Forgotten Girls, The (15 page)

Bella thought about this.

Ryan continued, “If it’s a woman
who poisoned and sexually assaulted your victim you are looking for someone
extremely agitated and angry. Something must have happened recently to trigger
her. But it sounds like she has remained methodically in control, managing her
image and her self. The sexual attack points to major skeletons in her closet
sexually. Her intimate relationships would be a front.”

He stopped, considered something,
then spoke. “I’ll send you the Hare Checklist. And any other info I think will
help,” Ryan added. “But if your instincts are pointing to a woman, trust them.
They are always right.”

He smiled.

“Well, not always…” And he reached
out to hold her hand. She gave it to him and he lifted it to his lips and
kissed it.

“I miss you,” he said quietly.

“I miss you too,” she said sadly.
She felt profound tiredness all of a sudden and wanted nothing more than to
fall into his arms and stay there.

“Placing the crests at the scene
is an attempt to communicate. It’s brash. It’s letting you know not only of the
connection between the three murders, but that he or she is out there and could
strike again. There’s an element of excitement for the killer—an implicit
challenge to find him. Or her. He or she is taunting, not overly concerned with
being caught, may even want to be on some level. The question is why?”

He posited this question, but Bella
had nothing to say.

“If you are right about her and she
gets wise to it, there’s no telling what she might do,” he said quietly. “She
would perceive you as an enormous threat. You working this alone?” he asked
with concern in his voice.

She paused, reluctant to mention
Mack, but she never lied to Ryan. “Billy jacked me up with a guy. A has-been.
Pulled him out of exile to keep me company. It’s ridiculous.”

“I am glad you are not up there alone,”
Ryan said.

They stood, and she gave him a
long, comfortable hug as he whispered in her ear the same parting refrain he
always gave her: “Be careful, my Bella, Bella. Be careful.”

She peered out behind her big
black Chanel sunglasses and watched the two detectives as they stood at a
respectful distance from the crowd at the cemetery. The big guy’s face barely
hid his boredom as he baked in the sun, but his partner was another story—she
canvassed the crowd, serious and intense. She hadn’t anticipated a woman
working the case—certainly not one so good-looking—and it made her feel small.
She didn’t like that feeling. Hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

It was a scorcher —ninety-three degrees
and only 11 a.m. The memorial service had started promptly at 9 o’clock and was
standing room only. The turnout had been enormous, as she had suspected, but
she was displeased to see how much of the crowd chose to follow the hearse to
the cemetery. An unnecessary gesture, surely, especially in this heat.

Now she stood there, mixed in with
the massive crowd, perspiring. She looked back over at the pair from the Bronx—not
what she had expected after watching Dennis and his bevy of soldiers regally
bungle the double hanging. Twiddle dee doo and twiddle dee dum had botched it
big time. More of a three-ring circus than an investigation, from what she
heard from her friends in the know. She had assumed this investigation would be
no different.

How these two landed in Greenvale
she did not know, but clearly they were the real deal. She felt she should be
nervous but simply couldn’t muster that feeling. She had executed meticulously
and her prints, literally and figuratively, were nowhere in sight. No, she
wasn’t nervous. She was annoyed at their milling around her town.

She screwed her lips into a
sinister smile as she imagined what was on its way, the connection she had
carved between her bucolic little gem of a town and that terrifyingly dangerous
warehouse for the criminally insane. She breathed deeply, closed her eyes, and
enjoyed thoughts of the early days, in the dungeon, as memories flashed
unsolicited through her mind.

That’s what they called it: the
dank, wet, dark group of rooms in the basement at Dunmore where screams filled
the hallways and rooms. Crazy place to hold therapy sessions, one would think,
but then, crazy was what Dunmore specialized in. Crazy was a shared experience
for all, doctor and patient, white coat or jumpsuit. She thought about the
dungeon lately, more and more. She found it soothed her.

When she first arrived they
assigned her mostly upstairs, in a room filled with light and a view of the
grounds. Then it changed. For the next few years she was ordered to the floor
below, to the cavernous, creepy, lonely lower floor. So it was that when love
came her way, unexpected, unadulterated love, she grabbed on tightly. She had
never been flattered, sung to, danced with, or treated with deference before.
It felt good. And then, on the right day, at the right moment, in the right way,
she confidently made a move. Afterwards, there was no turning back, for either
of them.

In the beginning it was easy. They
hid in the darkened rooms off the long, low narrow hallways. They locked the
door during sessions and spent their time in the windowless, airless room
alone, together. Not like anyone was checking. It felt so good—real human
contact, the only time of day she had any. It took her mind off the screeching
all around her. She had wanted it and, on some deep, twisted level, needed it.
There was leverage involved, though, and demands: later curfew, more TV
privileges, extra meds, good progress reports. But it was well worth it.

