His phone rang, startling Jack out of a deep sleep and making him feel instantly disoriented. Sienna just whined from the foot of his bed as if she, too, was irritated by the interruption. He answered the call, hung up, and rolled over to check the time by his alarm clock on the bedside table. Most days, setting the alarm wasn’t necessary for awakening early. Being a detective didn’t usually allow for a full night’s sleep anyway. And like most days, today was going to prove the same. This early morning call on a Saturday was nothing unusual.
By the time he pulled on clean clothing of jeans, a Ranger Up t-shirt, and bulky, black hoodie, he was wide awake. He phoned his other partner since Bob was the one who’d already called him.
“Yeah?” she answered groggily without a customary greeting.
“He’s done it again,” he said. “I’ll pick you up in a half hour.”
“Damn,” she said and disconnected.
He almost smiled. If it wasn’t for being four-thirty in the morning, Jack might have. He jogged downstairs and hit the button on his Keurig to make sure he had a coffee to take with him. Then he brushed his teeth and grabbed loafers from the hall. Sienna padded into the dim kitchen a moment later and looked slowly at him and then at the door as if she really wasn’t feeling the love for going out to the restroom at such a strange hour. He pitied her. It was bound to be chilly, the grass damp. But she did it anyway. When he had her fed and watered for the day, Jack brewed an extra mug for Lorena. He knew they’d both need it.
He grabbed the keys to his Jeep, set the alarm and patted Sienna’s head one last time. She didn’t even get up. She just laid by the back door. Apparently, she was going back to sleep without him. Again, he couldn’t blame her.
Once they had this case wrapped up, he was planning on building a nice fence in the backyard with a doggie door to the house. It was the same setup he had in Miami. It worked for them, so he saw no point in changing their routine. He just hadn’t had the time yet to get it all done.
There wasn’t any traffic at all on his way to Lorena’s. The guard allowed him entrance into the exclusive neighborhood, and he drove right up to her huge house. The drizzle from earlier had intensified to a full-blown, chilly fall rain. She came out before he was even able to go to the front door. She looked like she hadn’t slept much. Neither had he. Jack had tossed and turned thinking about the case and Dudek.
Her dark hair was down around her shoulders, even darker shadows marked under her eyes. She was wearing a long white t-shirt that hung down below her short, black leather jacket. Instead of sweatpants, she had on black, denim skinny jeans and her running shoes. She tossed her backpack onto the floor in front of her.
He handed her the silver travel mug of coffee and she took it graciously with a big nod. “Thanks. This should help.”
“I figured,” he answered.
“Where are we headed?” she asked, her voice still scratchy and tired.
“This one’s not far from you,” he said, watching her head whip to the side to regard him.
“Really?”
“Yeah, some neighborhood in a moderately expensive area,” he said. “Not sure how he pulled it off, but he did. Killed a Mr. Spencer Adams.”
“Dudek’s been in custody since last night,” she remarked. “So how the hell did he manage this?”
“Not sure,” he admitted. “We’ll need a time of death.”
“Could be a copycat,” she said. “Since the press leaked it to the media, we could have a copycat.”
“That’d be awfully fast,” Jack said, to which she nodded and took a sip.
“True,” she said. “This isn’t good.”
“I agree,” he told her as they continued to the neighborhood.
“What do we know about the vic?”
“Not much yet other than they own three dry-cleaning stores and six, coin-operated laundromats.”
“Business owners,” she acknowledged. “Just like the other vics. Successful, white, middle to upper middle-class citizens.”
“This isn’t random,” he said. “It can’t be. He had to know this one, too. He knew the wife wouldn’t be home again.”
Jack drove slowly, weaving around the many patrol cars lining the street with their lights still on. This wasn’t the type of neighborhood where someone was murdered. The most hideous thing reported in the local crime section of the newspaper would’ve been a domestic dispute, a missing pet, or the occasional fender bender. He pulled straight down the driveway and parked at the end of it near the CSI unit’s white van. Most of the homes in the area were positioned on a one to two-acre lot. Many large, old trees lined the street and surrounded the homes, offering a place easily concealed from prying eyes for an experienced killer like theirs. On either side of the Adams residence were Tudor-style brick homes. The homes in this neighborhood probably started in the price range of the mid three hundreds and went up from there. This was definitely upper middle class but not million dollar mansions like Lorena’s neighborhood or the Sarchione residence.
