––––––––
Mattie sank into the hot water filled to the rim of her bathtub and closed her eyes. She wasn’t a candle and rose petal kind of girl, but she did like her soaker tub with six jets in all the right places. Her mind couldn’t let go of the conversation she’d had with the old man at Market Square. At least, not until Mary and Brandon started their bedsheet gymnastics. Loudly!
Mattie rolled her eyes and sank lower until the warm water tickled her nose. She hadn’t had sex with someone other than herself in two years. She rubbed shoulders with plenty of guys who offered, but they were the same type of man. Being an investigative reporter, she mostly met cops, businessmen and politicians. Either alpha or upscale, and neither appealed except for Stuart, and he’d kissed and tossed her.
After their short but passionate lip fest, she didn’t doubt, from what Mary had shared, that having an alpha to roll around the sheets with was fun but living with one was infuriating. Least that’s what her mom always said. She’d blame Mary for her spurred hopes about Stuart, only to be told he liked a warped version of sex and in his own words, she couldn’t trust him. She submerged her nose and blew bubbles while the moans penetrated the walls.
Think about the case!
Lieutenant Commander LaPierre’s image pushed every thought aside and stood boldly in the centre of her mind. Mattie’s hands strayed to her hips, and she closed her eyes, floating in the image. The epitome of mysterious, dark and handsome, but it was his eyes that really held her prisoner, although he was the one incarcerated. She’d kept asking him questions, running on experience because out of nowhere, her womanly hormones decided to do an archaic chant. Maybe that was his gift. Luring in women who would trust him being an officer and someone who fought for their country. The lieutenant commander had to be totally alpha being in JTF2, Canada’s premier fighting force and an equal to the Navy SEALs or England’s S.A.S or S.B.S.
Growing up in Victoria, home to the Pacific Fleet, she had gone to school with Navy brats. None of them stuck around for long with their parents always being transferred. The Joint Task Force command numbers were smaller than other countries, but highly trained and respected. She’d have to do a little research on JTF2 because she didn’t really know much about the Special Forces. Before joining JTF2, Greg had been in the regular Navy. She also wondered why Diana would turf him for a doctor.
Her eyes popped open, and she quickly jumped out of the bath, dried herself off with a thick terry towel and knotted the belt of her robe. Plunking down on a kitchen chair, she slid her laptop across the table and opened the cover. Her foot tapped vigorously while it booted to life.
Organization wasn’t Mattie’s strong suit, so she had a mantra she used: start at the beginning. The social media search engines churned and returned very little. She switched to images, and a hundred different faces popped up, but none of them were LaPierre. LinkedIn and Facebook weren’t fruitful. She sat back with a huff. Okay, she really didn’t expect much with him being Special Forces. With the basics exhausted, she went to tier two of her search pattern. Until Diana, he was single, or was he?
It was a longshot. She logged on to the most popular local dating site. It took a while, but—Bingo! The listing was old. Over three years old. Greg LaPierre. Six-foot-four, raised in Quebec, listed as being Navy, but no mention of SpecForces. She grinned a little when she read, ‘likes brunettes’.
“Is that so,” she muttered, lifting her wine glass to take a sip.
Mattie stared at his image. He really was a handsome man, and although she couldn’t see how many hits his page had received, she’d bet her next pay check it was a few hundred women, probably even some men. He had a sexy expression that made a woman crazy with lustful wishes. The kind that makes girls shift in their seat and ignites their intimate parts to life. High cheek bones, full, strong lips, and a dark slash of jet black hair draped across his forehead. The scruff on his concave cheeks and a jaw cut from granite could definitely go viral on a meme. Her eyes kept scanning the details. Thirty-nine-years-old. Never married.
She thought about how defensive he’d become when she’d mentioned his brother and ex-wife. The look in his eyes was pure unadulterated possession. At the time, she couldn’t put his expression into a word. Maybe pulling theories from the ether wasn’t a good idea, but as she gazed at his masculine features, she wondered if the Lieutenant Commander had turned his brother in because he felt something for his brother’s ex-wife.
She sighed and took a long gulp of wine and placed the empty glass on the table. If that were the case, a man haunted by another woman was nothing but a highway to hell for any new girl that came along. But it also gave LaPierre another reason to be innocent. Diana had left him for a doctor. Which meant she didn’t feel satisfied.
