‘Looking at the website on his phone,’ Drew said, ‘Evan was tracking several people, Gwyn and Nicki included. I guess it was his way of making sure he knew where they were and that their paths wouldn’t intersect, since he was seeing them both at the same time.’
‘Cad,’ Daphne muttered.
‘I found a birth certificate and passport for a Ted Gamble in his firebox,’ Drew went on. ‘There was a credit card in his wallet with the same name. He’d kept all of his victims’ credit cards also. He’d maxed them all out with cash advances on top of wiping their bank accounts.’
‘Hell of a guy,’ Hyatt said.
‘I tracked the hooker, Sue Ellen Lamont,’ Elizabeth said. ‘We got a call on the hotline late last night from the Orion Hotel. They saw her photo on the news and remembered her. She was something of a regular there. The security tapes show her checking in with Evan and checking out a few hours later. Evan used the Ted Gamble credit card. The card has since been reported stolen and canceled. The PI’s partner, Clay Maynard, was also poking around the hotel, trying to find out who the hooker saw.’
‘Or who saw the hooker,’ JD said. ‘He was looking for Evan, too.’
‘True,’ Elizabeth said. ‘When the hotel checked more of their tapes, they found a trend. Sue Ellen Lamont would come in at least twice a night with a different man, but she’d go to the same guy behind the counter – a nerdy-looking guy who was only too happy to spill by the time I got there this afternoon. Remember that Sue Ellen had had sex twice the night she died?’
‘With two different clients,’ Stevie said.
‘No,’ Elizabeth said. ‘One client – Evan – and one boyfriend – Nerdy Guy. Whose name is Dirk. Dirk concocted the scheme. Sue Ellen would pick up the men, Dirk would steal their credit card info and then send them to a special room which had a video camera.’
‘Blackmail?’ Stevie asked.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Elizabeth shrugged. ‘They were making some serious money between the credit cards and the blackmail. I checked the tape with Evan’s session and he caught her in the bathroom stealing his credit card info. He flashed her a badge and made her think he was a cop.’
‘He used the Newport News cop’s badge.’ Stevie was still frowning.
‘Exactly,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Dirk was pissed, because Sue Ellen was double-crossing him by stealing the cards he’d already stolen. So he didn’t say anything when she went missing. When he saw her on the news last night, he was “devastated”.’
‘Not devastated enough to come forward,’ Daphne said dryly.
‘Obviously,’ Hyatt said. ‘Now, you’re probably wondering why the DA is here. So Smith, the floor is yours.’
DA Grayson Smith was about JD’s age, but seemed years older. He was a serious guy with a reputation for working 24/7 and JD had never seen him smile.
‘I got a visit an hour ago from Janet Gordon’s attorney,’ Smith said. ‘She left a sealed letter with instructions that were she to die under “mysterious circumstances” he should mail it to me. He heard the news last night and hand-delivered it instead. In it she details the events of that night twenty-one years ago. It’s exactly what we learned from Dr Trask – Ricky Joyner raped and beat his ex-girlfriend, Ileanna Bryan, while a group of boys watched and cheered. The letter names everyone we already know about – except Ryan Agar, her own son. He’s conveniently left out of the account. In the letter she swears that when the boys left, Ileanna was alive, and that she died later. The next day, Joyner was discovered dead, by his own hand, which we also now know wasn’t true.’
‘Why?’ Stevie asked. ‘Why would she write the letter at all?’
‘I would,’ Daphne drawled, ‘if I were letting a man I’d blackmailed put me under anesthesia and take a knife to my face.’
‘Good point,’ Stevie conceded. ‘I guess she wanted to pressure Russ Bennett without throwing her son under a bus. Except we know he was there.’
Hyatt sighed. ‘I think that’s everything, unless anyone has anything else.’
JD watched Stevie. She’d stopped frowning, but there was something bugging her. When they’d adjourned, he pulled her aside. ‘What gives?’
‘Don’t know. Something’s off. I’m going home to hug Cordelia, then I’ll think on it some more. I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell Lucy I’m thinking of her and if she decides she needs to talk about her dad, I’ve got space in the group.’
