nadia do a full background on this guy. I really don’t think he’s Michelle’s next target; I think that he’s her conspirator. Both would have motive. You heard him—if he saw their faces again, he’d kill them.”
Jack pulled out his phone. “We’ve got to let Frank think we’re on his side for now, assuming we haven’t already made him think otherwise.”
“Sorry, Jack, if I was a little straightforward in there.”
“It’s fine. What’s done is done, and he might not even have picked up on your implications. But let’s see what we can do to salvage the situation.” He called Nadia, and Kelly listened as Jack asked her to subpoena Frank’s phone records and financials. “The guy says he hasn’t taken any vacation or sick leave in the last year, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have hopped on a plane on his days off. See if you can find any record of travel, too,” Jack told Nadia. “Also pull up information on Rachelle Mavis. She’s the daughter of the couple whose card was stolen. I’ll hold the line.” Jack, ever so softly, tapped the carpet with his foot while he listened to Nadia. “Okay. And one more thing. Quickly check to see if Frank has any weapons registered to him.”
Kelly felt herself go cold at thoughts of how quickly this could go sideways.
A few moments later, Jack hung up, but he didn’t put his phone away. “He doesn’t show any registered weapons, but when we go back in there, we still approach with caution. Talk to him like a friend, like we still fear for his life, got it?”
She nodded, but adrenaline was pumping through her and making her quaky.
“But we’re going to call in for backup first.”
“Makes complete sense.”
&nb
sp; Jack made another call to the local police department. He let them know where they were, the potential situation, and that their subject could be armed and dangerous.
“We hold off going back in until they get here,” Jack added. “Should be about fifteen minutes.”
“What did Nadia say about Rachelle Mavis?”
“She died a couple years ago.”
“Oh.” She could have provided some insight into Estella and Michelle.
“I’m going to update Paige and Brandon on our suspicions about Frank and let them know about Rachelle.” He made the call and told them, then said, “Okay, go back and see if you can get anywhere with that. Keep us posted, and we’ll do likewise. Bye.” Jack pocketed his phone.
“What is it, Jack?”
“They said that the building manager where Michelle has her apartment remembered seeing a man with Michelle there once or twice. He described him as being in his fifties. I have them going back to see if the manager recognizes any of the men in the photo.”
-
Forty-Nine
Bridgeport, California
Saturday, October 26th, 10:40 AM Pacific Standard Time
Jack’s call had Paige and me sitting in stunned silence for a few minutes. “A conspiracy between father and daughter,” I said. “Never saw that coming.”
“Me neither.”
“But how does that coincide with the asterisk on Michelle’s map?”
Paige looked over at me in the passenger seat. “Could just be where she plans on ending up.”
“She marked the victim’s locations with asterisks.” I wasn’t so sure that Frank Evans was in the clear—just yet.
“Could represent destinations to her,” Paige reasoned.
“Still. Arlington to Baltimore isn’t that far. An hour and a half?” I latched eyes with Paige. “If they’re working together, Frank could be hiding Michelle.” I called Jack on speaker and pointed out the possibility.
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