The Trophy Exchange (42 page)

His eyes widened. His jaw dropped.
“
You did what?
”

Fifty-Three

Lucinda drove back to the station thinking about how much she hated Evan Spencer. Not for the obvious reason that she suspected he helped commit murder. No, she
’
d dealt with too many perps to work up that intense an emotion for a killer. She despised him for the impact his actions ha
d
had and would have on Charley.

She swallowed a sob that threatened to stick in her throat at the thought of the little girl. She wanted to protect her, to shield her from any more harm.
Is that how mothers feel? Is this what my mother felt?
Despite her feelings for Charley, she knew protecting the motherless child from another loss in her life could not be her priority and that realization tore her heart in two.

She burst into the conference room startling Ted with the angry tone of her voice.
“
He
’
s still denying he has a brother.
”

“
Did you tell him you talked to his mother?
”

“
No. I figured if she wanted him to know, she had plenty of time to call him while I was on the road. Besides, I wanted to test his character. He saw the crime
-
scene photos. He knows how serious this is. I wanted to see if he would be honest, before he knew his mother ratted him out. What did you dig up about Kirk?
”

Ted lifted a piece of paper from the printer.
“
Here
’
s the skimpiest timeline I
’
ve ever seen. But it
’
s all I
’
ve found so far.
”

Lucinda scanned down the first page.

“
You were right,
”
Ted said.
“
Kirk was fourteen at the time of Bethany Hopkins
’
murder and Evan was five. I know Kirk was released from the institution but I haven
’
t found the exact date yet, but I
’
d estimate it was about two years ago. No major criminal charges anywhere since then until just recently.
”

Lucinda looked up from reading.
“
What was that?
”

“
A domestic violence charge on
September
2
8
.
”

“
Domestic violence? Who filed it?
”

“
Rita Prescott.
”

“
Rita? You
’
re kidding?
”

“
Nope.
”

“
The same Rita?
”

“
Don
’
t know but I know what my favorite
l
ieutenant would say about that coincidence,
”
Ted teased.

“
Yeah. Yeah. So who is Rita Prescott? Please tell me she
’
s not a sister everyone
’
s still keeping as a secret.
”

“
Don
’
t think so. It seems sometime after midnight in the wee hours of
September
2
8
, Kirk Prescott married Rita Flynt in an all-night chapel in Vegas.
”

“
Las Vegas?
”

“
Yep. Then just after
ten
p.m. that night
–
less than
twenty-four
hours after promising to love, honor and cherish each other
–
Rita called 9-1-1 from a cheap off-strip dive complaining that her new husband tried to strangle her with a rope. When police responded, she displayed a livid red mark around her throat. They found Kirk cowering in the dumpster in the back of the motel. When they dragged him out, he whined about his new wife kicking him in the balls. The officers didn
’
t feel his pain.
”

“
Tsk. Tsk. Some officers of the law are so insensitive.
”

“
Yeah, right. Real callous guys. They hauled our man in and held him overnight. When Rita didn
’
t show up the next morning to sign her formal complaint, Las Vegas PD
called the motel. She
’
d checked out. The clerk told them she
’d
loaded her luggage into a white Hyundai and dr
i
ve
n
off. They got the license
-
plate number from the registration form. They made a note o
f
it and checked to make sure it wasn
’
t stolen. The vehicle belonged to Rita Flynt
,
erstwhile Black Jack dealer at a low-tier casino. They didn
’
t check up any further and released Kirk and never heard from either one of them again. They said they
’
d follow up on the car now that it might matter.

“
After checking out of the motel, one Rita Flynt used a credit card at the airport to buy two airline tickets to Virginia for a
Mr.
and
Mrs.
Kirkland Prescott. They boarded that flight which departed at 2:35 in the afternoon.
”

Lucinda went over to the pair of easels where she
’
d written out her chain
-
of
-
homicides timeline on one and notes on Evan Spencer
’
s whereabouts on the corresponding dates on the other. She looked down
at
the papers in her hand and compared the three lists. Nothing stood out as a conflict. She dragged another easel beside it and copied the few dates and events from the Kirk Prescott timeline. Beginning with the murder of Bethany Hopkins and listing his release from the hospital without a date. Then she updated the murder
-
timeline board with new crimes and new information. When she finished, she called Ted over.
“
Do you see any conflicts or problems here?
”

Ted
’
s eyes bounced back and forth between the two boards.
“
No. We
’
ve got a lot of holes in Kirk
’
s timeline, but there
’
s nothing yet that precludes his presence at any of the murder scenes as far as I can see.
”

“
But when did he get to Las Vegas?
”

“
And how?
”
Ted added.

