“Stay, Jasper,” she ordered. Jasper obediently sat, still eyeing the tiny pooch as if it were the creature in
Alien
and was just hankering to hook itself on his face and explode through his chest.
Still chaperoning the sniffing-and-summing-each-other-up dogs, she looked around the interior of Will’s house.
Jeez
, she thought,
definitely no expense spared
. “The Taste of the South franchise must be doing one hell of a business, Will. You ever get lost in here?”
“C’mon, give me a break.” He turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “Wait until you see my bedroom. You’re going to like it, trust me.”
“I’d like it if it were a cot and a horsehair blanket.”
“Good answer.”
Their laughs were easy and genuine, and they were getting more and more comfortable with their new closeness. That was good. Will led her into the great room, which had floor-to-ceiling windows with a fabulous view of the glistening lake; but then again, every room they passed through had that magnificent outlook. The kitchen had every conceivable convenience, Kitchen-Aid and Sub-Zero appliances, cherrywood cabinets, and black marble countertops. Anything and everything a cook could ever need.
“Well, I must say, I am mightily impressed. I bet it even echoes like the Alps when you yell from the top of that grand staircase.”
“I yodel there every chance I get.”
The idea of Will yodeling there or anywhere also amused her.
“I’m getting the impression you don’t like my house.”
“I love it, but where’s the Olympic-size heated swimming pool? I must have my Olympic-size heated swimming pool, you know.”
“It’s down beside the lake. See? Look down that way. Not quite Olympic, but big enough for both of us.”
“Wow, I’m speechless,” she said, looking and wishing she were in it, or in the big spa feeding it with a warm, steamy waterfall.
“It’s heated. Hop in anytime you want, winter or summer.”
“I will, believe me. Right after we wrap up this case. And speaking of this case, how about you show me your cool computer room and let’s pop in some attorney-client-privilege CDs and get back to work.”
Will led her through several equally spacious and expertly decorated rooms, all done in a noticeably masculine style, but still the work of a talented interior designer. Lots of dark wood, leather, and glass. Masculine and modern, but that was okay with Julia. She was just tomboyish enough to like it that way. She supposed it beat the doilies, portraits of sullen-faced ancestors, and lace curtains of the boathouse, although she liked that, too.
“The master bedroom’s upstairs. I’ll show that to you later tonight, and every other night for the rest of the year.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Brannock.”
“Promise?”
With Jasper padding beside her and Baby Cakes still yapping in their wake, Julia followed Will down an adjacent hallway that led to a large room with French doors that was obviously Will’s home office. It overlooked the big, sparkling swimming pool. All four walls were lined with a variety of computers, printers, faxes, scanners, and some electronics that Julia didn’t recognize. “Do you launch the space shuttle from in here, too?”
“No, but I probably could.”
Julia didn’t fall for that. “How long does Baby Cakes bark before she collapses from exhaustion?”
“She just wants some attention,” Will said, scooping up the tiny dog and cradling her against his chest. She lay like a baby in the palm of his hand, shut her eyes, and squirmed in delight when he scratched her belly. Julia knew how the tiny mutt felt. Chagrined, she squirmed, too, just remembering.
“Where do I go to work?” Her voice was curter than she intended. They would be working in close quarters together here at Will’s house. Temptation was already rearing its sensual head. At least, for her it was.
“So, do you like my place?”
“What’s not to like? It’s beautiful.”
“I love the water, and the way the trees reflect off of it.”
“It’s beautiful, Will. I love it out here.”
Will grinned. He was pleased that she was pleased, she could tell. It was really easy to read his emotions, now that he didn’t drop that sturdy steel curtain down to shield his every feeling, good or bad. He was really opening up.
“I need to make a couple of calls and feed the dogs. How about I take Jasper out to run with my dogs? The property’s completely enclosed, so he can’t get out.”
“Sure. Looks like he’s raring to go.”
Will left her sitting in front of the HAL supercomputer setup, with Jasper dogging his heels. Yes sir, Will was a techno-freak, all right. Waiting for all the bells and whistles to warm up for her pleasure, she gazed out the window at the water. It was funny that both of them liked the water so much. She stared at Will’s race boat down at that honey of a double dock on the water and wondered if he water-skied. He was so athletic that she bet he did.
