Dying Scream (16 page)

Gage didn’t respond. What could he say?

Travis shoved long, soot-stained fingers through his hair. “There are days when I hate my job.”

Gage held the neck of the bottle, pausing with the top close to his lips. He glanced at the picture of Adrianna. “Tell me about it.”

“Did Jessie get by the other night?”

“Yeah. Did some laundry and spent the night. Left most of the laundry behind and promised to return. Looks like she put a dent in the food in the refrigerator.”

“Good.” Travis pushed calloused fingers through his dark hair. “She’s doing okay?”

“Seems to be.” Gage took a long pull on his beer.

So did Travis.

A heavy silence hung between them. They didn’t talk about Jessie’s abduction much. But it was always there. Always weighing on the brothers.

“Do you think that she’s forgotten?” Travis said.

“I don’t think she remembers much. The drugs he gave her took care of that.” His throat felt tight with rage.

“She doesn’t seem to let it get in the way of her life.”

“I can’t say the same.”

Travis picked at the label on the beer bottle with his thumbnail. “Me, either.” He sighed. “She’s told us it’s not our fault.”

Gage shook his head. “That’s nice, but it’s shit. It’s my fault and I’ll never forgive myself.”

Craig stood in the shadows outside of the church. Though it had been warm during the day, the temperature had turned cold and he was sorry now he’d left his blazer in the truck. As much as he wanted to leave, he knew the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting was breaking up and if he left now he’d miss her.

He rubbed his chilled arms and tapped his foot on the ground. Another five minutes passed before the church doors opened and the group of six or seven men and women emerged. Four paused outside the doors and immediately lit up cigarettes. The other, a man, headed for a minivan parked in the church’s lot. The woman he waited for was one of the smokers.

She stood in the halo of light holding a cigarette to her lips. Her hands trembled slightly and her shoulders hunched forward. The last two years had been hard ones. She looked like she’d aged a decade. But then he doubted she’d ever gone that long without a drink.

He watched as she puffed on the cigarette. “Come on, bitch, wrap it up,” he sneered.

Slowly the other smokers finished and moved to their cars. One paused to ask, “Hey, Tammy, are you coming?”

Smoke puffed from her mouth in wispy rings. “Yeah. Just want to finish my smoke. I’ve half to go and don’t want to waste it.”

The other woman shrugged. She wore a T-shirt that said Smartass. “Maybe I should stick around until you’re done. It’s kind of dark.”

Tammy shook her head. “Don’t worry.”

The woman hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Jeannie.” Tammy sounded annoyed, as if she wanted a few minutes to herself. “I’ll just finish this up and go.”

The others in the group said their good-byes and drifted to their cars.

Tammy remained alone in the dark but didn’t seem to mind. He knew what she was thinking:
Good neighborhood. I can take care of myself
.

For several more minutes, she inhaled deeply on the filter tip, holding the smoke in her lungs an extra beat before she blew it out. She savored every moment. Finally, she dropped her butt to the ground and smashed it into the ground with her sneaker. Her gaze scanned the horizon before she moved to her car. He sensed she wanted to postpone leaving and returning to her mother’s small trilevel house on the south side of town.

Craig waited as Tammy slid behind the wheel of her mother’s wood-paneled station wagon and cranked the engine. It rumbled but didn’t turn over. Under the light he could see her frown and then swear. She tried again and again, pounded the wheel once, but the engine didn’t respond.

Smiling, he pulled his hand from his pocket and strolled over to her car, careful to come up from behind so that she didn’t see his approach. He knocked on her window and took pleasure from her startled expression.

“Can I help?” he said. “Looks like you’re having trouble.”

Tammy shook her head, her eyes dark with suspicion. Two years of doing time had made her wary. “Thanks, I got it.” To prove she was fine, she cranked the engine again. Nothing happened.

Craig was in no rush. She wasn’t going anywhere. He’d loosened wires in the engine. “You’re going to wear out the battery if you keep cranking. Stay in the car and pop the hood. Let me have a look.”

