“Don’t mind them; they never stop.”
She neared the door, tapped softly. “Mom?” Opening it, she motioned them forward.
“Ms. Randall?” Nathan stepped inside. “It’s Detective Long. We spoke on the phone?”
The bedcovers rustled faintly, and a pair of deep brown eyes turned but didn’t focus. Her skin was translucent against the sheets. Nathan grabbed a small chair from the corner and sat down next to her.
“Jacqueline? You don’t look like you’re doing so well,” Nathan reached for the nearest box of tissues. Empty. He waved it in Brett’s direction, and the teenage daughter seemed to pick up on the cue first. He’d barely turned around before she was back.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Jacqueline choked between sobs.
“What?” Nathan asked.
“Work. Take care of these children …”
“Did you call victim assistance?” Nathan lifted a finger and circled it in the air. Brett reached for his phone and stepped into the hall, though still in view.
“I’m going to get someone here for you today. Are you seeing a counselor?”
“I stopped.”
“Why?”
“None of it is helping!”
“All right, let’s work through this. Do you have family in town? A friend?”
“I haven’t told anyone,” she whispered, shifting her gaze behind Nathan where her daughter must be standing.
“Jacqueline, I’m not even going to pretend to act like I know anything about this. But I do know you’re going to need some help. You’ve got to reach out to someone.”
Nathan reached for his own phone. “Do you have any family that lives close by?”
“My mother.”
“You have a good relationship with her?” She nodded. “Great. I want you to give me her number.”
Brett neared him. “Thirty minutes for victim’s advocacy.”
Nathan handed off his phone after he punched in the number. “Talk to her mother. Get her over here. If she can’t drive, we’ll come and get her.” Turning back, he pulled the caked blonde strands of hair away from Jacqueline’s eyes. “I need you to help me catch this guy. Did you do that packet of questions?”
“I can’t remember the attack,” she said, new tears flowing.
“I know. That’s okay. The questions aren’t about that. They’re about you and your life. It will help us focus on where he might have found you .”
Brett reappeared. “Grandma’s comin’ in five minutes.”
“Listen, your mother is going to be here soon. I want you to tell her what happened. One of our rape counselors is on the way, as well. She’ll help you. Did you do any of the survey?”
Jacqueline reached behind her, pulling apart layers of dirty bed linens. The papers were torn in half but he could see some penned responses, though not many. Nathan took it. “Thanks. This is great. It’s really going to help.”
A hefty knock at the door stopped the rambunctious boys in the next room.
“That was record time.” Brett left briefly. In a few moments he was back, ushering in a petite yet well-muscled woman who sat at the edge of the bed and gathered her daughter up into her arms.
“Natalie, draw your mother a bath. Hot as you can stand.”
“Ma’am …” Nathan offered.
“I know what this is. You leave us and come back in a few days. She’ll be ready for you then.”
Brett pulled on Nathan’s elbow. Walking outside, Nathan took several cleansing breaths.
“Why the hurry to leave?” Nathan asked.
“I know mothers like that. I have one. You don’t get in their way. I guarantee when we come back, this lawn will be mowed, the screen door fixed, and they’ll have just as many Halloween decorations up as the neighbors.”
Getting into the car, they situated themselves and buckled seat belts. “I’ll tell you another thing: those hoodlum twin boys will have their hair cut and be greeting us at the door with polite little smiles. Grandma is back!”
Nathan smiled as he pulled away from the chaos, choosing to drive his own vehicle again.
“One thing I find funny.” Brett tapped his fingers rapid fire on the dashboard.
“Hey, you’re smudging!” Nathan slapped his hand away and grabbed a wet wipe from the middle console, wiping the finger marks clean.
“Smudging?”
“I don’t know what you could possibly find funny. It’s terrible what the rape has done to her. To both of these women.”
“I’m not talking about the victims. I’m talking about you.”
“Ooh, I can hardly wait for one of your stunning observations.”
“They both start bawling their eyes out and you hand them Kleenex. Just regular tissue.”
“Yeah, so, I thought it was the chivalrous thing to do. I know thoughtful male responses are foreign to you.”
“Why not give them one of your grandma’s embroidered hankies? I’m just curious as to why Lilly Reeves got one and not the others.”