A few minutes later, she heard a sharp bark and saw Jasper and the beagles running down the backyard toward the lake, frolicking together like little puppies. Jasper wouldn’t stray, but he might explore. She hoped Will didn’t have land mines along the perimeter of his property. He was überserious about his security, and for good reason. Turning back to the computer, she slid in the CD and began the long and tedious ordeal of reading through all of Gloria Varranzo’s cases and cross-referencing them with the ones in which Tam had found a connection between the judge and the shock jock. She was sure that when they found the right case, they’d find the Tongue Slasher. But, whoa, was she ever going to be computer blind by morning.
Chapter 22
Three hours later, Will and Julia sat outside on a white brick terrace and devoured fried bologna sandwiches loaded with sliced tomatoes, lettuce, and mayonnaise. The dogs sat in a semicircle in front of them, even Baby Cakes—three emitting low, imploring growls; one a periodic shrill yap of demand. Then they returned to their twin computers, silent, serious, both focused intently on their screens.
After about an hour, Will stopped for a moment and rubbed his temples with his thumbs. He was tired. His eyes ached inside the sockets and a headache was well on its way. He swiveled his chair around and stared at Julia’s profile. She looked the same as always, pretty and damn provocative. No matter how many hours of sleep she got and how hard she worked, she still looked great. Since the first day they’d met, he had branded her as unintentionally sexy. She made no effort whatsoever to make herself so, but was still a woman most men tripped over their feet to stare at. Being with her so much, he’d noticed that reaction from other guys. He didn’t blame them; he’d done the same thing the first time he’d seen her. He felt that sexual chemistry every time he laid eyes on her.
“What?” Julia inquired, swiveling in her desk chair and returning his stare.
“I was just admiring you. You look sexy in that baggy Tennessee T-shirt and those cutoff jeans.”
“Yeah, right,” she said, laughing as if that was ridiculous.
“I mean it. You got it, babe.”
“So do you, babe. What I wish I had, however, is a connection that would solve this case and give us a Google road map to the perp’s hidey hole.”
“We’ll get him.”
“We need to get him yesterday. Because he’s lurking around somewhere right now, casing out some poor victim.”
“If he hasn’t already finished the job.”
“You think he’s already struck?”
“He doesn’t seem to waste much time between murders. It’s like he’s got an agenda and he’s determined to carry it out before something goes wrong.”
Julia inhaled deeply and ran slender fingers through her loosened hair. “I’m not stopping until we find the link, whatever it is. My gut tells me it’s right here in Gloria Varranzo’s caseload. I know it is.”
“Most of the pictures of persons of interest are ready to e-mail. Varranzo’s defense team always took pictures of the courtroom and the jury members for their files. I put them in, too. Who knows, maybe the killer liked to watch his victims’ trials. Got himself all worked up that way.” He leaned back in his chair, looked up at the ceiling, and huffed out his own tired breath. “I’m going to e-mail them to Archie York at LVPD. I hope to God Maria can identify somebody.” He massaged the back of his neck. “Hey, want a beer? I’ve got some wine and hard stuff, too. Bottled water. Milk. V8 juice.”
“Do you have sodas? I want to keep my mind clear. I like Pepsi better than Coke.”
After he returned with an ice-cold Pepsi for her and his own bottle of water, they fell into a comfortable working silence again. Truth was, he was as eager as she to get this brutal bastard. Whatever drove the guy had to be something really bad. He’d not worked on that many mutilation murders, but this guy had a deep personal beef, all right. A big one. Revenge, hatred, anger—his gruesome acts dripped with all of that.
“Oh my God.”
Will turned around to look at Julia, who was now leaning close to her monitor. Her voice sounded excited.
“What’d you find?”
“Pull up the State of Tennessee versus Folger Parmentier. June sixteenth, ten years ago.”
Will did a quick search and watched the case flash up on his screen.
“Got it yet?”
“Gloria was defending Parmentier, who was eighteen at the time. He was accused of drunk driving and three counts of vehicular homicide.”
“Judge Lucien Lockhart presided.”