A gray Volvo and a gold minivan sat in the available spaces, likely belonging to the owners. Bob met them in the yard. The sun wouldn’t be up for at least another few hours, and the only light came from the patrol car lights and the pendant light dangling down on the front porch.
“Hey, kid,” he said, greeting Lorena. “Why don’t you wait this one out?”
That stopped them both in their tracks. Jack’s gaze shot to Bob’s. It was an unusual request.
“What are you talking about?” Lorena instantly questioned uneasily.
“Look, just stay here,” he repeated. “We’ll handle it and bring you some notes and stuff.”
Lorena was angered by his words and shoved past him. Jack saw a few of the other uniformed officers try to stop her at the front door, too. Bob shook his head at Jack. He jogged over to catch up with her. Lorena pushed through the officers on the front porch of the brick, two-story colonial home and into the foyer. He moved ahead of her to shield Lorena from whatever horror that must be awaiting them.
A formal sitting room was to their direct left. An adjoining dining room and kitchen were just beyond it. A home office lay to their right, and a set of long, carpeted stairs directly in front of them led to the second floor.
Perry met them, thumbed his finger over his shoulder toward the kitchen at the end of the hall and said, “Vic’s in the basement, in the media room down there. You should wait with me, Evans.”
Another suggestion that she not view the victim. Jack was worried.
“I’m fine,” she retorted. “What the heck is everyone doing? I’ve seen enough dead bodies over the years.”
“It’s not that…” Perry started as Lorena squeezed past them both.
Lorena bolted ahead before Jack could stop her. They breezed through the kitchen to the door that would lead them to the basement. Many cops were milling about the kitchen area, collecting evidence in bags and dusting for prints.
“Let me go first, chief,” Jack said, grasping her elbow before she could go downstairs.
Lorena hesitated for only a moment and then conceded. She followed him down the basement stairs. It seemed like time stood still and a pin could be heard dropping. The lights in the basement were flickering for some reason as if all the bulbs were about to short out. It was eerie, and Jack had been to many spooky places over the years. The media room was straight ahead. The television mounted on the wall was a still-frame of a local news channel. The scroll on the bottom of the screen captioned the lead story about “Gingerbread, Cleveland’s latest serial killer, terrorizing the community and the people in it.”
There was blood splatter on the wall to their right. They moved in closer and found the victim. Their M.E. was on the scene doing her work. Jack heard her mutter the words “gunshot wounds, three to the chest, one to the head” to her assistant who was taking notes. The vic looked like he was middle-aged, dark hair, wore glasses that were now sitting askew on his face. They were splattered with his blood, too.
“Lorena, damn,” Paula said when she noticed them. “You shouldn’t be down here.”
“Why?” Lorena asked softly.
Paula wouldn’t answer but sighed and shook her head. Then she indicated behind them. Lorena turned slowly in a circle until she came to a stop. Jack looked in the same direction at the eggshell-painted wall behind them. Written in blood were the words, “YOU’LL NEVER CATCH ME, YOU CUNT COP.”
Jack stood there mesmerized. He couldn’t move. He just stood there staring at the words. Gingerbread had killed this man in his home just to prove a point to Lorena that he couldn’t be caught. Anyone who knew the case, and everyone in every police department in the area did, knew that Lorena was lead on it. And now their killer knew it, too. There wasn’t a veiled threat against all cops or even just the ones on the team. It was aimed at her. He wasn’t sure how Gingerbread knew about Lorena being the lead detective because the news reports hadn’t mentioned her. He must’ve snooped around until he found out.
“We’ve questioned him,” Jack said quietly. “It’s the only logical conclusion for him knowing about you and being so angry.”
Lorena didn’t answer. She continued to stand there staring at the wall.
“He knows you,” Jack observed, mostly thinking out loud and hoping she’d answer at some point. She didn’t. But her hands were shaking and balled into tight fists at her sides.
“Send someone to my house,” she ordered softly. “I want Grace watched twenty-four seven. She’s alone right now. I left her a note when I left in case she woke up before I got home. I set the alarm, but I want someone on her.”
