I'm Watching You (17 page)

„Can you have them come back later this afternoon?“ After the press conference. After Richardson blew the roof off their case in front of every microphone in Chicago
. I should’ve told Reagan
, she thought
. I should’ve prepared him
. It was the least she could do for the man who thought she was a nice person. Hah. „I’m kind of busy now.“

„No, it can’t wait.“ Owen stepped around Lois holding a large paper bag. „You didn’t come by for lunch.“

Kristen sat back in her chair in weary relief. She gestured to the stack of folders on her desk. „Too much paperwork.“

Owen frowned his displeasure. „Paperwork is no reason to skip lunch, Kristen. I brought you some beef stew.“ He put the bag on her desk and lifted his bushy brows. „With some cherry pie for dessert.“

She looked up at him with a smile. „You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.“

He looked stern. „What trouble? I dished some stew in a plastic bowl and walked a few blocks. Besides, I had a few other orders here in the building.“ From the bag he pulled a plastic bowl, placing it in front of her. „I saw that Richardson woman on the news last night.“

She sighed. „Yeah, I caught the end of it.“

Owen frowned. „Is it true, what she said? That there’s a vigilante killer out there?“

Kristen pulled the lid from the bowl. It smelled wonderful. „Now, Owen, you know I couldn’t tell you anything whether I knew anything or not.“ She looked up, tried for a grin that fell miserably flat. „Can I still eat the stew?“

He didn’t smile back. „I’ve been watching the news all morning, Kristen. There’s been a lot of talk about vigilantes because of that Richardson woman’s account last night.“

Terrific. „So what’s the word on the street?“

His lips thinned. „That finally somebody’s taking a stand against crime in this town.“

Kristen winced. „So much for all this.“ She gestured at the pile of reports. „I’ll have to remember that when ten o’clock rolls around tonight and I’m still here.“

„Things could get ugly, Kristen.“ Owen zipped up his coat. „Me and Vincent are worried. We just want you to be careful.“

Just wait until Zoe airs her next report
, Kristen thought.

Ugly will take on a whole new meaning
. „I always am, Owen. Thanks for lunch.“

Friday, February 20,

1:50 p.m.

Abe set a bag on his desk. „You hungry?“

Mia looked up, sniffing deeply. „Depends. What is it?“

„Gyros and burgers.“ He peered into the bag. „And baklava.“

Mia licked her lips. „I take back every bad thing I said about you.“

Abe chuckled. „I doubt that.“

She chose a burger. „Did you get anything from the cabbie?“

„He said he saw a white van with a big flower on the side right after he dropped off Littleton early yesterday morning.“

Mia’s brows jumped. „A florist delivery van? Any name?“

„Said it had ‘flowers’ in the name,“ Abe said dryly, unwrapping his gyro. He took a deep appreciative breath. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

„Well,
that
oughta narrow it down.“

„To 460 places in Greater Chicago. I already checked.“

„Did Jack find anything floral on the stuff from Kristen’s car?“

„Nope, and it bothered him. Jack thought that if the killer used a flower delivery van to transport the bodies or the crates, we would have found something on the clothes at least. Pollen or something.“ He pointed to the faxed lists of Chicago area customers who’d purchased sandblasting equipment. „How’s it coming?“

Irritably, she pushed the papers away. „It would help if I knew what the hell I was looking for. There are hundreds of names here. I’ve got Todd Murphy helping run names for priors, but somehow I don’t think our guy’s been in trouble before.“

Abe was inclined to agree with her. „Well, let’s see if any of these people work in one of the florists in Chicago with ‘flower’ in the name. Give me a couple pages.“

She handed him a handful of paper, wincing when a loud shout came from Spinnelli’s office. „He’s not happy.“

Abe glanced over, saw Spinnelli pacing, holding a telephone to his ear and gesturing wildly. „What, stage fright over his press conference?“ It was scheduled for three o’clock.

