"Is he going to pull through?"
"He'll pull through, but he'll have to heal before he's
capable
of attacking anyone." Tiny handed him a slip of paper. "This is the address of the hospital where they sent him."
David studied Tiny's hen-scratch printing. The hospital was in the Bay Area, not far from the prison itself. "When will he be allowed to go home?"
"Warden said the doctors plan to keep him for two nights. After that, if all is well, he can finish recuperating wherever he wants."
David pictured Burke as he'd seen him last week--confident to the point of cocky. "Why'd his cellmate stab him?"
"No one knows for sure."
"When you nark on someone in prison, I guess you gotta expect retribution."
"Exactly." Tiny jingled his keys. "I know I haven't been much help this week," he said. "I've had too many other cases. But I've got some time today." He jerked his head toward the door. "Wanna drive down to the prison with me? Talk to a few of the inmates who knew Burke and see what they have to say about him? Maybe peek in on Oliver himself?"
"I can't," David said. "It's my turn to take Jeremy for the weekend, and I promised Lynnette I'd pick him up from her place before dinner."
"No problem. I'll check in with you later then, let you know how it goes."
Relieved that Tiny was taking over and giving him the short break he needed in order to spend some time with his son, David turned off his computer and gathered the files he planned to take home. He was just putting Oliver Burke's notebook on top of the stack when a fragment of what Miranda Dodge had said came back to him.
By then, the kid he'd fought had died in a drowning accident, so he wasn't around to harass him anymore....
The story of Burke's fight in eighth grade had been part of a general history, not something that immediately stood out. But it was another 145
example of someone who'd wronged Oliver meeting up with an unpleasant fate, wasn't it? What if that kid's initials happened to be on Oliver's list?
Some of the early entries didn't have exact dates, just years, but a few went all the way back to what would've been Oliver's high school days. It was possible.
Picking up the phone, David called the number Miranda had given him.
A female voice answered. "Hello?"
"Miranda?"
"No." There was a soft giggle and a low whisper as whoever had answered the phone spoke to someone else. "This guy thinks I'm my mom."
David couldn't help smiling. The "hello" had sounded adult enough, but he could now tell that this girl was far too young. "Is your mom home?"
"Yes. Just a minute." There was a clunk as she dropped the phone. A minute later, Miranda came on the line.
"Hello?"
"Miranda, this is Detective Willis."
"I hope you're calling to tell me they've decided to keep Burke in prison."
"I'm afraid not. But it'll be a while before he's fully functional."
"What do you mean?"
"Someone stabbed him this morning. He's got some healing to do."
Her voice lowered. "I wish I could say that makes me feel sorry for him."
David could understand why it wouldn't. He doubted Burke would get much sympathy from Skye, either. "I have a quick question for you."
"What's that?"
"I was hoping you could give me the name of the boy who got into that fight with Oliver in the eighth grade."
"Eugene Zufelt. Why?"
David didn't answer right away. He was too busy checking the initials at the top of Oliver's list. About ten lines down, he paused. Sure enough, there was an E.Z. with bully written next to it. Both the initials and the infraction had been crossed out.
A tingle told David he was on to something. "You said he drowned.
Do you remember the circumstances surrounding his death?"
"I know his parents were vacationing in Hawaii at the time. And his older brother, who was staying with him, was out with friends. When the brother came home, he found Eugene floating in the pool."
"What was he wearing?"
146
"Nothing. He was nude."
David tapped his fingers on the desk. "Did they ever discover what happened?"
"He'd been drinking."
"With friends?"
"Alone."
"That seems a little odd for such a young teen. What was he, fourteen?
Fifteen?"
"Fifteen, I think. But he was a perennial troublemaker. And there were signs of his having gotten into his parents' liquor cabinet. They figured he got drunk, wasn't thinking straight, dived into the pool and hit his head. It was one of those freak accidents."
Maybe. Maybe not. "Did you go to the funeral?" he asked.
"Of course. They dismissed school early. Everyone went."
"Even Burke?"
