Sense of Evil (31 page)

“You haven’t revised the profile as you’ve gotten deeper into the investigation?” Rafe asked Isabel almost idly.

“Not really. This guy leaves so little behind that the only real thing we have to study are the victims he kills. All single white females, all smart and savvy, all successful. Beyond that, and until now, all we really had connecting them was the color of their hair. Cheryl Bayne’s disappearance puts the importance of that into question—definitely.”

“But even before then,” Mallory said, “we found Jamie’s secret. And her secret playroom.”

Isabel nodded.

“Which could have been an aberration as far as the victims go, having absolutely nothing to do with the killer or his motivations. But then Hope Tessneer’s body turned up, having very likely been a . . . toy . . . for our killer after she died, probably accidentally, and probably at Jamie’s hands. Connection. And now this note, which is a pretty fair indication that Tricia Kane was or planned to become involved in Jamie’s S&M games.”

“Another connection,” Rafe said.

“But there is absolutely no sign that Allison Carroll led anything but a perfectly traditional sex life. Also no sign that she even knew either of the other victims.”

Rafe shook his head. “Maybe we missed something. Or maybe there was nothing there to miss. Maybe she was as good at keeping secrets as Jamie was. As Tricia was.”

“Regarding Tricia, there were no regular withdrawals from her bank account in the last few months,” Mallory noted. “But that isn’t to say she might not have sold some of her sketches or paintings for cash. A couple of her friends mentioned that she’d sold things to them. She could have paid Jamie without leaving any trace of the money.”

“Yeah,” Isabel said, “but how did she
find
Jamie? I mean, how did she know the services were available? I doubt Jamie advertised in some bondage magazine.”

“Word of mouth?” Rafe suggested. “A referral from another client? All these women had something to lose in the sense of not wanting their . . . extracurricular activities to be made public. Jamie could have been pretty sure of their silence.”

“Still, she would have wanted to have control—” Isabel broke off with a frown, then continued. “Wait a minute. The photos we have show Jamie unmasked. What if that’s the reason Emily took those particular photos? Because they were the only ones that showed Jamie’s face?”

Finishing her supposition, Rafe said, “What if Jamie was always masked when she met clients? Except for the client she trusted, the one in the photographs?”

Mallory said, “According to all that info you guys got from Quantico on the S&M scene, that actually makes sense. For the submissive to not know who was dominating her—or him, I guess—could be an important part of the experience. For some of them, it might even be necessary that they not know the identity of their . . . mistress.”

“We have got to find that box,” Isabel said. “And I want to talk to Emily again first thing tomorrow. The patrol’s still watching her, right?”

Rafe nodded. “When she’s out of the house, they follow; when she’s home, as she was last time I checked, I have a squad car parked across the street from her house. If anybody asks, they’re under orders to say they’re making sure none of the media bothers the family.”

“Good cover story,” Isabel said.

“And plausible. Since Jamie was the first victim, the family really has had to put up with a lot of media attention. Allison and Tricia didn’t have family in Hastings, so nobody can really know if those families are being watched as well.”

“Hey,” Ginny said suddenly, “did you guys take a good look at these doodles?”

“I was just looking at the time and place of the appointment,” Hollis admitted, unwilling to explain that images often blurred or faded oddly when she looked at them, particularly those drawn two-dimensionally on paper.

“What’d we miss?” Rafe asked his young officer.

Ginny hesitated, then pushed the note across the table to him. “Look at that doodle on the right. The two circles connected with a sort of chain.”

Rafe had to look for a moment before he realized what he was seeing. “Jesus. Handcuffs.”

“It’s about time you got off,” Ally told Travis. “I didn’t have to hang around the police station waiting for you, you know. I do have other offers.”

He grinned at her. “Then why didn’t you accept any of them?”

“You’re getting too goddamned cocky, I’ll tell you that much. Here I am, wandering around downtown on a Sunday evening when the only other women out are brave, and needless to say brunette, hookers—”

“I think those are other reporters, Ally. Hastings doesn’t have hookers.”

“You sure about that?”

Recalling a certain trip to a certain house when he was about sixteen, Travis felt his face heat up. “Well, not streetwalkers, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess. Your old man took you to a cathouse for your first sexual experience.”

