Faces of Evil [4] Rage (17 page)

Jess was here to stay. That was what
she
needed.

Noon

After surviving her first official BPD press conference, Jess was starved but there was no time for lunch. Officer Cook had kindly thought to pick up a little something for the crew. Burgers and colas in the office wasn’t Jess’s favorite kind of lunch but it beat nothing.

Harper was at the case board adding new developments. These kinds of brainstorming sessions were an important part of any investigation.

“There were four distinct sets of prints on the baby bottle. Our victim’s, the mother. And the baby’s.” He scrawled this information on the white board. “And two others we haven’t identified.”

“Why do most men have such lousy penmanship?” Lori asked.

Jess almost choked on her Pepsi.

Harper shot both of them a look over one broad shoulder.

“Is that harassment?” Officer Cook rallied to the defense of the males in the room.

“No, it is not,” Jess said for the record. “It’s merely a statement of fact. Carry on, Sergeant.”

Lori smirked.

“One set is clearly a child’s, but not the baby’s.”

The little boy next door, Devon Chambers, came immediately to mind. “We need to ask Lieutenant Grayson if the Chambers boy who lives next door ever came over to play or visit. If he visited earlier on Sunday, the prints might be his.” The more accurately they could pinpoint who had access to the home in the hours before Gabrielle’s murder, the better the understanding of the events leading up to her death.

Lori stood and strolled over to the board. She took the dry erase marker from Harper. He straightened his tie and went back to his desk.

“Dr. Baron has determined,” Lori began, “that cause of death was manual asphyxiation. Since some results haven’t come back yet, the official autopsy report won’t be available for a few more days. But one screening has shown that the victim had at least one glass of wine and either consumed or was administered a rather large dose of OC, OxyContin. According to her husband and her medical records, which I was able to have a look at this morning, Gabrielle was not on any prescription medications. He wasn’t aware of her taking anything beyond an Aleve for the occasional headache. And, to his knowledge, she had not consumed any wine when he visited around eight that evening.”

“The OC explains the lack of defense wounds,” Harper noted. “With a heavy dose like that, if she wasn’t a regular user, she was probably unconscious.”

Lori jotted down his comment. “And it suggests intent on the part of the perp. He didn’t drug the vic for nothing. He had a goal. But was it murder?”

“If murder was his intent,” Jess argued, “why the disorganized methods? What was the motive? Did Gabrielle have something he wanted? Did she make him angry? Did he kill her because he hated her or was this an unplanned act of rage?”

Lori jotted down
jealousy
and
rage
as possible motives.

Harper pointed out, “This new development confirms we’re not dealing with a gang hit.”

“Definitely not,” Jess agreed. “If any one of the MS-13 cliques operating in Birmingham had wanted her dead, they wouldn’t have bothered with all the foreplay. She’d be dead.” She thought about that for a moment, then added, “If one of the anti-gang groups wanted to make her murder look like a gang hit, someone somewhere would be bragging.”

“Still no tagging about this one,” Harper confirmed.

Gangs always tagged their threats, accomplishments—anything they wanted to brag about would be scrawled on walls somewhere for the world to see.

“I spoke with the administrator at the rehab center this morning as well.”

Lori had been very busy this morning. “Anything interesting come of that?”

“Unlike the pool guy’s assessment”—Lori tapped Trenton’s name on the case board—“Gabrielle’s former supervisor said she loved being a housewife and mother. The patients loved her, and her coworkers, subordinates, and supervisors all adored her. She was above reproach. A
true saint
was the term used.”

“And yet,” Jess offered, “Gabrielle Grayson is dead. The victim of a brutal homicide that is not related to a burglary or any other criminal activity we have found thus far.” Didn’t add up, that was for sure. Honestly, the only real credibility she gave to Trenton’s statement was that he had spent time with the victim more recently. Still didn’t make his remarks the gospel.

“I got the same reaction about the husband.” Cook joined Lori at the case board. “The guys and gals in the South Precinct think he’s some kind of god. He adores his wife. Talks about her and the kid all the time. Carries tons of photos in his wallet. His friends call him a
saint
.”