“Bingo,” Will said. Skimming through Varranzo’s notes and the transcript of the Parmentier trial, Will read aloud, “ ‘His passenger died in the crash, as well as two people in the other car.’ ”
Julia nodded. “Yeah, two of them were little kids: Abigail Cummings, two, and Thomas Cummings, four. Their mother was Victoria Cummings, a divorcée. The two children died at the crash site. The mother survived the crash with severe injuries. Oh, man, Will, this could be it. This could be the connection.”
“This says Folger Parmentier’s girlfriend, the girl who died in the crash, was Joanne Gentry. Says she’s the daughter of Mack and Jennifer Gentry of Nashville.”
That got Julia’s attention. “Are you kidding me? She was Mack Gentry’s daughter?” Julia asked him. “You’ve heard of him, haven’t you, Will? He’s a bigwig in Nashville, hobnobs with the governor and lots of other important politicos. Supposedly richer than Croesus. Always on the news, either charitable giving or hosting fund-raisers. But rumors abounded that a lot of his dealings were shady.”
“Gloria won that case. Parmentier got off—not even probation.” Will scrolled down through the lengthy case history. “There were several appeals, but none of them worked. The boy walked every single time. Hung juries.”
“Sounds like a good reason for revenge to me. The judge and his lawyer went down. Guess who’s next?”
“Folger Parmentier.”
“Dead right, Brannock.”
Will reached for his cell phone. “We’ve got to warn him.”
“Wait. Varranzo has news clips about the case attached to her file. Let’s see if Roc VanVeter’s involved. That would pretty much nail it shut.”
Will clicked some buttons, and the first attached video appeared on a fifty-five-inch LCD screen attached to the wall across the room. The first one was from WDSI in Chattanooga. A pretty reporter with long brown hair and a Fox 61 black cap came on, her voice quick and breathless with excitement. “I’m reporting from the Hamilton County criminal court building in downtown Chattanooga at the Folger Parmentier trial. We have Gloria Varranzo here with us. As you know, she is the lead attorney for the accused driver of the vehicle, Folger Parmentier.”
In her close-up shot, Gloria Varranzo looked like she’d stepped out of a
Vogue
photo spread. Ten years ago, she had been an attractive woman, oozing confidence and well-groomed elegance, never dreaming she would end up a mutilated corpse hanging off the bedroom balcony of her palatial house.
“My client is innocent of all charges. He wasn’t driving the car. His girlfriend, Joanne Gentry, was not only behind the wheel but drinking and driving. Of course, we all mourn her passing, my client most of all, but he cannot be jailed for her wrongdoing. The driver of the other car, Victoria Cummings, has a DUI on her record. Unlike my client, she’s also got a rap sheet for past criminal behavior. Folger’s record is clean. He’s innocent of any crime whatsoever, and I intend to prove that.”
“What do you bet that Mack Gentry was furious over the remark about his dead daughter?” Will said. The second clip came on and was more of the same. Most of the contents smeared the deceased occupants of both vehicles: more allegations against Parmentier’s girlfriend’s history of drinking, rehab, and drugs; some against the Cummings woman, insinuating she was a prostitute, and worse. Another video clip revealed that Victoria Cummings had committed suicide, ostensibly because of the loss of her children. Several news cameras picked up Mack Gentry entering the courthouse, his face set in anger and anguish over the loss of his only daughter. He glared at the reporter who called out to him. Yeah, he had been enraged, all right.
Julia was watching as another TV station, this one the NBC affiliate, flashed up pictures of Victoria Cummings’s two children. Both were beautiful, with blond hair and blue eyes, killed before they got a chance to live.
“This case is so sad, so many victims,” he said to Julia.
“Yes, it is, and it’s still going on.”
They hit pay dirt with the next video. It was a clip from Roc VanVeter’s televised radio show. He looked young and powerful and sure of himself, but his pompous attitude and the condescending vitriol that he sent out over the airwaves for anybody to hear, absolutely turned Will’s stomach.
