‘What have we done, Clay?’ she whispered.
‘You’ve done nothing. Nicki should have checked harder, but everyone she talked to backed up Evan’s story. Now that I look at it this way, I can see how she was manipulated.’
‘Somebody died in that fire. What if it
was
Evan?’
A dull, vicious throb had started at the base of his skull. ‘What if it wasn’t?’
For a minute neither of them spoke. Then Alyssa sighed. ‘What should I do?’
‘I want you to start calling hotels in Ocean City. It’s where Nic goes when she goes to the beach. Find out where the hell she is.’ He hesitated. ‘If you reach her through her hotel and she sounds drunk, call me right away. She’s been sober for a few years now, but this has happened before.’
Alyssa was quiet a moment. ‘Okay. I will. What will you do next?’
‘I’m going to pay a visit to the morgue. I need to know if that body is Evan Reardon. Then I’m going to Margo’s dance club. I want answers and I want them now.’
Monday, May 3, 6.30 P.M.
Dropping the tracking device in Lucy Trask’s handbag had been the smartest thing he’d done. He now knew where she was at any given moment, day or night.
At the moment she was on her way to Anderson Ferry and he wondered why. After disposing of Janet’s body, he’d returned home, cleaned up, then checked his tracking website. The little blue dot was east of the Bay Bridge. If she was bolting, he was going to be majorly pissed, considering she was supposed to find Janet later tonight.
Maybe it was because of Russ Bennett. His murder was all over the news, but they weren’t releasing his name until the family had been notified. Maybe that’s where she was going. Bennett had told him that Lucy kissed up to his parents.
He doubted she was bolting yet, but if she did, he’d be able to find her.
She can’t hide from me
. For now he’d keep one eye on the little blue ball on his tracking screen while he kept the other on the home of Detective Mazzetti. Luckily there weren’t many Mazzettis in Maryland. It had taken him all of five seconds to find her home address.
He was looking for insurance, in case the unexpected happened and the detectives got too close. He needed a distraction to throw in their paths if he needed to bolt. There were few better distractions than family.
Five seconds after parking on Mazzetti’s street, he knew he’d picked the right detective to distract, should the need arise. Not only was she the more experienced of the two homicide detectives, but there was a swingset in her back yard and a small kid-sized bike on the front porch. A mom would get mighty distracted if something were to happen to her child. The kid was a girl, if the Disney Princess stickers on two upstairs windows were any indication.
The front door opened and a little girl raced out. Cute kid. She stood by the van, dancing in place on the curb, a backpack slung over one small shoulder.
‘Mommy!’ she shouted. ‘We’re gonna be late. Hurry!’
Mazzetti appeared at the door, wearing a pretty dress, an indulgent frown, and curlers in her hair. ‘Come inside, Cordelia. I need a few more minutes to get ready.’
Mazzetti disappeared from view and he knew he might have no more perfect time. He slipped from his car and up the sidewalk where Cordelia was dancing her way back to her house. A well-placed foot had her stumbling forward.
‘Oh dear,’ he said, catching her before she hit the sidewalk, nudging the backpack off her shoulder. Deftly he slipped the zipper open an inch and dropped the tracker from the tissue in which he’d wrapped it so he’d leave no prints. He crumpled the tissue in his hand. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy. Are you okay?’
The child looked down at her pretty dress to make sure she hadn’t dirtied it. ‘Yes.’
He smiled. ‘Here’s your backpack. You dropped it.’ He put it on the sidewalk and walked away, whistling a tune softly, his pulse pleasantly racing.
‘Cordelia,’ Mazzetti called from the door. ‘Come inside. I need to braid your hair.’
He didn’t plan to hurt the kid, didn’t even want to snatch her. But if the detectives got too close, he would take her in a heartbeat and stow her somewhere. By the time the cops found her, he’d be long gone. It paid to have insurance.
Monday, May 3, 6.30 P.M.
Lucy had fallen asleep a half-hour outside of Baltimore, her dead cell phone in one hand, the courier’s list in the other. JD was afraid to take them from her hands for fear of waking her up. She’d looked up each Anderson Ferry woman using her phone’s internet connection until it beeped menacingly, out of juice. JD imagined that Stevie had done the same thing, and more efficiently, but it kept Lucy’s mind busy and the fear from her eyes.
