“Why?” Skinner sobbed. “Why are you doing this to me?”
His lips twisted grimly. “Ironic. Renee said the very same thing to the two young men as they held her down all night, raping her by turns. She said they laughed and said ‘Because we can.’ The police were able to catch the two men using descriptions Renee gave them from her hospital bed and the State’s Attorney’s Office filed charges.” He lifted his tool of choice, twisting it in the overhead light, watching it shine. “That’s where you came in, Mr. Skinner.” He chuckled dryly as Skinner’s eyes flickered in recognition. “I see you remember now.”
“You… weren’t there.”
“Are you sure, Mr. Skinner? Are you very sure about that? You sat at the same table with those two animals.” His voice shook with anger. “And when Renee came to the stand, you decimated her, assaulting her a second time. Not with your fists or your …” He waved a hand toward Skinner’s lower regions. “But you assaulted her the same. She was a party girl. The boys had met her the weekend before. Not true. She’d agreed to meet them. Not true. A drug test showed she’d smoked some marijuana sometime in the previous two weeks, confirming what kind of girl she was. So you said she’d asked for it, allowed them to do it. Then accused them falsely.” He leaned close, his body vibrating with fury. “Do you remember now, Mr. Skinner?”
“I—”
“Answer the question, Mr. Skinner. Yes or no?”
Skinner moaned. “Oh, God.”
He straightened. “Not so comfortable now, Mr. Skinner? I’ve contemplated this, long and hard. Those animals went free because you painted Renee Dexter as a girl with loose morals. When she tried to defend herself you tripped her up again and again until she finally had no voice at all.” He was calm again, and ready to do what needed to be done. “Now you’ll learn what it is like to have no voice, Mr. Skinner.”
Friday, February 20, 3:45 A.M.
Zoe ripped the sheet away from his sleeping form. “Up you go.” She shook his shoulder impatiently. “Rise and shine, big boy. Time to go home.”
He rolled over onto his back and blinked up at her. “What time is it?”
“Almost four. Your wife’s alarm will be going off in less than two and a half hours.”
His eyes flew open at that. “Shit.” He rolled out of bed and grabbed his boxer shorts. “Why the hell did you let me go to sleep?”
Zoe looked away, under the pretense of gathering the items that had fallen from his pockets until she managed to control the gleam in her eye. She turned back, her hands filled with his belongings. “Because I fell asleep, too.” She smiled, alluringly. “You tired me out.”
He looked up from tucking in his shirttail into his pants, a smug grin on his face. He’d earned it, so she let him be self-satisfied for now. “You were fucking amazing.”
She brushed her lips against his. “Hmm. I know. But it’s time to go home.”
“I’m going. You want to meet me tonight?”
Not if I can help it, she thought, but smiled nevertheless. “I’d love to.” If she had her way, by sunset she’d be ass-deep into what was becoming a more interesting case with every new tidbit she learned.
Grabbing her chin between his fingers, he placed a hard kiss on her lips. “I’ll call you.”
She walked him to the door. “You do that.” Then she closed the door behind him and, sliding the deadbolt into place, let the Cheshire cat grin take over her face.
She wondered if he knew he talked in his sleep. She suspected his wife did.
She grabbed the phone. “Scott…Of course I know what time it is. Meet me at the station in an hour. We’re going to have a very busy day.”
Chapter Nine
Friday, February 20, 8:30 A.M.
“You don’t look so good, sugar.”
Kristen looked up from the pile of papers on her desk, bleary-eyed. John’s secretary stood in the doorway of her office, her lower lip pushed out in a worried pout, a stack of folders in her arms.
“Thank you so much, Lois.” She eyed the folders balefully. “Don’t say those are for me.”
“ ’Fraid so.” The pile landed on her desk with a thump, leaving Lois’s hands free to plunk down on her generous hips. “Did you sleep last night?”
No, not a wink. “A little.” She unscrewed the cap from the thermos Owen had filled that morning and refilled her cup. “But I have enough coffee to keep me going.”
“Any new letters?”
She shook her head, thinking of the footprints Reagan had found in the snow next to her windows. “No, but it will happen. It’s only a matter of time.”
Fellow prosecutor Greg Wilson poked his head in the door. “Did you ask her, Lois?”
Lois turned around with a frown. “I was getting to it.”
Greg ambled into the room. He’d just celebrated his fortieth birthday, but retained boyish good looks that made all the women in the office by turns sigh in admiration and grumble in envy. “We’re all worried about you, Kristen.”
Kristen felt a prick of annoyance. “I can take care of myself, Greg.”
He waved his hand as if she hadn’t spoken. “Come stay with us. We have an extra room since my mother-in-law ran off with that man from her bingo parlor.”
Kristen’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Yeah, my mother-in-law met this guy and—”
Kristen shook her head, as much to clear her brain as to shut him up. “No, you want me to come stay with you?”
“We all know you live by yourself,” Lois rushed to explain. “We drew straws to see who would ask you.”
Kristen raised a brow. “And you lost, Greg?”
“No, I won. We want you to come stay with us. Until all this blows over.”
