M for murder, p.15
M for Murder, page 15
‘I don’t know,’ he said shrugging. ‘We’ll play it by ear.’
Angell and Boaz were still at work on the Alphabet files when Joel and Max arrived back at the precinct. It had been Angell’s idea to go over the files on the original murders again and, although it was a good idea, Joel wondered if maybe it was one she was beginning to regret.
When the call had come in that a body had been found down by the river, Max had insisted that she and Boaz stay behind; while Angell had accepted his decision, she had looked disappointed, and judging from the moans coming from Boaz before they had left, Joel guessed that he had probably given her a hard time as well.
Angell looked up as they walked in the room and met his eyes. ‘Was it her?’
Joel knew she meant Emma Keeley. Nothing had been said about who the girl might be before they had left, but he knew the others were as certain as he was who they would find.
‘Yeah, it was her.’
‘Oh.’ Angell shrugged and tried to look like she wasn’t bothered. She turned back to the file she was reading.
Joel knew that Emma’s death would affect her more than the others. She had never been involved in a homicide before and, although she tried to make out she was tough, being in Emma’s room, touching her things and talking to her friends, she’d let herself get a little attached. Given time and experience she would eventually learn to distance herself and not let her emotions get in the way.
Pausing by her desk and dropping down to her level, he spoke in a low voice. ‘You know, Rebecca, it was inevitable that we were gonna find her. If it makes it any easier, the pathologist said she was dead before he started cutting her up. He killed her with a blow to the head, so she wouldn’t have known anything.’
Angell glanced up at him, a look of surprise on her face, and he immediately narrowed his eyes defensively. ‘What?’
‘You were being nice,’ she said, a smile playing on her lips. ‘I’m sorry, Hickok, it’s just I’ve never seen you be nice before. That’s all.’
Shaking her head and still looking faintly amused, she turned back to her work.
‘What? Of course I was being nice. I’m a nice guy. Jeez!’
Pulling a face at the back of her head, Joel got up. He saw Boaz grinning across the desk at him.
‘And what the hell are you smirking at?’
‘Nothing.’ Boaz’s grin widened. ‘I guess I’m not used to seeing your nice side either.’
Joel scowled at him, not appreciating being mocked by someone like Boaz. ‘Yeah? Well don’t get too used to it.’ He gave an irritated sigh. ‘I’m gonna go get some coffee. Why don’t you two hurry up and finish reading those files. It might be nice if we can get some kind of lead on this killer before the year is out.’
Boaz saluted him and Joel couldn’t be bothered to retort. Instead he just shook his head and walked away, wondering why he had been fool enough to make an effort in the first place. Max followed him over to the vending machine, a sly look on his face. He nudged Joel.
‘So, buddy. What was all that about?’
‘What was all what about?’
‘You and Angell?’ Max gave a toothy grin. ‘Is there something going on between you two that I should know about?’
Joel narrowed his eyes. ‘No,’ he answered sharply.
‘No there isn’t or no you don’t want me to know?’
‘Both.’
Max nodded, his grin spreading. ‘Well, I had to ask. First you’re being all secretive about how you got that bruise and now you’re checking up on her to make sure she’s okay. Let me guess. You came on to her and she socked you one?’
‘What? Don’t be an idiot.’
‘Okay.’ Max nudged him again. ‘But you like her, right?’
‘No, I don’t like her,’ Joel snapped, wishing the subject would drop. ‘I was just trying to be nice. Jesus! Why does everybody have such a problem with that?’
Max shook his head innocently, though his grin remained intact.
‘Who said anything about a problem? I don’t have a problem. No problem at all.’
Rebecca watched Hickok and Sutton talking and wondered what it was that shocked her the most: Emma Keeley’s body being found or Joel Hickok being nice to her? He had even called her by her Christian name. Maybe he’d gone out and gotten himself a personality transplant since she’d last seen him. Either that or he’d been taken over by some alien life form. Thinking of the film Invasion of the Body Snatchers, she smiled. Then immediately felt guilty. Emma Keeley had been found mutilated and dead and here she was, thinking up jokes. Vic’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘What’s up with you?’ he questioned, eyes narrowed and studying her carefully.
‘Nothing.’ Rebecca pulled a face. ‘I was just thinking about Emma Keeley and what happened to her. Stupid, huh?’
Vic shrugged his shoulders. ‘No. You’re a woman. No one is expecting you to handle it well.’
‘Excuse me?’ Rebecca snapped angrily, not sure if she had heard the Neanderthal right. ‘This has nothing to do with being a woman. I’m being human for God’s sake. What the hell is up with you, Vic? Don’t you have any feelings?’
‘Of course I do,’ Vic snapped, his face reddening with anger.
‘Then how come this doesn’t seem to bother you? How come you and Hickok and Sutton can all just carry on as though nothing has happened?’
‘You get used to it.’
‘Really? You get used to it, do you?’ Rebecca scorned. ‘Well, you know what, Vic. I don’t know if I want to get used to it, seeing people die.’
