Count to Ten

  “And did he have any coaching tips on how you should do this?”

  Her lips quirked up in amusement. “Of course.” Again the smile faded. “But the biggest gist of it was that I was to transfer to another department. Or better yet, quit altogether. I wouldn’t be able to work once I was pregnant anyway.” She stared straight up at Reed, defiant challenge in her eyes. “I’d been honest about that all along. I didn’t want kids. He’d conveniently forgotten that fact or thought he could maneuver me into changing my mind. I reminded him and we had one major argument. And when it was done, I’d given him back his ring. He didn’t think I’d do it in a public place like that with the china and linen.”

  He felt a stir of pride at her stand. “He was wrong.”

  “Yeah, but I hurt him. I didn’t want to and I didn’t mean to, but I did. He wanted a home and a wife and in the end he got a homicide cop.”

  It was too much of who she was to change, but he could feel some sympathy for LeCroix. “I should say I’m sorry.”

  One corner of her mouth lifted. “Would you be?”

  He ran his fingertip under the fullest part of her breast, watched her areolae pucker and her nipples stand erect. She had incredible breasts. “No,” he said huskily.

  Her eyes darkened in response. “Then don’t. Anyway, I think Guy was less impacted by the whole breakup than Bobby was.”

  Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. “Bobby. Your father.”

  Her smile was brittle. “My father. He liked the thought of having Guy LeCroix as a son-in-law. I think in his mind it was the best thing I’d ever done.”

  He frowned at the bitter hostility in her voice. “Better than being a cop?”

  “I was never a cop to him. I was just a...girl.” She spat it, like the worst of epithets. “Good for marriage. If he got good hockey seats out of the deal, all the better.”

  Reed reached over her, pulled the old chain with its dog tags from the nightstand where he’d dropped them earlier. He’d thought it odd that she’d worn them as she’d never been in the military. He held them up to the light. mitchell, -robert b. “They’re his. Why do you wear them if you hate him?”

  Her brows crunched. “Your mother...did everyone know she was abusive, or did she have a nice face she let everyone on the outside see?”

  The need to know that had spurred him on suddenly froze. “Mia, did your father... ?”

  Her eyes shifted, then came back to him, shadowed and full of guilt. “No.” But he didn’t believe her and his stomach rolled at the images his mind stirred up. “No,” she repeated, a little more forcefully. “He mostly just hit. When he got drunk.”

  His first impulse was to draw away, afraid of breaking her, but he didn’t. Knew he couldn’t. He swallowed back the queasy bile that burned his throat. Because he thought she needed it, he pressed his lips to her temple and held them there. “You don’t have to tell me any more, Mia. It’s all right.”

  But she kept going, her eyes now glued to the dog tags he still held in his hand. “When I was a kid, I used to think that if I was fast enough, smart enough, good enough...that he’d stop drinking. Be the father to us that he pretended to the rest of the world that he was. I was the star athlete in high school. I thought it would make him care. When I realized that he wasn’t going to change, the sports became my ticket out.”

  “You went to college on a soccer scholarship,” he remembered. “You got out.”

  “Yes. But Kelsey was still home, getting wilder and wilder.” Her lips pursed and he wondered what it was that she wasn’t letting out. “It was her way of punishing Bobby. She couldn’t make him stop, but she could embarrass the hell out of him, and once Kelsey got something in her mind, she wouldn’t let it go.”

  A family trait, he thought. “She got in trouble.”

  “Oh, yeah. Took up with this addict named Stone. I tried to stop her, but she... wanted nothing to do with me. By the time she was seventeen she was hooked. By nineteen, she was in prison. For the first three years she was in, she wouldn’t even see me. Then she did and...” She let the thought trail. Swallowed hard. “She’s all I have left. If Marc can’t get her transferred...”

  “Has Marc Spinnelli ever lied to you?”

  “No. I trust him more than any man I’ve ever known. Except maybe Abe.” She drew a breath and let it out. “And I suppose, you. I’ve told you things I shouldn’t have.”

  Something inside him shifted. “I won’t tell. I promise.”

