Narey’s eyes were glued to the screen. Somewhere in the greater Los Angeles area, Dylan Hansen sat slumped against the radiator, his hair covering his face and his body motionless. She’d become used to looking for the slightest hint of movement, the smallest sign of continuing existence.
When the other monitor flickered into life, it made her jump, her mind leaping to a false conflated dawn, a vision of an ECG graph soaring to new heights. The reality of the still-motionless Dylan was a depressant.
She held it together and turned to see Cally O’Neill staring back at her.
‘You watching Dylan, Rachel?’
The strain must have been showing on Narey’s face and she was annoyed with herself that it did so. The only saving grace was knowing that O’Neill shared her worries.
‘Yes. He hasn’t moved in the fifteen minutes that I’ve been here.’
‘Our doctors tell us he’s running on empty. Organ failure is probably inevitable from here on in.’
‘Are you any closer, Cally?’
O’Neill hesitated, thought long and deep before answering. ‘Yes. We’re closer. We’re learning more about Garland all the time and we now know more about who he was and how he thought. We’re closer. And that’s why I’m calling. We’ve been working a line on Ethan Garland’s father. It started out as something very left-field but we’re now thinking it goes right to the heart of who Garland was and . . . well, there’s things I need to know from you.’
‘Okay. Go for it.’
O’Neill breathed deep and readied herself. ‘Okay . . . you’ll remember that among the murderabilia items we found in Garland’s cellar was a purse said to belong to Elizabeth Short and tagged with the name Frankie Wynn. It was just one of several such things, so we didn’t pay it any more attention than the others, but we followed process. We now know that Frankie Wynn was an alias used by Zac Garland and we have several links between Garland senior and the Short investigation. He drove a similar car to a prime suspect, he frequented a motel where many think the murder was committed, he worked at a restaurant where Short’s shoes and purse were found. The links are largely circumstantial, but they keep on coming and coming.’
‘You’re thinking Garland’s father murdered Elizabeth Short? Really?’
O’Neill held her gaze, thinking, deliberating. ‘Yes. Maybe. It’s so far from what I thought we were working on but yes, it’s all pointing that way. How much do you know about the Short murder?’
‘She’s the one they called the Black Dahlia, right?’
‘Right.’
Narey hesitated. ‘I guess I don’t know that much. I know of the case, know it was brutal, headline-making stuff and never solved. After that, I’d be guessing.’
‘Okay, let me give you the Cliff’s Notes. She—’
‘The what?’
‘The quick-study version. Elizabeth Short was twenty-two years old. Dark hair, model looks. She’d been working as a waitress, may have had aspirations to get into the movie business. Her body was found lying on an empty building lot in 1947. Cause of death was a cerebral haemorrhage. The key thing I want to talk to you about was how her body was displayed.’
‘Okay . . .’ Narey sensed O’Neill’s nervousness as she neared the business end of her explanation.
‘Elizabeth Short’s body had been cut in half.’
‘Oh Christ . . .’
‘Right. So you now know why I’m making this call. Eloise Gray’s body was severed too, right?’
‘Right. Cut in two just below the waist. A technique called—’
‘A hemicorporectomy. Rachel, you saw Eloise’s body. Tell me how it was arranged.’
The inescapable sense of dread made Narey close her eyes. Behind them, she saw Eloise’s body in the harsh light of the cellar of the Highland Fling, the two halves so deliberately positioned.
‘She’d been placed with her arms above her head. Her elbows were bent at right angles. Her legs were spread apart in a way that I’d suggest was intended to be sexual.’
O’Neill nodded grimly. ‘Exactly as Elizabeth Short was.’
Narey’s gut twisted. ‘Marr’s done this as a copycat killing? As what, some kind of homage to Ethan Garland’s father?’
‘It sure looks that way.’
‘Wait,’ Narey pulled a hand through her hair as she thought. ‘How old did you say she was? Twenty-two? Eloise was twenty-two. Does that sound like a coincidence to you?’
‘Nope. None of it does. Everything either of them has done has been for a reason, however fucking sick it is.’
Narey nodded animatedly. ‘Marr has been adamant with me that there was no reason that Eloise was chosen other than that she was a victim. Lennie Dakers told me Marr was lying but we couldn’t call him on it or be sure there was more to it. Now we know different. What did Elizabeth Short look like?’
O’Neill was ready for the question and immediately raised a grainy black and white photograph to the screen.
Narey couldn’t help but see the connection right away. While Eloise and the woman they called the Black Dahlia didn’t exactly look alike, they were most definitely a similar type. The dark hair, the fresh-faced beauty, the bloom of youth. They looked enough alike that if you were searching for a stand-in for Short then Eloise would adequately fit the bill. Narey swore.
‘Ethan Garland did this search, Cally. He picked someone who fitted the profile and delivered her to Marr for dispatching. Marr told me she was killed because she was a victim, nothing more, but he was lying. It suited him for me to think she was just some random, that it could have been anyone.’
‘There was nothing random about it, Rachel.’
‘No. They picked her out and hunted her down. And I’m going to make Marr regret it.’