All Good Deeds (5 page)

“Because we’re damned shorthanded right now. One detective is on maternity leave and another’s in the hospital after a heart attack. We need every available SVU detective, and that’s why I’ve got my partner and a uniform handling all interviews with Justin. He’s been told he’s a suspect because of his past.”

“Is he in custody?”

“No,” Todd said. “He’s being questioned in his home.”

“Across the street,” I reminded him. “Is he cooperating?”

The angry twitch of Todd’s mouth made it clear Justin wasn’t playing along. “Justin’s dealings with the police aren’t your concern. But you know what I find interesting?” The pace of his words matched the pulse of the angry, blue vein in his forehead. “Someone’s been following my brother. Someone with a dark, four-door vehicle. My officer said you exited out of a car matching that description. You been keeping tabs on Justin?”

I hadn’t expected that. Fortunately, I didn’t have to lie. “No, but since I’m a private investigator, I know where he lives. When I heard about Kailey, there was no way I wasn’t coming over here.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He smacked his hand against the wall. “When he was released last year, you vowed to make sure he didn’t hurt more kids. Now a dark, four-door compact car popped up at his work. And his house. And here you are.”

“Did he get a license plate number?” I challenged. “And my Prius isn’t that dark. It’s blue.”

“No. He just said it was a shade of black or dark blue.”

I wanted to tell Todd he had to be a better detective than that, but I knew that would only put me in deeper water. “But he didn’t say it was a Prius, did he? Because I’m not following your brother. You can’t honestly tell me you’re surprised I think he may have taken Kailey?”

“Goddamnit,” Todd said. “I know you mean well, but you’re pushy, and you’re not a trained law enforcement officer. And you’re just as biased as me. Despite two registered offenders in the area, Justin is your first suspect.”

“I didn’t expect you to allow anyone else to talk to Justin,” I admitted. “But if he’s not cooperating, you’re going to need a warrant. Is your partner digging deep enough for that?”

“Listen to me.” Todd’s eyes flashed. “My partner is a good cop. If he thinks Justin’s done something that justifies a warrant, he’ll push for it. We’re going to do whatever it takes to find this child. And unlike you, we aren’t honing in on one suspect and turning blinders to the rest.”

“I would hope not. But your brother is clearly–”

“Clearly a person of interest. Nothing more at this point. And frankly, I’m starting to think the same about you.”

My fingernails dug into my purse strap deeply enough to leave marks. “Excuse me?”

“You fought against Justin’s release. Fought against his not having an offender status. You’ve been trolling the neighborhood, and you’ve obviously got plenty of informational resources. Now Kailey’s disappeared. Makes me wonder.”

I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t been trolling the neighborhood, but Todd wasn’t hearing any of that. Keeping my mouth shut was probably my best strategy right now.

“You’re good with kids. And green police officers,” he said dryly. “How do I know you didn’t take the child so you could pin it on my brother?”

I started laughing and then quickly snapped my mouth shut. I didn’t need him snooping around my life, and Kailey certainly didn’t need him running down the wrong path. “Yeah, because I’m a criminal mastermind.”

“I’m going to assume you’re joking. For now. But I’m serious, Lucy. You’re way too involved, and that’s a red flag for me.”

“Noted. But I’m not going to back off.”

“Obviously.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I know you want to help. That’s the only reason I’m not arresting you.”

Todd suddenly looked drained. I felt sorry for the man, truly. But I also saw an opening. “And I appreciate it. What can I do to help?”

“That doesn’t involve railroading my brother?”

I didn’t argue the specifics. “That involves finding Kailey. I’m going to be searching whether you want me to or not. Jenna Richardson gave me permission. But things would go a lot smoother if we worked together.”

He crossed his arms, debating. I gave him the time. Finally, he sighed.

“Why don’t you join the search team tomorrow? We’re expanding the perimeter. If she’s not found tonight, we’re starting at 6:00 a.m. Now you need to leave before I really lose my temper.”

I headed for the door.

“I’m still keeping an eye out for you.”

I braced myself against the door handle. “Understood. Can you do me one favor, though?”

