Dont look now, p.20
Don’t Look Now, page 20
“Which means you’re going to ride my ass until my sight comes back.”
“If it comes back, Jordan. We both heard what the doctor said.”
“I’m staying positive. He said there was a slim chance. And slim is better than none.”
“Staying sober comes with the same odds.”
“You’re beating the odds, and I’ll do the same,” Jordan said. “Now play my message.”
Avery typed in Jordan’s passcode and opened the voicemail.
“Detective Poe, this is Emma Powers. You don’t know me, but he wanted me to call you. He’s going to let me go. He told me so. But he wanted you to know he’s sorry he hit you so hard. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Also, he hopes you like the roses.” Emma hesitated and then added, “Casey is alive and doing fine.”
The call ended. Jordan’s adrenaline rushed through her body with such force her temples pounded. “It’s him.”
“How did he get your number?”
“I called Casey. She called me back on a second phone she carried. That’s how I found her. The phone’s not putting off a signal, so he must have discovered and disabled it.”
“Does this mean he has this Emma girl?” Avery asked.
“Yes.”
“She said he wasn’t going to hurt her.” Avery’s optimism was almost childlike.
Jordan shook her head. “Don’t believe it. And don’t believe that Casey is still alive.”
“Why is he doing this?”
“It’s a game to him. He’s having fun. I stopped his last murder, and he wants me to know he has found another victim.”
“He’s having fun? What the hell is fun about this?” Anger strained Avery’s voice.
For the first time since Jordan had been attacked, she had a sense of purpose. She remembered why she was a cop. Why she loved the job. “Help me figure out this voice-activated thing on the phone again.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Call Ranger Spencer. He’s going to want to hear this.”
Spencer was on his morning run when his phone rang. He paused, wiped the sweat from his brow. “Jordan, is everything all right?”
“I have a situation.”
“What is it?”
“A potential victim just called me.”
Turning back toward his house, he said, “Hold tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
When he reached his house, he called his office and asked for a search of Emma Powers’s name. By the time he had showered and dressed, his phone rang. “Spencer.”
The officer explained that Emma Powers had an arrest record for drugs and gave him the name of her parole officer.
“Do you have a picture?”
“Yes, sir. Sending now.”
Spencer glanced at his phone, and as soon as the text arrived, he opened the image. Emma Powers had light-blond hair and was twenty.
As he moved toward his car, he called Emma’s parole officer, landed in voicemail, and left a message. “I’m going to need current employer, address, and anything you have on her.”
He arrived at Jordan’s home at five minutes to 6:00 a.m. He knocked and heard unsteady footsteps moving toward the door. When it opened, Jordan stood there, wearing jeans and a light-blue pullover blouse. She had brushed her hair, stood straight, and, to his relief, looked more like her old self.
“It’s Spencer,” he said.
“Avery told me,” she said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have opened the door. But audio cues are much appreciated.”
“Consider it standard protocol going forward.”
“I’ll take the help wherever I can get it right now.”
“Where’s Avery?”
“Making coffee.” She stepped aside, hesitantly, as if feeling her way. “Figured we both could use a cup.”
“I never say no.” As he removed his hat, he noted her gaze did not quite reach his eyes, the only visible sign that she could not see him clearly.
“Follow me. But if you see a coffee table or a chair in my path, say something. Avery’s moved back home, which is great, but I’ve already earned a couple of bruises on my toes and the sides of my legs because of it.”
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Nice to have Avery back. But the other stuff ain’t so great.”
“If it were me, I’d be pounding my fist on the wall and flipping furniture.”
“Flipping furniture could be on my afternoon agenda.”
The dry sarcasm was a good sign. “And the vision?”
“No improvement. The doctor said it could be weeks, maybe months.”
Or never. “If I ever ask a question that bothers you, just tell me. My questions can be blunt.”
“A hazard of the job.”
“Exactly.”
“I appreciate the directness. Walking on eggshells never works well. And if you cross a line, I’ll let you know.”
“Understood.” In the kitchen, Avery stood behind the counter, setting out cream and sugar. She was dressed in athletic shorts, a shirt, and shoes. Hints of tension strained her features. “Avery.”
“Ranger Spencer. Glad you could join us. We’re having quite the morning.”
“Your sister told me.” Jordan did not appear rattled, but Avery was a different story. She was not used to this kind of stress.
“The coffee is ready, Jordan,” Avery said.
“Why don’t you go for a run?” Jordan asked. “It’ll give the ranger and me time to discuss the case. And you really don’t need to hear this.”
“Are you sure?” Avery asked.
“He’s capable of pouring coffee, and I don’t think we’ll be getting into a case turf war today. Right, Spencer?”
“If we do, we’ll keep it bloodless,” he said.
Avery studied him, trying to judge whether this was a brand of humor or he was serious.
“He’s kidding,” Jordan said.
“How do you know?” Avery asked.
“His tone of voice. Spencer, you’re going to play nice, right?”
“Yes. Cop humor sometimes falls flat,” he said.