“Yeah, baby”—VanVeter was speaking with Gloria Varranzo, who was his solo guest—“it’s probably a good thing both those bitches are dead. The Gentry dame is a cokehead and caused the whole damn accident. The world’s better off without her. And that slut Victoria Cummings. What kind of mother was she? She’s a drunk, too, and went driving around with her kids in the car. It’s her fault they’re dead, not anybody else’s. She deserves to lose them with that kind of criminal background. They’re better off dead, too, with a mother like her.”
“Oh my God, Will, this is what they were saying about Victoria after she survived the crash. No wonder she killed herself.”
“Did you notice Mack Gentry’s face in those clips? He was out for blood.”
“And didn’t get it,” Julia returned. “He was well-known in Nashville for getting even with his enemies.”
“How?”
“Usually he just connived until he managed to bankrupt them. A few died under mysterious circumstances. He is not a nice man.”
“But would he hunt down and mutilate this many people after so long?”
“I doubt it, but he’s the kind of man who’d hire assassins to do his dirty work for him. Just like Oscar Kraft.”
“I think we’ve heard enough to officially warn Folger Parmentier. Even if we’re wrong. He needs to know he could be the next target.”
“It won’t hurt to interview him, either. He’s obviously involved in this up to his eyeballs.”
Will dialed up Quantico and asked for Folger Parmentier’s current address and telephone number and then asked them to run a history on Joanne Gentry, Victoria Cummings, and Mack Gentry and e-mail it to his smart phone. He wanted to find out if anything Varranzo and VanVeter said about the victims was true. Somehow he doubted it. Roc VanVeter was known for smearing innocent people, and Gloria’s firm had a built-in reputation for defending low-life types. He wanted to know where Gentry was and what he’d been up to since his daughter died. Parmentier’s number came back to him after a couple of minutes.
“Yeah, and can you run a check on Victoria Cummings’s husband? They had two children, Abigail and Thomas, both killed in a car crash on Signal Mountain around ten years ago.” Will hung up and dialed Parmentier’s number. No answer. No answering machine. “I say we go find him, interview him, and tell him to be on the lookout for any suspicious people around him.”
Julia said, “I’m with you. Do you know how to locate his house?”
“Not exactly, but my GPS does. If my guess is correct, I’d say it’ll take, maybe, fifteen, twenty minutes to get there, considering the mountain roads in that area.”
“Let’s go. You might have to hold me back, though. I’m beginning to understand the perpetrator’s motives. I already loathe this creep.”
“Not as much as someone else did. If the killer gets to him, he’s never going to cast slurs on anyone again.”
“Yeah, the fraudulent tongue shall be cut out.”
Tam Lovelady left the medical examiner’s office, a deep frown darkening her face. The test results she’d just gotten from Pete Tipton were not the ones they’d wanted. Julia Cass was not going to like it one bit. But she had to tell her. Julia and Will were probably back from Las Vegas. She stopped at her car and punched in Julia’s cell phone number. She waited.
Julia picked up on the first ring. “This is Detective Cass.”
“Hey, Julia. It’s me. Tam. Where are you?”
“We’re on our way to a guy named Folger Parmentier’s house. We think we’ve pinned down a case that’s a good fit for a revenge killing and concerns all our victims. You need to take a look at it. I e-mailed the info to you about fifteen minutes ago. We didn’t read it all the way through yet because we figured that Parmentier could be a target. We’re getting close to his house now.”
“I’ll get right on it.” Tam hesitated, not thrilled about telling Julia the bad news.
Julia noticed. “What’s wrong? You okay, Tam?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Something going on with Marcus?”
Tam had to smile, just because things were going so well. “No, we’re good.”
“That’s fantastic, Tam.”
Tam was still putting off the reason for her call. “What about you and Will? You gettin’ it on yet?” There was a short silence, and Tam could almost see Julia’s face turning red on the other end. “Okay, I get it. That
what happens in Vegas
thing. That it?”
“On the nose.”
“Okay, listen. I really hate to tell you this, but you know that dog hair you gave to Pete Tipton? He just got a report back from TBI forensics, and it’s a match with the one found at the crime scene. Will should be getting the same report anytime now.”
Silence at the other end. “Is he a hundred percent sure?”
“ ’Fraid so. Sorry, Julia.”
“Okay. I just don’t see how that could’ve happened. I’m extra careful about any kind of trace evidence.”