You Belong To Me

  ‘I’d tell her what she wants to know, Mr Maynard,’ the other detective said calmly. ‘The man who’s killed ten people just threatened my partner’s five year old daughter. I wouldn’t stand in your shoes and socks if he touches a hair on her head.’

  ‘Ten?’ Clay asked, horrified.

  ‘Ten,’ the man said. ‘There are two bodies in the Newport News morgue with our guy’s signature on them. And three more are missing.’

  Clay closed his eyes. ‘Dear God,’ he murmured.

  ‘You’d better pray,’ Mazzetti snarled. ‘A name. I know you have one.’

  The man sat on the edge of his desk and between the two detectives Clay was boxed in. Both cops were furious. The man simply covered his rage in a veneer of calm that Clay knew would be easily shattered.

  ‘First, no charges against Alyssa,’ Clay said.

  ‘I’m not making any promises,’ Mazzetti said, a hair more rationally. She backed away, her hands fisted at her sides. ‘Talk.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Clay asked the man.

  ‘Fitzpatrick. Her partner. A name, please. I’ll even give you a first name. Evan.’

  This is over. ‘Reardon,’ he said. ‘Alyssa, print them a picture.’

  Fitzpatrick looked relieved at the photo, as if he’d thought he might see someone else.

  ‘It could be the guy who took Ryan Agar,’ Mazzetti said. ‘If we add a fake mustache, it could be the guy in the parking garage photo.’ She looked up. ‘Does he have any body art?’

  Clay thought of the photo Nic had taken of Evan in her bed. ‘Yes. A tattoo. A heart that was melted. Like that clock in the Dali painting.’

  ‘How tall is he?’ Mazzetti demanded.

  ‘Six three,’ Clay said. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because my five year old saw him when he dropped a tracking device in her backpack. She can identify him. I don’t think he’s gonna like that.’

  Clay’s anger reignited. Until Evan was dead, Mazzetti would always worry that one day he’d come back. Clay could have asked why Evan would threaten her daughter, but he knew. Distract and divide. Grabbing her daughter would be Evan’s insurance if they got too close.

  ‘We didn’t know about Ileanna Bryan,’ Clay said. ‘We don’t know how they’re connected, but we suspect it has something to do with a town called Anderson Ferry.’

  Mazzetti seemed to settle. ‘All right. Let’s sit down and you tell us what you do know.’

  Clay gestured to the chairs, waving Alyssa to one. ‘No charges against Alyssa,’ he repeated.

  Mazzetti studied him sharply. ‘When did you know?’

  ‘Definitively, last night. We know Evan met the victim Sue Ellen Lamont. When we heard she was dead, we knew. Until then it was all circumstantial.’

  ‘Who are the bodies in Newport News?’ Mazzetti asked.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Your word, Detective. She’s eighteen. She thought she was doing the right thing. No charges.’

  ‘I’m not promising anything, Mr Maynard. But you did tell us Evan’s last name, so I will do my best to see you are not identified.’

  For a long moment their gazes locked. ‘All right.’ He told them almost everything, deleting all references to the fact that Nicki had crafted a new identity for Evan Reardon. ‘Evan said he wanted us to make the stalker woman go away,’ he finished. ‘I don’t know why he’s doing this. I don’t know who Ileanna is or why Nicki went to Anderson Ferry.’

  Again a glance passed between the detectives, subtle, but there.

  ‘You do know, though,’ Clay said.

  ‘Yes,’ Mazzetti said. ‘We know Nicki went there. She was given a folder of information by the newspaper office there a few days before she was killed.’

  ‘We didn’t find it. I assume we would have known about Ileanna Bryan if we had.’

  Mazzetti nodded. ‘Reasonable assumption.’

  ‘Something happened two months ago,’ Fitzpatrick said. ‘Do you know what that was?’

  ‘His mother,’ Alyssa said quietly and Clay nodded.

  ‘His mother died, but that was more than three months ago. That I’ve confirmed.’

  ‘Her name?’ Fitzpatrick asked.

  ‘Yvette Reardon,’ Clay said. ‘Evan told Nicki that she’d gotten sick and he came back to care for her. That’s when he said he did it with the pole dancer.’

  ‘Which drove his wife away,’ Mazzetti said.

