First Offense (38 page)

Ann felt a twinge of jealousy. Linda Weinstein was glamorous, with her long hair, her expensive blue suit, her polished nails. Ann’s nails were ragged and unpolished, and she’d grabbed the first thing she’d seen in her closet this morning: a white blouse frayed around the collar, a simple black skirt, a well-worn pair of flats. She looked like a schoolteacher. “Why did you insist on trying Delvecchio, anyway?” Ann said. “I mean, the crimes were awful, but you have so many other cases, and you’re always complaining how overworked you are.”

“Oh, well—” he said, and then stopped, looking behind him nervously.

“Glen…”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, taking Ann’s hand to lead I her to his office.

Ann pulled back. “Was Estelle Summer really your teacher? What school did you go to?”

“Yes,” he said gruffly. “Let’s talk in my office.”

Glen was off balance, Ann realized, and annoyed with her for some reason. What had she said? All she’d been doing was discussing a case. Had he been making a play for that woman when she walked in and interrupted?

Insisting she come with him, he squeezed her hand even tighter. As Ann flinched away, she felt something raised and abraded above his wrist. Quickly she brought it out in front of her so she could see what it was. On his right hand was a jagged cut, already scabbing over. “What did you do to your hand?”

“Nothing,” he said, his teeth clenched. “What’s wrong with you? You’re making me feel like a cad, like I’ve been carrying on behind your back with Linda Weinstein. I was only chatting with a coworker.” He stopped, and the look in his eyes became vicious. “You’re letting these phone calls make you crazy. Get some help for yourself. Go see a shrink or something.”

Ann’s mouth fell open in shock. It must be true, she thought, he was probably seeing that woman. He wouldn’t be so defensive if she hadn’t touched on something. She started to tell him about Hank, tell him it was over, but was unable to do so. An irrational, instinctive fear had seized her. Unable to pull her eyes away, Ann started shaking her head in denial. What was she seeing in his eyes? What had he said to her? Who was this person?

She knew she couldn’t be with him another second.

“I—I have to go,” she stammered, taking off briskly down the hall, shoving people out of her way. Passing through the security doors, she broke into a sprint. She continued running until she reached the ladies’ rest room and rushed inside.

When Ann walked out fifteen minutes later, unable to stop thinking about that cut, she heard her name being paged over the intercom and returned to her desk to take the call.

“I have some information for you,” Melanie Chase said. “I tried to call Reed, but he’s tied up on another call. I’m sorry I took so long, Ann, but it’s been a madhouse around here.”

“What have you got?” Ann said with a horrid sense of foreboding.

“I finished the analysis of that paint transfer from the break-in at your house,” Melanie said. “The car’s black, Ann, and the make’s probably a Rolls-Royce. This was an easy one. They’re the only people who use this kind of sealant. I mean. Rolls or Bentley. It’s one or the other.”

Ann slapped back in her chair, unable to believe her ears. “A Rolls-Royce?” she said. “You’re certain the paint came from a black Rolls-Royce?”

“No, Ann,” Melanie said firmly, “I didn’t say that. I said it came from a Bentley or a Rolls. The same company makes both cars, so it could be either.”

Ann could see Glen’s black Rolls-Royce in her mind. He loved that car, was so proud of it. She felt the room reeling, as if it were about to capsize. Then everything came together at once. “Don’t hang up,” Ann said frantically. “Didn’t you say the man who broke into my house would have a cut somewhere? Where would it be?”

“I can’t believe you’re asking me this,” Melanie said, annoyed. The flick of a cigarette lighter came over the line, and she inhaled. “How in the hell would I know where he cut himself?” she said, emitting a puff. “I didn’t see the guy, you know? You people think I’m a fucking magician or something.”

“I thought—”

“Forget it,” Melanie said, her voice softening. “I’ve had a rough couple of days.”

Even though the cut didn’t prove anything. Glen was the right build, and Ann had recognized the eyes.

The mask! Delvecchio had been picked out of a lineup of men of similar build wearing masks. According to Delvecchio, the man who had given him the coat had been driving a black car that he hadn’t recognized. Something boxy like a Rolls-Royce.

“You have pubic hairs from the rapist in the Delvecchio case? Right? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Of course, Ann,” Melanie said, confused. “I thought we were talking about the break-in at your house.”