‘I’ll tell her. Good night.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Wednesday, May 5, 6.40 P.M.
‘What’s all this?’
Lucy looked up at JD with a small smile. He’d stopped in the door of her hospital room, staring at all the flowers. ‘You gave me roses and then everybody jumped in.’ She pointed to the bouquets. ‘Those are from Craig and Rhoda, those are from the band, those are from Thorne, those are from the morgue. They give nice flowers at the morgue.’
A nurse came in with a wheelchair with an extended leg rest and Lucy’s smile dimmed. ‘What’s wrong?’ JD asked.
‘They’re taking me to see my mother.’
‘Do you want me to go with you?’
Lucy looked up at him. ‘Would you mind?’
‘Not at all.’
The nurse helped her into the chair and Lucy winced. She really should be staying in bed, but her mother was not doing well. The doctor had agreed that a visit now might be the only chance Lucy would have.
It wasn’t something she wanted to think about, not that thinking about it made any difference one way or the other. She reached for JD’s hand and held on, dread building.
She paid for my lawyer. The news still had Lucy stunned.
What did Buck do? The question still haunted her. I need to know.
The nurse pushed her into her mother’s room where another nurse was checking her vitals. ‘Only a few minutes,’ the nurse murmured. ‘Try not to upset her.’
Lucy had to swallow back a laugh. Upsetting her mother was pretty much a fait accompli. It always had been. JD gave Lucy’s hand a squeeze.
‘Mother?’ Lucy said quietly. ‘It’s Lucy.’
‘I know.’ Her mother didn’t open her eyes. ‘He hurt you.’
‘Who?’
Her mother smiled, bitterly. ‘Evan, the brother of that girl.’
‘The girl’s name was Ileanna,’ Lucy said, more caustically than she’d intended.
‘Yes, I know. Ileanna. How badly did Evan hurt you?’
‘He broke my leg,’ Lucy said, since her mother still hadn’t opened her eyes. ‘And cracked a few ribs. I’ll live.’ Her voice was harsher than she wanted. ‘He hurt you, too,’ she said more softly, and her mother opened her eyes.
They were filled with pain. ‘He hit you.’ She drew a shallow breath. ‘You’ve got bruises.’
‘I said I’ll live,’ Lucy said quietly. ‘I know about the lawyer, for my trial.’
Her mother flinched. ‘The Bennetts told, I take it?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘They told Detective Fitzpatrick this morning.’
‘I see. Yes, it’s true. Your father wouldn’t allow me to help you. I found a way.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because you got away, Lucy. You made a life. He couldn’t touch you anymore.’
Lucy frowned. ‘You mean my father?’
‘Yes. He didn’t want to send you to St Anne’s either.’ Her chin lifted. ‘I did that. I came home from the sanitarium after my breakdown and saw the bruises on your legs. I knew I needed to get you away. I couldn’t protect you anymore.’
‘Why didn’t you just leave and take me with you?’ Lucy said, a lump in her throat. Behind her JD rubbed her shoulders.
‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t let me take Buck and I couldn’t leave my son. I loved him. I loved your father, too.’
Lucy swallowed back the tears. ‘But not me? Didn’t you love me?’
‘Yes, you. I loved you, always. But I was weak. I still am.’ She drew another shallow breath. ‘I was weak the n
ight I found that diamond necklace.’
‘When?’ Lucy asked simply.
‘The night Buck died. I found the necklace on top of his baseball cards.’
Lucy frowned. ‘Why were you looking?’
‘Because I knew Buck. Something was wrong. I stood outside his door, watched him in the mirror. I saw him check the box, then hide it under his bed. Why he kept the necklace I’ll never know. But I went in after he was gone and I found it. I sat on his bed, held it in my hand and cried. I remembered so clearly that girl’s – Ileanna’s wounds. She was brutally attacked. I thought Buck had done it.’
‘Did you confront him?’
‘Yes, later, when your father came home. He denied the rape, so adamantly that I believed him. Or wanted to. Your father got in his face and screamed at him about screwing trash.’ She bit her lip. ‘Like Ileanna. I said something and Ron shoved me, hard. Buck got between us, said he’d fixed it. Not that he would, but that he did.’
