Targeted (Callahan & McLane Book 4) (24 page)

30

Ava checked the address on the house against the one on her phone. This was the right place. Nora had called after Ava left David and Glen at the coffee shop and asked her to talk to Lucien Fujioka’s wife, Jeanine. She’d flown home a few hours after her husband had been found but had spent the last twenty-four at her parents’ house, avoiding the media. She wanted to talk to the police but had requested time to pull herself together.

Ava knocked on the door and it was instantly opened by a sweet-looking, smiling older woman with white hair. “Are you the FBI agent?” she asked. She looked like a movie-perfect grandmother. Curly hair, translucent skin, kind blue eyes.

Ava held out her identification. “Special Agent Ava McLane. How is Jeanine doing this morning?”

Sorrow transformed the woman’s face, and Ava wanted to hug her.

“You can call me Hildie. Jeanine is doing as well as can be expected after finding out her husband of fifteen years has been murdered.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Ava said as she stepped into the home. The phrase was automatic, but her heart was truly behind it.

“Thank you. Lucien was a dear and very good to our Jeanine. We’ll miss him terribly.” She blotted her eyes with a handkerchief from her robe pocket.

“Good morning.”

A tall woman spoke as she stepped into the formal living room. Jeanine Fujioka was incredibly thin, with her mother’s fair skin. Ava knew she’d been a fashion model twenty years ago. Her eyes were bloodshot.

Ava introduced herself and shook Jeanine’s hand. It felt like ice.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said again. The woman briefly closed her eyes and nodded.

“Let’s sit in the kitchen,” Hildie suggested. “Would you like some coffee, Agent McLane?”

An image of her dropped latte crossed her mind. “Yes, please. And call me Ava.” The three of them filed into the kitchen, and Ava gawked at the pale-pink stove and matching fridge.
Antiques!
The room was homey and warm and smelled strongly of fresh-brewed coffee. She sat at a dinette set of metal and pink vinyl as Hildie poured her a cup of coffee in a tiny floral china cup with a matching saucer.

“Cream or sugar?”

“Black. And thank you so much.” She took a sip of the coffee and could barely taste it. She’d been drinking brew made from burned beans for too long. Hildie poured coffee in an identical cup for Jeanine and set a small matching pitcher of cream next to it. She excused herself and vanished down the hallway.

The women sat in silence for a moment, sipping their coffee.

“Do they know who killed Lucien?” Jeanine asked. Her gaze said she had no expectations. Exhaustion flowed out of her, and she seemed wrung out and eerily calm. The past hours must have been a tidal wave of emotion and now she was drained. Ava understood.

“Not yet. I assume you know we believe he’s connected to three other deaths of law enforcement officers?”

“Yes, Detective Hawes updated me on the phone yesterday. She said Lucien fought back . . . and that you hadn’t seen that with the other officers.”

“That’s correct,” said Ava. “We believe the other officers were incapacitated with the blow of a baseball bat or something similar. It appears the blow to your husband wasn’t as strong. I suspect he spotted or heard the killer and managed to deflect the full impact.”

“Which is why he was shot and the others weren’t.”

“Correct.”

“I don’t understand why he was holding a Halloween mask,” Jeanine said. “We didn’t have anything like that . . . unless he’d just bought it while I was gone.”

“We’re confused on that, too,” Ava lied, hating to mislead the woman, but the masks needed to be kept out of the media. She knew only the real killer could explain them.

“Why these men?” Jeanine whispered, her eyes filling. “What did they do?”

“We’re still searching for the link between them,” Ava told her. “We have noticed that they all worked with Cops 4 Kidz.”

“All the guys Lucien worked with volunteered in some way.”

“Right. Even I have. But most of the murdered men were part of the mentoring program. How long had Lucien been doing that?”

Jeanine leaned back in her chair and gazed to the side as she thought. “He was doing that before we married. We’ve been married for fifteen years. He loved it. He said he felt like he was making a difference in kids’ lives.”

“You don’t have children.” It wasn’t a question; Ava knew they did not.

“No. We decided long ago it wasn’t for us, but Lucien still enjoyed helping other kids. He said volunteering once a week was enough kid time for him.”

