The touch of murder, p.29
The Touch of Murder, page 29
It turned out to be peanut butter and the man was convicted.
This wasn’t as cut and dry a scenario, but it still had an odor of deception to it even if Veronica couldn’t smell any gasoline. But despite her strong desire to continue this line of questioning, the expression on the doctor’s face suggested that they were getting close to the end of the road.
“Fine,” Veronica conceded sharply. In truth, David’s physical transformation didn’t interest her as much as the mental. “Even if that’s true—even if this tumor is making him change—it wouldn’t make him kill.”
Dr. Kincaid cocked his head.
“You see here how there’s no space between the brain and the skull?” He pointed at one of the images. It did appear as if the brain was pressing right up against the bone. “This is not normal—it’s caused by something called pseudotumor cerebri. It’s a condition where there’s swelling in the brain, likely a result of the sudden rush of fluid when David lies down. It’s known to cause everything from visual to auditory hallucinations, to sweating, to delusions. And based on the sheer volume of fluid that is required to move to his face to cause these incredible physical changes, I would imagine that David might experience any and all of these sequelae—uhh, side-effects. And to a fantastic degree. So, Detective Shade, if you’re asking me if, hypothetically, this tumor and brain swelling can alter someone’s behavior, can turn a non-violent person into someone incredibly violent? Then, yes, I believe that is possible.”
“No,” Veronica snapped. “Brain swelling didn’t make him do this. He’s a fucking killer. A murderer.”
The way Dr. Kincaid looked at her now suggested that he knew Veronica’s medical history. Maybe he did, maybe he was a closet Marlowe fan and upon seeing her interview he did a little background research, or maybe Veronica was just projecting.
As fantastical as Dr. Kinkaid’s explanation sounded, she couldn’t help but think of her own story. How trauma had messed with her brain, causing her to see, smell, and hear things that simply didn’t exist. Things that, at one time, she believed to be true, and that even today she trusted more than her real senses. It would also explain why David’s denial of involvement hadn’t triggered her synesthesia. If what Dr. Kinkaid said was accurate, what were the chances David would even remember what had happened once his brain returned to ‘normal’?
But why pull their lungs out? Why write sinner with their blood? Why target people from the church at all?
Veronica conjured an image of the drawing Max Taylor had made of his mother on the funeral card ascending to heaven like an angel.
Did LeeAnn’s death and funeral influence David somehow?
“We’re going to have to do many more tests to be sure,” Dr. Kincaid said. “Like I said, I’ve never seen anything so dramatic or transient before but it’s the best explanation we can come up with right now.”
“But it’s possible?” Veronica said under her breath.
“Yeah, it’s possible.”
Veronica’s question had been rhetorical.
If it was possible for someone to savagely murder three people and not remember any of it, then it followed that it was also possible to chop someone’s finger off or try to poison them with bleach.
Even if these people were your mother and father.
“Fuck.”
“I’ll keep you posted. I need to see another patient.”
As Dr. Kinkaid walked away, Veronica looked at David Taylor again.
Just because something was possible, didn’t make it true.
Did it?
Once a killer, always a killer…?
Chapter 65
Veronica was still staring at David when someone approached her from behind.
“Detective Shade?”
She turned and her brow immediately crinkled.
“What are you doing here?”
“Managed to sneak in,” Officer Court Furnelli said. “Captain’s outside talking to the media, less security now.”
Veronica looked skyward.
“Of course, he is.”
“I just wanted to let you know that I was digging into Sylvia Decker, and I think I found something.”
Veronica stared at Court for several seconds before saying, “Have you even gone home?”
The young officer was taken aback by the question.
“Y-yeah, I showered and got a little catnap in.”
There was something odd about Court, something that was just a little off. Not in a bad way, but it made the man difficult to read.
Veronica sniffed the air. No gas, but she still thought that he was being deceptive in some way.
Or maybe she was just running on fumes.
“Sorry—Sylvia Decker?” The name was familiar, but Veronica couldn’t place it.
“Yeah, Aaron Decker’s wife who was sleeping with Bobby Harvey? The man who killed Aaron?”
“Of course, did you find her?”
“Unfortunately not, but I gained access to her bank records. Bobby’s, too. About a week ago, Bobby took out forty-five hundred bucks—every cent he had. Two days later, Sylvia did the same.”
Veronica frowned.
“Shit. She did plan this. She planned this and got Bobby to do her dirty work. Played him and played Aaron, took off with both their cash.”
Court licked his lips and nodded.
“Sure looks that way. I gave her name and photograph to all bus terminals, airports, and car companies in the city. Hopefully, someone will recognize her and call it in.”
“Hopefully.”
But doubtfully.
No one who planned something like this was dumb enough to use their own ID to get on a plane. Chances were, Sylvia Decker had a new identity and was probably in another country. Perhaps she’d fled to Vancouver or gone south to Mexico.
They’d never find her again.
Veronica sighed.
“Good work.”
“Thanks.”