“I can handle whatever you two are going to discuss,” Avery challenged.
“I know. But I don’t want you to,” Jordan said. “Remember, I’m still in charge in this house.”
“Debatable.” Avery clunked down two empty coffee cups on the counter. “Spencer, I leave it to you.”
“Ten-four,” he said.
When she exited out the back door, he moved to fill the cups. In the corner of the kitchen was a white cane. “How do you take it?”
“Cream and sugar.”
“I wouldn’t have figured it.”
“I treat myself to both when I’m under stress or tired. And I’ve checked both those boxes this morning.” She felt around for the barstool in front of the kitchen island and sat.
He set the cup in front of her. “Cup is at twelve o’clock. Six inches from your right hand.”
“I appreciate specifics more than ever.”
He sipped his coffee, savoring the flavor. “It’s good coffee.”
“Avery works in a café. Which I consider a real perk.”
He stood on the other side of the island. “Can I hear the message again?” She had played it for him over the phone, and he had called dispatch and reported the possible kidnapping.
She fished her phone from her back pocket and opened it with her thumbprint. “Have at it.”
He hit play and listened. “Detective Poe, this is Emma Powers. You don’t know me, but he wanted me to call you. He’s going to let me go. He told me so. But he wanted you to know he’s sorry he hit you so hard. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Also, he hopes you like the roses.” Emma hesitated and then added, “Casey is alive and doing fine.”
“It could be a hoax. Both you and Casey Andrews have been mentioned in the news.”
“Maybe. But it shouldn’t be hard for you to track down Emma Powers in Austin.”
“Did you receive roses?” he asked.
“Yes. Avery said it’s a dozen yellow roses.”
“Where are they?”
“On the back porch. I didn’t want them in the house after I heard the message. No surprise, there’s no card or florist’s name attached.”
The killer knew where Jordan lived, and he wanted her to know it. Spencer suspected any warnings to Jordan now would fall on deaf ears. Instead, he recapped for her what he knew so far about Emma Powers. “She has light-blond hair and a small frame like Tammy Fox and Casey Andrews.”
Jordan nodded slowly, but it was hard for him to read her expression. She raised the cup to her lips and gently sipped. “Good work.”
“This killer is keyed in on you, Jordan. Do you think he knows about your vision?”
“Anyone hanging around the hospital could figure it out. My occupational therapist walked me around the halls. Lady likes her tough love.”
“Did you hear anything that might have troubled you during these walks? Did your OT mention anyone suspicious? What about Sunday?”
“Sunday never came back. And honestly, I wasn’t on my game at the hospital. It was all overload for me.”
“Fair enough.”
“Any other odd things happen?”
She tapped her finger against the side of her cup. “At the hospital, I had a couple of nightmares and woke up. I kept dreaming someone was watching me. But when I questioned the nurses, none of them saw anyone.”
Twenty-four-hour, around-the-clock police protection sounded good, but the reality was that the city budget did not have the funds to guard Jordan’s room. “I’ll pull the surveillance footage from the hospital and see if there’s anything that’s off base while you were there.”
She rubbed her temple. “I’ll take any lead at this point.”
“You said the roses are on the back porch?”
“We didn’t toss them. Just in case there’re prints or a card we missed.”
“I’ll have a look.” Spencer’s phone rang, and he glanced at the display. “It’s Emma Powers’s parole officer.” He accepted the call. “Burt, thanks for getting back so early. I’m here with Detective Jordan Poe. I’m putting you on speakerphone.”
“No sweat,” Burt said. “You don’t call just for the hell of it.”
“Do you have anything on Powers?”
“As of her last visit with me four weeks ago, she worked at Dell Seton.”
“Really?”
Jordan’s gaze had shifted in his direction.
“She’s a nursing assistant. She’s been on the job for six months. Did time for drugs, as you confirmed. She was released from parole a month ago, but I still have the name of her boss. It’s a place to start.”
Spencer fished a notebook and pen from his breast pocket. “Shoot.” Burt relayed Powers’s home address and the name of her boss. “Thanks, Burt.” He hung up and checked the time. “I need to confirm her work schedule and if she’s missed a shift.”
“These kinds of victims often share the same traits. Drug abuse. Same look. Young. All lived within ten miles of each other.”
Spencer picked up the cream and turned toward the refrigerator. As he opened the door, he saw a picture of a young woman with two girls in her lap. The kid on the right could not have been more than twelve, but he recognized Jordan. The toddler had to be Avery, and the woman their mother. It struck him that their mother, Jordan, and Avery looked a lot like Laura, Tammy Fox, Casey Andrews, and Emma Powers.
“Why are you quiet?” Jordan asked.
He replaced the cream and closed the refrigerator door. “This picture of you, Avery, and your mother.”
“It’s one of our favorites. It’s before she really started using so much that she couldn’t function. And in the interest of full disclosure, I have never taken a drink or used a drug in my life.”
“You said your mother died in a car crash, right?”
