Mia held Daisy in her arms on the couch. For reasons she couldn’t name, she’d wanted to stay at her mother’s. Maybe she just felt protective. It didn’t feel right walking out of the same door that Maxwell had. Not when there was so much sadness inside.
“Was it me? Because I didn’t hand in the dolls sooner?” She looked at Jack as he handed her a peppermint tea and slipped into a spot next to her on the couch.
“It wasn’t you. Maxwell said they had a uniform watching the house.”
“Then how?”
“She slipped out. You can’t protect someone who doesn’t want it.”
“That poor girl. Her poor mother. Her poor twin. Why do I feel responsible?”
“I don’t know, darlin,’ you shouldn’t.”
“If I’d found the killer before now…”
“We don’t know that it’s the same guy.”
“Oh, it’s the same guy. You know it is.”
“Maybe.”
“Where did they find her?”
“Are you sure you want to hear all this, Mia? It’s already been a long-ass night. I think you should drink your tea and go to bed.”
“Are you staying?”
“Of course.”
She set the hot tea down on the lamp table and put her arms around him.
“Tell me, Jack, please,” she said.
He sighed. “She was found in an alley downtown about two hours ago.”
“Stabbed?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“Do you know when they released Cook?”
“Maxwell said he was in custody during the time of the murder.”
“Good alibi, I guess.”
“About the best.”
Which twin was it? Was it Stacy, who was so serious and reserved and wounded? Or Tracy? The one with all the energy and bounce. Who would do this and why? Jeff? Mia had checked her tracker but Jeff hadn’t left his house all night. Did that mean it wasn’t him? Maybe he borrowed his wife’s car? Why hadn’t she thought of that?
That poor girl. Her poor, poor mother.
Jess’s bedroom door opened. Mia waited for her mother to appear in the hall off the living room. Jess was in her robe and her makeup was washed off. She looked like she’d been sleeping.
“What happened?” she asked.
“One of the twins in the Baskerville case was murdered,” Jack said. “The chief had to go.”
Might as well make her believe that as opposed to the real reason.
“Oh, that is terrible. Her poor mother.” Jess looked like she was going to cry, herself.
“Jack and I are staying tonight,” Mia said. She watched her mother’s face brighten a little.
“Oh, good, dear,” she said, smiling bleakly at Jack and then back at her. “I’m glad.”
*****
It rained the day of the funeral.
Tracy Kilpatrick was laid to rest in a simple casket in East Shadowlawn Memorial Gardens off of 87 Scenic Highway in Lawrenceville. Maxwell had warned her there would be a significant police presence at the burial, and there was. Most of it was the little fourteen-man police force of Lawrenceville, but Mia spotted two detectives from the Atlanta Major Crimes division, as well as Maxwell, himself.
She held Jack’s arm as they walked across the grass to the burial plot. Her shoes would be ruined with the mud but it didn’t matter.
Tracy’s whole life was ruined.
Jack reminded her that every single person at Tracy’s funeral would be watched and vetted in the hopes her killer couldn’t resist attending. The cops were paying their respects, but they were looking for the bastard who did this, too.
“Did you see the chief?” Mia whispered to Jack as they approached the gravesite. “Mom wanted to come but he didn’t want her to. I’m really starting to worry about those two.”
“He’s just being protective,” Jack said.
It had been many months since she’d seen Jack in a suit and tie and she forgot how handsome he was when he was dressed up. When he was a detective on the force, he wore a suit every day.
Rhonda Kilpatrick was visible from a great distance. She stood between Derek and Stacy, leaning heavily on Derek, her bulk sagging against him. At one point, Mia feared she would topple into the open grave.
“That’s the mother,” Mia whispered. “She’s devastated. Poor woman.”
“Is that Derek?” Jack asked. Mia had had to come clean about her run-in with Derek Kilpatrick. It hadn’t been a happy beginning to their day.
As if going to a funeral was the happy beginning to anybody’s day.
Mia strained to find somebody she recognized. Aside from the Kilpatricks, she spotted Bill and Debbie Olds, hanging back—they weren’t really friends after all—but in respectful attendance. Mia watched Derek lead his mother to one of the folding chairs in front of the gravesite. She found herself hoping it wouldn’t collapse under her. As terrible as Mia felt about today, she knew she was one pratfall away from hysterical, and extremely ill-timed, laughter.
Derek left the seat next to his mother free and took a chair behind her.
That’s odd. Someone else besides immediate family rating guest of honor status?
Mia and Jack stood back far enough to be observers without being noticed. A middle-aged woman walked past them. Her back was straight, her hair unfashionably long for her age, her face a mask of unshed tears. She walked to the chair next to Rhonda, squatted down and embraced her.