“Do you know if he ever mentored a boy named Micah Zuch?”

Jeanine tipped her head in thought. “I don’t remember that name, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. He’s probably worked with a dozen kids over the years. I can’t recall names . . . I know his latest was Brennan—I never knew the last name. And I remember a Nathan, Rory, Jason . . . um . . . Kyle. I’m sorry, but I rarely bothered to learn the last names. Lucien didn’t bring them to the house. He believed in keeping them separate from his home life. He took them to sporting events, movies, shopping, or just hung out with them.”

“Why didn’t he bring them by his home?” Ava asked. She believed she knew, but wanted to hear Jeanine’s explanation.

The woman looked slightly embarrassed. “It makes sense. We didn’t know these kids, and we didn’t know the types of homes they came from. Lucien saw the best in everyone, but that didn’t mean he wanted these kids to know his home address. Every now and then he would work with a kid who really attached himself to Lucien and wanted to see his house. It broke his heart to not invite them into his home, but he knew it was the right thing to do.”

“How did the kids react?” Ava was curious.

“Some told him that they felt like they were just part of his job. That he didn’t really
care
about them . . . that he walked away from them each night, back to his happy house, and forgot about them until the next week. Others shrugged and acted like it didn’t matter. But Lucien
knew
it hurt them. It’s a good program,” Jeanine said fiercely. “But this is the only way it can work.”

“I agree.” Ava paused. “Were there any other parts of the program Lucien felt were difficult?”

Jeanine rolled her eyes. “Oh, my goodness. Some of the mothers.”

“Explain.”

“So many of them were such overboard badge bunnies that Lucien wondered if they enrolled their kids in the program just to get close to the cops.”

“I can see that,” agreed Ava. Regina Zuch came to mind.

“It comes with the job,” said Jeanine. “Women constantly hit on him. He was pretty good at ignoring it, but I know some cops who enjoyed the attention.”

“I’m engaged to a detective,” Ava admitted. “I’ve heard the stories.”

“Some of the mothers who put their kids in Cops 4 Kidz were the worst.”

“Give me an example.”

“Lucien requested to be removed from a mentorship because the mother pursued him so hard. Then she went batshit crazy on him. She came down to his precinct and proceeded to scream that he’d used her son to get close to her and then dumped her. Lucien wasn’t even in the building that day, but she kept coming back, waiting for him outside, or trying to follow him home.”

“Why wasn’t she arrested?”

“She managed to just keep it legal. She knew what lines not to cross. This was when he worked in Vancouver. He finally applied for a position with the West Linn Police Department.”

“Just to get away from her?”

“Not completely. He wanted to work closer to home, but she sped up the process.”

“That’s horrible. She didn’t show up anymore?”

“His department told her he quit and she backed off. I suspect she continued to watch the building for a while and finally realized he’d left.”

“No other problems from her over the years?”

“No, thank goodness. Lucien and I have never opened social media accounts, primarily because of what he does for a living, but I know in the back of his mind he never wanted her to be able to find him. She was nuts. Although I imagine she simply moved her focus to whoever next mentored her son.”

“Lucien didn’t report her to the organization? Keep someone else from going through the same thing?”

“We talked about it several times. I wanted him to, but he thought it was important that her son have a male figure in his life. He said the kid was one of the needier ones he’d worked with and didn’t want to take away any opportunities the boy might get through the program.”

“He was a good man,” Ava said. “Other people wouldn’t be so forgiving.”

“That was Lucien,” Jeanine said simply.

“Do you remember the names of that mother and son?” Ava asked.

“Sonja. Sonja Parish. Her son was Jesse,” she replied without hesitation. “I’ll never forget her name.”

Ava made a note, wondering if the boy had been assigned to another cop or if his mother had given up on the program.

“I know you’ve heard the description of the man who was seen in your home at the time of your husband’s death,” Ava said. “Does that sound like someone you know?”

“An average-size man with dark hair. I probably encounter twenty a day,” Jeanine stated. “I’ve thought long and hard, wondering if I knew the person who did this to him, and I can honestly say I can’t come up with anything. Lucien was a kind man—ask anyone—he didn’t make enemies . . . outside of the people he had to arrest, but that happens with every cop. I can’t think of anyone that we know who would do this.”