Vic leaned across the desk, his thick brows knitting together in a scowl. ‘Yeah? Well get over it, sweetheart,’ he said in a low gruff voice. ‘You’re gonna see some real bad shit out there, so you’d better learn to deal with it. I need a partner I can count on, and right now I’m not sure if you’re up to the job. Cut your emotional ties now or pack your bags and get the hell back to Swallow River.’
‘Swallow Falls,’ Rebecca corrected, biting down on the surge of anger she could feel rising inside of her. How dare Vic Boaz lecture her about how she should feel and what kind of cop she should be?
Nobody got away with speaking to her the way he just had and if she hadn’t wanted to hold on to her job so badly, she would have punched him right now, regardless of the fact he had about six inches on her and probably outweighed her by close to seventy pounds.
‘Swallow Falls,’ Vic repeated with a grin. ‘Whatever. One hick town is the same as any other.’ He leaned back in his chair and crossing his arms looked her square in the face. ‘So what’s it gonna be then, hick girl? You gonna bail on us?’
Rebecca gave him a thunderous look. Beneath the desk she clenched her fists together, wishing more than anything she could wipe the smirk off his face.
‘No, I’m not gonna bail,’ she said tightly, forcing her own sarcastic smile. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve still got a killer to catch.’
20
Thursday 1st May 1997
Sitting in one of two hard-back chairs in the interview room, Lawrence Parker shifted to a comfortable position and stared icily across the table at Joel Hickok. Joel returned the stare, glaring into Parker’s black eyes. Devil Eyes.
‘I hope this is important. I’m missing classes.’
‘It’s important.’
‘Am I under arrest?’
‘No. Don’t think about leaving until I’m done though. I can easily get a warrant to bring you back. We’ll also want to take your prints before you leave.’
‘Really? So you think I’ve committed a crime?’
‘Have you?’
‘Not that I was aware of. Though, come to think of it, there was that red light I ran a couple of weeks back.’
‘You’re not here because of a red light, we both know that.’
‘I’m intrigued then. Tell me more.’
‘How well did you know Emma Keeley?’
‘As well as I know any of my students.’
‘And how well is that?’
‘I tutor them in English, Agent Hickok. You may be familiar with the subject?’
‘Is that the only subject you tutor them in?’
‘Yes.’
‘Any of your students ever need extra classes?’
‘No.’
‘So Emma Keeley didn’t need extra classes?’
‘Emma was top of her class. She had a bright future ahead of her.’
‘Not anymore.’
‘No, not anymore.’
‘How about socialising? You ever socialise with your students, Lawrence? You mind if I call you Lawrence? Mr Parker seems a little formal.’
‘It’s Lawrie, and no, I don’t socialise with my students.’
‘Why’s that then, Lawrie? Have you got a hang-up on the old student–teacher thing?’
‘Hardly… I’m married.’
‘Oh, that’s right, you’re married. Your wife’s a student, isn’t she? Guess you’re not bothered by the student–teacher thing after all.’
‘I don’t tutor Kylan, she has other classes.’
‘You tutored Emma Keeley, though, didn’t you?’
‘Twice a week.’
‘What did you think of Emma? Did you think she was pretty?’
‘What’s your point, Agent Hickok?’
‘My point is trying to establish who killed Emma Keeley.’
‘You think I killed her?’
‘Did you?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I didn’t.’
‘So you didn’t kill her, didn’t have intimate relations with her, in fact, you didn’t do anything except tutor her in English twice a week?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘Why do I have a problem believing that?’
‘I wouldn’t know, Agent Hickok. It seems to me that you have quite a few problems.’
‘What, are you a psychologist now as well as an English professor?’
‘No… just a guy trying to do his job. A job, incidentally, that you’re keeping me from doing.’
‘Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to bear with me because we still have a lot of ground to cover.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as, if you weren’t having an intimate relationship with Emma Keeley, why was she sending you notes?’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. Notes, letters… saying she had to see you.’
Silence.
‘You do know the notes I’m talking about, don’t you, Lawrie?’
‘How do you know?’
‘I work for the government. I know everything, and anything I don’t, I make it my business to find out.’
‘You’ve been snooping through my things?’
‘I wouldn’t say that. You’re a difficult man to get to know, Lawrie. You have too many secrets. I had to be resourceful.’
‘You didn’t have a warrant. You broke the law, Agent Hickok.’
‘Cut the crap, Lawrie. Emma Keeley is dead, and you know more about what happened to her than you’re letting on.’
‘I don’t know anything about her death. I told you that already and I promise you I was telling the truth.’
‘You were seeing her.’
‘I’m married.’
‘So? You think married men don’t screw around?’
‘I love my wife.’
‘That’s what they all say.’
‘I’m telling you… nothing happened between me and Emma Keeley.’
‘So why was she sending you notes? Crush on the teacher?’
‘Emma had problems. I was just trying to help her sort them out.’
‘What kind of problems?’
‘She’d been seeing a guy who worked in the city. An older guy.’
‘And?’
‘And things turned sour.’
‘Go on.’
‘He was a lawyer, rich and…’
‘And he was married.’