“He did not.” Travis sighed. “My brother did.”

Ally slid off the hood of his car, laughing. “You should send her flowers on every anniversary, pal. She done you proud.”

“Thank you. I think.” He pulled her close for a long kiss, then said, “Dammit, Ally, it really bothers me that you’re wandering around town alone, never mind after dark, especially since Cheryl Bayne disappeared. It’s been nearly a week since the last murder; we know we’re running out of time. Every other woman in town is jumpy as hell, and you’re breezing around like nothing can touch you.”

“I’m not blond.”

“We don’t
know
he’s just after blondes. Cheryl Bayne wasn’t—isn’t—blond. Besides, the other times, he went after brunettes and redheads.”

“Other times?”

He grimaced. “You didn’t hear me say that.”

“Look, I promise I won’t report a word until you say it’s okay. Scout’s honor.”

He stared at the fingers she held up. “That’s a peace sign, Ally.”

“Well, I was never a scout. But that doesn’t mean you can’t trust me to keep quiet—until I get the word it’s okay to report.”

He took her arm and escorted her around to the passenger side of his car. “I say we pick up a bag of tacos and head for my place.”

“Tacos at this hour? God, you have a cast-iron stomach, don’t you? Besides, didn’t I see a pizza delivery to the station a couple of hours ago? The poor guy was staggering under the weight of those pizza boxes.”

“One of the feds offered to buy,” Travis said. “Naturally, we took her up on the offer.”

“And you’re still hungry?”

“Well, that was a couple of hours ago.”

“But tacos? On top of pizza?”

“It’s Sunday night in Hastings, Ally; we don’t have a lot of choices here.”

She sighed and got into his car, waiting until he was behind the wheel to say, “Okay, but only on the condition that you fill me in on the investigation so far.”

“Ally—”

“Look, either you trust me by now or you don’t. If you don’t, please be kind enough to drop me off at the inn.”

“So that’s it? I talk or it’s over?”

“Come on, Travis, give me a break. We’re not lovers, we just roll around in the sheets together and have a good time. It’s fun and we both enjoy it, but I haven’t heard a suggestion that we start picking out china patterns. You’re not going to take me home to Mama, and we both know as soon as this maniac is captured or killed, I’m outta here. Right?”

“Right,” he said grudgingly.

“So don’t get all indignant with me now. I’m having a good time with you, and that’s cool, but I also have a job to do. Either I get what I need from you, or I start looking someplace else.”

“At least you’re up front about it,” he muttered.

“I am nothing if not totally honest,” she said, lying without a blink.

He eyed her for a moment and then started the car. “Ally, I swear, if you air one single word—or even tell your producer—before I give the okay, I’ll figure out a way to throw your ass in jail. Got it?”

“Got it. No problem. So who’s Jane Doe, and how did she die?”

“Hope Tessneer, and she was strangled. She lived in another town about thirty miles away.”

“And turned up dead here because . . . ?”

“Beats me. I think the chief and the feds know more than they’re saying, but they ain’t sharing. At least, not with me.”

Accurately reading the tone of his voice, she said, “They’ve brought somebody else into the investigation?”

“Into the inner circle, anyway.” He shrugged, trying hard for indifference. “Ginny McBrayer seems to be in their confidence, or at least of the two agents. Figures. You females always stick together.”

“Please don’t make me call you a sexist pig,” Ally requested dryly.

“I’m not. And that’s not what I mean. Women talk to each other in ways men just don’t. That’s all.”

Ally looked at him with faint respect. “We do, actually. I’m surprised you noticed.”

“I keep telling you I’m not an idiot.” He sent her a glance, smiling oddly. “You really should pay attention, Ally.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I guess I really should at that. Where’re we going, Travis?”

“The taco place. If I’m going to spill my guts, I’m going to need sustenance first.”

“I really wish you’d used a different phrase,” Ally said. “Really.”

16

I
SABEL STUDIED THE NOTE and then nodded, passing it on to Hollis and Mallory. “It looks like a sketch of handcuffs to me. Sort of stylized, the way an artist would maybe do it, which could be one reason we missed it. Nice catch, Ginny.”