During the interview, he told her he’d been fond of Diana. Mattie didn’t sense a lie in his words, but using the word ‘fond’ could be exchanged with ‘make do’ or ‘good enough’. No woman wanted to be good enough in a man’s eyes. She wanted to be the only one in his eyes.
Mattie exhausted the advanced searches online. Greg LaPierre was a shadow. A man without a trail. Aside from hacking into government agencies, which she might have done a time or two if it were really necessary, she drummed her fingernails on the maple tabletop, thinking. She also wasn’t sure if she should go to the police to inform them she’d seen him at the Irish Times. Would he be released if she did? Would he run? Not likely, unless he was guilty. Victoria was a small town. Her entire career would be flushed if she corroborated his whereabouts and it turned out he was guilty. She had to be sure.
Greg would have to spend another couple days in prison. Being JTF2, he’d been in worse places. He could hack crappy food while she followed up on the old man’s lead about there being two serial killers, and another trip to the corrections facility to talk with LaPierre was also in order. She wanted his cards on the table. All of them.
She cleared her throat and crossed her arms. Maybe even a card or two that explained his position in his brother’s incarceration.
Before turning in for bed, she Googled Black Ball Line, the song the old man thought the murderer hummed while cutting into Diana. Just the thought of it creeped Mattie out. Didn’t take long for her to find the song. Each line ended, with Hurrah for the Black Ball Line!
In the Black Ball Line I serv'd my time, Hurrah for the Black Ball Line!
The Black Ball ships are good and true
They are the ships for me and you.
For once there was a Black Ball ship
That fourteen knots an hour could slip
Her yards were square, her gear all new
She had a good and gallant crew
One day whilst sailing on the sea
They saw a vessel on their lee
They knew it was a pirate craft, All armed with guns before and aft,
She fired a shot across their bow
Which was not kind you must allow
They did not fear as you may think
But made the pirates water drink
They gave that vessel their sharp stem
And cut her through; more praise to them
They seized the pirates' wicked mate
He was so bad they broke his pate
The skipper and his wicked crew
They sunk beneath the waters blue
It was a plucky thing to do
To cut the Pirate vessel through
Then drink success to the Black Ball Line
Their ships are good, their men are fine. Hurrah for the Black Ball Line!
Mattie rubbed her temples in a circular motion. What did an old sea shanty mean to a serial killer? Maybe the psycho just liked the tune. She sighed and closed her laptop. Time to give up for the night.
* * * *
Mattie sat in Constable David Yates’ visitor chair. Phones rang with a chaotic chorus in the medium sized office. Officers bent over their keyboards, filling out crime reports. Each officer had his own desk, but there was little walking space with so many squeezed into the room. She crossed her legs and wondered how long she’d have to wait because there wasn’t much cushioning on the precinct seating and her butt was already aching.
“Hi, Mattie.”
She turned, recognizing the familiar voice. Stuart took a couple more steps and then sat on the edge of the desk. His uniform fit him like a glove, powerful arms wrapped in a short sleeved form-fitting dress shirt.
“Talking to me again?”
His mouth, lifted on one side. He placed the folder he was holding down on the desk. Gave it a suspended look, and then one at her. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“Have you been taken off the task force? Seems you’re always away from your desk, and now I’m stuck talking to Yates.”
Stuart’s gaze surveyed the room. “Why are you here?”
“Details,” she said, and crossed her arms.
“Diana’s murder?”
“Apparently you’re not my contact anymore.”
Stuart surveyed the room one more time. Tapped the folder and walked away from her.
Mattie darted a look over her shoulder. Everyone’s attention remained on their work. The file Stuart had left said, Diana LeCross on the tab. She took one more look around and scooted a little closer to the desk, opening the folder with a flick of her finger. Pictures of Diana’s body didn’t interest her. She’d seen the Ripper’s work before. With one finger, she slid the police report to read the summary. It said an anonymous caller had made the initial report. She pushed the summary aside and looked at the coroner’s report. Only one void aside from Diana’s body. How could that be? The homeless man had confirmed two men at the scene, and there was a lot of blood. There should have been three voids, Diana, the Ripper and his accomplice. She closed the file and pushed it under a couple others on Constable Yates’ desk.
Five minutes later, he appeared with a gust of wind following him. “Sorry, Mattie, got caught up in a debrief.”
“No problem.” Three other constables walked past, but it was the tallest and biggest of the bunch that caught her attention. Jet black hair. Shoulders the size of a titan. Was that the man in charge of the task force?