“Who is that?” Jack asked.
“I have no idea.” Mia glanced over at the Olds and wondered if it was bad taste to ask them for a who’s who at the gathering.
“Holy shit.”
Mia snapped her head around to see what prompted the outburst from Jack, and when she saw the guest she nearly repeated it herself, only louder.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
“I don’t know but it’s not good,” Jack said as they both stared at the impassive, cool form of Joshua Cook standing several rows behind where the Kilpatrick family was seated.
“The chief’s seen him,” Mia said, her voice rising in her excitement. Maxwell’s face was a thundercloud of intent as he spoke out of the side of his mouth to the uniformed man next to him. Cook had just settled into his seat when two plainclothes detectives flanked him and pulled him to his feet. Mia and Jack were close enough to hear Cook’s protestations, but the detectives dragged him to the parking lot before too many people noticed the disturbance.
“Why do you think he was here?” Mia asked as she watched Cook being hauled off.
“Who knows? Best not to creep into the brains of people like him.”
They turned their attention back to the service. A minister stood in front of Rhonda and spoke in a low voice, his words not carrying to where Mia and Jack were. The rain came down harder. Most everyone had umbrellas, but Mia was surprised to see Derek holding a large one over his mother and sister. He hadn’t struck her as the conscientious type.
If it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t be here. Tracy wouldn’t be here. If I’d gotten the dolls to the police as soon as they were delivered, the monster who did this might not have gotten to her.
“You okay, Mia?” Jack wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “Not getting too wet?”
“I’m fine.”
“This wasn’t your fault, Mia.”
“I know.”
But of course it was.
The woman who greeted Rhonda settled into the empty chair next to her. There were about forty people standing or sitting, listening to the minister. Rhonda’s weeping was loud and constant. Stacy sat next to her mother, her back straight, her eyes dry, as if stunned. An older woman with harshly dyed auburn hair leaned over Rhonda to speak to her while the minister orchestrated the removal of the flowers on the coffin.
“Looks like things are wrapping up,” Jack said as people turned from the gravesite to hurry back toward the parking lot. Maxwell still stood off to one side. “The chief’s not going to be happy we’re here,” he said.
“I don’t care,” Mia said. “If he’d caught Victoria’s killer before now maybe none of us would be here.”
Derek turned to glare at Mia and she found herself glad to have Jack next to her. He was taller than Derek by nearly six inches. The woman sitting next to Rhonda leaned back and caught Derek’s sleeve. He turned to speak to her and then pointed to Mia.
Surprised, Mia watched the woman fix a stony glare on her. A relative? The woman turned to pat a still-weeping Rhonda on the shoulder, and then got up and began working her way through the crowd toward Mia.
Who the hell was this? Mia stiffened and Jack looked down at her.
“What is it?” Jack asked.
“I’ll let you know in a minute,” Mia said, barely moving her lips, her eyes never leaving the woman’s face as she approached.
The woman stood in front of Mia, her eyes glancing uneasily at Jack as he towered over both of them.
“You a friend of Vickie’s? Is that right?” she asked.
“And you are?” Mia asked sweetly.
As the woman leaned in Jack automatically stepped between her and Mia. She backed off but her tone was no less aggressive.
“I’m Vickie’s ex-mother-in-law is who I am,” she said. Mia was close enough to tell the woman had been drinking. She was missing several bottom teeth and her makeup looked like it had been applied by someone with palsy.
“Alice Smith?” Mia asked.
The woman gaped. “You know who I am?”
“I’ve heard bits and pieces.”
“You stay away from Rhonda Kilpatrick, you hear me? I don’t know what paper you work for, but it won’t be worth a stay in the hospital, do you hear?”
“Is that a threat, Mrs. Smith?” Jack said smoothly. “I’m a police officer.”
Alice looked at Jack with a worried look and then at Mia.
“I didn’t mean it like a threat,” she said. “I just meant it as information, like. Rhonda Kilpatrick’s suffered enough for her big heart, having her young ‘uns with that tramp, Vickie. You stay away from her.”
Without waiting to see how her words were received, she turned and walked back to the gravesite. Derek stood with his arms crossed, watching Mia.
“Who the hell was that?” Jack asked.
“Somebody who hated Victoria,” Mia said, feeling the gravitas of the day like a dead weight around her shoulders. “That’s all.”
