Tuesday, May 1st
CAROL opened the glass door and stepped into the chaos of the elementary school office at seven-thirty in the morning. She wove her way through children and teachers, who were going in every direction getting ready for the day, and finally made her way to the desk. It wasn’t even eight yet, but the school secretary looked like she’d just worked a national disaster. It took several minutes before she noticed Carol, and she had to answer the phone twice before she could finish her greeting.
“Sorry about that, ma’am. We’re a hand short this morning.” Her voice evidenced a cultured Richmond, Virginia southern twang.
“I’m Carol Mabry. I have an appointment with Doctor Sessions,” Carol said.
“Yes, of course Ms. Mabry. Doctor Sessions is waiting for you right now. Just go on into that door right there,” she replied, pointing and nodding while answering the phone again. Carol smiled her thanks then went through the gate separating the lobby with the reception area, and knocked on the door bearing the hand painted sign reading, “Principal”, entering after she heard, “Come in.”
Doctor Nancy Sessions sat behind her desk reading something on her tablet. When she looked up and saw Carol, she shut off the screen and stood, holding her hand out. “Ms. Mabry. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” she said.
Carol shook the other woman’s hand and sat in the chair across from the desk. “I appreciate you seeing me this morning. From the looks of your outer office, you’re already having a busy day.”
Nancy sighed. “We begin standardized testing today. Since we’re private, we don’t rely on state funding, but the results help keep us rated as a top school in the commonwealth. I think the teachers panic right before they begin, worried they will somehow fail us if the students don’t score as high as they usually do.” While she spoke she cleared her desk until the area in front of her was clean, then found her coffee cup under a file folder. “What can I do for you?”
Carol crossed her legs and laced her hands in front of her, refusing to fidget. “I need to adjust some of Lisa’s paperwork and, basically, add her father to it. I also need to sign something that will allow him to have access to her at any time for any reason; pick her up whenever he wants to, that sort of thing.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow and said, “You really didn’t need to see me privately about that.”
Carol brushed an imaginary piece of lint from her thigh. “No, but I need to warn you about the uproar this may cause.”
Dr. Sessions leaned back in her chair. “Oh?”
“Her father is Bobby Kent.” Carol watched the other woman’s eyes widen, but she didn’t offer a comment. “I expect the fallout from the press may be a bit extreme for a while.”
Nancy nodded. “I’m afraid you’re probably right. We can keep them off the grounds, of course. We have certain rights under the law when it comes to the privacy of children and we can exercise them, but they know the law, too. In my experience, they are expert at skirting the edges of those laws. There isn’t going to be much I can do about them hanging out at the gate waiting for you or any other adult they can harass.”
“I understand. I just wanted you to be forewarned. I have a feeling the eruption is coming soon. There’s also the matter of a case I’m working on that is getting its own share of the news. I worry about the repercussions on Lisa.”
“Yes. I watched the news last night along with the rest of the free world.” Nancy leaned forward. “You don’t need to be overly concerned, Ms. Mabry. I can see the strain this is causing on you. You’re not alone. We have more than a few students with parents who attract a fair amount of reporters, but once the initial storm passes, Lisa should be left alone.”
Carol stood. “I just wish there was a way to prevent it in the first place.” She held out her hand and the other woman took it. “Thank you for seeing me this morning, Doctor Sessions. I’ll go out front and fill out the forms I need.”
“It was good to see you again, Ms. Mabry. Please, don’t worry about Lisa while she’s here. We take good care of her as always.”
Carol gave a small smile. “I know,” she said, and left the office.
“CAN you tell us if you have any suspects?”
“Ms. Mabry! Can you give us a statement about any further developments on the case?”
“Can you tell us what the mayor and governor are meeting about this morning?”
Carol held her cell phone to her ear and put her hand up to cover her other ear. “Hang on a sec, Maurice. I can’t hear you for the locusts,” she said, then finally pushed through the doors of her building and entered the quiet of the lobby. Locusts came out about every seven years in Virginia and, when they were chirping, it wasn’t uncommon for Virginians to have to raise their voices to be heard at the dinner table. Carol found the swarm of reporters outside very reminiscent. “Okay, sorry, go ahead.”
“I said, come straight to my office, before you even go to yours,” Maurice repeated, then hung up without waiting for a response. Carol glared at her cell phone before she put it in her pocket. She removed her sunglasses and stopped at the security area.
“Morning, Ms. Mabry,” the uniformed woman at the guard station said, gesturing with her hand to have her step forward through the metal detector.
“Good morning. How are you?”
“Bit busy today. Reporters think they get a pass on the no recording equipment here. You can always tell the folks that aren’t local.” As the equipment read her cell phone and metal badge, it sounded an alarm, but she just handed her identification to the guard, waited for confirmation, then headed for the offices.
“Good luck with it today,” she said.
“Oh, you know us, Ms. Mabry,” the woman said, turning her attention to the next person in line.