  ‘He said that, but I found she’d run years earlier because he’d hit her and the kids. His mother died, but the rest of what he told Nicki was fiction, I think.’

  ‘How did you know about Sue Ellen Lamont?’ Fitzpatrick asked.

  ‘Evan met her in a hotel,’ Alyssa said. ‘She’s a hooker. Was a hooker.’

  ‘We tracked him via his credit card,’ Clay said, not intending to mention the Ted Gamble name unless he was forced to. ‘I ran a background on Lamont last night and saw she had a record for credit card fraud. I think she may have targeted Evan for a hit. Instead he killed her.’

  Fitzpatrick considered it. ‘That plays. Ms Fields’s apartment had no sign of forced entry. He’s also had key entry to other places. How did he get your partner’s key?’

  Clay sighed. ‘Nicki and Evan were having an affair. We didn’t know.’

  ‘That would be hard on her family to hear on the CNN loop,’ Mazzetti said. ‘If we have to tell her parents, we will. But we’ll do our best to keep that from the press.’

  ‘Thank you. And when you find him, we’d like to know. If you could.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ she said. ‘That’s all I can promise.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Clay said again. He rose to see them out. ‘I’m sorry he threatened your child, Detective Mazzetti.’

  She lifted her chin. ‘When I catch him, he will be too.’ She held up the photo of Evan. ‘We need to get this to our boss. Can we use your fax machine?’

  Alyssa pulled from her pocket the card Mazzetti had given them the night before. ‘I’ve got your fax on here. I can send it from my computer. Keep that one.’

  Fitzpatrick held up his cell. ‘I’m getting a call. Stevie, I’ll wait for you outside.’

  Her partner left and the two of them stood alone by his front door.

  ‘So,’ she said, pointing to Alyssa. ‘The two of you . . . ?’

  The question took Clay by surprise. ‘No. God, no.’

  ‘Good.’

  He frowned slightly. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m a pretty good judge of character and you didn’t seem like the kind of man to have an affair with a girl young enough to be your daughter.’

  Said that way, he had to wince. ‘She was trying to gain us some breathing room. And to be honest, I was hit so hard by Nicki’s death that I was numb. We’d been friends a long time and it’s still not real yet. Things just kind of happened. I don’t know if you can understand that.’

  ‘I actually do understand. So, is Alyssa your daughter?’

  ‘God, no. Every hair in my head would be gray. She’s my ex-fiancée’s younger sister.’

  ‘The photo’s been sent,’ Alyssa called from her desk. She brought Mazzetti another copy. ‘I printed out one for your partner, too. Just in case.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Mazzetti said. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ No sooner was she out the door than she had her cell phone to her ear. She walked to where Fitzpatrick waited, talking on his cell phone too. Getting Reardon’s name would be a turning point in their case.

  He turned to Alyssa. ‘Give me a few minutes, then we’ll leave.’

  ‘For where?’

  ‘Anderson Ferry. Mazzetti’s not going to tell us anything more, and Nicki’s parents need closure. They need to know why she was killed.’

  She nodded. ‘I can be ready in five.’

  ‘Fine.’ Clay went into his office and pulled up his information database. From his own pocket he took the card Mazzetti had given him yesterday. Detective Ştefania Mazzetti. Her partner had called her Stevie. C
lay personally liked Ştefania better. He typed her name in and pushed search. In seconds he had the answer he’d sought.

  Marital status: Widow. Her daughter was only five. Her loss must be recent. She probably did understand more than he knew. He shut down his laptop. ‘Alyssa, let’s go.’

  Wednesday, May 5, 7.55 A.M.

  ‘I made you some tea,’ Skinner said quietly. ‘It calms my wife when she’s upset.’

  Standing at her living room window looking down at the crime scene, Lucy glanced over her shoulder. Skinner was putting a steaming cup on her table, the fragile china cup looking even smaller in his big hands. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll let it cool a little.’

  Fitzpatrick’s car had been loaded onto a flatbed truck and transported back to the department’s garage where it would sit next to all the other cars a killer had taken out of commission. Ryan Agar’s body had been taken back to the morgue where it would sit in the cold room next to all the other people taken out of commission. Forever.

  CSU had processed the scene quickly. There was nothing to see, no evidence to find. Still, a few techs swept the asphalt for anything that might provide a hint. A single squad car remained, ensuring gawkers didn’t come too close.