*****
The child snorted and rolled over in her bed. Mindy stood at Bethany’s bedroom door and held her breath. She only got a scant ninety minutes a day when the girl would concede to a nap and Mindy wanted every second of it. After another moment, it was clear the baby monitor had given a false alarm. Bethany wasn’t awakening early after all. Mindy shut the door and tiptoed back to her office off the dining room.
It had been a long time since she’d had a project this exciting. Every moment she was away from it, she found herself thinking of how she’d handle the next piece. Every moment she was actually working on it, she was happier than she ever remembered being. She cracked her knuckles and leaned back in front of her double set of video screens. Playing with video editing software wasn’t really her strong suit, but she was at least as good as the average TNT producer.
She pushed a button to render the piece she’d just finished editing and sat back and smiled as she waited. Who was she kidding? She was brilliant at it but it didn’t matter. None of what she did best mattered. Not to anyone who knew her anyway.
After hitting the Play button, Mindy crossed her arms and watched the video on screen. It was jumpy and the resolution was muddy but she knew most people didn’t look at things the way she did. Half the time she had to remind her husband to turn the channel to HD to watch their movies. He really didn’t see the difference. It was unfathomable to Mindy, but she’d had too much evidence not to believe it wasn’t true.
She looked over her shoulder to make sure little Bethany hadn’t decided to turn off the baby monitor—she’d done it before—in order to creep up behind Mindy while she was working. Today was one time Mindy could not allow that to happen.
She turned her attention back to the video. The woman on the screen arched her naked back and mounted the man. Mindy turned up the volume. And smiled.
The day her father threw her a bone by asking if she would create a video for the wedding was the day Mindy felt lightness return to her step. She had no doubt the so-called engagement would implode long before the wedding, but just in case it got that far she had the back-up plan to end them all.
Because when the congregation—not to mention her father—got an eye and earful of this little Citizen Kane, well, the only union that would be happening then would be the one where her father’s shoe leather met the pavement as he left the church at a dead run.
Mindy watched the two-minute video, the grin never leaving her face. It hadn’t been difficult to find a sex tape just shadowy enough to pass—the production quality of most amateur videos was shit. But to find someone who could pass for Jess this perfectly? It had taken weeks of searching through countless user-content video sites to find it. Then with just a little shadowing, a bit of selective cropping and a lot of audio magic—using Jess’s real voice thanks to Mindy’s most recent visit with her—and even Jess will think it’s her up there on the screen, her legs wrapped around the cute surfer dude, riding him while crying out, “Oh-oh-oh! Take me, daddy!”
A part of Mindy almost wished things would get as far as the wedding day.
Oh baby, oh baby.
*****
The rest of the week was a rush of client dinners that kept Jack running off his feet—but happy. He noted that Mia was quieter than usual, which was a tad worrisome, but she didn’t seem to be actively hatching any plots so Jack decided not to overthink things. He knew she wasn’t through with the Victoria case and maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. It kept her occupied. They’d gone out two days in a row to meet guys from Victoria’s list and Mia had placed her hands on them. All five had proven to be innocent—in Mia’s mind—and Jack hadn’t gotten punched.
So win-win for everyone.
This afternoon, as Jack was putting together his chef’s cart for a formal dinner party for six, Mia sat at the kitchen counter and flipped through a horse magazine. After the third sigh, he stopped packing.
“Mia, why don’t you call Ned and go riding?”
“I already did. He has to work.”
“Okay, well, go yourself, then. Doesn’t he have a horse you can borrow?”
“I might.” She flipped the magazine shut. “You know it’s going to take us years to get through all the guys that Victoria didn’t meet with.”
“I’m game if you are.”
“And you are a sweet man to be game. Thank you. But my point is, there’s one guy who she did meet with.”
“Jeff Wojinziky?”
“That’s right.”
“I mentioned him to the chief yesterday and he said they interviewed Wojinziky and that there was nothing, nothing to connect him forensically to the murder.”
“You talked to the chief?”
“Yes, now don’t get pissed, Mia. We were talking about something else entirely, but I know you were concerned that Wojinziky fell through the cracks so I brought him up.”
“Where was I when you had this conversation?”
“I don’t remember. He also mentioned he’d talked to your mother and they sorted out their little issue from the night before.”
“Yeah, my mom told me,” Mia said, drumming her nails on the counter. “She knows that evil bitch Mindy is trying to mess things up between her and the chief and, more importantly, the chief knows it.”
“You have to feel sorry for her, Mia.”
“Well, I don’t have to at all. She’s a grown woman. She wasn’t molested or abandoned or unloved or any of that.”
“We don’t know what causes people to behave the way they do.”
“Probably a good thing.” She sighed and picked up her magazine again before dropping it in frustration. “It’s just that I know it’s him, Jack. How many times have I said that to you about something I felt sure about?”