“
To be responsible for these murders, he had to leave after the
September 27
homicide in Leesville.
”

“
Not much wiggle room.
”

“
No, not much at all. Check all the flights that flew from airports in our general area to Vegas that night and the next day.
”

“
Would there be enough time for a bus trip?
”
Ted asked.

“
I think so but I
’
m not sure. A bus trip would tighten up the timeline even more. But if the airlines don
’
t pan out, call Greyhound and see.
”

“
I
’
m not likely to find anyone who would tell me anything tonight.
”

Lucinda sighed.
“
I don
’
t want to admit it but you
’
re right.
”

“
Call it a day and come back fresh
in
the morning?
”

“
I don
’
t think we have much of a choice, Ted. And I doubt I
’
ll be able to sleep much. Dammit. I wish there were something else we could do. Someone could die tonight.
”

Fifty-Four

When Lucinda opened her apartment door, Chester didn
’
t greet her. She was puzzled by that until she saw the lamp knocked to the floor.
“
Oh, Chester, are you hiding because you
’
re ashamed.
”
She bent over and picked up the lamp and noticed the cord was missing.
“
Chester, did you chew off this cord?
”
She looked at the nub where it went i
n
to the lamp. It looked sliced not chewed. Her brow furrowed and concern for her cat sent a shiver down her arms.

She walked down the hallway to her bedroom calling for him.
“
Chester, Chester, what
’
s been going on here today?
”
She slipped out of her jacket and draped it across the end of the bed. Bending down, she lifted up the bed skirt and saw no sign of Chester, but spotted his collar on the floor beside the bed.

She returned to the living room, her pace quickening as her worry rose.
Where is he?
“
Chester, Chester, come out, come out, wherever you are.
”
Under the ruffle around the bottom of the sofa, she saw a hint of a little pink nose and whiskers.
“
Phew. Thank God. Chester, why are you under there?
”
She got on her hands and knees and flipped up the fabric.
“
Come on out, Chester. I won
’
t bite, no matter what you did today.
”

He cautiously stuck out his head. The thump against the closet wall, sent him and Lucinda scurrying for cover. Chester ducked back under the sofa. Lucinda pulled
out
her gun and crouched by the kitchen island.

Thump. Thump. Thump.
Lucinda rose, extended her gun, walked sideways across the kitchen and grabbed the telephone, punching in 9-1-1.
“
This is Lieutenant Pierce. Riverside Apartment
s.
Apartment 6D. There
’
s an intruder in my home. Send back-up. Now.
”
She set the receiver on the counter and put her hand back on the gun.

“
Police,
”
she shouted.
“
Open the door. Throw out your weapons. Step out of the closet.
”

She got a fast and furious repetition of the thumps in response.

“
This is your final warning. Come out now.
”

The sound of muffled mumbling came through the closet door. It sounded human but she wasn
’
t sure. She stood against the wall beside the door, grabbed hold of the knob, took a deep breath and jerked the door open.

Leading with her gun, she eased into the doorway and saw a pair of terrified eyes in a battered face.
“Mr.
Ridley?
”

He bobbed his head up and down. She holstered her gun and pulled the soggy towel out of his mouth.
“
Holy shit,
Mr.
Ridley. Who the hell did this to you?
”

“
Waaaa, waaaa,
”
he gasped, making sucking noises as his dry tongue peeled away from the roof of his mouth.

“
Water? You need water?
”

He nodded.