“I’m on it,” he said and turned to find Bob. Within a few minutes, not one, but two patrol cars were headed for Lorena’s home in the secure, gated community. He couldn’t blame her. If someone had done this, had thrown such a volatile spear of blind rage at him, he’d want his family under constant surveillance, too. He wondered if Gingerbread had even known this vic or if he’d just been blinded by his own hatred and loathing of Lorena that he’d done this as a knee-jerk reaction to it. If so, there could be a mistake here. He could’ve screwed up.
Jack returned to find her still staring at the wall. “Captain already had guys on their way over there. Guess Bob already told him. Don’t worry, Evans. Nobody’s getting in there.”
She finally turned away from the wall and walked over to Paula Sandberg, who was still working on the vic gathering forensics from the body.
“Get me something on this bastard, Paula,” she ordered firmly.
“I’m trying, Lorena,” the M.E. answered.
“You got a time of death yet?”
Paula answered from her squatted position near the prone body, “Looks like maybe eight hours. He’s in full rigor. Did get one expended bullet casing, though. The others are gone. Killer missed one. We’ll run it through testing.”
“Where’s his family?” she asked.
“Bob’s talking to his wife,” Jack said. “She’s the one who found him.”
“Get me some goddamn DNA on this bastard, Paula,” Lorena said angrily and stalked away.
Jack was surprised and not at all judgmental of her. She rarely cursed like that, but he could understand her frustration. This damn case was draining both of them.
Lorena ran up the stairs, taking some of them two at a time, and Jack followed her. She went straight toward the den where Bob was questioning a sobbing woman. He closed the door behind them. Lorena sat right on the sofa next to the woman and interrupted Bob’s interrogation.
“Ma’am, Mrs. Adams, I’m Detective Evans,” she started quickly, not her usual method. “I need you to answer some questions for me.”
“Are you the detective that message is about?” the woman asked through her tears.
Mrs. Adams was of Asian descent, around the same age as her husband, but with thinning brown and gray hair.
“Did either you or your husband do business with a lawyer named Steven Dudek?” she asked while also avoiding the widow’s question.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mrs. Adams answered, her Korean accent thick.
“Do you know anyone who would want to do this to your husband?” she asked next.
She paused to think about it for a long time before saying, “Well, we have another family who is very competitive in the same business as us.”
Lorena shook her head just slightly. She obviously didn’t believe that theory. Neither did Jack. Gingerbread didn’t own a competing laundromat business.
“Where were you tonight, Mrs. Adams?” Jack asked.
“I met with my sister for dinner and then we went to a movie,” she explained as she dabbed at her tears.
“Did you see or hear anything out of the ordinary before you left? Do you recall if your husband took any phone calls before you left for your night out with your sister?”
“No, nothing,” she answered. “I don’t think he was talking with anyone on the phone.”
“When did you get home?”
“Wait, I think maybe he did take a call on his cell phone,” she said.
Jack looked at Lorena, who caught his attention before saying, “Who was he talking with?”
Bob left the room to find that phone.
“I thought it was a call from work, from one of our dry cleaners. I could be wrong,” she admitted. “I was upstairs changing out of my work clothes to meet with my sister. She’s younger than me by almost twenty years.”
“When did you arrive back home?” Jack asked, leaning slightly forward. He was anxious. They all were.
“It was close to midnight,” she said. “I was hoping Spencer would be awake still. I had good news to tell him.”
“What good news, ma’am?” Jack asked.
“My daughter told me over dinner that she was pregnant,” she confessed softly and began crying in earnest again.
Lorena looked at Jack briefly and said, “When did you learn about this?”
“Tonight,” she said.
“I thought you were meeting with your sister,” Jack remarked.
Mrs. Adams sniffed hard, blotted her eyes and blew her nose before answering, “I did. Then Rose called and wanted to come by our dinner to surprise us with something.”
“I’m sorry,” Lorena said softly.
“She told me that she left work early so she could surprise her husband at his job. He owns a small landscaping company that specializes in brick patios and the like. She stole him away for a while and took him to a coffee shop. Then she came here to the house to tell her father and me.”
“And her husband? What’s he like? Would you think there’s any way that he could do something to Mr. Adams? Did they get along?” Lorena asked.
The other woman smiled gently. “Spencer loved Jeremy like a son. We even lent him money to get started with his own company. He works so hard, too hard, just like my Spencer.”
“No tension or motive for your son-in-law to harm your husband, then?” Jack reiterated.
“Absolutely not,” she said vehemently.