‘He’d killed Ricky Joyner,’ Lucy murmured.
‘Yes. I knew then. I confronted him with it while your father roared at me. Buck said he didn’t do it, that Joyner ate his gun. But he knew what kind of gun it was and your father flinched. Later I checked. That wasn’t in any of the information released.’
‘What happened to the necklace, Mother?’
‘Your father grabbed it from me, said he’d throw it in the Bay. Buck grabbed it back, said it was his mistake, he’d take care of it. He was so angry when he left on his motorcycle. He never came back. That was the last time I saw him.’
‘The day of Buck’s funeral, you grabbed my father and said “What did Buck do?” What did you think he did?’
Her mother’s chin quivered. ‘Murder, rape, suicide? Take your pick. I didn’t know what he’d done, but your father did.’
JD cleared his throat. ‘Where was Lucy? I’d think she’d remember all the yelling.’
‘I knew it would be a row, so I asked Gwyn’s mother to invite Lucy for a sleepover.’
‘A deputy came to get me in the night,’ Lucy said. ‘You never saw the necklace again?’
‘No. I didn’t. I assume Buck threw it in the Bay.’ She sighed wearily. ‘I never knew there was a bracelet too. I don’t think I really remember you wearing it. I was medicated fairly heavily back then. Sending you to St Anne’s seemed for the best. You were happy there. You had your music. You were safe. But I lost you, too.’
Lucy patted her mother’s hand, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. ‘What do we do now?’
Her mother looked up at JD. ‘Will they press charges against me?’
‘I don’t know,’ JD said honestly. ‘It’s up to the DA. I doubt it.’
‘Then I’ll go home, when I’m able. Maybe you can come home too, Lucy. Finally.’
Lucy patted her mother’s hand again. ‘I am home. Here. But I’ll come see you.’
Her mother nodded in a way that said she knew Lucy was lying through her teeth. ‘That’s good. We can have lunch. You can tell me about your practice.’
‘Sleep now. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
She waited until JD had pushed her into the hall, then let the tears fall, not caring who saw them. When they got back to her room, he crouched at her side, took her into his arms and let her sob. When she’d cried it all out, he put a cold cloth on her face.
She shuddered. ‘I just wanted her to love me.’
‘I know, baby. She does, in her own way. It just wasn’t enough.’
‘Could it be enough? Now that he’s gone?’
‘Maybe. If you both want it bad enough. And it’s okay not to know that tonight. You’ve got the rest of your lives to figure it out.’
She nodded. ‘I’m so tired, JD.’
‘Then sleep.’
‘Will you stay with me?’
‘Until you’re asleep. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Wednesday, May 5, 7.45 P.M.
JD sat at his desk staring at the stacks of documents Higgins had given them. He’d left them in disarray when he and Stevie had run to meet the Bennetts that morning.
I should pack them in the box. He should do paperwork. But all he could hear was Lucy’s pitiful questions. What about me? Didn’t you love me?
He’d asked those same questions himself, thousands of times. Never found a good answer. All I’ve ever wanted was a family. Someone that belongs to me. Someone I belong to. He’d watched his friends have families. He’d tried with Maya and failed so miserably.
I want it to be Lucy. It was way too soon to hope, but he did anyway. And tried not to feel too pathetic about doing so.
‘JD?’ a woman asked and he looked up to see Hyatt’s clerk studying him from the doorway of the CO’s office. ‘Why aren’t you home sleeping like everyone else?’
‘I’m going.’ He’d been hesitating, unwilling to return home. To spend another night in that house of his, alone. ‘I just have some paperwork to do.’
Debbie’s look was sympathetic and JD wondered if he wore a big L for Loser on his forehead. ‘Did you listen to your messages?’ she asked.
He grimaced. ‘No. I’ve got like a hundred, probably ninety of them from reporters.’
‘I doubt there’s any room in your voicemail box for reporters after all the messages your realtor left.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You’ve got your house on the market, right?’ Debbie asked.
‘Yeah, for a year now.’
‘Well, your realtor called, then she stopped by.’ She put a stack of pink phone message slips on his desk. ‘Said you got an offer and to call her ASAP.’