Todd stared. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s not really for me. The rookie outside. I sort of bullied my way past him. Give the kid a break, will ya?”

Todd grunted and bounded up the steps. Shivering and suddenly exhausted, I headed outside into the cold night air.

I
was in
no mood to cook, and I didn’t have much food at my place anyway, so I stopped at The Coffee Bar, a semi-upscale café with good coffee and sandwiches. I’d found it while following Slimy Steve. Fortunately, the food made up for my means of discovery.

The gourmet grilled cheese I’d ordered looked delicious, but I’d barely touched my favorite comfort food. When we were little, grilled cheese was the only thing my sister and I knew how to make, and it was our Saturday morning staple when our mother was too lazy to get out of bed.

This late in the evening, I was one of the few customers in the café. Steve usually came to eat around lunchtime, and I was grateful he didn’t change up his schedule and show up tonight. With the mood I was in, I might have thrown my plans out the window and stabbed him with the steak knife the waitress had given me to cut my sandwich.

A few college kids with laptops, headphones, and espresso were scattered around, but I’d snagged a corner booth with plenty of privacy. Still unable to eat, I took out a notebook and started writing down everything I knew about Kailey’s disappearance so far.

“Mind if I join you?” The voice sparked a confusing mixture of dread and anticipation. I sat rooted to the spot as Chris Hale slid into the booth across from me. With a buttoned navy pea coat and a matching scarf draped casually around his neck, he looked even more arrogantly preppy than he had last night. Five o’clock shadow accentuated his strong jawline, and his dark jeans fit his legs nicely in all the right places.

“What are you doing here? Are you following me?”

He shrugged as if the accusation were an everyday occurrence. “I was going to keep my distance, but you looked upset, so I thought I’d stop over and see if you wanted to talk.”

I gripped my pen so tightly I heard it crack. “I don’t have time for your bullshit right now. There’s a little girl missing.”

“Do you have any idea who might have taken her?”

I didn’t want to share a damned thing with him, but the urge to hash over the information beat out the boiling suspicion. “Do you know who Justin Beckett is?”

Scratching his scruffy chin, Chris nodded. “I think so. He killed a kid, right?”

“After he raped her. Released as an adult last year without sex offender status. A little girl who lives across the street from Justin disappeared on the way home from school today. She’s around the same age as the one he attacked.”

Chris blinked. His smile drooped into a twisting scowl, and the brightness in his eyes evaporated. “You’re joking.”

“I wish.”

“So you’re going to find the little girl and take care of Beckett?”

What the hell was I thinking? This crazy, possible sociopath didn’t need to know my business. “Leave me alone, please.”

“I’d like to help.”

“Despite your stalking, you don’t know anything about me. And I know even less about you, so beat it. I don’t have the time to humor your twisted fantasies.”

He settled into the booth. “Told you, I’m a paramedic for the Philly Fire Department, Field Unit 35, off Broad. My name is Christopher Alan Hale. I’m thirty-three. I live on 63
^rd
Street–”

“63
^rd
St? You live there on a paramedic’s salary?”

“Family money. You can probably verify that too. Grandpa was a doctor, Uncle’s a lawyer, Aunt’s an engineer. You get the picture.”

Lucky for him. I supposed money gave him more time to indulge his killing habits. “And you’re the average Joe with the supplemental income?”

“Trust fund, thank you.” He winked.

I said nothing more but internally flagged the information for Kelly to check. “Good for you. Now leave before I call the manager and have him throw you out.”

He laughed, his broad shoulders shaking with the movement. Tucked in the back, we probably looked like a couple trying to make up after their first real argument. He struck me as the sort of person to adapt to any situation, like the chameleon I had in college. My roommate named her Mystique. I shook my head to banish the distracting memory. In the meantime, Chris showed no signs of believing my threat.

At least I had more information on him. “What do you want with me?”

“Exactly this. An open line of communication.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why?”

“I’m intrigued. And bored. More that than anything, really.” He slung his arm across the back of the booth. “Confirm my information. Then maybe you won’t be afraid of me.”

I snorted. “I’m not afraid of you. I just don’t have time for you.”