“We are,” she answered, gasping for breath. She felt as if a boa constrictor had wrapped around her chest and was squeezing the life out of her. Glen was the man who had attacked her. He had raped and brutalized three helpless old women. How could it be true? He had no reason. And why would Glen have driven a car as distinctive as the Rolls-Royce to break into her house? That was a foolish error, and Glen was not foolish. Besides, he had a motorcycle. Then Ann remembered the thunderstorm and heavy downpour the night she was attacked. Now it made sense.

But that couldn’t explain everything. Why would a man as attractive as Glen have to rape? Then Ann corrected herself. She knew better. Rape had to do with power, aggression, hatred. It had nothing to do with sex.

Once Ann said goodbye and hung up the phone, she laid her head down on the desk. She had to remain calm, think logically. Delvecchio hadn’t been able to identify the car. If she showed him a picture of Glen’s Rolls-Royce, however, he might be able to. For all she knew, the car still had body damage from the collision. Glen was too smart to take it into a body shop so soon after the crime. He would wait it out, wait until interest died down.

She suddenly felt a firm hand on her shoulder and jerked her head up.

“Ann,” Glen said softly, “I’m sorry we had a disagreement. Linda and I are old friends. I was going to buy her lunch because she let me try Delvecchio. I guess I was angry that you doubted me.”

“It’s fine,” Ann said, forcing a smile, feeling the heat from his touch through her blouse and wanting to knock his hand away. But she couldn’t show her fear. If Glen was a rapist, he would lap it up, feed on it. “It’s just these phone calls,” she lied. “They’re making me crazy.”

“You asked about my hand,” he said, showing it to her. “It’s only a scratch. I must have done it when I was working on my motorcycle the other day. To be honest, I didn’t even notice it until you said something.”

Ann took hold of his hand, seeing the irregular manner in which it was cut, consistent with broken glass. Did Glen know she knew? Feeling a spasm in the side of her neck, she forced herself to let the hand go. “All I was going to do is suggest a Band-Aid, Glen,” she said, sighing as if it were nothing. “You know, it’s the mother in me. I’m always afraid of infection.”

Glen laughed, confident again. “How’s David?”

“Great,” she said. “Everything’s great except for those phone calls. I just can’t figure out who’s making them.”

“Can you sneak away for a few hours tonight?” he said, winking suggestively. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh, no,” Ann said, shaking her head. “I really can’t, Glen. I promised David I’d take him to a movie.”

His eyes turned suddenly wary. “On a weeknight? Doesn’t he have school tomorrow?”

“Early movie,” Ann said quickly. “Anyway, forgive me, but I have an appointment any minute. A probationer, you know?”

“No problem,” he said, standing and tousling her hair before he left. “Call me later, okay?”

“Sure,” she said, holding her breath until his footsteps receded. How could anyone be so cruel, so heartless? How could she have fallen for him? Was she this bad a judge of character? Where did she go from here?

The Rolls, she decided.

By late afternoon. Tommy Reed had not contacted her, and Ann was a nervous wreck. She had a plan in mind regarding her suspicions about Glen that might be viable, but she couldn’t leave the building until she heard the news about Hank. Finally, at five o’clock, the phone rang.

“The suspect confessed,” Reed said. “It’s over, Ann.”

She cupped her hand over her mouth, unable to reply coherently.

“From what the highway patrol investigators told me, they found Hank’s badge in the suspect’s apartment. When they confronted him, he confessed. He knew it was over at that point. He’d rather face prosecution for Hank’s murder in California than be returned to Texas. The legal system’s a lot harsher there, and he could get the death penalty.”

“Did…he tell them where Hank is buried?”

“They’re on their way out there now.” An overwhelming feeling of relief swept through her. “Then it’s really over.”

“Yes, Ann.” Reed said softly, “it’s over.”

By seven o’clock that evening, Ann was in her bedroom on the bed. David had taken the news better than she’d expected. Like Ann, he too was relieved that they finally knew the truth.

The phone rang and Ann grabbed it, thinking it was Reed with the flight information. They had found Hank’s body and were flying it back tomorrow. She had already told David that they would have a funeral, and she needed to make the arrangements.

“Ann,” Glen said, “how was the movie? Which one did you see, anyway?”