October 28
D
ANA SUCKED THE
cool air sharply into her lungs when she saw Lilly emerge from her car as she waited for her by the door to the indoor firing range. Her hair was oily and matted. Holes in her baggy clothing showed the pale, malnourished skin beneath. As she neared, Dana held the door open for her and followed her inside. Lilly failed to offer a greeting.
“Honestly, I can’t even believe you convinced me to do this. Especially on my first Saturday night off in eons,” Dana said. The gun club was like an undiscovered culture. Lilly stood next to her, two plastic gun cases open, loading two magazines.
“Kadin said he wouldn’t come.”
“Smart man,” Dana replied. Lilly did not look her way. “What is that smell?”
“A mixture of burnt powder and the solvent they use to clean the weapons.”
“Not quite antiseptic.” The cement floor, once painted red, was chipped and pockmarked. Dana slid her feet along the floor to prevent herself from slipping on the numerous shell casings that littered the ground. Two large, wooden barrels sat in the corner with a broom and dustpan. Every ceiling tile either gaped open, showing intestinal plumbing, or was water-stained and sagging.
Lilly continued with the weapons, her movements strong and sure. She snapped one magazine into place and set the gun in front of Dana. The sound of the metal cap on Lilly’s flask as it opened scraped Dana’s spine like a bad violin note. Lilly took two swigs and set it aside before loading the other magazine into a second gun.
“When did you get these?” Dana handled the sidearm with cautious movements.
Lilly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Leveling the gun she fired off one shot before Dana could get her earplugs in.
“Hey, you could have warned me!” Dana leaned from her side of the divider and looked at the gaping hole, center mass, on the target at the end of Lilly’s lane. She raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.
Lilly’s eyes looked cold and resolved. “I’ve had the one you’re using for several years. I just got this one.” Lilly held the gun up and rocked it in front of Dana. “Didn’t want the first edition to be lonely.” She reached for her thermos again.
“I see. How many of these do you think you need?”
“I’m not sure, maybe one for every room.”
Dana was amazed at how quickly Lilly aimed, this time firing off three successive shots. Her ears started to ring. Dana peered at the target. Still only one hole.
“You missed,” Dana said, her own voice distant in her ears.
“Do you know what the ultimate goal is when you practice shooting?” Lilly crossed her arms and leaned against the divider.
“I would assume it’s to hit the target.”
“The correct answer would be to get the bullet through the exact same hole as the first shot you fired.” Turning in a blur, Lilly took another three shots. Dana noted two holes in the head, another to the chest.
“What you see now is poor shooting.”
“I think he’d still be dead!”
Lilly drained the remainder of her drink, reached into her duffel, and placed another silver flask before her. Dana wiggled a finger in her ear, attempting to diminish the high-pitched ring.
“Why don’t you put your ear plugs in?”
“Don’t yell! I can still hear!”
“Do you know you’re yelling?”
When Lilly raised her weapon, Dana plugged both her ears with her index fingers. This time, she didn’t check the shots.
“Well, why not?”
“What?”
“You need to get those in your ears.”
“I’m not putting them in because I want to talk to you.”
“I wish you’d told me that before I got your gun ready.”
Dana placed a firm hand over the weapon to prevent Lilly from picking it up, keeping it in place until Lilly met her gaze. “I don’t think he’s coming after you.”
Lilly stilled. “That’s not what Torrence would say.”
“They’re not even sure it was him.”
“I am.”
Dana blew the bangs from her eyes. “When do you think you’ll come back to work? One shift and you’re gone for a month. Anderson’s not going to cover for you forever.”
“Why does there have to be a certain amount of time?”
“Because you need to move on.”
“I’ll be sure to say that to you after you’re raped.”
“All right, I’m sorry. But this is what you want to do? Drink and shoot for the rest of your life?”
Lilly turned her shoulders square to Dana. “I want to be ready. This is how I’m getting through it.”
“What would you say if a patient came into the ER using these coping mechanisms to work through a major event?”
“Major event? It was a crime!”
“What would you say?”