Carol looked at her reflection in the glass doors as she approached, automatically straightening the red jacket that she wore over the blue pantsuit. She had on red heels and a red, white, and blue scarf to tie it all together.
She moved through the office, nodding hello to greetings she received, and trying to ignore any behind-the-hand whispers she caught. Why did someone who sang into a microphone for a living garner so much attention? She headed straight for Maurice’s office, and saw Janice, his secretary, sitting at her desk.
“Go on in, Carol. He’s been waiting for you,” Janice announced.
“Could you please find me a cup of coffee? I haven’t had time yet this morning,” Carol begged. Janice nodded, and Carol entered the office without knocking.
Carol acknowledged Mitch Carpenter and Paul Taylor, the Mayor of Richmond, while she set her briefcase and purse down near a chair and sat down. “It is a madhouse out there,” she said.
“Lots of news happening around this building recently,” Paul remarked sarcastically. He sat in the chair to her immediate right.
“Where’ve you been?” Maurice asked pointedly.
“The same place I’m at every morning before nine. En route to or from Lisa’s school,” she answered.
“It doesn’t look good for this department to have you show up late for work, Ms. Mabry,” Paul said. “If your house is burning down are you going to shuttle your kid to school or put the fire out?”
“Is my house on fire Mr. Mayor? Do I need to further the impression the press is peddling that we are at a complete loss and running around in a panic?”
He actually harumphed. “They need to know that we are taking the matter seriously and working the hours it deserves.”
“Then they can come and report on the four or five hours of work I do every single day from my house in the evenings, Mayor Taylor,” Carol answered. She’d gone to law school with Paul, had been his partner on the debate team. They’d been casual friends until he made a pass at her one evening about a year after his wedding. She never spoke to him on friendly terms again, and he’d started calling her Ms. Mabry when he’d been elected mayor.
“That’s enough,” Maurice said. “Mayor Taylor, last time I checked, I’m in charge of the hours my people work in my office. And Carol, we need the lab reports back from the last victim.” He stopped speaking and she realized he was waiting for some sort of response.
She had never fallen asleep the night before, and her temper was on a very short leash. She waited for about five long seconds of silence while he kept her gaze, then asked, “I’m sorry, Maurice. Is that a question?”
He ignored her, and looked at Mitch. “Bring me up to date since yesterday. The governor is calling here inside of ten minutes.”
Mitch stepped forward, clearly uncomfortable with the mayor in the room. “We might have him on video. I have our tech people working on that right now and intend to release it to the media as soon as we have clear footage. It might be more useful than the grainy photo we released two days ago.”
“Wonderful,” Carol said, feeling like maybe the tide had turned. The feeling was short lived, though. When the door opened and Jack Gordon entered.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said by way of preamble. “Stayed at the ME’s office hoping they’d have something more for us this morning. No luck.” He sat next to Carol on her left hand side and she had to keep herself from shifting away from him.
“There’s one thing we should be concerned about,” Carol offered. “All three murders were five days apart.”
“We’re on day 5, right?” Maurice asked Mitch.
“Yes,” Mitch said, drawing the word out. “Richmond Red needs to kill. That’s the driving need of every serial killer. If he can only compensate for 5 days between each kill, then he has likely already planned the next one.”
Jack stared frankly at Carol and asked, “How about it, Carol? Know any women about your age and height with red hair like yours? Maybe we could narrow down the field a little.”
At his words and his look, Carol felt anger rising inside her like magma in a volcano. She quickly discarded the emotional reply she had started to form when Janice entered on a knock. Carol nearly wept at the sight of the steaming hot cup of coffee she carried. She smiled her thanks and took the first heavenly sip. Jack could take a long walk off a short pier as far as she cared.
“Are we holding anything back from the press?” Maurice prompted.
Carol swallowed her coffee and said, “The violin string is being kept out of anything official. I’ve told a couple of trusted sources, but they’ve all promised to keep it under wraps.”
“Here’s the thing.” Maurice stood and pounded his desk for emphasis. “I cannot stand the thought that we’re just all waiting for the next victim.”
Jack cleared his throat. “Sir, we have our best people working around the clock on this case. It’s just a matter of time before he makes a mistake.”
“Let me tell you something. Waiting for him to screw up isn’t good police work. It’s wishful thinking. How many more women in my city have to die before he makes that mistake you’re hanging your hopes and dreams on?”
Paul Taylor interjected, “I don’t think it’s fair to blame the detectives working this case – or any member of our esteemed police force – for not finding any meaningful evidence so far.”
“Oh, save it for the microphones, Mr. Mayor,” Carol uttered between her teeth.
“Hey. I have an idea. How about the two of you set aside any unrelated personal animosities so the rest of us can focus on what’s important?” Maurice suggested. “What about the profile you received. Anything there we can work with?”