Stunned, JD dialed and was met by the perky voice of the realtor who hadn’t had a single bite on his house in months. ‘We have an offer,’ she sang.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. You’ve been in the news, Detective.’
‘What does that have to do with my house?’
‘Well, I may have dropped your name a few times, got some buzz going. Somebody wants to buy the house that the serial-killer-catching detective lived in.’
‘Oh my God,’ JD said, disgust mixing with his surprise.
‘Hey, don’t knock it, JD. Bird in the hand and all that.’
‘That’s just . . . gross.’
‘Bird in the hand,’ she repeated with emphasis. ‘They’re offering your asking price. You should take it.’ She paused, a frown in her voice. ‘You do want to sell it, don’t you?’
JD thought of Lucy, of the future. Possibilities. It was a good omen, not that he believed in such things. Or maybe I do. ‘Yes, I want to sell it. Draw up the contracts.’
‘I already did. Should I bring them tonight? I can meet you at my office.’
JD felt his head spinning. ‘Sure. I’ll be there soon.’
He hung up and blew out a breath. Clean your desk and go sign that contract before the buyer changes their mind. He’d started picking up prom photos and police reports to put in the box when he saw a folder he hadn’t opened yet. It was labeled ‘Memorial Service’. Bart Higgins had pulled it together for Lucy.
JD opened it now. It wasn’t a memorial service, he saw. It was Buck’s funeral.
I’m glad Lucy didn’t see these. The photos were grainy, like they were taken with a pocket camera with no flash. Someone had chronicled an event that should have been somber. But because of who Buck Trask had been, the town had wanted it captured for posterity.
There were pictures of the priest, of the Trasks. His heart squeezed painfully. Of a fourteen year old Lucy huddled in the corner of a pew, looking so incredibly alone and sad.
There were pictures of crying classmates. And one older girl who sat on the front row, staring at the closed casket. She didn’t look sad, JD thought. She looked pissed off.
Her fist was clenched tight, but JD could see something resting on top of her hand. He brought the picture closer. It looked like a chain.
I wonder . . . He ope
ned the Anderson Ferry High yearbook Stevie had left on her desk and flipped to the Ds. Yes. The girl looking so pissed off was Sara Derringer, Buck’s ex-girlfriend. JD flipped through the photos until he found another shot of Sara standing in the line to pay her last respects. The look on her face as she stared at the casket was utter frustration. And her fist was still clenched. She was holding something in her hand. JD had a damn good idea what it was.
JD quickly boxed up the rest of the files, leaving the funeral folder out. Higgins had given Lucy a card with Sara’s current address. He thought he and Stevie needed to pay a visit. But now, he had priorities. He was going to finally sell his house.
Thursday, May 6, 7.55 A.M.
Stevie was relieved to see only one car parked in front of Clay Maynard’s office. She wasn’t sure she wanted anyone to know she’d come. No one but Maynard, anyway.
She knocked on the glass door and waited. A minute later he appeared, frowning.
‘Detective Mazzetti, come in. How is your daughter?’
‘She’s well, thank you.’ Stevie looked up at him. He was a big man, rather gruff. But she didn’t feel nervous. Not really. ‘I wanted you to know that we found a tracking device hidden underneath the dashboard of your partner’s car.’
‘I figured that. He planted one in your daughter’s backpack and it only makes sense that he’d have kept track of where Nicki was and it was clear he knew she’d gone to Anderson Ferry. She found out Reardon’s true background and it got her killed. But thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to come all this way for that.’
‘You didn’t have to give us Reardon’s name and photo either.’
‘Well, technically I did. Otherwise I think that’s called hindering an investigation?’
She smiled, unexpectedly. ‘Yeah, it is.’ She sobered, tilting her head to look up at him. ‘We found a few things in the apartment Evan was using. Specifically, the driver’s license and passport of Ted Gamble.’
To his credit, Maynard’s eyes didn’t flicker. ‘And?’
She smiled, briefly. ‘And . . . you told me you’d found Evan and the prostitute he killed through a credit card search. That would have been at the Orion Hotel. They remember seeing the victim there. And they remember you asking about her.’