„Hell, no. He’s trying to explain to the captain how Richardson got the scoop.“ She tilted her head, frowning when he just looked at her. „Oh, boy. I thought you knew.“

He felt a spear of sharp heat in his neck, a sure sign of stress. „Knew what?“

„Richardson knows that Kristen got letters, too, and that we’ve got five bodies in the morgue and their names. Apparently Richardson ambushed her going into the courthouse. Kristen called Spinnelli right after that. I thought she’d told you, too.“

His appetite disappeared. „No, she didn’t.“ In fact, she hadn’t been able to get out of the SUV fast enough. The hours after they’d driven away from the Restons’ house had been awkward, to say the least. She’d pulled back into herself, saying nothing until they reached the house of the first child killed by the gang’s gunfire. Then it was all business. And not once did she call him Abe. They talked to the families of the slain children, endured more anger and accusation, retrieved two more letters from their humble servant, then he’d driven her back to the courthouse in silence, thick and heavy.

She hadn’t called him about Richardson, hadn’t trusted him. It hurt. But it
had
been interest he’d seen in her eyes, sitting there in front of the Restons’ house. Interest and heat. He’d been a heartbeat away from kissing her, right there in front of the Restons’ house, which would have been completely unacceptable. Unprofessional. Probably wonderful.

But she’d pulled away. She was afraid, he knew.
So am I
, he thought. But Kristen’s fear ran deeper and he was afraid to contemplate its source, because he thought he knew. And if he was right, they had one hell of a long row to hoe.

I have to be insane to even consider having any rows with Kristen Mayhew
, he thought.
So why am I
? Because she had pluck and courage. Green eyes and subtle curves. A quick mind and quiet grace. And a laugh that made him catch his breath.

Maybe it was just because she was a nice person. Maybe it didn’t have to be any more complicated than that Kristen Mayhew was a beautiful woman and a nice person.

Bullshit
. It was way more complicated than that.

Mia finished her burger in thoughtful silence. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, then folded it into a tiny square. „I’ve known Kristen for a long time, probably about as well as anyone knows her,“ she finally said. He looked up and saw understanding in Mia’s blue eyes and felt his cheeks heat. „But nobody really knows her that well,“ she went on. „She’s always been a bit of a loner.“ She frowned. „They call her the Ice Queen in the locker room, which is so totally unfair.“

Abe remembered the anguish in her eyes when the mother broke down in the Restons’ living room, how Kristen had never uttered a word in her own defense when the parents’ words had been cruelly accusing. The way she’d said the victims „never, ever forget“ just before they’d gone in. No one who had seen what he’d seen could ever conceivably call her icy and cold.

„Yes, that is very unfair.“ His voice was calm. Much calmer than he felt. Kristen Mayhew brought out something in him that he hadn’t felt in years, the fierce desire to protect, to take care of anyone that hurt her.

The killer felt the same way
. The realization was sudden and clear.
That’s why he’d targeted her for his gifts, why he watched her in her own home
.

„The killer knows her,“ he said.

Mia looked puzzled. „We know that.“

„No, he
knows
her. He’s seen her interact with the people, the victims.“ The compassion, the anguish. „And he doesn’t hate her.“

„What do you mean?“

Abe leaned forward, intense. „I watched her with all these victims and their families for the last two days. They’re aloof at a minimum, hostile at the most extreme.“

„Like Stan Dorsey.“

„Yeah. But no one was warm, certainly not admiring.“ Not even Les Littleton, who she’d gone out of her way to help and who still damned her in his pathetic misery.

Mia’s eyes lit up. „So either she didn’t represent them, or she didn’t lose.“

„He lost,“ Abe said, „regardless if Kristen represented him or not. Remember what Westphalen said. And my gut says he’s connected to Kristen in a real way, more than just seeing her on television. He’s met her in person, I’m certain of it. I wonder if we could find any victim who’d lost in court that didn’t blame her.“

Mia tilted her head, considering. „She gave us the list of all the cases she lost. I wonder if she noted customer satisfaction in that database of hers.“

Abe picked up the phone. „One way to find out.“

Friday, February 20,

2:00 P.M.

The man who’d originally built his house played the trumpet. The man’s wife apparently held little appreciation for her husband’s musical gifts and insisted he either give up the trumpet or soundproof the basement.

He carefully pushed the basement door closed behind him.

Luckily for him, the man had really loved his trumpet. Without the soundproofing he most certainly would have been reported by a neighbor by now.

