CHAPTER 16
Jake yawned and rubbed his neck, trying to ease the stiffness. He was too damn old to sleep in his car. But it had been late and he didn’t want to wake Violet so he’d just parked outside and watched her house. He was pretty certain no one could get through the security system and if they did, Zeus would protect her. But he didn’t want to take chances. He followed her to work to make sure she arrived safely before heading to his hotel for a quick shower and shave. Two cups of coffee later and he still had trouble concentrating.
The task force had assembled except for Maya Demaree. He let Turner fill them in on what they discovered last night.
"We can’t assume anything," Turner said. "The killer could have made a mistake with the wording, or he could be obsessed with a different Violet. We can’t afford to focus on one person and potentially put someone else in danger. But we can’t take chances, either."
"The bastard is taunting us, toying with us and I don’t think he’s through yet," Jake said. "For the moment, Ms. Anastasia or whomever the target is will probably be safe. But we can’t let our guard down."
"Vic," Turner said, "I want you to find out how many women with the name Violet live within fifty miles of the Lawrence Monroe campus."
Vic nodded and jotted notes in his book. "I’ll get on—"
Maya came rushing inside. "I’m sorry I’m late," she said breathlessly.
Turner gave her a harsh look but nodded. "I was just filling the others in on what Kincaid discovered last night."
"I got to thinking about those notes," she said. "And we can’t afford to concentrate solely on Ms. Anastasia in case the killer is fixated on a different woman named Violet."
"I was just saying that," Turner gritted out between clenched teeth.
Maya nodded, as if she expected him to come to the same conclusion. "I couldn’t sleep, so I came in early and searched for other women with the same name within a fifty mile radius."
Turner’s brows shot skyward. "I asked Vic to do that, Maya. You are one step ahead of me."
Maya looked pleased at the compliment.
"What did you find out?" Jake asked.
She smiled at Milt Baker as he set a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. "Thanks, Milt." Flipping a page on her notebook, she took a sip before she said, "There are four, counting Ms. Anastasia. I spoke with two and we can pretty much eliminate both. One is eighty-three and lives at the Champlain Senior Center." She flipped a page. "The other just started first grade at Edmunds Elementary School. I didn’t get a chance to locate the other one before the meeting."
"Great work, Maya," Jake praised.
"I second that," Turner said. "Officer Demaree, you and Hammond track down the other Violet and talk to her. See if she fits the profile."
"Mr. Kincaid?" Tony King stepped into the conference room and nodded a greeting to the team. "We got the results from Dean Glasgo’s prints from the glass you took."
"He’s hiding something, I can feel it," Jake said.
"I’d say so," Tony agreed. "I just ran them through the system and I got a hit."
Jake perked up. "He has a record?"
"Neil Glasgo doesn’t," Tony said with a theatrical pause. "But Teddy Glasgo does."
"The brother?" Jake’s brows furrowed and he tapped keys on his laptop. "We knew about him. This says Teddy died thirty years ago in a car accident after he was released from prison."
"That’s not what the prints say," Tony revealed.
Realization dawned. "Anyone want to take bets that the real Neil Glasgo died in that accident?" Turner’s question was rhetorical so no one answered. "Does that say why Teddy was incarcerated?"
"No, but I’ve got someone on it." Jake flipped open his cell and dialed a number. "Perkins, it’s Kincaid. Did you get that information I requested on Theodore Glasgo?" Jake listened as the man spoke, his expression grim. "Thanks." Flipping the phone closed he said, "Teddy Glasgo served five years of a ten year sentence."
"What was the charge?"
Jake met Turner’s gaze. "Rape."
#
Neil Glasgo was adding finishing touches to a speech he would be giving to the Rotary Club next week when his intercom dinged.
Phyllis’s voice cracked through the speaker. "Dean Glasgo, Mr. Kincaid and Detective Turner are here to see you."
The lead on his pencil snapped and he froze. What the hell were they doing here? He shoved the speech aside and checked his calendar. They didn’t have an appointment. He couldn’t talk to them now. He procrastinated and had nothing prepared.
"I’m extremely busy, Phyllis. I’ve got a conference call in a few minutes," he lied. "You’ll have to reschedule for—"
"That won’t be necessary."
Neil inhaled sharply, his spine crashing into the back of his chair as Kincaid barged into the office. Another man followed him in and shoved the door closed with his foot.
"This is Detective Turner with the Burlington Police Department," Kincaid said, indicating the other man. Turner flashed his shield but spots were swimming in front of Neil’s eyes and he couldn’t see anything.
"I really don’t have time for this, Mr.—"
"Make time…Teddy."
All the blood drained from Neil’s face. How could they know? He had been so damn careful for the past thirty years, leading an exemplary life. He religiously drove three miles under the speed limit, never got so much as a parking ticket. The foundation he carefully built was crumbling down around him.
"Teddy w-was my brother," he stammered. "He passed away years ago."