That seemed to ease her wariness enough to roll her window down a fraction. She unlatched the hood. He opened it, pretended to scan the interior and wiggle some of the wires and tubes. He peered around the side of the car. “I think you’ve got corroded spark plugs. Happens a lot with the older models. Might take me a minute, but I think if I clean them off and put them back the engine will fire.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” The gratitude in her gaze was palpable. She fumbled in her purse for another cigarette and lit the tip. “Are you sure you can get it started? I just bought the car and I need it to run.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. With any luck you’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” He fiddled with the engine, taking his time. He knew from the trial transcripts that the confined space of her car would soon feel restrictive. She didn’t like small spaces.

“Thanks.” Smoke trailed out the cracked window.

“How did you like the meeting tonight?”

“It was fine.”

“I’d planned to attend but had to work late. Crap like that always happens on meeting nights.”

“Yeah.”

“Almost got it.” He glanced around. “You look stressed.”

“I am.”

He returned his gaze to the engine. “When I’m stressed I dream of Fiji. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you? Where’s your dream vacation?”

“Hadn’t thought about it.”

“Come on, there must be somewhere?”

She puffed her cigarette. “Maybe Arizona. I’ve always liked the desert.”

“Good choice.”

When he heard her car door open and her footsteps move toward him, he swallowed a smile. He slipped his hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around a stun gun.

A gentle breeze didn’t diminish the acrid cigarette smoke smell. “Hey, thanks for doing this.”

He started to lift the Taser from his pocket when he heard someone else come out of the church. He stopped, smiled. “No problem.”

“My name is Tammy,” she said, offering a trembling hand.

He accepted her cold hand. “Nice to meet you, Tammy. I’m Bill.”

“How long have you been coming to the meetings?”

“About a year. I haven’t seen you before.”

“It’s my first time.”

“You’ll like it. Good group of folks.”

Behind her he saw the church maintenance man move toward his white truck. Craig tilted his head to the side so shadows obscured his face. His palms sweated as the maintenance man paused and looked toward Tammy. Every muscle in his body tightened as he waited for her reaction. When she waved the maintenance man off, he let out a breath, knowing he’d have to act fast.

When the maintenance truck’s brake lights vanished around the corner, he yanked the stun gun free from his pocket. The snap of electricity was Tammy’s first warning that something was wrong. Her smile faltered as she glanced down toward the stun gun.

Before she could react, he jabbed the electric probes into the soft flesh of her neck. The electric shock had her eyes rolling back in her head and her limbs convulsing.

Craig caught Tammy as her knees buckled and her body went limp. He turned the Taser off and tucked it back in his pocket.

“Hey, Tammy.”

She searched his face and mumbled an inaudible sound that sounded like, “Why?”

“Do you remember Craig Thornton?”

Her eyes darkened with pain and remorse at the mention of the name. Tears welled in her eyes.

Laughing, he hefted her up and put her in the trunk of his car. Quickly, he bound her wrists and put a piece of duct tape over her mouth. “You do remember him, don’t you?”

She nodded as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“You murdered him with your car and now you have to be punished.”

Chapter Twelve

Thursday, September 28, 8:15 a.m.

Gage and Vega moved into the conference room. Sergeant David Ayden had asked to see Gage for an update on the case. Ayden had agreed to let Gage run the case but had stipulated he wanted frequent updates. The entire homicide team was there: Jacob Warwick, the broad-shouldered ex-boxer, his lean, rawboned partner Zack Kier, and Vega’s usual partner, the only female, C.C. Ricker.

“Good morning,” Ayden said. A crisp red tie set off a white shirt fastened at the collar and cuffs.

“Morning,” Gage said.

Ayden nodded toward the chair opposite him. “So give me the rundown.”

Gage sat down with Vega on his right. Ayden wasn’t one for chitchat. He expected his detectives to cut to the chase. And Gage was glad for it.

“As you know, two skeltonized remains, both female, were found on the Thornton estate. Dr. Butler and Tess Kier finished excavating the second grave yesterday. Both females were in their midtwenties when they were shot in the head. No bullet was found in the first grave, but as Tess was sifting through the dirt on the second site she found a .38 slug.”

Ayden nodded. “Did they find anything else other than bones?”

“Dr. Butler also found trace fibers on Jane Doe. Might be silk. Tess is not sure, but promises to report back. Dr. Butler also found synthetic hair fibers on Rhonda Minor.”

