Beautiful Maids All in a Row (12 page)

I counted three police cars, two black sedans, and a gray van with
State Police
imprinted on it in front of Audrey Burke's upper-class, perfectly manicured white split-level house. Uniformed policemen walked in and out of the house carrying boxes containing the life of Audrey Burke to the State Police HQ in Richmond. Later, when we got our federal warrant to take over the case, they'd be moved to the Richmond field office where
our
experts, including yours truly, would sift through them, looking for anything that might help us understand why this happened to this woman.

It was a nice neighborhood, one of the better ones in the Richmond area. It was a quiet community where none of the slime from the inner city ever got past the BMWs and Mercedes that sat in every driveway. Neighbors awoken by all the commotion stood outside the house in their designer robes and slippers, trying to get a peek of the circus. This was going to keep them talking for ages.

We parked down the street. I was the first out, followed by Luke and Clarkson. We'd left the rest of the men at the office building to help the techs. The fewer of us there, the less intimidating we'd be to Audrey's already shaken family. Clarkson, I found out, was the only one on the team with kids, so he was allowed to come, his elfish face lighting up when Luke chose him over the other men.

We walked down the street past all the neighbors, who eyed us and murmured among themselves. “I'm surprised the press isn't here yet,” I said to Luke.

“They're on their way. We just released her name and picture fifteen minutes ago. Enjoy the calm while it lasts.”

Inside the house, uniformed state police seemed out of place in this tranquil setting. I first noticed the light smell of lavender, sweet and stringent. I used to light lavender candles after a hard day at the office. I wasn't surprised that that's what Audrey's house smelled like. Raising two kids and having a thriving orthodontic practice could stress anyone out. The nanny must have lit the candles right after the call from Audrey, because they were burnt to the wick. They didn't even have the heart to blow them out. Probably were still hoping she'd walk back in that door. Hope springs eternal.

We pushed past a few county police officers walking down the small staircase with more boxes. I had hoped I could get to the bedroom before it was entirely stripped. I liked to see how the clothes were organized and if the bed was made or if everything was just tossed about higgledy-piggledy, as Grandma always said. In my experience interviewing serial murders, the woman who had to have everything in her life in order usually broke faster. Those were the women who kept everything organized to avoid stress and not overly complicate their lives. Everything had a place, a function, and a reason to be. When the structure collapsed, they didn't know how to act, so they broke down. A new, horrific element introducing himself into their lives broke the structure they had built for themselves. The messier people liked chaos—they went with the flow. Not to say they wouldn't break under enormous stress, but it happened a lot slower. They could adapt more easily to new situations. I belonged to the latter category, as the state of my closet could attest. It had driven my neat-freak husband nuts. I hoped Audrey fit into my category but judging from this immaculate house, I was guessing not.

Luke sent Clarkson off to oversee the collecting, then we walked to the living room. The top of the stairs looked onto this room, where Audrey's family had gathered. Kevin Burke, DDS, was sandwiched between his two children on the blue-and-white striped couch. He looked about fifty, with graying black hair and fine lines all over his face. The girl, Tiffany, had her head on her father's shoulder and was crying softly. She had her father's black hair, cut just below her ears, making her face appear round as a ball. Her ebony eyes seemed distant, almost dead. Her father stroked her hair as he whispered into her ear that everything would be all right and other believable lies. The boy, Andrew, was asleep, with his father's chest serving as a pillow. The boy had his mother's light brown hair and sharp nose. His thumb moved in and out of his mouth in sleep. I was sure Audrey, as an orthodontist, discouraged this behavior, but he needed to indulge in it now.

Sitting in the chair next to the couch was a young woman, early twenties, with a nose ring and hay-colored hair cropped short. She clung to her leather jacket like it was the last safe haven. She looked across the room at the massive bookcase in a daze. She must have been the nanny, the last one to talk to Audrey.