Looking back, it was naive to
think the affair could go on forever, but she couldn’t let go. The deep, dark,
twisted addiction had grown so fierce that, when rejection came her way—and it
did—she used what had always worked: force. She knew no one was going to
believe the word of a criminally insane woman. And she was right.

She smiled at the memory and
instantly felt better. Detective DeFranco was no match for her. If she needed
to deal with her she would. She had been to hell and back. This was just a mere
wasteland, in between. Now that word was out about the connection between
Joslyn and the girls, things would speed along. The morning’s papers offered up
the kinds of headlines she had dreamt of. SOCIALITE’S AND TEENAGE GIRLS’ DEATHS
CONNECTED. SERIAL KILLER PREYS IN POSH GREENVALE. MYSTERY DEEPENS AS DETECTIVES
CALLED IN FROM BRONX.

The crests had worked.

Pretty soon, they would all be
lured back into her old world: the world of Dunmore.

“How the hell did this happen? Who
leaked it?” Bella barked furiously into the phone.

She listened to Dennis’s reaction then
erupted.

“It had to have been one of your
guys ’cause it sure as hell wasn’t one of ours!”

“Ugh!!” she moaned when she hung
up. She wanted to punch something, but there was nothing to hit. She put her
head in her hands, oblivious to Mack watching her. They had stopped at the
diner after the funeral for lunch and to cool off and had not spoken very much
on the way from the cemetery, each hot, tired, and in their own heads.

“What did he say?” Mack drawled.

“What you would expect. Nothing.
That the leak didn’t come from them,” she answered sourly.

“This is exactly what we didn’t
fucking want!” Mack acknowledged.

He rubbed his hands through his
hair and looked for Rosie. She was nowhere in sight so he turned his attention
back to Bella.

“Well, I got info you’re gonna
want to hear,” Mack offered. “Might lighten the mood.”

“Where were you yesterday by the
way?” Bella barked, throwing the full thrust of her focus upon him. “Why didn’t
you answer my texts? Did you even read them?”

“I read ’em,” Mack replied, a bit
self-consciously. “By the time I did I had already become buddies with the guy
you texted me about. I was one step ahead of you, and that ain’t easy,” he
chuckled.

“OK,” Bella answered, brushing the
compliment aside. “So why not answer me?” She was irritated about the crests being
leaked to the press, and now felt irritated in general.

Mack didn’t say anything. He
shrugged, stretched his arms high over his head, took a deep breath, and
yawned. He seemed out of it.

“What’s up with you?” Bella asked,
narrowing her eyes at him.

“Nada, nada,” he answered. “Just
tired this morning, that’s all.”

She looked at him carefully now,
for the first time. He had bags under his eyes, his hair was messy, and his
eyes looked glassy.

“Did you sleep last night?” she
asked.

Mack gave a short chortle and
diverted his eyes.

“Want to hear what I found out?” he
asked, trying to change the subject.

“We can’t work this together if
you fall off the radar like you did yesterday,” she stated.

“You’re right,” he said sweetly.
“I’m sorry. I just kind of checked out a bit, I guess.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I found my way to a
party where the beer didn’t stop flowing and I kind of came up for air a few
hours ago. Trying to get my head back on straight.”

He saw Rosie then and motioned for
her to bring over coffee.

“You have any Advil on you?” he
asked Bella.

Bella couldn’t believe her ears.

“Are you kidding me? You pulled an
all-nighter with a bunch of fucking high school kids and got drunk?”

“Not drunk. Smashed to hell. You
gotta see how these kids party. Ain’t seen anything like it, ever I think. The
parents are out of town for the weekend. Fell asleep on the kid’s couch.”

He rubbed his temples and grinned.
“Man, I ain’t as young as I used to be,” he laughed.

Bella looked at him in disbelief.
“Jesus Christ.”

“Listen, if Billy hears about this
he might pull me. Truth is, I wasn’t so pumped about working this. I admit it. But
now that I’m here, I’m kind of getting back into it. Can we keep this one
between ourselves? Won’t happen again.”

Bella didn’t know what to say. In
the few instances where she had been forced to deal with a partner’s bad
judgment she had found herself losing faith, and respect, almost instantly. She
looked at Mack—his unshaven face, rumpled hair, and huge tattooed arms—and
realized that in the last few days he had actually grown on her.

He had impressed her with the way
he handled Jamie, Ethan, Weber, and the group of women they had encountered. He
held his own with the men and sweet-talked the women with precision. He asked
good questions and listened well. And his instincts seemed fine-tuned and
aligned with hers. They had yet to butt heads so far.