“Seems to me,” Jess countered, “that somewhere between these two saints there’s a little splinter of evil.” Somehow that splinter had sliced right through their lives like a machete laying down sugar cane. “And we have to find that tiny splinter.”

A somber silence held the room for a moment. No one wanted to believe evil could lurk so close to home. Yet there was no escaping the facts. Gabrielle Grayson had almost surely known her killer.

“Detective Wells, dig deeper into Gabrielle’s work and social life. Find someone, besides our less than credible pool guy, who knows the dirt. It’s there. Maybe only a speck, but it’s there. Something or someone that worked its way into the Graysons’ lives. We need to find it.” Jess wadded her burger wrapper and tossed it into the trash. “Sergeant Harper, set the lieutenant down and go over everything again. Maybe he’s remembered something else.”

“His mother-in-law is arriving today,” Harper reminded her. “I may have to catch him around that schedule.”

For the moment, Gabrielle’s mother would need her son-in-law for emotional support far more than Jess needed him for questioning. “Don’t push the issue, Sergeant. See when he’s available. We can work with the family’s schedule for now.”

Cook looked at Jess expectantly.

“Officer Cook, check in with Captain Allen and verify that he’s found no connecting threads between recent MS-13 activities or enemies and this case.” Jess couldn’t completely close that avenue of the investigation just yet. Particularly after last night’s warning that
she
was next. That note put a slightly different spin on the investigation. There were two common denominators shared by Jess and Gabrielle Grayson. They were both involved with cops and each had a connection, however remote, to this out-of-control gang business.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And while you’re there, get a feel for how Lieutenant Grayson and his partner were fitting in with the GTF.” Maybe he could get more from Allen’s people than Harper had. Most in the department knew that Jess and Harper were friends as well as colleagues. If anyone was holding back on account of their dislike for Jess, sending in a new face could help.

Cook grabbed his jacket. “On my way.”

When Cook was out the door, Harper cleared his throat.

Jess turned to him. “You have something you want to say, Sergeant?” She hadn’t told Lori about the business at her newly rented apartment. Harper might have beaten her to the punch.

“I saw your press briefing,” Harper announced.

“
We
saw your briefing.” Lori nodded to the flat panel TV on the wall.

Jess looked from one to the other. “And?”

The two shared a look. He said, “I had to break out my handkerchief for her.”

“You did not,” Lori argued. “You did good,” she told Jess. “You looked very professional.” She gave Jess a nod of approval. “Love the new suit.”

Jess had worn the ivory one today. She liked it, too. “Thank you. I’m curious to see how the community reacts to what I’m doing.” Working under the public microscope was a little different. At the bureau she had been just a small cog buried deep in the big machine. There were people who handled interaction with the media in all but very rare situations. Like when the media stalked her after the Spears case went to hell in a handbasket.

Harper stood and reached for his jacket. “You got nothing to worry about, Chief. They love you already.” He grinned. “They have since you sent a cold-blooded killer the message to man up and come get you.”

God, Jess didn’t want to think about that. Especially since a twinge of guilt accompanied the idea that Eric Spears had contacted her just yesterday and she hadn’t told a soul.

She didn’t have time to worry about him right now.

The other message, the one delivered to her new place, however, was a different story. That one she had to worry about. At least a little.

“I’m working on getting an interview with Grayson’s partner’s wife,” Jess said, focusing her attention back on their homicide case. “I didn’t want to push since she and her husband have been so involved with helping Grayson. But I think it’s time. The grandmother will be here to help with the baby. No need to cut Sarah Riley any more slack.”

“I’d like to go with you on that one,” Lori said.

“That’s a good idea,” Harper remarked with a knowing look in Jess’s direction.

Before Jess could admonish him, Lori said, “He told me about the break-in.” She shook her head when Jess would have griped. “Harper and I think whoever it is in the department that has it in for you is using this case to reach out. It had to be someone close to know your new address.”

“And”—Harper moved a step closer as if he feared being overheard—“since no one has claimed responsibility for tearing apart your old place and now this… I’m thinking this has something to do with Lopez and the GTF.”