"No. At least, I didn't see him."
Despite her negative response, David was willing to bet Burke had been somewhere close by. That would be his moment to celebrate having paid Eugene back--with interest. "Do you have any idea how to reach Eugene's parents?"
"They might be in the phone book." She hesitated. "You don't think Oliver had anything to do with Eugene's death, do you?"
"Probably not. But it's worth asking a few questions." Besides, he'd done all he could on the cold cases he'd been struggling with for three years.
He needed a new angle, and looking further into Burke's past might provide it.
"That would be so awful."
He agreed and disconnected, then called Tiny on his cell.
"What's up?" Tiny said.
"When you see Burke, ask him how well he knew a boy named Eugene
Zufelt."
"Why would I want to do that?"
"I'm curious about his reaction. See if he attended the funeral, too."
"You gonna explain this to me?"
"Later." David checked his watch and grabbed his jacket. Jeremy was just getting out of school. "I've gotta go." If he hurried, maybe he could pick up his son before Jeremy walked the half block home from school and mentioned Skye to Lynnette.
147
"So how'd it go last night?" Jasmine asked, poking her head into Skye's office.
Skye pretended to be more engrossed in the letter she was writing than she really was. "Fine."
"That's it? That's all you've got to say?"
She scowled. After leaving David's apartment this morning, she'd gone home, showered and returned to the office, but she hadn't bothered with makeup. She wondered if she looked as sleep-deprived and grumpy as she felt. "What do you want me to say?"
Jasmine sauntered in. Half East Indian, she had the darkest complexion of the three of them--beautiful golden skin--and unusual blue, almond-shaped eyes. At only five-four and less than 100 pounds, she was also the shortest and slimmest. She could eat anything and never gain a pound. "You know what I want you to say. Did you sleep with him?"
Sheridan had already asked her the same thing. "No," she answered curtly.
"No?"
Jasmine sounded almost as disappointed as Skye was, but Skye didn't want to hear it and certainly didn't want to discuss it. She tried to reread the line she'd just written to the chief of police, once again asking him to support one of their events. But it was impossible to concentrate. "He's going back to her, like I said," she muttered when Jasmine didn't leave.
"He said that?"
"More or less." For a second, she considered telling Jasmine about the call she'd received from Lynnette. Lynnette's words still churned inside her because they suggested she'd actively pursued someone else's man. But Skye hadn't come near David when he was married. During those times, they didn't even speak, except perfunctorily over the phone and only regarding Burke. But why complain about Lynnette? It didn't matter. Skye was putting her feelings for David behind her. Much to Sheridan's chagrin, she'd already asked Charlie to be her escort to the fund-raiser tomorrow night. And he'd agreed.
148
"Something's wrong with that detective," Jasmine said, dropping onto Skye's couch.
"When David commits, he commits."
"Does that mean you're finished with him?"
The letter. Keep working on the letter. Otherwise, Jasmine will see that it's killing you to answer this question. "Of course. Why would I go on being stupid?"
"Loving someone isn't stupid. I'd actually like to fall in love."
This succeeded in pulling Skye away from her computer. "Even with a man who doesn't love you back?"
"Even with a man who doesn't love me back. Then maybe I could feel something besides the emptiness I feel now." Sighing, she leaned back and gazed up at the pictures above her head. "This is creepy, Skye," she said, her tone suddenly far less wistful. "You know that, don't you?"
Skye had started typing again. We would be delighted to honor you for what you 've already done for the community and... "What's creepy?"
"That there are pictures of psychopaths hanging on your wall. Doesn't it bother you to have them staring down at you?"
Skye studied the pictures. "Sometimes. A lot of times," she admitted.
"But they motivate me. They're the reason I show up here each day, despite knowing I'll never get rich, never be completely safe, never be able to forget what I've seen and heard."
Jasmine stood and clapped her hands once. "Aren't we a barrel of laughs today."
As long as they were talking about such serious subjects. .. "Any word on the man who killed that little girl in Fort Bragg?" Skye asked.