“Oh,” Ann said, immediately on guard, “we didn’t go. David isn’t feeling well.” Stay calm, she told herself. “So, what’s going on?”

“I’m sitting here all alone,” he said pensively. “I miss you, Ann. Can’t you come over after David goes to sleep? I haven’t felt right since this morning.” He laughed. “Was that our first fight?”

The first and the last, Ann thought bitterly. “I guess,” she said instead. “Had to happen sometime. Look, I have an idea. Why don’t I meet you at the Sail Loft in thirty minutes? David will be asleep by then.”

“Super,” he said. “You don’t know how much better this makes me feel. I hate to have arguments with people I love.”

Love? Ann thought. Up until today he’d never uttered the word. “You really love me, Glen?” she said, unable to resist.

“I think I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you.”

How touching, she thought, trying to sound as sultry as she could. “I’ll see you soon, then. You can tell me more.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Ann hung up the phone, a cold ball of rage forming in her stomach. Because of Glen, she couldn’t allow herself even a moment to reflect on Hank’s passing, a few hours to comfort her son, arrange his funeral.

She had to move fast.

After telling David that she had to go out, under the pretext of contacting a funeral home, Ann walked down to the surveillance van and knocked on the door. A few moments later, an enormous, slack-jawed officer in his middle fifties peered out at her. Oscar Chapa moved slow, talked slow, and would scare a person to death in a dark alley. He had that type of face. He was a Native American, a Sioux, Ann had heard, and his looks were deceiving. He was the kindest man she had ever known.

“Oscar,” she said, “do you think you could stay in the house with my son for a few hours? I don’t want to leave him alone, and I have to go out.”

“Sure,” the man said.

When she pulled up in front of Glen’s house, she parked the car and stared at it, trying to get the nerve to go in. Lights were burning inside, but Ann was certain Glen was waiting for her at the Sail Loft.

She went to the door and rang the bell to be certain, quickly rubbing her sweaty palms on her pants. As she waited, minutes seemed like hours. Nothing. In all her life Ann had never broken the law. Not really broken the law, she told herself. Oh, as a kid, she had stolen a toy once from another kid, but that was it. Her father had whipped her so hard she couldn’t sit down for a week. That had put a stop to the stealing.

But this was different. If she broke into Glen’s house, she would be committing a felony, a burglary. Her whole career could go up in a puff of smoke. A part of her said to walk away from this. She’d tell Tommy and let him handle it.

Another voice, though, told her. Now is the time. She couldn’t walk away. She’d never walked away no matter how dangerous the situation was if someone’s life was at stake. The life in this situation could be her own.

She decided to do it.

Creeping around the back of the house, Ann tried to stay low so the neighbors wouldn’t spot her and call the police. She knew Glen had an alarm system, and she didn’t know the code. That meant the alarm would sound at the security company as soon as she opened a door or window. But having been a cop, Ann knew it would be a considerable time before anyone responded. The area where Glen lived restricted the residents from using audible alarms. Too often these alarms were triggered by the wind, a cat, or some other freak thing, and police would respond for nothing while the neighbors raised all holy hell, having to listen to an ear-shattering alarm until someone managed to disconnect it.

She should have time to get in the house, get what she needed, and get out before the police were even dispatched. First the alarm company would be dispatched, and their patrol car might be on the other side of town. The alarm company only called the police if they noted any signs of forced entry.

Ann thought of her car parked on the street and decided that wouldn’t do. Returning to it, she drove around to the alley and parked a few houses down. Then she dug in the trunk for something to put over her clothes, a makeshift disguise of some kind just in case someone saw her. Also, Glen’s garage was in the back of the house. If he came home, he would come in through the garage. Entering through the back of the house, Ann would have a better chance of seeing him if he drove up. She found an old parka that she’d worn to the beach the past summer and put it on. Then she saw her Polaroid camera. Quickly she checked and saw there was enough film for four shots. Last, she palmed a large rock she had brought along.

Returning to the house, she checked all the windows and found them locked. She slipped inside the backyard, feeling a bit less exposed within the privacy of the stockade fence. She took off the parka, wrapped her band in it, and quickly smashed out the back window with the rock. Raising the wooden frame, she stepped inside, trying not to cut herself on the glass. Right at this minute, she knew, the alarm company was getting the signal. She had to hurry.