  Lucy imagined that the drivers of the cars parked around Fitzpatrick’s were feeling very inconvenienced. The lot had been cordoned off. The drivers who’d grumbled at having to park around the side in the overflow lot last night were probably feeling pretty lucky right about now.

  ‘You should step away from the window, Dr Trask,’ Skinner said gently.

  ‘He’s bold,’ Lucy said, ignoring him. ‘He wanted me to see. Even when the scene is cleaned up, he wanted me to see it from here, where I’m supposed to feel safe.’

  He tugged on the sleeve of her coveralls. ‘Come, drink your tea.’

  She let herself be led from the window. She sipped at the tea, but didn’t sit. She didn’t think she could now. He has my parents. My father might deserve this, but . . .

  No. He doesn’t. No one does. My mother nor my father, nor any of his other victims, no matter how bad they were. She checked her phone impatiently. ‘Did Detective Fitzpatrick call you yet, Detective Skinner?’

  ‘Not yet. He’s only been gone an hour,’ Skinner said. ‘Not enough time for news.’

  Technically it had been an hour and fifteen minutes, but she tried to relax. ‘I know. I was also wondering where my friends are. The policewoman left messages on both their cell phones and on Thorne’s home phone. I thought they’d have called by now.’

  ‘Maybe they’re getting ready for work,’ he said. ‘I know they’ll call soon.’

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You know, this soothing tone of yours is totally annoying. But you make a decent cup of tea, so thank you.’

  He smiled. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice lately. My wife craved the herbals when she was pregnant.’ He pulled his own phone out and showed her a photo. ‘My kid.’

  ‘He’s a beautiful baby, and your wife looks beautiful too.’

  ‘She looks tired mostly. Me too. You got any cure for colic, Doc?’

  ‘My mother swore by strapping a car seat to the washing machine,’ she said, then a wave of pain twisted her inside and tears burned her eyes. She hadn’t remembered that in years. For years she’d managed not to think about her mother at all.

  Now all she could see was her mother with her heart cut out.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Skinner said. ‘I didn’t mean to . . .’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Lucy said. Her cell rang, blessedly distracting her. ‘It’s Gwyn, my friend.’ She turned her back to Skinner, needing a second to compose herself. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘It’s Royce. We got your call. I brought Gwyn over because the cops still have her car.’

  He sounded frantic and Lucy’s hackles rose. ‘What’s wrong? Where is she?’

  ‘That’s why I’m calling. We’re in the overflow lot around the side of your building. You need to come now. Gwyn says to tell you that Mr Pugh’s fallen down and his head’s bleeding. I’ve called 911 and they’re on their way. Let me give you to Gwyn.’

  Lucy was already out the door, Skinner behind her. ‘Dr Trask, wait.’

  She shook him off. ‘Come with me. Hurry.’

  ‘Lucy!’ Gwyn yelled a few feet away from Royce’s phone, fear in her voice. ‘Run!’

  ‘She’s putting pressure on his head,’ Royce said urgently. ‘He’s lost a lot of blood. It’s everywhere. Where the hell is 911? You need to get down here. We need your help.’

  Lucy flew down the stairs and out the door, praying they weren’t too late. A sob was building in her chest and she pushed it back. Please. Not him too. Not yet.

  ‘Dr Trask, wait.’ Skinner was a few feet behind her. ‘Stop.’

  But she couldn’t. Mr Pugh was lying curled on his side on the grass, motionless, his hat still on his head. She dropped to her knees at his side, but before she could test his pulse, he rolled over and grabbed her and too late she knew.

  No. It’s a trap. Before she could draw a breath she was yanked to her feet and Skinner jerked forward, falling to his knees. Red started to spread on the detective’s white shirt front. Shot. Skinner had been shot.

  She screamed, but tape was slapped across her mouth and a gun shoved against her temple.

  ‘Move, Dr Trask.’

  ‘No.’ The tape muted her. She tried to break free but stumbled when the butt of the gun smacked her head. Stunned, she blinked as she was dragged to the trunk of a silver Buick.

  ‘No.’ She tried to writhe and kick, but he grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet as easily as if she were a child. He threw her into the trunk where she got a glimpse of Gwyn’s bound body before hearing a shot, followed by a vicious curse.

  He’s hit. Hope surged for a split second. And then she felt an excruciating pain crack her head and everything went black.