“A million?”
“That is not true. I have very strong reasons for believing it’s him.”
“Any of it have to do with the tracking device I noticed on your phone?”
She frowned. “I meant to tell you about that.”
“You need to remove it before he finds it.”
“When I’m finished, I will,” she said.
“Are you going to be okay tonight?”
“Of course. Daisy and I are going to watch TV and take a bath. Well, maybe just me in the bath.”
He came around the counter and drew her into his arms.
“Don’t be discouraged, Mia,” he said. “There’s a reason why this feels like the long game. You’re looking into the stuff nobody else has the patience for. Great rewards come to those who wait.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a long kiss.
He groaned and rubbed a hand down her hip. “Be up when I get home?”
“Count on it.”
*****
An hour later, after her bath, a reheating of an especially toothsome penne with butternut squash that Jack had made the day before, and a frustrating fifteen minutes in front of the television set, Mia tossed down the remote and looked at Daisy.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she said out loud. I can’t go through these men one by one when everyone knows the killer isn’t in that group. Even Maxwell knows, and Jack surely does, although he deserves an award for going through the motions.
She got up and went to the dining room table with Victoria’s case folder. In the folder were photos of Cook and Jeff that she’d found online, plus Cargill and Turner. Mia spread the photos out, adding a blank one and wrote Derek on it, and tried to see if they formed a picture. She glanced at the wall clock, nine o’clock, then gathered up the photos, Jeff’s on top, and exited the condo.
This was crazy but it was at least mildly more productive than sitting and watching cable reruns. Somebody might have seen whomever it was who delivered the dolls but she’d never know if she didn’t ask. It was unfortunate that she didn’t have a photo of Derek but the idea that he’d put together naked, bloody dolls of his sisters still wouldn’t gel with her. Neither did it seem likely for Cargill. Or Turner. Sighing, she looked at the pictures of Cook and Jeff and finally put Cook’s picture behind the others.
It had to be Jeff. The rest of them just didn’t make sense the way he did.
She started at the condo on her floor but the furthest point down the hall, intending to work her way back to her own unit. If she didn’t have any luck, she’d go floor by floor before giving up.
Better than cable reruns.
The first door she knocked on was answered by a young man—gay from the way he looked at her and held himself. He had a drink in one hand and looked at her with a frown.
“May I help you?” he said.
“I hope so,” Mia answered cheerfully. “I live in B-10 down the hall and was wondering if I could show you a picture of someone I think was looking for my apartment?” She pulled out Jeff’s picture as she spoke. The man squinted at it and made a face.
“Never seen him,” he said in a tone that made it seem like he was glad about that. “But welcome to the building.” Then he shut the door.
The next unit was answered by an overweight woman in her mid-forties.
“Hi, there,” Mia said, “I live in B-10.”
“I’ve seen your boyfriend in the parking lot,” the woman said. “I’m Sheila.”
“Hey, Sheila. I was wondering if you’ve ever seen this man in the building?” Mia showed her the picture of Jeff.
Sheila shook her head. “Sorry, no. What’s he done?”
“Just somebody I’m looking for,” Mia said. “Have you lived in the building long?” Sheila was dressed in a bathrobe with her head swaddled in a towel. Mia wondered how she felt so comfortable answering the door at nine at night nearly nude.
“Almost four years. I knew your brother.”
Mia dropped the stack of photos on the carpeted floor. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Dave lived here for nearly two years before he was murdered. Of course people would know him.
“Oh,” Mia said. “He left me the condo in his will.”
“That’s what I heard. I’m sorry about what happened to him. I really liked him.”
Mia knew her brother had been a major player so she supposed he might’ve trolled close to home on a slow night. It was hard to tell from Sheila’s tone if she held a grudge or not.
“Yeah, he was a good guy,” Mia said softly.
“Hey, but him I saw,” Sheila said, pointing to the floor where Mia was picking up the pictures.
A twinge of excitement pinched Mia. She held out the picture of Cook, who she knew for a fact had been at the condo recently.
“This guy?” she asked.
“No, the other dude. With the mustache.”
Mia froze and plucked out the photo of Nathan Turner. Her fingers trembled. “Him? You saw him?”
“Yeah, he was wandering the hall on our floor last week. I’d hardly not remember. Very hot.”
“Did he…did you notice if he was carrying anything?” Mia said, feeling a burgeoning lightness in her chest. “Like a package of some kind?”
“Now that you mention it,” Sheila said, “he was carrying something. I remember because it looked like whatever it was, it was leaking.”