“I’d give her the double thumbs-up and tell her to carry on because you always have to be ready for the other shoe to drop. Life is only a series of tragic events. Do you ever think about that? That’s all our job is—meeting people at their lowest moments.” Lilly raised the weapon, steadied her sight, but did not fire.
“You really believe that?” Dana’s voice cracked.
“Why shouldn’t I? My father left me. My mother left me. Now I’m leaving me.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Ah, that’s because you’re not drinking enough.” Lilly picked up the flask, took several quick gulps, and set it aside.
“If you want me to stay here, you’re going to have to put the firearms away. All I need is a stray shot to do one of us in because your aim will be skewed with all that booze.”
Dana sat, holding the spare weapon in her lap. Tracing her fingers along the cool lines of the metal, her mind whirled at how something the size of her hand held such destructive force. “I remember a patient we took care of when we were residents.”
Lilly didn’t face her, but set the gun down.
“The young boy who’d suffered a traumatic brain injury and wasn’t going to live. Do you remember him?”
Though Lilly did not respond, Dana could see the heaviness of grief wilt her bravado. Her eyes widened and glossed over.
“At first, the family was adamant about refusing to give his organs away. It took you nearly twelve hours to convince them to surrender in the midst of utter despair. But they did, and several children are alive because of that.”
“And that’s not a tragedy?”
“Not for the families who received those organs. And in the end, it wasn’t for the family that gave them up. Because now they know his death meant something more than just their sorrow.”
“And this is helpful how?”
Dana stood, placing the gun back in its case. “Pain can be a great motivator of change, Lilly. I want you to do something more useful with this pain than do yourself in. Do you want to die?”
“Every single day.”
November 1
N
ATHAN CONSULTED THE
map he held and looked down the street at the quaint row of houses.
Brett took off his sport coat and slung it over his shoulder. “It’s hot. I’m hungry. I’m carrying a weapon. You know that’s a deadly combination.”
Nathan circled a two-block radius with his index finger. “We need to finish this area.”
“Deadly.”
“Stop your whining. You’re not five years old.”
“Come on. We’ve been at this all morning. Five tattoo parlors. Now, a re-canvas of Lilly’s neighborhood. Feed me and I’ll be a much better boy.”
“There are more important things than your grumbling stomach.”
Brett sat on a wooden park bench and brushed off flecks of peeling green paint. “I know you’re obsessed with this guy. I know you’re freaking out because it’s time for him to strike. That’s if we have his pattern correct.”
“I just want to finish this.”
“Plus, the FBI is coming. Are you even sleeping?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m giving you one more hour.”
“Whatever. Let’s do the block in front of Lilly’s complex. There were just a few houses where we didn’t get interviews. Let’s hit 1171. Supposedly the neighborhood busybody lives there.”
“Why hasn’t anyone been able to catch her home?”
“Probably because she’s busy. I didn’t say she was a shut-in.”
They approached the door. The yard was well kept. Early-style bungalow painted white with crisp, navy-blue shutters. Mums were planted along the brick path to the door in varying shades of rich autumn colors. Brett rapped on the door. It opened up barely an inch. One unmoving pale brown eye stared through the gap.
“What is it you want?
Nathan approached, adjusted his tie. “My name is Detective Nathan Long. This is my partner, Brett Sawyer.” Both quick-flipped their badges. “We’d like to speak to you about Dr. Lilly Reeves. Do you know her?”
The gap widened a few more inches. Wisps of corrugated gray hair fell over a wrinkled face that any Shar-Pei puppy would envy. “I know her.”
“May we come in and talk?”
“You like dogs?”
“How many are we talking?” Brett asked.
“Just one, but he’s mean. Let me put him out back.”
The door closed.
“Are you sure about this?” Brett ventured.
“She could be a witness.”
The house shuddered as the back door slammed. The sounds of growling, barking, and the old woman yelling seemed to incite every animal within hearing range to cry out in protest. The front door opened wide; the woman smoothed her black velvet dress and opened the screen.
“Come on in. I’ll make you some tea.”
They stepped into the foyer. The house was clean, void of lingering animal scent or muscle-cream rub. Nathan scanned the small living room. He stepped to the bay window and tapped his finger on a pair of binoculars.
“This is what I was hoping for,” Nathan said.
Brett walked the periphery of the room. “No family pictures.”