“You said the first body found was Rhonda Minor’s?” Ayden said.

“Yes. She was the first uncovered but she was not the first victim. We’ve yet to identify the other body. I had a theory about the other victim but it didn’t pan out.”

C.C. leaned back in her chair. Her red hair and freckles made her look younger than her thirtysomething years. “That was a quick ID on the first body pulled from the ground.”

“I worked Minor’s missing persons case a couple of years ago. Craig Thornton was Minor’s boss. When I spoke to him, I suspected he was holding back information, but I couldn’t prove anything. When Dr. Butler said the victim was female and midtwenties, I pulled Minor’s dental records. They were a perfect match.”

Warwick nodded. “What about the other victim? You said you had a theory that didn’t pan.”

“I’m waiting on Dr. Butler’s analysis of the bones. I’m also pulling missing persons records of women who disappeared in the last decade. I’d thought it might have been a girl Craig Thornton dated in high school. Jill Lable. But the bones are that of an older woman, not a teenager.”

Warwick flexed calloused fingers. “What was Craig Thornton like?”

Gage kept his voice even. “Old Virginia money, only child, and spoiled. Georgetown grad. C student. Joined the art gallery his grandfather founded. Thornton Galleries. The gallery enjoys a good reputation but I don’t have financials on the business. Never arrested.”

“And what did Minor do for him?”

“She was a student at VCU, majoring in art history and art preservation. She worked at the gallery as a secretary, but told family and friends she wanted to be an artist.”

Warwick shook his head. “You never requested his financials?”

“I had no cause to get the warrant. But I do now and I have one waiting for a judge’s signature. I’ve asked for access to both his bank records and his phone records now.”

“Good,” Ayden said.

“Thornton does have an alibi for the week Rhonda disappeared. He was on his honeymoon.”

“Do you think Minor and Thornton were having an affair?” Kier said.

Gage met the detective’s direct gaze. “Yes.”

“Any evidence to support that?” Kier challenged.

“None. Just a gut feeling.”

“God,” C.C. said. “Adrianna Thornton’s old man cheated on her? She’s stunning. What hope do the rest of us have?”

“Show me a beautiful woman,” Vega said, “and I’ll show you a man who’s already bored with her.”

C.C. glared at Vega. “When did you get so cynical?”

Vega shrugged and winked.

“Hudson,” Ayden said, “Have you told Minor’s family that you found her?”

“I will this morning. I wanted a firm confirmation from Dr. Butler before I spoke to them.” Gage tapped his thumb on the table and shifted his gaze to Warwick. “I met your wife Tuesday at the estate.”

“Really?” He frowned. “She didn’t tell me.”

“She’d come to pay a visit to her sister and saw all the cop cars. Ms. Barrington told her about the bodies.”

Warwick steepled his fingers. “As far as I know, no word has leaked to the press.”

“I asked her to keep quiet and Ms. Warwick agreed for the sake of her sister.”

That didn’t seem to please Warwick. “My wife is determined to make a connection with her sister. She’ll do whatever it takes to salvage her family.” Warwick rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “What do you know about Adrianna Barrington?”

Gage recited the facts about her without revealing their past. He and Adrianna were history. This was about closure for the families. It wasn’t personal. “I did interview Ms. Barrington three years ago, right after the car accident. Her husband was in a coma and she’d suffered a miscarriage because of the accident.”

C.C. lifted a brow. “You chose then to question her?”

Gage sighed, ignoring her annoyance. “I hoped her husband might have said something to her about Minor.”

“And?” Warwick said.

“She said she knew nothing.”

“Do you think she knew where Minor was?” Ayden said.

“I don’t think so.”

Ayden sat back in his chair staring at Gage as if he were fishing for the missing piece of the puzzle.

“There’s something else to consider,” Gage said. “I know the second Jane Doe’s dental records didn’t match Jill Lable, but I still think it would be worth it to talk to her family. Jill went to prom with Craig and both landed up in jail that night on drug charges. She’d provided Craig with pot. His attorney got him off. But the girl did sixty days in juvenile detention. It was her third offense. Two days after she was released from detention she vanished. No one saw her again. I did a quick check last night. Her parents still live in the city.”