‘How did you know?’
‘They always are.’
‘Emma broke off the relationship, but the guy kept calling her, asking to see her.’
‘So what, she turned to you?’
‘She needed someone to talk to.’
‘I see… and you were her knight in shining armour?’
‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘Sure.’
‘Like I said, she just needed someone to talk to.’
‘Did your wife know about her?’
‘There was nothing to know.’
‘I take it that means no?’
‘My relationship with Emma was purely platonic.’
‘And what about Emma’s relationship with you?’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Did Emma view you strictly as a friend?’
‘She was going through a difficult time.’
‘A difficult time where she was perhaps becoming confused about her friendship with you?’
‘Nothing happened.’
‘But she would have liked it to?’
‘She just wasn’t thinking straight at the time.’
‘She made a play for you?’
‘I told her I wasn’t interested. Nothing happened.’
‘Was that why she was sending you notes?’
‘She wanted to meet up.’
‘And did you meet up?’
‘No, I never saw her again.’
Joel Hickok tried to read into the black eyes. Was he telling the truth?
He flipped the page of his notepad over, glanced briefly at what he had written down then he locked eyes with Lawrie Parker again and asked, ‘How well did you know Rufus Lind?’
Rebecca didn’t leave work until late Thursday night, staying until all of the files on the original victims had been thoroughly reread. She had spent the latter part of her afternoon trudging around in the sewer with Vic, Sutton and a few of the other officers after a call had come in from the college reporting a female student missing since Saturday night. Within an hour they had recovered two bodies, both within a hundred feet of one another, both naked and carved, and both serving as a stark reminder that the killer was starting to strike with increasing regularity. If they didn’t catch him soon it was inevitable that several more students were likely to lose their lives.
Vic hadn’t shared her enthusiasm for working late and had long gone, claiming to have arranged a date with Jill, and although Hickok and Sutton were both still there, they had spent much of the evening in the office that Krigg had provided for them, locked in discussions and talking on the phone.
There were now only the files on Boone himself left to be reread and those she and Vic had on their desks ready to tackle the following morning. Although they hadn’t found any leads in the files on the victims so far, Rebecca was convinced they were missing something.
As she drove home, she mulled over what she had read. Danielle Adams: Popular student. Strangled.
Patrick Bell: Surfer. Strangled.
Lydia Chapman: Grade A student. Suffocated.
Jonah Devlin: Popular student. Strangled.
Erika Estes: Cheerleader. Strangled.
Willard Frey: Footballer. Strangled.
Pamela Gilcrest: On the Student Committee. Suffocated.
Marcus Hyde: Editor of the college paper. Strangled.
They had all been popular or prominent figures around the campus and they had all been killed by methods of asphyxia and in alphabetical order.
There had to be something that they had missed.
Marcus Hyde had been Boone’s last victim before he had disappeared. At least, the last victim who had died.
Maybe that was it. Perhaps it wasn’t the eight dead victims they should be looking at, but instead the one survivor.
Victim I.
21
Juniper, Oregon. September 1988 – July 1989
The first semester of college had turned out to be a much more pleasant experience than she had dared hope.
That last week of summer, the one week she had never wanted to end, had finished all too quickly, and then she had been left with only a handful of good memories and a sickly feeling of fear about the future. Fear about leaving home for the first time, fear about whether or not the long-distance relationship with her boyfriend, Michael, would work, and fear about fitting into her new life.
Those fears had been mostly unfounded.
Leaving home had at first been difficult. Those first few days had been strange, waking up in a strange bed in an unfamiliar room, knowing that she would be eating breakfast with a group of strangers, sitting on plastic chairs around a plastic table in a large echoing cafeteria, instead of with her family in the comfortable surroundings of her own home.
Her roomie, an energetic blonde named Miranda Ingram, proved to be a lot of fun and was also very popular with the other students, which meant Jennifer had no problem making new friends. Miranda also seemed to know all of the best places to go in town and was constantly finding new things for them to do, which didn’t leave much time for being homesick.
The only thing that hadn’t worked out was Michael.
At first she had tried to keep the relationship going, mainly wanting to keep a part of the past with her, but he hadn’t been good at writing and, in time, she had come to realise that he wasn’t that important to her. He had, like many other things, become a memory. A nice memory, but nothing more.
There were other guys on campus that held her attention now and, whilst she had no intention of playing the field, it was fun to copy Miranda and flirt a little.
In fact, she had copied Miranda in more ways than one, all at her roommate’s request. Hip clothes, more make-up, her long brown hair cut into a shorter, more fashionable style. Miranda smoked and drank and partied all night, and her influence didn’t take long to rub off. Soon the old Jennifer Isaac, with her plain looks and demure personality, had gone, and a new, more confident, brash and flippant model had appeared in her place.
When she had returned home for Thanksgiving, her family had all noticed the change. Her father didn’t approve. He didn’t say anything, but she could tell from the way he kept looking at her clothes and from the odd comments that he made. Her mother, on the other hand, just seemed pleased that her little Jennifer had fitted in so well.