Touched, she found a smile. “I don’t think your wife will approve.”
“It was my wife’s idea.”
Kristen’s eyes widened. “You told her about the letters?”
Greg frowned. “Of course not. I told her your house was being renovated and you needed a place to stay.” He grew a little sheepish. “Then she saw Richardson’s spot last night and confronted me about it over breakfast this morning. But I still didn’t say anything. What do you say?”
Kristen looked up at the two of them, their faces so earnest and concerned and her heart clenched, just a little. It had been a long time since someone went out of their way to take care of her. No, it hasn’t. Reagan did last night. “I say it’s a wonderful gesture.”
Greg scowled. “But?”
“But I won’t be driven from my own home. Besides, Lieutenant Spinnelli is having a surveillance camera installed today.”
Greg looked resigned. “I think you’re making a mistake.”
She smiled at the two of them. “Thanks. I mean it.”
Lois leaned over the desk to give her a quick hug and Kristen stiffened. It had been a long time since she’d been cared for, still longer since she’d been embraced in any way. Lois immediately pulled back, her cheeks reddening slightly, but she made no apology for her unexpected gesture. “You’ll tell us if we can help you, Kristen.”
“I will. I promise.” With an effort Kristen lightened her voice to soften the dismissal. “Now, I’ve got less than an hour to review all these new files before I have to be in court.”
Lois exited, shaking her head. Greg stopped at the door for a last comment, his normally pleasant face grim. “Kris, we’re seriously worried. Don’t underestimate this guy.”
She met his eyes. “I won’t.”
Then she sank back down into her chair, staring at the new files she’d add to her caseload. After a minute she shook herself and lifted the first folder from the stack. And sighed. Another rape case.
Some days were better than others. This wouldn’t be one of those days.
Friday, February 20, 11:00 A.M.
“Thanks for waiting for me.”
Abe looked over at Kristen in the passenger seat. Those had been the first words she’d ut
tered since climbing up into his SUV, her coat unbuttoned, her cheeks flushed from a combination of cold and exertion. She’d run down the courthouse stairs so fast he’d been shocked she hadn’t tripped on her high heels. For the first twenty minutes of the drive she glanced nervously behind them until he assured her that although Zoe Richardson had been following, they’d lost her a few miles back.
Now she sat unmoving, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery of the quiet little neighborhood in the suburbs that was home to the first of Ross King’s young victims.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I used the time to make some calls.”
Another thirty seconds passed, then she murmured, “Anything new?”
“Jack found traces of dried milk on the inside of one of the crates. Two percent.”
She didn’t move a muscle, her eyes still glued to the window. “Wouldn’t you expect to find milk in milk crates?”
“Not unless they’d recently been used for a milk delivery.”
“So he has access to a person or business that gets milk in crates?”
“Versus using them to hold up his stereo equipment. Yeah.”
“He could have picked them up from anywhere.”
Abe shrugged, a little unnerved by her lack of animation. Something had happened that morning, and he had no illusions she’d trust him enough to be forthright with the information. “Maybe. It’s one more piece of the puzzle though. Jack also found ground marble on all the crates, but that was no surprise since the killer lined the crates with marble tiles.”
He pulled the SUV to the curb in front of their first stop. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked sharply and she stiffened. “Another letter?”
Her head whipped around, her green eyes wild and turbulent. “No. I would have told you that. I’m not stupid, Detective.”
He wanted to touch her, to soothe her, but of course he did not. “Then what?”
Her eyes quieted. “I got a new sexual assault case today. The victim and her father were waiting for me outside my office when I got back from motion hour.”
So that explained her terse tone when she’d called his cell phone to ask for another half hour. He said nothing, just waited for her to continue. After a few seconds and a weary slump of her shoulders, she did.
“She broke down in my office, terrified to testify. Her father all but threatened her if she didn’t. Said he wouldn’t rest until the scum was behind bars.”
“She won’t make a very compelling witness if the jury thinks she’s being coerced.”
She looked back at the house beyond the curb. “No, no she won’t, even though I think she’s telling the truth. Plus, the physical evidence isn’t very strong. I have to decide if we have enough to charge the man she’s accused.”
“And if you do, you’ll have to put her on the stand.” He followed her gaze to the little house. “Like the boys in the King case.”
She sighed, deep and long. “And the Ramey case and all the other cases. Every time a victim of sexual assault goes on the stand, they live it all over again.”
“Maybe that’s how they heal. Learn to forget. Go on with their lives.”
She turned again, met his stare, her eyes now filled with sorrow and a vulnerable regret that made his heart clench. “They never forget,” she said quietly. “They might heal and they might go on with their lives, but they never, ever forget.” She opened the door and hopped down. “Let’s get this over with,” she said without looking back at him.
Stunned, he simply sat watching her back as she faced the house, then made himself move to where she stood on the sidewalk. “Kristen—”
She shook her head, a hard, resolute movement that made him leave it alone. He wasn’t sure what he’d been going to say anyway.
She gestured at the driveway. “The Restons have company,” she said.