On a personal level, there was
something about him she found comforting. She had never needed or looked for
chivalry from any of the guys she had been paired with, but on more than one
occasion, Mack had shown a protectiveness over her she couldn’t help but
appreciate, and like. He swooped in to save her from Stephanie’s intrusiveness.
He offered to get her coffee on more than one occasion. He inquired into how
she felt. Maybe because Ryan was no longer around she was more susceptible than
normal to these gestures. In any event, Ryan or no Ryan, she had grown to like
him. Much to her surprise, Bella was in no rush to get rid of him. That, in and
of itself, was no small feat.

“Do you give me your word?” she
asked.

He nodded and crossed himself.
“Scout’s honor.”

“OK.”

Bella looked over her shoulder to
see Rosie hurrying toward them.

“Sorry, sorry…crazy morning,” sang
Rosie as she poured hot coffee. “What else do ya need, sweetie?”

“Any extra Advil in the back?”
Bella joked.

Rosie ran off to look.

“So how’d it go?” Bella asked. She
felt calmer now.

“I got in with JJ, real name
Johnny James Holden. He’s a kid as you know—sixteen years old—but he’s the go-to
guy for late-night study jams, long tests—just like you said—anything and
everything when your stamina and focus need a little boost.”

“What does he deal in?” Bella
asked.

“Speed, Beans, Black Beauties,
Christmas Trees, Double Trouble, Molly—he’s got it all. I found Johnny where
they said he’d be and we had a little chat.” Mack smirked.

“And?” Bella raised her eyebrows.

Mack had gotten what he wanted and
more.

“JJ knows Carly well,” Mack began.
“He was introduced to her this year by one of her best friends and one of his
regulars. She and her friend were good for a bag of thirty-milligram babies a
month, at three grand a pop. They have been grinding them up, snorting, the
works. Joslyn was right—about Carly and about it being sold at school.”

Bella closed her eyes and blew out
a breath. “Does this friend have a name?”

“Sure does.” Mack grinned. “A name
you will recognize. Jessie Jordan.”

Bella’s eyes widened.

“Son of a bitch,” she exhaled.          

“Yeah, they’re into it big time. Not
only that, JJ thinks Jenna knew all about it. He said Jessie bragged her mom
gave her money as long as she got straight A’s. He didn’t know what, if anything,
Jos knew. Claims he never met her.”

Bella didn’t respond right away. She
was thinking about what kind of mother gives her kid money to buy drugs. After
a moment she spoke.

“So he has nice amounts if he’s
selling a bag a month just to our girls,” Bella noted. “Where’s this kid
getting it?”

“Took a hard line with him to get
the name. He was more than reluctant to give it up. But he did when he heard
where he was headed. You ready?” Mack’s eyes sparkled with adrenaline.

Bella could feel a doozie coming.

“Ridley Westin.” Mack said flatly.

Bella jaw dropped. “Are you
fucking kidding me?”

“He’s been supplying him for
months. Kid’s scared shitless now.” Mack smirked again.

“So that’s it?” Bella said,
beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel. “It makes sense. It all
connects. Does Billy know?” she asked. “What more do we need?”

“Billy knows. I texted him this
morning. They’ve got everyone looking for him. Makes sense on a lot of levels.
He had motive, opportunity, he’s a killer. Fucking creep. I can’t get wait to
get my hands on him.”

Bella was lost in thought a moment
and didn’t respond.

“You text Billy and not me?” she
teased. “Now I’m hurt.”

“You I had to tell in person,” he
smiled.

“Why kill the girls though?” Bella
asked, beginning to feel uneasy.

“Don’t know. But I’m sure it’s all
connected through the drugs. I’d bet my life on it. He must have known Jos was
snooping around.”

“We still don’t know what the
crests mean,” Bella pointed out.

“Probably some sick message he
picked up in prison. Maybe gang related. Who knows? Hey, the guy was supplying
JJ. Jos was snooping around. He got wind of it and took care of her. Now he’s
on the run. Open and shut.” Mack looked satisfied.

“OK, so what do you want to do until
we have him? How do you want to play it with the girls?” asked Bella. “Want to
get narcotics up here?”

“Not yet,” Mack answered. “We’re
up here. Let’s take a crack at them ourselves. Let’s pay Jessie a visit and
invite good old dad into our tête-à-tête. Nothing like the prospect of your little
girl being hauled off to jail, especially when she’s waiting to hear from her
dream school, to get a dad talking. Maybe he and mom know more than we
realize,” he grinned. “Let’s have some fun.”

He was revved up at the thought,
like a little boy who knows he’s about to enter a candy store.

She pictured Jessie curled up on a
chair at Erika’s kitchen table, swearing she and Carly bought only one pill.
What a little liar.

Just then Mack’s cell vibrated
with a text from Billy.

URGENT. CALL ASAP.

“Let’s call from the car,” Mack
suggested as he motioned for the check. “They must have found Ridley.”