The plainclothes officer sitting on the glass coffee table asked Kevin Burke a question that I couldn't hear. As Luke and I walked closer, I could see the officer's badge. State Police. Kevin and Tiffany both glanced up as Luke and I approached, which caused the officer to turn and look at us too. As he stood up, Luke pulled out his badge. We met each other halfway.

“Special Agent Luke Hudson, FBI. This is Dr. Iris Ballard, our consulting forensic psychologist.”

“GID Special Agent Robert Mortimer, Virginia State Police. I wasn't expecting y'all so soon.”

“No time to waste,” Luke said. “Have you got anything from them?”

“Nobody saw anything, nobody remembers anything.”

“Mind if I give it a go?” I asked.

“Be my guest,” Mortimer said.

Kevin and Tiffany watched me bridge the gap to the couch. I gave a little reassuring smile as I sat on the coffee table facing them. I turned to the nanny as well and smiled. She weakly smiled back.

“My name's Dr. Iris Ballard. I'm a psychologist with the FBI.”

“FBI?” a horrified Burke asked. “The FBI is involved?”

“I'd rather not discuss it here,” I said, eyeing a frightened Tiffany.

She looked up at her father, eyes as wide as his. “Daddy?”

Almost as fast as the fear came, it went away. “It's nothing, sweetie,” he reassured her. She seemed to take his word for it and lay back down. “I don't really know anything that can help you. I haven't spoken to Audrey in over a week. I got a call from Tammy,” he said, turning to the nanny, “around midnight, saying Audrey hadn't come home or called. I just told her to call the police and came right over.”

“You two are divorced?” I asked.

His face squished up like he'd just tasted something bitter. Must not be over it. “For about a year now. We just grew apart.”

“How often do you see the children?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, annoyed.

“Please,” I insisted. “It's not a comment on your parenting skills. I just need to know.”

He sat back in the sofa, taking the children with him. “Not as much as I'd like. I get every other weekend.”

I turned to Tammy. “You called 911?” I asked her.

“Yeah. Well, first I called Audrey's cell a few times, but it went straight to voicemail.”

“Is that normal?”

“No, she always has it turned on. That's why I got worried.”

“What time did she call?”

Tammy pulled her jacket in closer like a blanket. Poor kid. “Eight thirty. My show had just ended; that's how I know. She asked if the kids were asleep, and said she'd be home in twenty minutes.”

“That's all?”

“Yeah. At first I thought she had car trouble, so I called her and got voicemail. Then I thought maybe she went for a drive, or stopped by the grocery store and lost track of time. But then it was midnight, so I called Dr. Burke.”

“Does she normally work so late?”

“Sometimes. She and her partner alternate late days. It was her turn.”

“In the past three days, how many times did she stay late?”

“Counting tonight, two.”

I decided to switch gears. “How many hours a week do you work?”

“Between twenty-one and twenty-four. I go to college full time. The nights she comes home early she gets home about six. I pick up Tiffany at school and Andy at preschool at three, after my Lit class.”

“What do you do after you pick them up?”

“We come home, I fix them a snack, we do homework, I make dinner, and I put them to bed. That's it.”

“Do you ever take them to the park or anything?”

“Sometimes, but it's been too hot lately.”

“Do you know if Audrey did?”

She shook her head. “I don't think so. On Mondays I ask the kids what they did over the weekend; they haven't mentioned the park in a month.”

“Is Audrey seeing anyone that you know of?” I asked.

“No, nobody. She just goes to work and comes home. She told me she spends most of her weekend reading.”

“Have you seen anything out of the ordinary, especially in the past three or four days? People, cars, packages, anything?”

“No, nothing,” she replied.

“No strange cars parked across the street? Maybe an SUV or van?”

“This is a residential area—cars are parked on the street all the time.”

I sighed. She didn't know anything. Tammy had had enough for the night. I turned back to Burke, who had been listening intently to our every word. “I'm terribly sorry, but could you wake up your son?” I asked.

“Why?” Burke asked.

“Well, the man who may have your ex-wife,” I said delicately, “may have approached your son.”