And then what? When did your daughter come here? Before or after you’d gone out for the night.”
“After,” she explained. “She left Jeremy just so that she could run over and tell her father- they are so close; this is going to devastate her. But her dad wasn’t home. She knew where he’d be. Whenever I go out to dinner with my friends or family, Spencer always goes down to Lou’s.”
“Is that his friend’s house?” Jack asked.
“No, no,” she said. “Lou’s is a small bar not far from here. He meets up with his buddies for a few beers. Mostly he just goes so he doesn’t have to cook himself dinner. He always says how independent he is and how he can take care of himself. But I know the truth. So does he. If I don’t cook his dinner, he goes to Lou’s for greasy burgers, which he knows I don’t like him eating because his cholesterol was high on his last…”
She trailed off, remembering that it no longer mattered what his cholesterol was now.
“She found him at Lou’s?” Lorena pressed.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Adams said sadly. “She always knew where he’d be. She’s our only child. Spencer spoiled her from the moment she was born. Said he didn’t care, either. She was his little princess to spoil. And she said he was over the moon about her pregnancy. Told him they were going to name it Spencer if it was a boy.”
She cried again. They gave her a moment, even though Jack could tell that Lorena wanted to push hard on this.
“Spencer told your daughter where to find you?” Jack asked her.
“Yes, yes, he knew where I’d be with my sister,” she said. “We were going to the Outback Steakhouse. My sister likes their fried onion appetizer thing. I think it’s disgusting myself, but Lin loves it. She’s like Spencer. They both eat too much fried American food if you ask me.”
“And your daughter told you that her father wasn’t home?” Lorena asked, trying to keep the grieving widow on track.
“Yes, she tracked me down at the restaurant with my sister. Told me that her father was going to return home soon and pretend to eat veggie stir-fry. I knew it was a lie. We tell each other little lies like that. All married couples do.”
Jack smiled gently.
“What time was it that she came by here and didn’t find her father at home? Did she mention it?” Lorena asked.
She sniffed again and answered, “I’m not sure. She showed up to the restaurant around seven-thirty, so I’m assuming it was before six-thirty. The Outback is about a half an hour from here with bad traffic. She probably visited with him at Lou’s for a while. She loves her father. They were so close.”
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Adams,” Lorena said. “Did she mention anything else to you? Anything unusual? Did she see a car in the parking lot here or in the street parked near here that would’ve seemed suspicious?”
“She didn’t say anything about it,” Mrs. Adams said.
“What about you?” Jack asked next. “Do you recall seeing anything out of the ordinary, strange cars or vans, anything unusual in your neighborhood?”
“No,” she said slowly. “I came home, found the front door open like I told your partner, and thought maybe Spencer let the cat out and forgot to close the door.”
“Go on,” Lorena said quietly.
“I thought maybe he wanted to talk about our daughter,” she said. “Celebrate with a glass of wine.”
“You went downstairs?” Lorena asked.
“First I went upstairs and didn’t find him,” she said. “He worked all day, fixed two of the dryers at the laundromat. I knew he’d be tired, so I thought he might’ve gone to bed without me. That’s not Spencer, though. No matter how late I come home, he always waits up for me. I saw the lights were on downstairs in the rec-room. I went downstairs and found him.”
This man, who waited up for his wife no matter how late, who loved and cherished his only daughter, who gave his son-in-law money to start his own business, and who worked hard every day had been murdered in cold blood for no other reason than to get to Lorena.
“Are you going to catch this man, Detective?”
She was leveling an accusatory stare right at Lorena, who actually flinched.
“I’m going to do everything that I can, ma’am,” Lorena said.
“Promise me you’ll catch him,” the widow requested.
Lorena nodded but said, “We’re going to work this day and night until we get something. We have a whole team devoted to catching your husband’s killer.”
The other woman knew it wasn’t a promise, but she accepted Lorena’s offer with a nod.
“I’ll need your daughter’s phone number,” Jack said. “We’ll want to speak with her as soon as we can and directly so that she can give us an accounting of her meeting with her father. In the meantime, if you think of anything else, please call either my partner or myself day or night.”