The woman returned, setting three cups on a small glass table. She motioned for them to sit on the couch as she took the wing chair.
“Mrs.?” Nathan ventured.
“Connelly.” She passed the vapor flowing cups to them, took her own, and promptly threw her leg over the side of the chair. Brett averted his gaze to the side. It was evident Mrs. Connelly didn’t believe in traditional, white undergarments. Nathan brought the liquid to his lips and took a large swig as Brett mirrored his movement. The burning in his mouth was not from the temperature of the liquid. Nathan let the liquid dribble back into the cup as Brett swallowed his.
The old woman eyed Nathan with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You don’t like it?”
“Mrs. Connelly, we very much appreciate your generosity. It’s just that we’re not allowed to drink on the job and I’m sensing there’s a little bit of alcohol in this beverage.”
“A lot of alcohol …”
“Brett,” Nathan warned.
“More and more of your gender can’t hold their liquor. You just can’t find real men in the world anymore.”
“As that may be true, let’s talk about Dr. Reeves. How well do you know her?”
“We’re more acquaintances than anything. She’s always been very kind to me. Checks on me when we get those five-foot blizzards and I can’t get out. I told her I was not going to take my blood pressure medicine anymore. Would rather buy other things.”
“Like good whiskey, no doubt.” Brett reached for his teacup. Nathan cut his hand across his neck.
“Exactly! Nonetheless, Dr. Reeves came over every day for two months to check my blood pressure. Made sure it was okay so I didn’t stroke out. Said it was easier to keep me alive than to have to clean my place out.”
“You don’t have family then,” Nathan said.
“My husband died many years ago. We were both singly born. Never had any children of our own.”
“I see. So you feel obligated to watch out for her.” Nathan pulled his notebook out and opened to a fresh page.
“I do what I can for her.”
“I want you to think back to the month of August, early September. Do you remember any odd happenings around the neighborhood?” Brett asked. Nathan skimmed his notes.
“Like what?”
“Any strange cars? Any strange events? People that were around then that don’t seem to be around now.”
“There was a man I would see walking around the neighborhood with one of those small, yippy dogs. I say if a dog don’t weigh more than twenty pounds, you may as well call him a rat and put him in a cage.”
“Not like Bruno out back.”
“His name’s Buttercup.”
“Of course,” Brett said.
“This man walking the dog … he’s not around anymore?”
“Haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks.”
“That puts him past Lilly’s assault,” Brett said. Nathan acknowledged the point.
The woman dropped her leg to the floor and clasped her knees with her hands. “Dr. Reeves was attacked?”
“Yes, in her home in September.”
“Thinking back, there was a strange thing that happened. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of days. I wasn’t feeling well. Had this headache for a week that wouldn’t go away. I wanted to talk to her about it. Went to her door and there was a man there checking her locks.”
“Checking her locks? How?”
“He had three keys and he was trying them in each of the deadbolts. One seemed to be giving him trouble.”
“You didn’t think he was trying to break in?”
“It was the middle of the day; bright and sunny. I could see him from the street. It would seem pretty brazen to do something like that.”
“Did you speak with him?”
“I asked him what he was up to. He said he was changing out Lilly’s locks. Checking to make sure the keys fit right.”
“You didn’t find that odd?”
“If you knew Dr. Reeves, you would know there was nothing weird about that. She’s a woman living alone. Never can be too safe, I say.”
“Can you describe this man?”
“He had dark brown hair.”
“Did you notice anything about his eyes?”
“He was wearing those annoying mirrored shades. Kind of like what I thought you’d be wearing.”
“How about any tattoos or distinguishing marks?”
“The man was covered except for his head. Wore this long, heavy overcoat. For a locksmith, he seemed overdressed and too warmly for that matter. The odd thing was he seemed annoyed that he was there. He said, ‘I’m going to do all this work, and I guarantee you she’s going to want her locks changed again tomorrow.’”
“Do you remember what day that was?”
“The day before Labor Day. I know for sure because I was looking forward to a senior lunch they were having at the church because of the holiday.”
Nathan took out a pocket calendar. He’d been tracking the crime dates in red. His own personal timeline of the events. He flipped back to September. The day before Labor Day, September 3.