Burke instinctively wrapped his free arm around his son, pulling the boy close to his chest. “Oh, my God!” he said breathlessly. “He wants my son too?”

“No,” I assured him. “I just need to ask.”

Burke shook his head and said, “Okay.” He removed his arm from around his daughter and gently nudged his son out of his slumber. “Andy, wake up.”

The boy slowly opened his eyes, still half asleep. He took the thumb out of his mouth. “Mommy?” he asked in a small voice.

“No, slugger, Mommy's not here,” Burke answered.

Andy sat up and rubbed his eyes. He scanned the room, and then stopped when he saw the uniformed policemen carrying boxes. “Are we moving again?” he asked, frightened at the prospect.

“No, they're just taking some of Mommy's things away to help find her,” Burke explained. He looked up at me and pointed. “This is Dr. Ballard. She wants to ask you a couple questions, okay?”

“Okay.”

I smiled as sweetly as I could. “Hi, Andy. Just a couple, then you can go back to sleep.” I paused, figuring out how to phrase it so a five-year-old could understand. “I know you're not supposed to talk to strangers, right?”

He shook his head no vigorously.

“I need you to tell me the truth. Nobody's going to get mad at you unless you lie, okay?”

“Okay,” he answered, eyes filled with worry.

“Has a man, about your daddy's age, come up to you and tried to talk to you or give you something? Maybe at school or in a store?”

I tried to meet the boy's eyes, but they bounced all over the room to avoid my gaze.

Burke looked down at his son. “Answer her, Andy.”

His gaze stopped on the carpet. “I'm not 'apposed to tell,” he whined. “I promised.”

My heart caught in my chest, and from the looks on Luke and Mortimer's faces when I turned around, I was not alone. Luke and I exchanged a knowing look as a small smile crossed his face. Our man had made a fatal mistake. He left a living witness, one who could ID him in a lineup. I turned back to Burke, whose jaw had tightened, almost as if he'd read our minds.

I looked back down at the little boy. “Andy, it's really important that you tell us. It's okay to break a promise if that promise hurts someone else.” Andy kept his tiny mouth shut.

“Andy, tell her!” his father demanded.

The boy's thumb went back inside his mouth.
Crap.
I scooted closer to the frightened boy, to the very edge of the table. I lowered my torso so I could meet his eyes. “Nobody is mad at you,” I told him in a whisper. “It's good you keep promises. You'd make your mommy very proud. But it is
so
important you tell me about this man. Could you please do that for me? Huh?” When his pruned thumb popped out, I smiled at him. “Where did he come up to you? At school?”

“I was on the playground at school.”

“Jesus Christ,” Burke said under his breath. “That fucking school! I should have—”

“Dr. Burke,” Luke cut in, “please let him finish.”

I met Andy's scared eyes again. “When did he come up to you, Andy?”

“Yesterday.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was in the sandbox, digging a moat.”

“Where was he?”

“Other side of the fence. He knew my name!”

Of course he did; he was stalking your mother.
“Did he have an accent?”

“I don't know.”

“Okay, did he sound like Harry Potter or…Foghorn Leghorn?” Andy shook his head no. “So, you were in the sandbox playing, and then what happened?”

“He said ‘Andy' and I saw him. I went to the fence and he said he knew Mommy.”

“What else did he say?”

The boy thought for a second. “He asked me if I liked school. I said I didn't. Joey teases me.”

I smiled. “Did he say anything else?”

“He said if I study hard I can do anything and that school was important.”

“Was that it?”

“No. He said I was a good boy, and I make Mommy proud. Then Miss Lilly rang the bell to go in, and I said I had to go back in. He said not to say I talked to him or Mommy would be mad. He made me promise.” He looked up at his father. “Is Mommy gonna be mad?”

“No,” he whispered as he kissed his son's head. The man was on the verge of tears, no doubt scared shitless.

“Did you see his car?” I asked.

He shook his head and his shaggy brown hair swished around.

“What did the man look like?” Mortimer asked.

“I don't know,” the boy responded in a small voice.