Unlike Court, Veronica hadn’t gone home yet. When she looked down at herself, she saw that her shirt had sweat stains on it and her shoes were dirty from all the walking she’d done in Needle Point.
“No, I should be thanking you,” Veronica said softly.
Court raised a dark eyebrow.
“For what?”
She didn’t want to say it but thought she had to.
“When you hit me on the arm—”
“You had everything under control,” Court assured her.
That was true.
“Yeah, but you hit my arm and if you hadn’t, I would have—”
Court reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Normally, a gesture like this would feel patronizing and annoy Veronica but for some reason, coming from Court, it didn’t.
It felt kind.
And it did actually comfort her.
“You incapacitated him.” The way Court said this left little room for argument.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
She squeezed Court’s hand.
“Think you can take over for me here?”
Court cast a glance over her shoulder and into David’s hospital room.
“Of course, go get some rest.”
Again, no room for argument, but this time, Veronica wouldn’t even consider it.
***
There was a car parked at the curb in front of her house, and Veronica’s first thought was that it was Cole’s. And when she saw a person sitting on her front stoop, she thought it was him, too. But as she got closer, and as dawn’s early light cracked open and revealed its golden yolk, she saw that it wasn’t Cole.
It was Steve.
He must’ve been dozing in a seated position because when she came near, he startled and then immediately got to his feet.
“Steve? What are you doing here? I thought you were in the hospital?”
“They let me go. Veronica, I’m sorry. I’m so damn—”
Veronica didn’t wait for the man to finish.
She rushed to the sheriff, opened her arms, grabbed him, hugged him, and then kissed him hard on the lips. Steve wrapped his hand around her waist and kissed her back. With their lips still locked, Veronica reached and tried to open the door. It was locked, and she fumbled with her keys, dropping them to the ground.
Steve pulled away just long enough to pick them up and hand them back to her. Then she kissed him again. Once inside, they kissed all the way up the stairs. It was as if they both feared separating their lips for just one moment would cause an impassable chasm to form between them.
By the time they made it to the loft bedroom, Veronica’s shirt was off, her breasts bare, and he was shuffling with his pants at his ankles. With a sigh, Steve lowered her onto the bed, and then he was yanking at her pants, pulling them down to her ankles while wriggling out of his boxers. When he entered her, she moaned and threw her head back. Their love was fast and feverish, more passionate than romantic, and while it didn’t last long, something happened to her that hadn’t happened for a long while.
Veronica found herself not thinking about Dante or Benny or Gloria or David or Max or Beverly or Peter or Cole or Jane or Freddie or anyone.
She thought of nothing.
Nothing at all.
Her mind was clear.
When it was over, she slept.
That night, no bear chased either Steve or Veronica.
Chapter 66
Unlike Veronica, Steve had had plenty of sleep over the last few days. Too much, in fact. Which was why, after their frenzied lovemaking, when he shut his eyes, his sleep—dreamless as it was—lasted only a few hours.
He made sure not to disturb Veronica when he woke. Things had gone far better than Steve could have ever hoped. Exceptionally well, unbelievably well.
But he also knew what Veronica had been through and didn’t want to push his luck. Sitting in a hospital bed recovering from a fentanyl overdose and enduring opioid withdrawal had given him a lot of time to think.
And a lot of time to stay apprised of Veronica’s case.
Not to interfere—no, she had shown time and time again that she was more than capable—but to help her if she asked for it.
Steve wondered if the strange cases, the bizarre, deadly ones found Veronica or if it was the other way around.
There was no way of telling.
But it took a toll on her, that was for certain.
Steve gently stroked Veronica’s cheek, wondering how he’d fucked up so badly. She wasn’t perfect, wasn’t even perfect for him, but she was different, and she was special. And he had nearly let that slip away.
What the fuck happened?
But Steve knew what had happened.
On the advice of his doctor, he’d taken some pain meds. Fast forward six months and he was a full-blown heroin addict. It seemed impossible, but he knew that his situation wasn’t unique.
Steve exhaled and for some reason, he started speaking.
And once the words started to come out of his mouth, soft as they were, he found himself as capable of stopping as quitting heroin cold turkey.
“We were having problems, my wife and me. I won’t deny that. We still loved each other, but we were fighting more. I was working long hours as a trooper. Long hours. And let me tell you, working long hours is one thing… working long hours with Phil Crouch? That’s a different beast entirely. And this case… this case was killing me. Missing girls. Lots of them, and we were getting nowhere. Anyway, what made it worse is that, for some reason, Julia likes Phil. I could never understand why because I can’t stand him. Every time I would come home after a long day, she’d invite him inside for a drink or a bite to eat. After he’d leave, I’d ask her politely not to do it again, to give me a break, but she insisted. One day, I came home after a fourteen-hour shift during which we discovered the body of a thirteen-year-old girl and Julia invited Phil inside for a drink. I basically told them no—I just couldn’t deal with it. Both of them were pissed at me, of course. And let me tell you, neither my wife nor Phil were shy about it. But I just flat refused, went inside, grabbed myself a bottle of my favorite whiskey, and had a drink. Then I had another and another.”