Jess was thinking along those same lines. She had to keep that theory under wraps until they had a hell of a lot more than supposition. Particularly, as Lori pointed out, whoever sent the note last night had to be close. Too close. “We can’t go accusing anyone until we have evidence.” She held her hands palms up. “If someone in the department has it in for me, we don’t know how deep or how high it goes.”

“High enough,” Harper said, prodding a memory she’d just as soon forget, “that Salvadore Lopez warned Chief Burnett about it. Why do you think the chief wants someone with you all the time?”

“Let’s just get on with the job of investigating this homicide,” Jess suggested. She wasn’t debating her ability to take care of herself with Harper too. “I’m thinking of having a security system, complete with cameras, installed anyway.”

“Good idea,” Lori agreed.

“So,” Jess steered the conversation back to work, “we’ll shoot for this evening or first thing in the morning for interviewing Sarah Riley. Unless I get my car back today, I’ll need a ride anyway.” Jess had a feeling her car wasn’t ready for pickup yet because Burnett didn’t want her to have that much freedom. Knowing him, he’d had a GPS tracker put on the Taurus. Fat lot of good that had done him.

“Sounds good.” Lori pulled out her smartphone and tapped the screen a few times. “On the Chambers family, I don’t have much yet, but there are no parents. The mother died a year ago and the father doesn’t appear to have been in the picture for quite some time. I confirmed what Leslie told us about school and work. I haven’t tracked down Devon’s school yet. Must be a private one.”

“So it is just the two of them.” Damn it. Jess had a bad feeling about those two. Her cell vibrated against her desk and she reached for it. “Harris.”

“This is Leslie Chambers.”

That bad feeling crept deeper into her bones. “Hey, Miss Chambers.” She and Lori exchanged a questioning look. “How can I help you?” Judging by her voice, she needed something. She sounded as if she were in tears.

“It’s my brother. He’s missing. I think he might be in real trouble.” She burst into outright sobs. “I think he might know something about Mrs. Grayson’s murder.”

“Where are you, Leslie?”

“At my house. I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find him.”

“Stay right there. I’m on my way.”

Whispering Stream Lane, 2:05 p.m.

“He said he heard the baby crying.”

Seated at the Chamberses’ well-used kitchen table, Jess readied her pad and pencil. Leslie had explained how her brother had come clean with her after they left yesterday. “What did he do about the baby crying?”

As Leslie Chambers told her story, Lori was outside calling in the All Points Bulletin on eight-year-old Devon. He had been at a neighbor’s home when his sister left for work last night. When he wasn’t up at breakfast this morning the neighbor, eighty-year-old Earlene Nicholson, assumed he had gone home to be with his sister. At eleven Leslie had gone across the street to pick him up and he wasn’t there. She hadn’t freaked out until she searched their house, including the crawl space, and cruised the neighboring streets. Her brother was nowhere to be found.

Lori was also to get someone over here from Alabama Power to reinstall the utility meter. The idea that this young woman and her brother had suffered so much ripped at Jess’s heart.

“He said he climbed out the window in his room and went over to see if the baby was okay.” Leslie wrung her hands. “There’s an old iron trellis outside his window. He climbs up and down it like a ladder.”

“This was the night of the murder, Sunday night,” Jess clarified, “during the storm?”

Leslie nodded. “When the lightning would flash, he said he could see Mrs. Grayson lying on the floor in the family room. She was dead—like our mother at her funeral. You know, not moving or breathing and there was blood everywhere—that part he’s seen in movies.” She shook herself as if her thoughts were all running together. “He understands dead but not the difference between natural causes and murder, I don’t think. Anyway, he touched the blood and that’s how he got blood on his T-shirt.”

She stared at her hands. “I shouldn’t have thrown the shirt away. But I was worried for him. I didn’t want him to be in trouble. And he said he didn’t see anyone in the house other than Mrs. Grayson and the baby, so I didn’t figure he could be of any help. Mrs. Nicholson had already agreed to keep him last night. I planned to talk to him some more about what happened this morning. By the time he told me I had to get to work and…” She made a desperate sound. “I should have called you.”