“You’re afraid of what I might do to your operation.”
He makes it sound like I’m running some covert killing ring.
“But I think you’ll find I’m telling the truth, and then you won’t be able to resist talking to me.”

“Why?” I shouldn’t challenge him. Even if I had yet to catch him in a lie, he owned the upper hand–at least for now. But I couldn’t help pushing. My pride was wounded, and I felt completely off-kilter, bombarded with new information I didn’t know how to process. Chris wasn’t something I could categorize in black or white, and that left me with a hopeless feeling I abhorred.

“Because I’m a product of the monsters you hate so much.”

Adrenaline slashed through my veins, and I forced myself to sit still. “What are you going on about now?”

“Do you know who John Weston is?” A raw tone accompanied the words.

I thought for a moment, his question tugging at the hazy corners of my memory. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“He lived in Lancaster and murdered at least three teenaged girls in the mid-eighties. His son and wife found the fourth one barely alive.”

Sickness boiled in my stomach. “I’ve read about the case. The authorities believed there were more victims. But I didn’t know the son found the survivor.”

Chris leaned across the table, invading my space and making my heart thunder. “The boy kept hearing strange noises from the barn. Crying. He was told it was a sick horse. He was only five and believed his parents.”

My blood felt slushy and slow in my veins, and Chris’s voice sounded like an echo in a cave. I was about to hear something bad. Very bad. “So how did he manage to find them?”

“He couldn’t stand the sounds any longer. The crying kept him awake at night, gave him nightmares.” A darkness flickered through Chris’s eyes. He stared at me so intently I could barely keep from turning away. “One day he made a run to the barn, and his mother couldn’t stop him. She was afraid of his father too. They were forbidden from entering the barn, and she’d had enough beatings to know what might happen if they opened the doors.” Chris’s skin paled, his eyes jarringly still.

“Thank God he had the courage.” My heart rammed against my ribs until they ached, as if it sensed the boom was about to be lowered.

Chris leaned forward, closing the space between us. I wanted to lean back, but I couldn’t move. “The father was arrested, the mother too damaged to raise her son. The little boy was adopted by his aunt and uncle, who changed his name from Weston to Hale. He never stopped having the nightmares. And now he’s pretty sure what he saw as a kid made him a sociopath, and he’s desperate to find some sliver of humanity inside him.”

Ice rushed down my spine, invading my bones like poison. The chattering background of the other restaurant patrons faded to white noise. “Are you telling me you’re the Weston kid?” I whispered through lips that felt like tissue paper.

Chris leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “I was born Christopher Alan Weston in Lancaster on April 7, 1982. I thought you’d want to get to know me.”

I could have sworn I heard the Twilight Zone music playing. Maybe I’d actually spilled the cyanide on myself last night, and this was my purgatory. Stuck with a good-looking, traumatized maybe-sociopath wanting to play serial killer house with me.

“I have no idea why you would think–”

“Don’t you see?” Chris’s low voice seemed to boom in my ears. “My father was a pedophile, a rapist, and a killer. I witnessed at least part of it. Some days I feel nothing at all. Other days I’m so angry I can barely function.”

My head felt as if I’d been smacked with a mallet, and I didn’t know what to think at this point. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, if you’re even telling the truth, but–”

“I’m sure with your connections, you can verify it.”

“Why would I want to do that?” I couldn’t grasp what he wanted from me. I wasn’t a psychologist, couldn’t diagnose his problems, and didn’t know how to help him. I couldn’t even help myself.

“Don’t you see? I attack because of what I saw. I know
exactly
what kind of scum lives on this earth.” He gave me a sad smile. “Lucy, I get why you do the things you do. I know the anger you carry around inside, because I’ve got it too. Is there anyone else you can say that about?”

“You know nothing about me.” I instantly regretted the words. They were too close to an admission of guilt.

He leaned forward across the table, undeterred. “I think you’re curious about me, or you will be, once everything sinks in. And I think you’re lonely. Whatever your associates do to help out, they don’t know what it’s like to spill the cup. You’re the one who looks the person in the eye and reconciles ending their life. That’s got to take its toll on you, especially when you don’t believe you’re a real killer. Your head must be a very loud place.”