Ava nodded. The task force had heard the same things from Lucien’s coworkers.
Impossible to get mad at. All-around good guy. Thinks of others before himself.
“Were there any work incidents that worried him? Any encounters he told you about that concerned him?”

Jeanine shook her head. “I know this will sound awful, but he didn’t talk about work that much, and I didn’t ask. He liked to leave it behind when he came home. Early on I used to ask him about his day, but he finally requested I stop. We came to an agreement that he’d initiate any conversations work-related. He knew I was there to listen if there was something he needed to get off his chest.”

Ava knew several cops who operated this way. Whatever worked. She and Mason enjoyed discussing their respective cases.

“What was the purpose of your business trip?” she asked, switching gears. Jeanine shifted slightly on her chair and took another sip of her coffee before answering.

“It’s a yearly convention for us. I buy holiday-themed outdoor lighting and electronics for an online retailer. Mainly it showcases the merchandise that will be available next year. I’m always looking for the next big thing.”

“Before the holiday season has even arrived?”

Jeanine gave a smile. “Our current season’s planning was done months and months ago. Stores placed their orders late last winter for this season. That’s retail.”

“Does your company do any Halloween costumes?”

She shook her head. “No clothing, either. It’s primarily a home-furnishings-type retailer.”

Ava remembered the simple decor outside the Fujioka home. “You don’t decorate your home with the items you pick out for your company?”

“By the time I’ve seen it all and placed our orders for the following season, I don’t want to have anything to do with it. Lucien does a bit of holiday decor. I wash my hands of the whole thing and tell him to have at it.” Her face fell. “I
told
him to,” she corrected. She took a deep breath and crumpled in her chair, covering her face with her hands. “I’m trying so hard to be strong,” she whispered. “But it keeps hitting me like a blow to the face at unexpected times. Each time it’s just as powerful. It’s not easing up.” She moved her hands and looked at Ava with begging eyes. “When does it get better?”

Ava scooted her chair around the table and hugged the woman, feeling her lean into her shoulder. “It takes a long time,” Ava admitted, thinking of her mother’s death. “Just when you think you’re finally healed, you’ll discover something that triggers a powerful memory and your knees will go weak again.”

Jeanine trembled.

“The pain doesn’t go away for a long time. You simply have to make room for it. It’s a price we pay to love someone.”

Fifteen minutes later she drove away from the home. A block later she pulled over and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel, her chest moving in silent heaves. She hadn’t wanted Jeanine to see how much the conversation had affected her. Jeanine’s despair over her husband’s death, and the kindness of her mother, had made Ava ache for her own mother. Twice in one day her mother had been thrust into her thoughts.

There’d been four months between the diagnosis and when her mother passed. To Ava it’d felt like hell, and when she heard of people who’d fought for eighteen months, she knew she’d been lucky. But to have a loved one vanish without ever having the chance to say good-bye would be a million times worse.

She and Mason told each other “I love you” when they parted. Always. They both went to work with a weapon at their side. Any day could be their last.

Jeanine Fujioka had experienced Ava’s greatest nightmare. The pain and emptiness in her eyes had nearly been too much for Ava to bear.

Her phone rang and she scowled at the unfamiliar phone number that appeared on the screen on her car’s dashboard. She took one more shuddering breath and pushed the
ANSWER
button.

“Ava McLane.”

“Ava?”

Jayne.
She sat ramrod-straight, her heart hitting a staccato rhythm. “Jayne?
What were you thinking?
”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s not what I asked.
Why did you leave the rehab center?
”

“Does it really matter?” her sister snapped. “I’m safe, I’m happy, and everything is going to be okay. I only called so you wouldn’t worry.”

Since when does Jayne care if I worry or not?

“Is Brady Shull with you?”

Jayne was silent for a moment. “Yes, he is. It’s not what you think.”

Anger swept through her. “Let me tell you exactly what I’m thinking. You ran off with a married man from a facility that I was paying a lot of money for and now you’re drinking a margarita on a beach. Now tell me again that
it’s not what I think
.”