Her face pale, Jasmine moved toward the door. "No."
"They'll find him," Skye said, feeling guilty for being so wrapped up in her own problems.
Jasmine paused and turned toward her. "He works at the lumber mill."
Skye froze. "How do you know that?"
"I keep seeing the saws. Every time I close my eyes, there are saws.
Loud, deafening, going around and around, slicing through one log after another."
"Have you called the police?"
"Of course."
"Do they believe you?"
"Probably not. But they've promised to take a blood sample from every worker who's willing to be tested."
"They have a DNA profile?"
149
"Not yet. But they found semen on the body and sent it to a lab."
Skye grimaced at the mental picture that created. It was so distasteful, she needed a moment to reel in her reaction, but then she said, "If the killer works there, he'll simply refuse."
"Then they'll take a closer look at him, and maybe they'll find cause to make it compulsory."
Skye studied her friend's face, mystified and a little frightened, as usual, by her gift. He works at the lumber mill.... "Can you tell me where the man who's been following me works?" she quipped, only half-joking.
Concern flooded Jasmine's face as she approached the desk.
"Someone's been following you?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. Something's going on. I'm not sure what."
Her eyebrows drew together. "Does he drive an old Jaguar?"
Skye's heart skipped a beat. "You're.. .what? Seeing an old Jaguar in some sort of vision?"
"No." Jasmine laughed at their miscommunication but sobered quickly. "Sheridan said there was an old Jag in front of her house last night.
It freaked her out because she'd never seen it in the neighborhood before, and someone sat inside it for hours, watching the building."
"Why didn't she mention it when she came in this morning?"
"She didn't think the incident was associated with you and I'm sure she didn't want to add one more thing to your list of worries, not with Burke getting out today."
"By trying to protect me, you and Sheridan could get me killed, Jasmine."
Skye saw that her friend was wounded by her words. "It's a fine line,"
Jasmine said after a pause. "At what point are wejumping at our own shadows? Becoming paranoid? Adding undue stress?"
Safe was always better than sorry. But Skye didn't care to argue about it just now. She was more interested in pursuing the information. "Did she get a good look at him?"
"He had a goatee. She could see that much. And
metal
rings in his ears, the kind that make those really large holes."
Memories of the man she'd met in the restaurant surged through Skye's brain as she got to her feet. "Anything else?"
"He acted as if he wanted to be seen."
"Did she get his plate number?"
"She tried. She and her neighbor walked out to take a look, but he'd removed them. He laughed as he waved the back of one plate at her and drove off."
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Skye couldn't resist glancing past her friend to the photos on the wall.
Was this guy another one of them?
No. The note he'd given her had Oliver's initials on it. The Jaguar driver was probably nothing more than an ex-con he'd bribed or hired to help him, someone motivated by financial gain, not bloodlust.
But that didn't make him any less dangerous. Especially if Oliver Burke was pulling his strings.
"Dad, it's your turn."
Picking up his PlayStation controller, David once again tried to focus on the video game he was playing with his son. But his mind was occupied with other things. Lynnette had refused to speak to him when he'd missed Jeremy at school and gone to the house to get him, which probably meant Jeremy had already mentioned seeing Skye at his apartment. He hoped the underwear detail had been omitted, but he couldn't imagine that it had. His parents hadn't brought up the incident when they all met for dinner an hour later, but they'd seemed worried. And he'd received a call from Sheridan a few hours ago. She'd told him some guy had been hanging around her place the night before, acting suspicious.
That concerned him most of all. Particularly when he learned that the man's description fit that of the guy who'd approached Skye at the restaurant.
He'd immediately called down to the station, given them Sheridan and Jasmine's addresses and asked for a couple of uniforms to do periodic drive-bys. Skye lived too far out. He'd had to contact the sheriff's department to get some police assistance there. Fortunately, the deputy he'd spoken with, a man by the name of Meeks, seemed understanding and supportive. He'd promised to look into it and call if he saw any sign of a white Jaguar--or anything else that appeared to be amiss.