Stuart appeared from an adjacent hallway and joined the men.
“Just wanted to confirm a few things with you,” she said.
“Such as?” Constable Yates asked, looking at his monitor instead of her.
“What the coroner’s report indicated? Anything in her blood. Voids left from the killer?”
Yates stopped typing on his keyboard. He shuffled through the folders on his desk and found Diana’s. He quickly looked at it and closed it again. “Nothing. Two voids, indicating one killer.”
“I see.” She rose. “Thank you.”
She hurried down the walkway to see the big cop take a right into an office. She followed and stopped in his open doorway.
“Excuse me,” she said. His head whipped up from the paperwork he surveyed and crystal jade eyes glared at her. “I wanted to introduce myself. We haven’t crossed paths yet. I’m Mattie Bidault, New Victoria Times Colonist. I understand you’re the sergeant in charge of the Ripper Task Force.”
She saw his name plaque sitting in front of him. His expression lightened as he stood. “Ms. Bidault. Thank you for stopping by. I’m Sergeant Raine Montgomery.”
“I saw you the other day driving into the farm where the corn maze is located.”
He nodded. “Care to have a seat?”
“No, sir. I just wanted to say hello and assure you I’ll be reporting the truth. Whatever those facts are. Sorry for interrupting.” She reached the doorway, knowing he watched her every step like a hawk. “I was just curious,” she said over her shoulder, seeing Stuart coming down the hall like there was a fireball behind him.
“About?” Montgomery said, the smile gone from his expression.
“About the fact that there may be more than one killer involved.”
The Sergeant leaned slightly forward. “Sounds like a good story, but unsubstantiated.”
Stuart clutched her waistband from behind and tugged. She gripped the doorframe and dug in her heels. “I only write the truth, Sergeant. I saw the stains myself. There are three voids which means two killers. Guess the question that keeps bothering me is whether or not you knew that.”
“Mattie,” Stuart said roughly. “Sergeant, I’ll give her a report.”
Sergeant Montgomery’s gaze tore into her. He was one scary son-of-bitch. “Do that, Constable.”
Stuart nearly dragged her down the hallway, his grip on her upper arm pinching her skin. He yanked her right out the back door. She didn’t flinch when his shove sent her into the cement blocks of the wall.
“Stop this. I left the report so you would put the pieces together, not confront the Sergeant.”
“The pieces are easy to see. And I knew there were two men with Diana. The question is, who changed the coroner’s report. You?”
“No, it wasn’t me.”
Stuart released his grip. Drizzle covered them in a fine mist of moisture. A grey day and it was looking greyer all the time. “I can get my answers from the coroner. If his report does not jive with what I just saw, there’s a problem. One that quite frankly scares the hell out of me.”
“Don’t fuck with Montgomery.”
“What part of this puzzle am I missing?” She waved her hand. “Never mind. I’ll find out for myself.”
“Be careful,” he said, and leaned into her. Then thought better of it, and stepped back.
“Is that a threat, Constable, or a warning? I can’t tell anymore.”
His hand slapped the wall beside her head. “Think about it, Mattie,” he said in a hushed voice. “Do you know how dangerous this could be for you?”
“You’re not going to say it, are you? Fine. I will. If there’s a dirty cop in the station. If he’s covering something up, you can bet I’ll uncover it.”
“You’ll dig your own grave.”
“There’s an innocent man in prison right now.”
Stuart’s eyes narrowed. “Have you talked with him?”
“Of course, I have. I’m a journalist. I investigate the clues. He’s a Special Forces decorated hero, not a murderer.”
Stuart expression tightened. “His girlfriend was the last victim.”
“Ex-girlfriend.”
“Convenient and a motive for murder since she dumped him.”
When he gently touched her hip, she swatted his hand away. “What does that mean, or do I need to guess? Is Montgomery going to be calling my boss and accuse me of fucking Mr. LaPierre, too? Another pathetic attempt to ruin my reputation like his last phone call?”
“What? When?”
“I was accused of screwing you in exchange for information.”
“Shit.”
“Next time you do that asshole’s bidding, remember that by challenging me, he’s going to have a fight on his hands.” She curled her fist, wanting to hit someone. Preferably the big bastard in charge of the task force. Stuart did something she didn’t expect, he chuckled. “Not funny. None of this is funny.”