And it kept his lust backburnered, a bit. Stevie had been right. Hyatt was watching.
I shouldn’t have kissed her
. Not then, anyway. But her saying that getting involved with him depended on how exciting he was had tripped a trigger he’d thought himself well over.
I guess not
. He should have waited, but he couldn’t be too sorry he hadn’t. She’d responded in his arms like fire. There was nothing cold about Lucy. Nor boring.
At the moment she slept deeply, leaving him to study her, undeterred. Her hair was picking up the rays of the setting sun, going all gold within the red as it tumbled over her shoulders. The severe twist she’d worn all day had fallen down as she’d slept, making him want to reach out and touch. She was a beautiful woman.
With kind eyes. Actually that had been his very first impression. Now he knew there were layers to Lucy Trask that he could spend a very long time uncovering.
Except her layers weren’t the only thing he wanted to uncover.
Do you always do what you want?
she’d asked. Hardly. Since she’d smiled at him over a pile of smelly garbage, he’d had to struggle to keep a lid on what he really wanted, which was to see her out of that prim blue suit.
She wanted the same thing. Her body had revved like a finely tuned engine, and that was just with a kiss. What would she be like in his bed?
He reached out to touch her smooth cheek when the buzzing of his phone in his pocket had him jumping. ‘Fitzpatrick,’ he answered quietly.
‘JD? It’s Stevie. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. Lucy’s just asleep.’
‘That’s good. Doc’s had a busy day. I checked the women on the courier’s list who were from Anderson Ferry. None have records and none appear to be big enough to move Bennett’s body unassisted.’
‘The second part I knew,’ he said softly. ‘Lucy checked them out on Facebook. If their photos are real, most of them aren’t taller than five five. She’s by far the tallest of all of them.’
‘Who needs fancy police databases when we have Facebook and a phone?’ Stevie asked dryly. ‘Don’t hang up yet. Somebody here wants to talk to you.’
A minute later a little girl piped up. ‘Hi, JD.’
‘Hi, Cordelia.’ He smiled. ‘How’s my girl?’
‘I’m fine. Thank you! I love my locket!’
His smile became a grin. ‘I’m glad. I wish I could have given it to you myself.’
There was a beat of silence. ‘You mean you’re not gonna be here with me?’
He winced at the disappointment in her voice. ‘No. I have to work.’
‘You always have to work, JD,’ she scolded. ‘You need to get some priorities.’
‘I know. But I’m working tonight so that your mom can be with you. That’s a good priority, isn’t it?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Have your Aunt Izzy take lots of pictures.’
‘She already has. She’s making Mommy crazy. Oh, I gotta go now. I love you, JD.’
His heart squeezed as it always did when Cordelia said the words. She’d been the first female in his life who’d said them and meant them. ‘Love you too, squirt. Have fun.’
Cordelia hung up and all he heard was the sound of the road. Then Lucy stirred, shifting in her seat so that she stared at him in a way that made him want to squirm.
‘I think you must be a nice man,’ she said, her voice throaty from sleep.
The huskiness in her voice wreaked havoc on his self-control. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I can be a sarcastic SOB.’
‘But a little girl loves you. Kids can spot the posers, you know?’
‘Yeah. And Cordelia’s a pretty smart kid.’
‘Not that you’re biased or anything,’ she said, smiling at him and his heart nearly knocked out of his chest. ‘What did you give Cordelia?’
‘A locket. I put a picture of her dad in it. He died before she was born. I thought she might like it, but I didn’t want to upset her.’
‘Which was why you asked Stevie to check it first.’
He shrugged self-consciously. ‘I never get those gifts right.’
For a couple of hard beats of his heart she said nothing at all. Then she cleared her throat. ‘I imagine Cordelia will cherish it forever. I would have.’
‘Hope so. Stevie’s a great mom, but the dad Cordy lost was one of the good ones.’
‘I’d heard that Stevie’s husband died.’
‘Gunned down in a store robbery.’ He exhaled. ‘Her son, too. He was five.’
‘Oh my God.’ Lucy sat up, horrified. ‘How does someone come back from that?’
‘Like Stevie did,’ JD said. ‘She was pregnant with Cordelia at the time. She made herself go on, for Cordy. Being a cop, it’s hard to work through shit like that. You gotta be strong. Invincible. But losing someone, especially like that . . . It cuts you down.’
‘That’s why Stevie does the grief groups.’