It was true. Cars lined the driveway and the other side of the street.
“Mr. Reston was their spokesman. They stood together then,” she explained and started up the front walk. “All the parents. I guess that hasn’t changed.”
She didn’t even have to knock on the door. It opened as they stepped onto the front porch. Standing inside was a man in his sock feet wearing a Bears sweatshirt and a battered pair of jeans. On his face he wore weary resignation.
“Miss Mayhew,” he said softly. “We’ve been expecting you.” He opened the door wider and they entered. Abe looked around the room where nine more adults sat. All studied him with curiosity, then lowered their gazes to look at Kristen with hostile accusation.
Which made Abe madder than hell. He drew a deep breath and reminded himself why they were there. Their children had been horribly victimized, not only by King, but also by the judicial system that failed to give them justice. Standing behind Kristen, he touched her shoulder lightly. She flinched at the contact, then cleared her throat.
“This is Detective Reagan. He’s been assigned to this case.”
Which case didn’t need to be said. Not one of the parents said a word.
Her shoulders rigid, Kristen continued. “Ross King was murdered. We’d planned to spend the morning informing the families of his victims, but you’ve made our job easier by being here all together.”
“So happy to make your job easier, Miss Mayhew.” The sarcastic sneer came from one of the men on the sofa and Abe again had to remind himself of why they were there.
Kristen ignored the jab. “You all have obviously been informed.”
Reston gestured to the coffee table where five envelopes sat in a neat row. “We all received these yesterday morning. And we saw that reporter on the news last night.”
Kristen searched the room. “Where are the Fullers?”
“They got divorced last year,” Reston answered. “She moved back to L.A. with their boy. His company moved him to Boston. Their marriage just couldn’t take the strain.”
A woman rose from the love seat and came to stand beside Reston, sliding her arm around his waist in the way of a supportive wife. “We knew you’d been to see those women yesterday. We figured it was only a matter of time before you came to us.” She looked up, met Abe’s eyes with challenge in hers. “We used to be a normal, happy family, Detective Reagan. Until Ross King. Not one of us is sorry to see him dead.”
Abe searched the faces of each parent, choosing his words carefully. “I won’t insult your intelligence by acting as if I assumed otherwise. I won’t debase my own integrity by acting as if Ross King deserves my compassion. But it’s my job to investigate murder, regardless of how I feel about the victim. I don’t expect you to accept that, but that doesn’t make it any less of a reality.”
There was absolute silence in the room. Then one of the women started to cry. Her husband stood, helpless rage on his face. “Tell us this, Miss Mayhew. Did he suffer?”
The woman looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You owe us that much.”
Kristen looked up at Abe over her shoulder and for a moment the sobbing mother’s anguish was reflected in her eyes. Then it was gone. She looked back to the waiting parents. “I can’t give you details on an ongoing investigation.”
“Goddamn you to hell!” Still another father jumped to his feet. “We did what you said. We put our boys through hell because you said you could put him away.” Dropping back into his seat, his chin dropped to his chest and his shoulders started to shake. “Goddamn you,” he whispered.
Abe could feel her hesitate, then her breath left her in a silent sigh. “I can’t give you details,” she repeated. “But …”
The father looked up and Abe felt his own eyes sting at the man’s sheer misery. “But?” the man whispered.
“He suffered,” Kristen said simply.
“A lot,” Abe added flatly, wondering what the parents would do next. They looked at each other, grim relief the predominant theme. “I realize that when we find King’s murderer you all are likely to send him a thank-you card, but—”
“Try a twenty-year-old bottle of scotch.”
“A week in my Florida time-share.”
“Season tickets to the Bears.”
Abe held up a hand to quiet them. “I get the picture. Still, I hope you’ll give me your cooperation. Did anyone see anything that would help establish the time the notes were delivered?” No one said a word and Abe sighed. “You are obviously smart people. You know from the news that King is not the only one that’s been killed. You also know that we can’t condone vigilante justice. If you did condone it, you would have offed King yourselves.”
“How do you know we didn’t?” Reston asked carefully.
“I don’t,” Abe said. “But like I said, you’re smart people. You know you’re all on my suspect list. You also know your being there won’t make this any easier for your kids. They’ve already been through hell. Now, I’m thinking the only reason you didn’t off King yourselves three years ago was because you didn’t want your kids to grow up visiting you in Joliet.” He saw them flinch at that and knew he’d made his point. “I need to know when you got the notes, then I’ll need to know where you were the night King disappeared.”
“What night did he disappear?” Mrs. Reston asked.
“First things first.” Abe took out his notepad. “Since I only know the Restons here, I need to know your name, where you found the note, and when did you receive it?”
Mr. Reston shrugged. “I fell asleep on the sofa the night before last. I woke up at three A.M. and opened the front door to lock the storm door and saw the note stuck in the frame.”
“Good.” He wrote it down. “Next?” All the other parents said they’d seen the notes when they woke up. One at six, then others at seven A.M.
He’d gotten responses from all but the man who’d shouted at Kristen. That man was still sitting with his head hung low. Abe waited, but the man didn’t say anything.