“Mattie, I’m going to talk to the sergeant. He won’t bother you anymore. I’m sure you’re angry because Montgomery called your boss and you’d love to pin something on him. He’s a hardliner, I agree, but he’s not a murderer if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Just about to use her elbow to thrust past him, she paused, staring into Stuart’s eyes. “Someone is a murderer. Someone changed the autopsy report. The report goes from the coroner directly into the hands of the sergeant in charge of the task force. So explain to me, how this happened.”
The sedate smile perched on his mouth waned. “I don’t have the answer to that.”
“I have a knack for reading people, Stuart. Something’s off with Sergeant Montgomery. He’s hiding something.”
“When this is all over, I’ll explain.” He stepped toward the door. “You better get going.”
“You are the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.”
He winked. “I’ll keep in touch when I can.”
She gave him a small smile. “So we’re still friends? I thought you told me not to trust you.”
“If I wasn’t up to my ass in finding a killer, I’d book off the afternoon and do my damnedest to convince you that I should paddle yours. So, I’d say close friends.”
He disappeared inside, leaving her stunned into silence once again.
* * * *
Kayla closed her suitcase then trotted toward the kitchen when she heard the Skype call ping with an incoming request. She ran around the corner, checked on Adam and Sloane as she accepted the call. “Greg!”
“Hey, Angel Face.” He gave her a wan smile.
“Please, don’t look like that. Thane got on a plane thirty minutes ago. He’s coming.”
Greg nodded. “Not sure why he’s doing this, but I guess it’s only because of you.”
Kayla folded her hands and pressed them against her chin. “I guess the short answer is yes.”
“If you had to fall in love with someone other than me, he’s the best I could hope for.”
She smiled and placed a hand on the screen. Greg raised his and mirrored it. Adam toddled over, and she pulled him onto her lap.
“Going to say hi to Uncle Greg?” she asked, cuddling him.
He waved at the monitor, and Greg’s eyes lit with a smile. “Hey, buddy.”
“He wants his uncle out of prison, or he would if he understood. Thane will find some way to get you out of there.”
“It’s not so bad. Been in worse places as you know.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Kayla.” He paused and bowed his head. “If I don’t get out of here... If I’m charged and convicted....”
“Greg, stop. Please. That’s not going to happen.”
“It’s happened before.”
“I know, but we both know these men who lust for blood don’t just walk away. He’ll kill again, and you’ll be free. Thane will find the missing key. Tell him everything.”
“How much can I really trust him, Kayla? He knows our past. He knows I still love you, even if that love has changed over the years.”
“Thane has a lot of respect for you.”
“He wouldn’t if he knew what keeps me from going insane in here.”
“What’s that?” she asked, putting Adam down when he fussed to get free.
“Those special times when you gave us a chance to be real with each other. The times when you let me love you.”
She cleared her throat. “Thane knows that all happened before I met him.” She paused. “You liked Diana a lot. I know you did.”
He smiled and cast a green-eyed glint at her. “Yeah, I suppose I did, but the truth is, not enough to marry her.”
“Why do you do that? Women fall at your feet. Offer their hearts, but you don’t give them yours.”
“Guess I’m just unlucky in love.”
“I know your heart, Greg LaPierre. I know how big and endless it is. You might play the aloof mysterious card to keep women from getting too close, but someone will see it. Just like I did. And once she does, it won’t matter where you go or how long you’re gone. She’ll wait for you.”
He chuckled and shook his head, the first smile she’d seen in a while spread across his lips. “Everyone sees you wrong, too. You’re a hopeless romantic.”
She sighed. “Thane saw it.”
“And you drive him crazy sometimes, just like you drove me nuts, but to be honest I like your idea. Before I got tossed in here, I was getting ready to throw in my paperwork.”
“To leave the Forces?”
“Yeah, I’ve got twenty-three years and a pension coming. Friend of mine has a few job opportunities. He works internationally.”
“Greg, no! You’re not going into contract work overseas.”
“No. Done with the Spec Ops. He owns a marine manufacturing company. Said he could find me something. He’s retired Navy, too.”
“Then that’s what you should do. That’s what you will do.”
“Then maybe I can see my pseudo niece and nephew more.” Greg sighed and scanned his surroundings. “How’s Nina and Marg?”