  Wednesday, May 5, 8.00 A.M.

  ‘Thank you for this information, Deputy,’ JD said. ‘We have a CSU van en route. You should see them within an hour, depending on bridge traffic.’ He hung up and looked at Stevie, who looked exhausted. ‘They found the black Lexus.’

  ‘Didn’t take them long.’

  ‘Only so many places to hide a car in Anderson Ferry,’ he said. The plates had been stolen, but the vehicle identification number hadn’t been removed. ‘The car is registered to Malcolm Edwards.’

  ‘That’s cold. Kill a guy and steal his car. Then drive it to kill everybody else.’

  ‘I’m wondering if the car’s the only thing he stole,’ JD said. ‘Ron Trask and his boat are gone. The deputy said it looked like Westcott was dragged to the dock. What if Evan abducted Trask on his boat, then sailed it to that rental and lured Lucy’s mom and Westcott there?’

  ‘Evan’s docked somewhere. Gotta be remote. His kind of torture would be loud.’

  ‘Not necessarily. He cut out their tongues, after all.’

  ‘True. Still, somebody would notice a constant parade of live bodies in and dead bodies out of a commercial marina. I’m betting remote. We know he’s got to have access to a flash freezer, too. And he transports his victims in a wheelchair.’

  ‘That narrows it down a great deal. Now if we can only find the damn freezer we’d be in business. What’s with Skinner? How hard can it be to find a freezer?’

  ‘Obviously hard,’ Stevie said. ‘It’s hard to function on a few hours’ sleep for weeks on end and their baby has been colicky. But he needs to get his head back.’

  ‘And he’s the one watching Lucy? Great.’

  ‘He can do bodyguard work, JD. Relax.’

  ‘I’d be more relaxed if he’d find the damn freezer. Besides, how can he look for it if he’s watching Lucy?’

  ‘He’s not looking for it any more. Hyatt gave the task to Elizabeth. I called him while you were talking to the deputy in Anderson Ferry. He’s going to put the BOLO out on Evan Reardon with his photo. I need to stop
by my house on my way in, check on Cordelia. Tell Hyatt I’ll be there soon.’

  ‘I’m going to stop by Lucy’s. Whichever of us gets there first can tell him.’

  ‘Wait. The assistant made you a copy of the SOB’s picture.’ She gave it to him.

  JD studied the man’s face. He was wholesome-looking, certainly not a man he would have expected to have killed so many. Then again, evil rarely wore an evil face. ‘Handsome guy,’ he said. ‘I guess that Nicki Fields fell for him isn’t too big a leap.’

  Stevie shook her head in disgust. ‘He probably has women eating out of his hand.’

  ‘Yeah,’ JD said bitterly. ‘Until he slits their throats. At least he’s not Thorne. That will give Lucy some comfort. Let’s get back and finish this.’

  JD had just pulled out of Maynard’s parking lot when he heard it – the words that turned every cop’s gut to water, no matter how low the radio murmur.

  Officer down. JD’s heart started to pound and he jacked up the volume. And his pounding heart stopped. Lucy’s address. An officer was down at Lucy’s address.

  Stevie’s car pulled beside him, her expression grim. ‘I’ll meet you there.’

  Wednesday, May 5, 8.25 A.M.

  She’s gone. That was all JD could think as he pulled alongside a row of department vehicles – squad cars, unmarked cars, a rescue squad. No morgue rigs. Thank God. Where’s Lucy?

  He ran from his car to where Hyatt watched Drew’s team process the scene. Blood pooled on the asphalt and in the grass next to an empty parking slot.

  ‘Is it hers?’ JD asked hoarsely.

  ‘No,’ Hyatt said. ‘Drew typed it. Not hers. The blood on the asphalt is Skinner’s. The medics just left with him. He was unconscious, but alive. Took two bullets, gut and neck, but he fired once. The blood on the grass is the same type as Evan Reardon’s. From what he lost there, he’s gushing.’

  Drew joined them, his expression sober. ‘I found Lucy’s cell phone in the grass. She’d just received a call from her friend Gwyn Weaver. Gwyn’s phone is turned off now, going straight to voicemail. As is Dr Trask’s.’

  JD tried to control his panic. He’s got her. ‘Reardon used Gwyn to lure her out.’