  “I believe you. I think tonight put me on edge more than I’d like to admit. I really hate getting shot at.” She flicked the dog tags in his hand. “But I never answered your question. The day I got my badge my father took me out with his cop friends at their bar. I was one of them then. A part of... something. Do you understand what that means?”

  He nodded. To be a part of something close-knit and supportive when you’d been alone for so long. He’d had that with the Sollidays, then with the fire department. Then with Christine. “It was like being in a family. Finally.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, Bobby was in his element, showing off. It was a big day, he said. And in front of everyone he gave me the dog tags. Said they’d kept him safe in Nam and hoped they’d keep me safe on the force. What was I going to do? I’d grown up with most of these guys but none of them ever knew what really went on in our house.”

  “Or they chose not to,” he murmured and she shrugged.

  “Who knows? Anyway, I put them on, intending to take them back off, but before I made it home I was in an accident. My car was totaled and I walked away without a scratch. I thought maybe the dog tags had some luck after all. And over the years, I’ve been lucky more times than I want to count.”

  He pressed a kiss to her shoulder where a puckered scar had formed. “Murphy told me about the other time. When your first partner got shot. He said they almost lost you.”

  “I was lucky then, too. Bullet hit me right here.” She touched her abdomen. “Went straight through, missed every major organ. It was then I found out that I was missing a kidney. I’d been born without one, so there was nothing there to hit. The bullet sailed through and I was good as new.” She looked away. “And Ray died. After that I had to add on the medic alert tag because of the kidney. A few times I almost took the dog tags off, but never did. I guess there’s enough superstition in me to keep them on.”

  She’d put the engraved medic alert tag behind her father’s dog tags. He wondered if she even knew she’d done so. “Or maybe a part of you still needs to please your father,” he said and her eyes went flat. Carefully she slipped the chain around her neck.

  “You sound like Dana. And you could be right. Which, Lieutenant Solliday, is the real reason I want no strings. I’m too fucked up not to hang myself with them.” She rolled away and sat on the edge of the bed, alone, and his heart wanted to break.

  “I’m sorry, Mia.”

  “Really?” Her voice was harsh.

  “This time, yes. I am. I—” Her cell phone started to ring. “Dammit.”

  She grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “It’s -Spinnelli.” Eyes on Reed’s, she flipped it open. “Mitchell.” She listened and the air rushed out of her lungs. “I’ll call him. We’ll be there in under twenty.” She snapped her phone shut. “Get dressed.”

  He already was. “Another one?”

  “Yeah. Joe and Donna Dougherty are dead.”

  His eyes shot up, his hands paused on his belt buckle. “What?”

  “Yeah. Apparently they moved out of the Beacon Inn.” She pulled her shirt over her head and her eyes flashed. “Apparently they were the original targets after all.”

  Friday, December 1, 3:50 A.M.

  He hadn’t come home. The child lay in his bed, curled into a ball, listening to the muffled sounds of weeping down the hall. It wasn’t the first night his mother had cried in her bed. And he knew it wouldn’t be the last. Unless he did something.

  He hadn’t come home, but his face was on the
news. He’d seen it himself. So had his mother. That’s why she’d cried all night. We have to tell, Mom, he’d said, but she’d grabbed him, her eyes wild and scared. You can’t. Don’t say a word. He’ll know.

  He’d stared at her throat, the top of the mark showing above her dress. The slice was long and deep enough to leave a scar. He’d done that to his mother, the very first night. And threatened to do worse if they told. His mother was too scared to talk.

  He tucked himself harder into the ball, shaking. So am I.

  Friday, December 1, 3:55 A.M.

  The front of the house was intact. Two firefighters were coming from around the back, pulling the hose. The odor of fire still hung in the air. Mia made her way past the fire truck to where two uniforms stood talking to the ME tech. It was Michaels, the guy who’d processed Dr. Thompson’s body less than twenty-four hours before. Behind him were two empty gurneys, each with a folded black body bag.

  “What do you have, Michaels?” she asked.