"Well now, that’s funny," Detective Turner drawled. "Cause your prints are an exact match for the ones Teddy submitted when he was booked into the pen."
Neil shot to his feet. "That’s impossible. You couldn’t know that. I haven’t had a chance to get to the station and have my prints taken."
"No need," Kincaid responded. "After that little performance you put on last week, I got mighty suspicious. Somehow, that glass you spilled all over your desk found its way into my pocket. We pulled them from there."
"This is an outrage," Neil bellowed. "That’s illegal. You took those without my consent. I’ll sue…." Neil gasped and clutched his chest.
"What the hell is wrong with him?"
"I think he’s having a heart attack."
The voices were coming from a distance as a burning pain unlike any he had ever felt stole all the breath from his lungs. The floor rushed up to meet him. Strong arms cushioned the blow. He tried to scream for help but his mouth wouldn’t work, the pain was too intense. He thought someone ordered Phyllis to call for an ambulance. He felt his shirt ripped open and someone pound on his chest. Then he felt nothing at all.
#
Jake returned to the waiting room with two cups of steaming coffee. Turner was speaking on his cell but mouthed "Thanks" when Jake handed him the paper cup. Glasgo had been rushed into the operating room for bypass surgery hours ago and they were waiting for word on his prognosis. The lying bastard better hold on long enough so they could question him.
Dropping to a worn leather sofa, Jake extracted his phone and dialed Violet’s number.
"Hello?"
"Hey, beautiful."
"Jake." She spoke his name on a breathy sigh and he felt his groin tighten. He wanted to see her, hold her, keep her safe. Turner had sent a patrol car to follow her from school to make sure she arrived home safely.
"What are you doing?"
"Preparing for tomorrow’s assignment."
"What are you wearing?"
Violet chuckled. "A Nike sweatshirt, red sweats and thick fuzzy socks."
"Oohh," Jake hummed.
"You couldn’t possibly find this outfit sexy," she laughed.
"Wanna bet? What’cha got on underneath?"
An old woman wearing a blue hospital gown that wrapped around her frail body twice shuffled by. White slippers covered her feet as she slowly made her way down the hall, one blue-veined hand pushing a pole holding an IV bag. Her gray hair was matted on one side and a tissue peeked out of one sleeve. She stopped and glanced around the room.
There went his chance for phone sex.
"Tell me you didn’t call to find out what underwear I’m wearing," she said with a disbelieving chuckle.
"No," he said, his voice suddenly serious. He kept watching the old woman. "I didn’t. Look, you are going to hear this in the morning when you get to work-"
Violet gasped. "Please don’t tell me another girl was murdered. Oh, Jake."
"No," he said. "It’s about the dean."
"Glasgo?"
"Look, honey, he had a major coronary this afternoon."
"Oh God, is…is he okay?"
"We don’t know yet. He’s in surgery. Turner and I are waiting to see him."
There was a pause. "Why are you and Nick with him?"
"Without jeopardizing the investigation, I can tell you—and this is not for public knowledge yet—he hadn’t been forthright about his past."
The old woman tottered around and started heading back the direction she came from.
"Jake, is he the killer?"
"We honestly don’t know. He’s a suspect."
"Dean Glasgo. I don’t believe it," she said.
The old woman stopped again, her eyes wide with a complete lack of recognition.
Jake stood. "I have to go, honey. The reason I called, besides telling you about Glasgo, was to see if you would have dinner with me tomorrow. I’d like to take you to a place I heard about in Montpelier. It’s what, an hour away?"
He had an ulterior motive for getting her out of the city. The killer was scheduled to strike again. Jake wasn’t letting Violet out of his sight all night and he sure as hell didn’t want her in the same city as a maniac possibly obsessed with her.
"It usually doesn’t take that long, depending on traffic and weather. But that sounds wonderful." He could hear the smile in her voice.
"Great. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night."
"Good night, Jake."
"Violet?
"Hmm?"
"Is the alarm set?"
She sighed. "Of course."
"Good. Do not leave the house tonight. And don’t let anyone in, friend or no."
Jake disconnected and padded over to the old woman. "Hello, ma’am. How are you?"
Her rheumy eyes met his. "I don’t know where I am."
"How about if I help you then?" he asked.
"Why, that would be nice, young man."
Jake picked up her bony, ice cold hand and clutched it in his. The move was two-fold: to reassure her she wasn’t alone and also to check her room number on the thick white band encircling her wrist. Once he had the information, he guided her down the hall to her room, chatting reassuringly the whole time. When he turned the corner to her wing, a nurse came rushing up to them.
"There you are, Gladys. You had me scared to death." The nurse nodded gratefully at Jake and then took over his grip.
Gladys placed her palm on his arm. "Thank you," she said. "You are a very nice young man."
Jake winced then smiled as he watched the nurse guide her to her room. No matter where he went, it seemed he couldn’t get away from that damn adjective.