‘Yeah. She needed help to move on and knew other cops would too. So she started the groups. Now it’s kind of her thing. She’s the grief guru.’
‘I always thought that was creepy. Now that I know the story, well, it’s lovely. How did you meet Stevie?’
‘Through Paul, her husband. We played on the same baseball team. I remember feeling so damn helpless when he died.’ He hesitated. ‘And then my wife died.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy murmured.
‘Yeah.’ He needed a moment. Their deaths didn’t hurt like they once had. Time did heal. But the guilt never really went away. ‘I was on a bad road after Maya died.’
‘So you went to Stevie’s grief group.’
He nodded. ‘She set me straight again.’
‘Then the grief group is even more lovely.’
He smiled. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard it called lovely. More like a ribbon of gristle in a steak. You just chew your way through it and spit out what you can. Speaking of steak, let’s get dinner when we’re done here.’
She winced. ‘I don’t know. I was hungry. Now, not so much.’
‘You cut up dead people all day and a little gristle bothers you?’
She looked annoyed. ‘You know, if you didn’t say the “You cut up dead people all day” thing again, I could live with that.’
He grinned at her. ‘It gets you all riled. You’re cute that way.’
‘I am
not
cute.’ She drew a sudden breath when he turned off the highway toward Anderson Ferry, looking like she was startled to be there. ‘We’re here.’
‘We made good time while you were sleeping. Which way?’ he asked when he came to the town’s main street. She gave him directions, saying no more until they’d stopped in front of a very normal-looking suburban house. He turned to study her. She had grown paler with each mile, sick-looking even. ‘You’re sure you want to do this, Lucy? You don’t have to.’
‘Yeah. I owe the Bennetts a lot. Kind of like you owe Stevie.’ And with that cryptic remark she got out, straightened her skirt, and looked straight ahead. ‘Let’s do this.’
Monday, May 3, 6.45 P.M.
‘Your steak, sir. Rare.’
He eyed the plate put before him curiously. Blood oozed from the beef, exactly as he’d ordered it. After spending the afternoon wading through Janet Gordon’s blood, the sight of a really rare steak should probably make him a little queasy.
But it didn’t. He cut into the meat with gusto, giving the waiter a nod. ‘I’ll have another glass of that.’ He pointed to his almost empty wine glass. ‘What was it again?’
‘Pinot Noir. An excellent red.’ The waiter departed, leaving him to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his labors. It was a very nice restaurant, with white tablecloths and extra forks. If the receipts in Janet’s purse were any indication, she’d come here often.
He liked having money. The alternative totally sucked ass.
It was good he’d started with the rich ones. It was nice to live well while he checked the next few kills off his list, as they wouldn’t be contributing as much to his unofficial retirement account as Malcolm, Russ and Janet had.
He pulled the list from his pocket and scanned the names he’d convinced Malcolm Edwards to share. He could recite this list from memory, but seeing it, holding it, made him feel good. Seeing the names with the check marks made him feel better. They all deserved to die. His eyes dropped to the bottom of the list.
Lucy Trask
. Of all of them, she deserved it most.
She’d known. All this time. She’d known and done nothing. Worse than nothing. Like her father, Lucy was a liar and a cheat. A bully. Like Janet Gordon, Lucy had profited.
She purchased her dreams with my sister’s blood
. For that she would pay.
‘Your wine, sir,’ the waiter said.
He folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket smoothly. ‘Thank you.’
‘Thank her.’ He pointed to a woman sitting at the bar. ‘Compliments of the lady.’
‘Oh?’ The woman was a looker, her long dark hair curling around her shoulders. Her short skirt and low-cut sweater left little to the imagination. He wanted to believe she wanted him, but thought it more likely she’d been attracted by the roll of cash he’d flashed at the bar when he’d first arrived. Either way, she was hot. Suddenly, so was he.
A minute later she slid onto the chair beside him. ‘Hi,’ she all but purred.
‘Thank you,’ he said, lifting his glass to her.
She smiled, leaning forward to give him a good view of the girls. If she twisted the right way, a lucky guy could catch a glimpse of nipple, a fact of which he was certain she was well aware. ‘I haven’t seen you here in a while,’ she said.
He assessed her coolly. She was bullshitting him, but with such style he could hardly mind. ‘That might be because I’ve never been here before.’