  “Two adults, one male, one female. Both about fifty. Male’s been stabbed in the back with a long thin blade, woman’s had her throat slit. Both were in bed at the time. The bed was ignited, but ceiling sprinklers put out most of the flames so the bodies are burned, but not charred. I left the bodies in the bed until the fire marshals had a chance to look around. I understand they’re on their way.”

  “I called Lieutenant Solliday as soon as I got the word. In fact,” she said, looking over her shoulder, “that should be him right now.”

  Solliday’s SUV pulled to the end of the line of cars. He grabbed his tool bag before making his way to the fire truck. He stopped to talk to the company chief, flicking occasional glances up at the house. Once, he lifted his hand in greeting, as if she hadn’t just come from his bed. As if she just hadn’t told him her damn life story in the most embarrassing and humiliating of ways. What was I thinking? What was he, now?

  His was the best way to handle it, she supposed. She turned back to the uniforms. “Who ID’d the -couple as the Doughertys? Last we heard they were in the Beacon Inn.”

  “The homeowner. She’s sitting in the cruiser,” one of the uniforms said. “Her name is Judith Blennard.” He led Mia to the cruiser and bent down, speaking in an overly loud voice. “Ma’am, this is Detective Mitchell. She’ll want to talk to you.”

  Judith Blennard was about seventy years old and didn’t weigh many more pounds. But her eyes were fierce and her voice boomed. “Detective.”

  “You’ll have to speak up, Detective. They carried her out without her hearing aid.”

  “Thanks.” Mia crouched down. “Are you all right, ma’am?” she asked loudly.

  “I’m fine. How are Joe Junior and Donna? Nobody will tell me.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. They’re dead,” Mia said and the woman’s face crumpled.

  She covered her mouth with a thin, bony hand. “Oh dear. Oh my.”

  Mia took her hand. It was ice cold. “Ma’am, why were they staying with you?”

  “I’ve known Joe Junior since he was five years old. No better people in the world than Joe Senior and Laura -Dougherty. Always volunteering with charities, taking in lost boys. When I saw what had happened to Joe Junior and Donna, it seemed right I should return the favor and take them in. I offered to let them use my addition for as long as they needed it. They refused at first, but... This was no coincidence, Detective.”

  Mia squeezed her hand. “No, ma’am. Did you see or hear anything?”

  “Without my hearing aid, I don’t hear much of anything. I go to sleep by ten and I don’t wake up till six. I’d still be asleep if that nice fireman hadn’t come in to get me.”

  It wasn’t David Hunter’s company, Mia had noticed right away. As the firefighters packed up their gear, Reed finished talking with the chief and started toward them, talking into his little recorder. He stopped at the cruiser and Mia motioned him down.

  “This is Mrs. Blennard. She owns the house. She knew Joe Dougherty’s parents.”

  Solliday crouched down beside her. “The fire took out the addition only,” he said loudly. “Somebody was smart enough to build with firewalls and sprinklers.”

  “My son-in-law is a builder. We built the addition for my mother. We were afraid she’d leave a burner on or something, so we installed extra sprinklers.”

  “It saved your home, ma’am,” he said. “You can probably go back in a few days, but we’d like you to stay somewhere else tonight if you don’t mind.”

  She gave them a sharp look. “My son-in-law’s coming to get me. I’m not a foolish old woman. Somebody killed Joe Junior and Donna tonight. I’m not sticking around for him to come back for me. Although it would be nice to get my hearing aid.”

  “I’ll send someone in for it, ma’am.” Solliday gave the request to one of the officers, then motioned to Mia. “The sprinklers wreaked havoc from an evidence preservation standpoint, but the bodies weren’t burned.”

  “That’s what Michaels said. Can we go in?”

  “Yeah. Ben’s already inside and I’m waiting for Foster to get here with his camera.”

  “And I called Jack. He’s sending a team.” She followed him around the back and inside where Ben Trammell was setting up the field lights.

  “The fire only burned the bedroom, Reed,” Ben said. “And not that much. We could get lucky this time and get something to tie our guy to this scene.”