But now, there was no sound. Skinner was dead. Rigor mortis had come and gone, leaving the body limp. He approached the body, wishing a man could be killed twice. In Skinner’s case, perhaps a hundred times. The bastard had made a career of defending scum who preyed on the innocent. Skinner’s eight-bedroom house on the North Shore, his luxury cars, the fancy private schools for his children – all were bought with blood money, all paid for by the suffering of the innocent and the vile pandering of the guilty.

He drew his pistol from the drawer, knowing it was impossible to kill a man twice, knowing he’d have to be satisfied with the symbolic gesture. With little fanfare he centered the barrel of the pistol on Skinner’s forehead.

Pulled the trigger. And nodded once. It was done. And done well.

Just a few details to wrap it up, and he’d be ready to visit Leah’s fishbowl once again. He pulled on his gloves and prepared to divest Mr. Skinner of his Armani suit After all, Skinner would find it unbearably hot when he arrived at his final destination.

Chapter Ten

Friday, February 20,

2:15 P.M.

Kristen and Jack watched Julia pull the linen string from Ross King’s torso. Her appointment completed, she’d come down to watch Julia autopsy King. Hell, if an autopsy couldn’t clear her mind, nothing could. She’d met Jack on the way in, his face grim. He’d found nothing new on the clothes or crates or dirt from the gravesites. He was there to find anything to point him toward another lab test that might turn up something.

And because he has a thing for Julia
, Kristen thought.
Too bad everybody knows it but Julia
.

„Whoever did this sure as hell knew what they were doing,“ Julia said. „Nice, neat stitches, even placement, no tearing.“ She looked up and met Kristen’s gaze, her eyes distorted by the goggles she wore. „He’s either a doctor or queen of the quilting bee.“

„Or a hunter,“ Jack added from where he stood on Kristen’s right. He shrugged when Kristen and Julia looked at him in surprise. „I used to hunt with my uncle. Lots of deer and ducks. He could dress a duck with nicer stitches than a surgeon.“

„It explains the clean incision,“ Julia remarked, looking back down at the body.

Kristen moved closer, watching Julia’s gloved hands. „What do you mean?“

Julia pulled back a flap of King’s skin. „There aren’t any indications of hesitation.“

„No jagged edges,“ Jack said and Julia nodded.

„Exactly. The incision only goes as deep as it has to.“

She pulled both flaps back, exposing the anatomy beneath. „There’s no damage to the organs… from the knife anyway. Here’s where the bullet went in. Whoever did this was damn good with a knife. I wouldn’t have thought of a hunter, but you could be right.“

„It’s a possibility.“ The deep voice behind her set off warning bells in her head, and she had barely a moment to compose herself before turning to find Reagan standing in the doorway. Filling the doorway, Mia barely visible behind him. Awareness buzzed between them and the morning memory still burning, Kristen looked away.

„Detective Reagan,“ Julia said. „Did your mother bring lunch?“ she asked hopefully.

Reagan moved into the room and it suddenly became that much smaller. „Maybe next time,“ he returned. „So our boy’s a sharpshooter with a quick needle. Did the autopsy turn up anything else?“

„Not yet.“ Briskly, Julia bent back down to the body.

„What did you find out about the white van?“ Kristen asked and Reagan turned, his eyes narrowed in reproach and for a moment he said nothing. She knew he knew about her call to Spinnelli and that she’d offended him by not calling him first. Possibly even hurt him.

But she hadn’t been able to call him. The wounds she herself had raked open that morning were still raw, the humiliation still too fresh. He thought he knew, but he didn’t. And even if he did, there was no way he’d ever understand.

„It was a flower delivery van,“ he finally said, just as quietly. „Spinnelli’s got a few men canvassing the Arboretum area where King’s body was found to see if anyone saw a similar van. Hopefully it hasn’t been so long that the trail’s gone cold.“

One of Julia’s techs came in with a clipboard. „Well, this is something you don’t see every day,“ Julia said. „Two of your Blade vies have evidence of cellular damage. From the look of these slides, I’d say your gang boys at one time were frozen solid.“

Mia tsked. „Freezer burn. Shoulda’ used Saran Wrap.“