“I was twenty-two when her car drove off a bridge and landed in Lake Austin. She drowned.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She was intoxicated at the time.” Jordan drew in a breath. “You see the similarities between the victims and my sister and me, right?”
“Yes.”
She sat silent, and he sensed she was debating whether to open up. “Two years ago, I found Avery in an apartment. Walker had sold her drugs. She was high and her hands bound. There was also plastic shoved in her mouth. If I’d not arrived when I did, she would have suffocated.”
That explained Harold Sunday’s comment about Jordan’s personal connection to Walker. “Does she remember anyone else being with Walker?”
“She doesn’t remember much. Whatever he gave her that night knocked her out so well.”
“And she never had any other issues?”
“That night scared the hell out of her. She sobered and so far has stayed clean. It might not have anything to do with this, but keeping it hidden won’t help anyone now.”
“How did Avery hook up with Walker?” he asked.
“She was young and struggling. Barely got out of high school and didn’t want to go to college. Worked odd jobs and then started to drift. He showed up and said all the right things, and she fell under his spell. When they were getting serious, I did a background check on him.”
“Did you really?”
A grin tugged her lips. “I did. And then I found drugs in her room. Immediately, I connected him to the drugs. We had a terrible fight, she stormed off, and I got worried. Like I said, I followed, found her in his apartment, suffocating. Five more minutes and she would have been dead.”
“You’ve good instincts.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just got lucky.”
“I appreciate your trust.”
“I should have told you sooner, but I did not want to believe these two murders were attached to Avery. It’s been two years, and this killer’s MO is different.” She shoved out a sigh, and her frown suggested she already regretted her honesty. “But killers evolve.”
“Yes.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“I’ll call the hospital,” he said. “And hope Emma Powers showed up for work today.”
While Jordan and Spencer waited for a callback from Emma’s supervisor, he updated her on his visit to Sunday’s office as well as the findings from the medical examiner. Standard investigative information, but it felt good to think about the case and not herself.
“I’ve never been crazy about Harold Sunday,” she said. “If Satan paid Sunday’s price, then he’d represent him. But he’s good at what he does, and if there’s a loophole to crawl through or leverage to be found, he’ll take advantage of it.”
“How many times have you gone against him in court?” Spencer asked.
“Five or six times. He and I share a mutual dislike for the other.”
“Has he made any threats?”
“No, but while I was in the Walker hearing, someone keyed my car.”
“Sunday?”
“I can’t prove anything.”
“He’s too smart for that.”
“Exactly.”
At 7:15 a.m., the hospital administrator, Ben Barnard, called Spencer. He put the call on speakerphone and asked again about Emma Powers.
“How did you know she didn’t show up for her shift today?” Mr. Barnard asked.
Instead of answering, Spencer countered with, “Is it like her not to come to work?”
“Some in the beginning, but in the last few months she’s fallen into a good routine. She’s turning out to be one of my best nursing assistants.”
“Do you have her current phone number?”
The man recited the number, which matched the number that had called Jordan’s phone this morning.
“Thank you,” Spencer said. “Call me if she comes in to work.”
“I sure will, Ranger Spencer.”
He hung up. “I’m going by Emma Powers’s apartment.”
“I want to come with you.” The words rushed out before she considered she could be a liability.
“Think that’s a good idea? You’ve only been out of the hospital a day.”
“If I sit around here and practice using that white cane all day, I might go crazy.”
“Have you used the cane at all?” he challenged.
“I have the basics down. Enough to get around a little.”
“You won’t know what you’re stepping into or disturbing at a potential crime scene.”
“You can park me in a corner, and I promise not to move around unassisted. Even though her apartment isn’t officially a crime scene, I’ll treat it as such.”
The back door opened. For an instant, Jordan tensed, realizing she had only Spencer to depend on.
“It’s me,” Avery said.
As her sister moved closer, Jordan caught a whiff of perspiration and sunshine. Runs always left Avery pink faced and relaxed in an endorphin high.
“How was the run?” Jordan asked.
“Quick. Did the ranger behave?” A cabinet opened; water rushed from the kitchen faucet and shut off.
“I’m no worse for the wear,” Jordan said.
“I was a gentleman,” Spencer said. “Did you find any of Tammy Fox’s art?”
“Yeah, I did. It’s just two small paintings. Be right back.” Avery returned less than thirty seconds later. “I kept them out for you.”
“What do they look like?” Just having to ask the question was frustrating.
“It’s mixed media,” Avery said. “Lots of dark tones, rough edges, and streaks of red.”
The description reminded her of some of Avery’s work. Not the brightly colored landscapes she sold to tourists, but the ones she kept for herself.
“Very modern looking,” Spencer said.
“Does it tell you anything about her?” Jordan asked.
“It suggests she was struggling,” he said.
Avery gulped water. “That’s fairly accurate. She hated being sober.”
“What are you going to do with the paintings?” Jordan asked.
“Keep them,” Avery said. “It’s good to remember.”
“Okay.”
“What are you two up to today?” Avery asked.
“We’re now leaving to investigate a lead,” Jordan said.