She nodded and took his card, which now had Lorena’s and also Bob’s cell phone numbers on it. Jack escorted Mrs. Adams to her neighbor’s house where she’d be more comfortable than in her own home at the present time. It didn’t take long before the daughter and husband showed up. Lorena and Jack questioned her, as well. She hadn’t seen much, didn’t remember seeing any unusual cars. All of his usual friends at the bar seemed in good spirits, most congratulating her on the pregnancy. She explained how much her father was a trusted and respected member of the community and that people would miss him dearly. In summation, Spencer Adams had just been a target because of Lorena. At least, that’s how Jack saw it so far.
Paula Sandberg came upstairs a while later and talked with him and Lorena in the kitchen, “I think he was killed less than twelve hours ago, probably around seven or eight hours like I originally said. I’d say sometime between eight and eleven p.m. Coagulated blood’s still wet, too. Does that work with what you’re getting from the wife?”
“Yes, it’s exactly the right time frame,” Lorena said with a nod as she noted this in her little journal. “Thanks.”
Paula walked to the kitchen doorway to leave but turned around and said, “It’s not your fault, Lorena. Sick sons-of-bitches kill people. That’s what they do. None of this is your fault.”
Lorena didn’t answer but nodded, her mouth set in a tight line. He knew she didn’t believe this. Bob came in a moment later.
“Dudek’s car was just impounded. Nice car, spotless. Gonna be a tough find, but the team’s on it.”
She nodded again. “There aren’t any footprints this time. Nothing bloody. No staging with the work boots this time, either. He was in a hurry. This wasn’t random. It was calculated, but he knew he didn’t have the normal amount of time.”
“We scanned a list of Dudek’s clients,” Bob said. “The wife’s right. They weren’t clients of his. So far, no link.”
Jeff Rancic came in a few minutes later with another detective from their precinct. Jack liked him. He was respectful and always ready to learn. His partner was kind of a dick, who really didn’t like Lorena for some reason. He hadn’t made detective yet, and Jack hoped he never did.
Lorena paced the kitchen. “Client of the dry cleaners? We need a list of the company’s receipts. See if his name pops up. I hope they aren’t still using paper. Jesus, that could take forever. Also, check Dudek’s credit card accounts. I think we might already have those. See if he used the Adams’s dry cleaning service. Pull current gas receipts. I want to know if he was anywhere within a twenty-mile radius of this house last night.”
“Or the bar,” Jack added.
“Right…” Lorena said, trailing off.
She was thinking about something. He didn’t want to interrupt her train of thought so he let her go while the rest of them converged near the center island near the dishwasher to get a plan of action started.
Jack said to the others, “I don’t know how he could’ve done this last night. He was in the holding tank waiting for us to question him today.”
Bob nodded morosely, “I know. Unless the times are wrong, but I don’t think they are. The daughter verified everything.”
“We need to go to that restaurant,” Lorena said, leaving the room without another word.
Bob nodded to him. “Just go with her. I’ll take care of things here. We’ll meet at the office in a few hours and try to get this dung heap figured out.”
Jack agreed and followed Lorena out to his Jeep. The press was starting to show up. One of the neighbors must’ve called. Great. That’s all they needed. Nothing like bad press to make their jobs more difficult.
He pulled away from the scene and asked Lorena where it was that she wanted to go. She told him Lou’s and pulled up directions on her phone. Jack was doubtful that anyone would be there at six-thirty in the morning, but he drove anyway.
They were about five minutes into the drive, on a desolate span of county road when she ordered him to pull over and quickly.
As soon as he did, Lorena jumped from the car and jogged over into the open ground separating the road from a dense forest. Jack put the Jeep in park and got out, thinking something was wrong with her.
Lorena bent over, slung her backpack to the ground and fell to her knees. Then she grabbed the bag again and held it pressed tightly to her face where she screamed into it with a rage-filled frustration that they both felt. Jack left her to her anger and got back in. He knew she just needed a minute, and he was obliged as her partner to give it to her.
When she got back in, she said, “I’m going to catch this bastard if it’s the last thing I do.”
Jack put the car in drive again and pulled back onto the road, empty of vehicles at this odd hour. The sun was just starting to rise, lending that eerie gray tint into the lower atmosphere before the startling rays of oranges and pinks would appear.
“I know,” he told her and believed it wholeheartedly. “And I’m gonna help.”
He drove with the same sense of urgency with which she’d questioned Mrs. Adams. They were in a race now. They had to prove it was Dudek before the forty-eight-hour hold was over and he walked free.