“I should have caught that,” Hollis said, more to herself than to the others, and in a tone that struck her own ears as wistful.

“You’re just all a little preoccupied,” Ginny murmured.

“Good thing you aren’t,” Isabel told her. “Okay, a paralegal might have doodled handcuffs, I suppose, but having them on this particular note has got to mean something more than absentmindedness. It’s one more indication Tricia Kane was involved, or looking to get involved, with Jamie Brower.”

Hollis said, “Any chance Jamie might have trusted Tricia with that box we so badly want to see?”

Isabel started to reply, then looked at Rafe. “What do you think?”

“I’m not the profiler.”

“Off the top of your head. What do you think?”

“No,” he heard himself reply, and frowned as he went on slowly. “Jamie wouldn’t have trusted that box with anyone else—unless it was the partner who saw her unmasked.”

“Very good,” Isabel said. “And my feeling as well. That box is either stored somewhere Jamie considered safe, or kept by someone she really, really trusted. And we know by now that she didn’t trust many people.”

Hollis produced the Eyes Only file and opened it to study the photographs. It didn’t take long for her to reach a conclusion and close the folder. “This isn’t Tricia Kane. For one thing, she had a couple of moles on one arm that would have shown up in the photos. For another, unless the photos were taken months ago, there wouldn’t have been time for her hair to grow out.”

“But you can’t see her hair in the photos because of that hood,” Ginny objected. Then she blinked. And blushed. “Oh. That hair.”

Isabel smiled at her. “Why don’t you go make a few copies of Tricia’s note so we can bag the original. And then I really do think we all need to call it a day. Start fresh in the morning.”

As soon as Ginny was out of the room, Isabel said to Rafe, “I’m going to go talk to her. Be right back.”

“Okay.”

“Did I miss something?” Mallory wondered when Isabel had gone.

“We’ll be arresting Hank McBrayer,” Rafe told her. “Assault charges filed by his daughter.”

Mallory looked blank for a moment, then scowled. “Son of a bitch. I’d heard talk, but Ginny never said anything.”

“Most victims of abuse don’t,” Hollis said. To Rafe, she asked, “Is Isabel going to try to convince her to stay in a hotel tonight?”

“She’s going to try to convince her to let you two and a couple of officers go back to her house with a warrant for her father’s arrest and get him out of there tonight.”

“Can we do that?” Mallory asked.

“Yes. I called the judge from the car. The paperwork’s almost ready.”

Mallory was still frowning. “Why Isabel and Hollis? I mean, why not just send a couple of our officers? I’ll volunteer. Since I hate bullies just on principle, I’d love to accidentally break McBrayer’s arm while he’s resisting arrest.”

“So would I,” Rafe said. “But it was Isabel and Hollis who realized what was going on and talked to Ginny about it, and Isabel and I both feel Ginny will be more comfortable if they’re along for the arrest.” He hesitated, then said, “Plus, I think Isabel has something else in mind.”

Hollis looked at him. “Do you, now? Like what?”

“Assuming he’s sober enough to listen, I think she intends to take him down a peg or two. Without laying a finger on him.”

“If anybody can,” Hollis said, “it’s Isabel. Guys look at that beautiful face and centerfold body, all that blond hair, big green eyes all wide and innocent, and think they know exactly what she is. Boy, do they get a surprise.”

“I certainly did,” Rafe murmured.

“Speaking of which,” Hollis said. “Are you?”

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. “Apparently.”

Hollis whistled. “Dunno whether to say congratulations or sorry about that.”

“I’ll let you know when I figure out how I feel about it.”

Mallory said, “Hello? What’s going on? Are you what?”

“Psychic.”

She blinked. “You’re psychic?”

“So I’m told.”

“How could you be and not know?”

“The short answer,” Hollis said, “is that he always was, but it was an inactive ability, so he wasn’t aware of it. I think we talked about latents when we first got here. Rafe, as it turns out, was a latent. Something happened to activate his abilities.”

“What?”

Hollis lifted her brows at Rafe.

“Damned if I know. She—I was told it could have been some kind of subconscious shock, which I suppose it had to be since I don’t recall any consciously shocking or traumatic events in my life recently. Other than this killer.”