  “Let’s hope,” Solliday said, shining his flashlight up at the ceiling. “Nice installation. The sprinklers wouldn’t have been noticeable to White.” The field lights came on and everyone stared at the bed. Mr. Dougherty lay on his stomach looking sideways and Mrs. Dougherty lay facedown in the pillow. Blood soaked the bedding.

  “He died immediately,” Michaels said from behind them. “Blade went right through his heart. She’s got defensive wounds.” He lifted her gown to show a large darkening bruise on her lower back. “Probably his knee.”

  “Did you cut her nightgown?” Mia asked and Michaels shook his head.

  “We found her that way. The fabric’s sliced clean through.”

  “Do a rape kit, okay?”

  He shot her a glance. “Doesn’t appear to be any evidence of force, Detective. This lady bruised pretty easily and there are no bruises on her thighs. But we’ll do the kit.”

  “Thanks. Can he take them?” she asked Solliday and he nodded. Frustrated and sad, she stood with Reed at the foot of the Doughertys’ bed as Michaels took them away. Then shook herself back into focus. “He killed Mr. Dougherty first,” she said.

  “Because he would have tried to protect his wife.”

  “Right. He died painlessly. But Mrs. Dougherty... He tied her up, shoved a knee in her back and at some point flipped her over and cut away her nightgown.”

  “But then it looks like he didn’t rape her. I wonder why. I can’t see him as merciful all of a sudden.”

  “He could have gotten disrupted. Then he flipped her back over and slit her throat from behind. Spooked and run. Why?”

  “I don’t know. Why the Doughertys to begin with?”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” she agreed. “The Doughertys didn’t even know Penny Hill.”

  “And we’ve been looking for ties that didn’t exist all week,” he added grimly.

  But more than the wasted hours reading files, Mia was thinking about Roger Burnette and the grief in his eyes when he’d confronted her about their lack of progress. “We need to tell Burnette. He needs to know he’s not responsible for Caitlin’s death.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.

  She thought about the drunken rage in Burnette’s eyes. Having Solliday along probably would be smart. “If you would.”

  “When I’m done here we’ll go.”

  “I’ll call Joe Dougherty’s father in Florida.” She was headed for her car when she heard her name. It was one of the officers and he held a white cat.

  “Detective? We found this cat outside and
Mrs. Blennard says it belonged to the Doughertys. She can’t take it with her to her daughter’s house.”

  Mia stared at the cat. “What do you want me to do with it?”

  He shrugged. “I can call animal control or...” He smiled engagingly. “Want a cat?”

  Mia took the cat with a sigh. The ID tags on his collar looked remarkably like her dog tags. “You’re a lucky cat, Percy. You dodged a bullet twice this week.” The cat blinked up at her. “Kind of like me,” she murmured. “You can sit in my car for now.”

  Friday, December 1, 5:05 a.m

  He felt her behind him before she spoke. “Anything?” Mia asked.

  Reed shook his head. “No. He didn’t use gas, because there isn’t any. He didn’t coat Donna Dougherty’s chest with the solid accelerant like Penny and Brooke.”

  “He did use an egg with a fuse,” Ben said from the corner where he was sifting through debris. “That’s about the only thing he did that was the same.”

  “I notified Joe Senior and did some door-to-door.”

  Reed could see how much it cost her. “Did you ask him how Joe Junior and Donna were linked to Penny Hill?”

  “I tried. After I told him about their deaths, he stopped talking.” Her brows crunched. “I called the local sheriff and they found him passed out on the floor, still holding his phone. They rushed him to the hospital. They think he had a heart attack.”

  “This just keeps getting better,” Reed said. “That poor man.”

  “I know. I wish I’d known he had a heart condition. I’ll get next-of-kin information on Donna Dougherty from her office when it opens in a few hours. On the plus side, I did get a description of a suspicious-looking car that sat on the street for about two hours tonight. A girl and her boyfriend were making out in the boyfriend’s backseat and every time they came up for air they saw this car. Light blue Saturn.”

  “Did they get a plate number when they were coming up for air?” Jack asked wryly.