“
O
kay
, let
’
s get you out of here first.
”
She helped him to his feet and tried to untie the cord around his hands but couldn
’
t work the knots loose.
“
I
’
m going to need a knife,
Mr.
Ridley.
”
Holding his elbow, she supported him as he hopped into the kitchen. She sliced the knots in two and unwrapped the binding from Ridley
’
s reddened and tender wrists.

She eased him down to the floor and handed him a glass of water. He grabbed it with both hands and gulped hard.
“Mr.
Ridley, slow down. You
’
ll choke if you drink to
o
fast.
”

He pulled the glass back from his lips, breathed deeply and resumed drinking
,
this time with little sips. She picked the knife back up and kneeled down to cut the cord off his ankles.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.
“
Police. Open up. Open up or we
’
re coming in
!”

“
I
’
m coming,
”
she shouted as she went to the front door with the knife still in her hand. When she pulled open the door, all four sets of police eyes zoomed in on the gleam of the blade and their guns pointed straight at her chest.
“
Drop it. Drop the knife.
”

“
Easy guys,
”
she laughed.
“
It
’
s me. My intruder was a captive. I was just cutting him loose.
”

They gathered around the damaged
Mr.
Ridley, his forehead red and lumpy, caked blood
was stuck
around the nostrils of his swollen nose, his eyes dilated and fearful. At Lucinda
’
s order, one cop called for an ambulance, another called in a team of forensic techs and the other two checked in closets and behind doors to make sure the intruder was long gone.

While waiting for the ambulance,
Mr.
Ridley told his story. His description of the perpetrator was a perfect match for the killer Lucinda sought, down to the hooded sweatshirt. Lucinda called her partner.
“
Ted. He stuffed the apartment manager in my closet and creeped my house.
”

“
Who?
”

“
Kirk. Evan. How the hell do I know,
”
she said, then related Ridley
’
s story of the day
’
s events.

“
Are you
okay
, Lucinda?
”

“
Hey, I
’
m fine. But Ridley
’
s on the way to the hospital and Chester
’
s hiding under the sofa and won
’
t come out.
”

“
Do you want me to come over?
”

“
No, the apartment is crowded as it is with the team of techs crawling over every square inch. But you could go see Dr Spencer. Talk to him. Ask him about his brother again. Look for any signs of injury. If you see any, haul his ass in.
”
As she disconnected, she noticed that Chester
’
s bowl was brimming with food.
“
That
’
s odd.
”

“
What, Lieutenant?
”
a tech asked.

“
Chester does not normally leave food sitting in his bowl and besides
,
that
’
s more food than I ever put in there at once.
”

“
Don
’
t touch it. We
’
ll collect it and have it analyzed.
”

“
For poison?
”
she asked.

“
You never know.
”

“
You think he tried to poison my cat?
”

“
If he did, we
’
ll find out.
”

“
Chester, Chester,
”
she crooned as she knelt by the sofa. She coaxed him out and wrapped him in her arms.

“
Lieutenant, is this yours?
”
the tech
dealing with collecting the cat food
asked holding up a tuna
-
covered garnet ring.

“
No. It
’
s not mine. Bag it. It might be evidence in a homicide. Whoever
’
s got the fingerprint kit, follow me.
”
She walked down the hall still holding Chester. A Tyvek-suited woman followed in her footsteps. In the bedroom, Lucinda pointed to the jewelry box and said,
“
Dust that. When you
’
ve finished lifting the prints, let me know. I have to check and see if anything
’
s missing.
”

She stretched out in her recliner to wait, stroking Chester, watching techs tear apart her closet and wear a path in her carpet as they went up and down the hall. She eased Chester off her lap when she got the word from the fingerprint tech. Using the end of a pencil, she rummaged around in the wooden box but she couldn
’
t figure out if anything was gone.

“
Lieutenant,
”
a voice called.

She followed it into the bathroom.

“
Look on the floor between the toilet and the wall. Does that belong to you?
”

Lucinda bent over and saw the photo of Kathleen and her two little girls. Seeing the smile on Charley
’
s face formed a tight knot in Lucinda
’
s chest.
Was it dropped there accidentally? Or intentionally?
“
No. It
’
s not mine. Bag it.
”