Jack answered. “That profile read just like a textbook example. Probably Caucasian. Choice of victims indicates the killer is male. Age of victims suggests the killer is also age thirty to thirty-five. Strangulation is personal so he’s got a lot of repressed anger. Arranging the bodies indicates a mother complex. Mother issues. Blah, blah, blah. Nothing we hadn’t already surmised and nothing substantially useful. The only new thing is this; the profile suggests the unlikely possibility of multiple actors with occult ties.”
“I’m not entirely convinced of an Oedipus complex with this one,” Carol offered thoughtfully. “Something’s off about it.”
“I tend to agree. Same with the occult.” Mitch turned to speak directly to Carol. “I’d bet my pension this is just one guy and has nothing to do with the occult.”
“What makes you say that?” Maurice demanded, clearly hoping for anything he could tell the governor.
Mitch turned back to the CA. “If this were occult, we would have hard evidence of more than one actor. The times and places the killings took place, just one killer slipping in and out is barely possible. More than one actor would have been seen. Also, occult killings are all about human sacrifice. The killers would have severed fingers or toes for use in cannibalistic ceremonies. They likely would have dismembered the bodies and written incantations using the blood of the victims. The crime scenes are way too clean. The bodies are fully intact.”
Maurice nodded. “Got it. Good. Any of that in the profile?”
Mitch shook his head.
“Anything else?” Maurice asked.
Carol said, “I have a contact in Washington who isn’t with the Bureau who I think might be able to give us an in-depth profile, one that doesn’t contain the standard boilerplate or last minute nonsense.”
Maurice checked the time, then nodded. “Then get it, Carol.”
“I’ll have to send her all the files,” Carol said.
Maurice raised an eyebrow. “Send her whatever you have to send her. Whatever it takes.”
After a quick knock, Rhonda poked her head inside and her eyes sought out Carol. Finding her sitting between Mitch and Jack, her eyebrows knotted in apparent confusion. She said, “Carol, there’s a new development in the Kennedy case. You need to hear this.”
Carol closed her files, picked up her coffee, and said, “I’ll be right there.”
Maurice waved them all off like shooing flies off a picnic lunch. “All of you, get back to work. The boss is calling any second.” Just then, his intercom buzzed and he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He picked up the phone and greeted the governor while waving them all out of the office.
“I want this room stripped and completely redone. I drew up some plans for the walls and floors. It needs to meet with all of my acoustical specs,” Bobby said, stepping into what used to be the den.
The contractor, Ed Westbury, Jr., followed with a notebook, silently cringing at the memories in the room. He wasn’t a sentimental kind of guy, and he was pleased as punch that his parents seemed to be happy about the situation, but tearing down the walls that had to be repainted when he and his brothers decided to create a mural with magic markers sent a little twinge through his stomach.
“Got it, Mr. Kent. Anything else?” he asked with a smile.
“I bet you think that’s enough for now. You can get started right away?”
“Yes, sir. Dad let me know you were in a hurry to get settled in, so as soon as I finish writing up the list of supplies we need, I’ll send Joe on over to the lumber yard while me and the rest of the boys get started on the demolition.”
Bobby narrowed his eyes at him. “You run a multimillion dollar construction company, right?”
Ed, Jr., grinned. “Yep.”
“So why are you joining the boys in the demolition?”
“Well, dad was also pretty specific about that. I’m supposed to be on hand to make sure it’s done and done right, and since he still sits on the board of directors, I really don’t have a whole lot of choice.”
Bobby stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I don’t want to come between you and your father, but won’t your company suffer from your absence?”
Ed, Jr., said, “My company would suffer more from my father’s wrath than me being away for a few days to mind a job, Mr. Kent. He may come across as a sweet and somewhat addled old man, but there’s a reason his company grew to one of the largest in the state.”
“Did you grow up in this house?” Bobby asked.
Ed Jr. grinned. “Dad built this house when I was eight. It was the second one he built for us. I lived here for more than ten years.”
Bobby looked around, perhaps trying to see small children gathered around a television or a dining room table or a Christmas tree. Then he turned back and asked, “How do you feel about gutting it?”
His contractor grinned a bittersweet grin. “To be honest, Mr. Kent, I have mixed feelings. But at the end of the day, she’s your house now and the old girl could use a few updates.”
Bobby smiled, then nodded. “Then I’m in good hands. Allow me to get out of your way.”
“We’ll be done before the end of the week. We have crews and subcontractors that we’ll pull off some of the bigger jobs to help knock this one out.”
Bobby walked through the doorway and into the entrance hall, opening the door to let some fresh air inside. “If you can see what you can do about getting the bedroom upstairs done first, I’d be grateful.”
Ed, Jr., appeared next to him in the doorway and gave a sharp whistle to a man standing by a truck. “Already know about that one, Mr. Kent,” he said, handing Joe the list of supplies. “The bonnie blue carpet and paint should be here any minute.”