Steve closed his eyes not to block out the flood of memories but to fully appreciate them. This was a happy moment despite the context.
Because this was before things went bad.
“Instead of joining me, Julia decided that if I wasn’t going to let Phil in, then she was going to the bar with him. There, she had a couple of drinks of her own, I’m guessing because when she came home two hours later, she was half in the bag. By this time, I was really drunk. We got into an argument. Nothing extraordinary, not really. I crashed on the couch that night, slept for maybe four hours when I heard a bang. To be honest, I’m surprised I even woke up, given how wasted I was. The first thing I did was call out my wife’s name. When she moaned, I went upstairs and found her in the bathroom. Julia didn’t remember what happened, but I think she slipped—that’s my best guess. Slipped and cracked her head on the ceramic sink. Split her open pretty good. I called an ambulance, and they came to pick her up. Despite all the blood, it didn’t end up being that serious—just a few stitches and some aspirin.
“The real problem started when Phil showed up next. He wasn’t supposed to be there. But you know how it is—a woman bleeding and her husband is drunk? Someone’s going to do an investigation. As they should. But Phil? My partner? How the fuck is that not a conflict of interest? I’m not sure how he arranged it, probably just annoyed someone until they just agreed to get rid of him. And even though Julia never claimed I was violent to her, Phil thought differently.”
Steve’s tone had increased a little, and Veronica stirred. He waited for her to calm down before continuing.
“He thought I did something to her. The guy that I had been partnered up with for the better part of a year thought I actually hurt my wife. Ridiculous. But you’ve met Phil, V—sorry, Veronica. He’s a different sort of man. I don’t know if it was because of the fall, or because I wouldn’t let Phil in that night, or maybe they were sleeping together, but things broke down between me and Julia. I moved out shortly thereafter. Not that it made a big difference, I was so deep into the case of the missing children that I was barely home anyways. And when I was, I was drinking a lot.
“But the thing is, I was still teamed up with Phil. Unbelievable. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable that was. I tried to keep personal feelings out of things for the sake of the investigation but that proved almost impossible. And this case…”
Steve sighed. This part, he didn’t want to remember.
“Three days after I moved out, I went back to get some things. During the day, of course, knowing that Julia wouldn’t be there.”
Steve could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck. He also felt the subtle tingling in his hands and an itchiness on the inside of his arm.
No, he told himself. You’re done with that. Never again.
“There was blood everywhere, Veronica. A trail of it leading from just inside the door all the way to the kitchen. There it pooled, and in that pool was a knife. I don’t know what I was thinking. Truthfully, I wasn’t. I was running on empty, and I was scared. I shouted her name as I picked up the knife. Next thing I know, Phil appears out of nowhere—he’s inside the house and I’m fucking standing there holding a knife, blood on my hands. He rushes at me, grabs me by the throat, and demands I tell him what I did to Julia. I couldn’t because I hadn’t done anything. Phil roughed me up pretty good. Maybe he would have killed me, I don’t know. But more cops came and then CSU. The blood was hers and while nobody could say for sure that she was dead, I just knew it. There was just—” Steve’s voice hitched. “—so much blood.”
Tears distorted his vision, and he closed his eyes again.
“I looked for her, though, did everything I could to find her. But Phil… all Phil wanted to do was catch me in a lie, a slip-up. He was convinced I’d hurt her. Killed her. But I wouldn’t—I would never. Eventually, after three months, it was just too much for everyone—the stress, the pressure. The department was being slaughtered in the media. They couldn’t find Julia and the longer I stuck around, the more the pressure to do something increased. I didn’t want to leave, but with Phil running his mouth all the fucking time, I knew that eventually, this would come down on me. They wanted to ship me somewhere far, somewhere out of state, but I refused, just in case Julia came back. I held out and then the Bear County sheriff position was vacated and while I wasn’t exactly promised it, they gave me a platform to run on and inroads with a bunch of wealthy donors. I broke, and I took it. I just couldn’t deal with everything anymore.”
Steve wiped his face and when he looked down, he was surprised to see Veronica looking up at him. This startled him, and he pulled back, but Veronica didn’t say anything.
Her lids just slowly closed.
Steve didn’t know how much Veronica had heard, and he didn’t care. It just felt good to talk about it.
So damn good.
When he was confident that Veronica had fallen asleep again, Steve rose, dressed, and headed out to work as the Bear County sheriff.
What he didn’t know was that today was going to be his last day on the job.
Chapter 67
Veronica wasn’t surprised to find Steve gone when she woke up. Nor was she surprised to discover that it was 2:30 in the afternoon on Friday.
She felt well-rested, but she didn’t feel well. To get her mood to near-normal levels, Veronica showered and drank about a pot of hot coffee.
After feeding Lucy, who she’d basically neglected for the past two days, she thought about her night with Steve.
It had been amazing. The sex was just good, a little too hasty to be great, but being in Steve’s arms was exactly what she’d needed.
What she wanted.
A small smile on her lips, Veronica dressed and did the only thing she could think of: she went to work.