“I’m just packing now. I’m going back to San Diego to see them. Marg is still grieving, but she’s slowly getting on with her life. It doesn’t hurt that she has some wealthy Hollywood type from her past who’s popped up and wants to marry her.”
“Think she will?”
Kayla shook her head. “Not a chance.”
“Guess Austen won’t show it. Cobbs was his best friend. I know what losing someone close feels like.”
“He won’t talk about him. Not yet anyway. Whenever he’s in San Diego, he visits Marg. Now it’s my turn.”
“Maybe you’ll come to Victoria when this is all over.”
“You know I will.”
He raised his brow. “Alone?”
She laughed at him. “Will you stop!”
Greg grinned and shrugged. “You spoiled me, Angel Face. What can I say?”
“I say if you want to find someone who loves you, you have to truly love her back and stop hoping something bad is going to happen to my husband.”
Through a chuckle, accompanied with a handsome raise of his brow, he said, “You’re a killjoy, Mrs. Austen.”
“How is your mom taking this?”
“Mom’s worried. Bad enough one of her sons is in prison. She keeps blaming herself.”
“She was a victim too. It’s not her fault.”
“She misses you, ya know. Even with everything that happened. Once her anger dissolved, she missed having a daughter-in-law.”
“She’ll have one son back soon.”
He nodded in agreement. “Maybe. Got a visit a couple days ago from a reporter. She works for the New Times Colonist.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Don’t know. She seemed to want to find out who killed Diana and the other women. Got the feeling she doesn’t think it’s me.”
“She, huh?” He nodded and darted his gaze away. “And...did you charm her into believing this, or did she walk in thinking this?”
“You really have a lofty perception of my abilities with the softer population.”
“If she’s on your side, I don’t care what she thinks.” Kayla knew Greg too well. She’d only seen him get edgy with one other girl who had come close to stealing his heart. It had been so long ago. Kayla remembered it was around the time her husband Daniel nearly killed her. Greg had abandoned everything to be with her through the recovery, and the girl walked away. “What’s her name?”
“Forget it. You’re not calling her.”
“I promise, I won’t,” she said, crossing her fingers at the same time.
He glared at her through the monitor. “Mattie Bidault. She’s coming back tomorrow for another visit. Says she has more questions.”
“Okay. Well, let her do the footwork. Thane will be there tomorrow, too. Can he get into your place tonight?”
“Sure. He can stay there. You know where the key is.”
“Good. Don’t worry, Greg.”
“If this reporter tells the police she saw me the other night. I’d be out now.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was there at the Irish Times when I was. The same night Diana was murdered. She knows I left after two-thirty.”
“What the hell.”
“Kayla,” he growled. “Don’t go there. Let her decide for herself.”
“She’s a witness to your innocence. What is she waiting for?” She gritted her teeth, wanting to tear into this reporter.
“She’ll do the right thing, if she believes I’m innocent.”
“I know you’re innocent.”
“But she doesn’t, so don’t interfere.”
“You make me crazy.”
“Ditto. I guess my time’s up. I better get going. I love you.”
She shook her head. “You know you make Thane nuts when you say that in front of him.”
“Yup,” he said and sported a smile.
“Don’t do it anymore.”
“He worried?”
“No, he’s just like you. Possessive and pigheaded. He’s well aware you do it to poke his temper.”
“Just a friendly reminder that he needs to be good to you.” He paused and stared at her, the silence lingering between them. “You’re the only woman I ever said that to.”
She sighed. “Greg.”
He jerked his head and offered a pained smile. “I should have told Diana. She needed to hear it...I may not have been ready for marriage, but I did love her.”
Kayla’s heart twisted with his confession. “I know you did. I wish I could be there to hug you.”
“I wish you could, too.” His brow creased tight. “If I’d tried harder, maybe she’d...”
“You were honest with her. Don’t second guess yourself. Let’s talk tomorrow. I’ll be in San Diego, but I’ll keep my laptop going in case you can call me.”
“J’taime, Angel Face.”
“I love you, too.”
Kayla let out a deep breath as Greg’s connection blinked off. Adam had crawled up onto the couch and was talking to his sister. Even at this age, he saw himself as her protector. Everyone needed someone who loved them unconditionally and would do anything for them, and it didn’t always have to be a blood relation.
She quickly Googled the New Times Colonist. Then dialed the number.
When reception answered, she said, “Yes, good afternoon. I’d like to speak with a Mattie Bidault. I have a lead on a story she’s working on.”