Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller (11 page)

But in this life, time, and place, there was
simply no room for romance between them.
I have to be honest
about that, if only to myself.
She was not about to wish for
something that could only come between her and what she had worked
so hard for professionally.

Nina decided it was the pressure she was
feeling from the top brass that had her acting like some stupid,
crazy, jilted lover. They in turn were feeling it from the press
and public. It was her and Ray’s case to solve or lose. She
preferred to solve it and didn’t want that undermined by
distractions neither of them could afford including an ill-advised
romance between him and Carole Cranston.

They had a search warrant for the Rose City
Women’s Shelter. Specifically, they wanted to see if Esther
Reynolds had found that killing one abuser was not enough for
her.

“My money’s on Reynolds or someone else who’s
involved with the shelter as our killer,” Ray had flatly told Nina
earlier.

She was in general agreement, but decided to
keep her options open.

“Are we still on speaking terms or what?” Ray
voiced, cutting through the dreary quiet.

“Yeah,” Nina said in a friendly tone,
realizing that was his way of trying to get back on her good side.
She would let him. She glanced his way with something resembling a
smile that quickly evaporated like water on a hot sidewalk. “I was
just thinking that our vigilante broad could also be tuned in to
the police band. That would automatically give her the jump on
domestic violence situations, which she could see through to their
conclusion. Making up her own justice whenever she felt the outcome
of the case was unjust.”

“You may have something there.” Ray looked at
her. “Meaning she could even be hanging around the station when the
suspect is brought in.”

Possibly. But Nina still saw the courtroom as
the more likely hangout of the killer—if not the Rose City Women’s
Shelter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ray served the search warrant as four
uniformed officers accompanied him and Nina into the shelter.
Esther Reynolds offered no resistance, aside from an arctic glare.
Ray was not sure exactly what they expected to find. He doubted
that Esther or anyone else would keep a closet full of bats or
brain matter to be confiscated and used as evidence in a series of
brutal bat attack murders.

But if there were any other clues as to the
identity of the killer, they hoped to discover them.

“You’re wasting your time, you know,” Esther
spoke defiantly, standing menacingly in her office as files were
being carted off. “There’s nothing there except basic information
on employees and battered women who need a place to stay.”

“You could be right,” conceded Ray, going
through her desk. “But we believe it’s a step in the right
direction to prevent any more men from becoming victims of
homicide.”

Esther threw her arms up in the air. “You
just don’t get it, do you, detective?” she growled. “Men are
not
the victims of domestic violence! They are the
perpetrators! If they didn’t do what they did to women, they
wouldn’t find themselves being targeted.”

Ray looked up at her, his gaze sharp. “You
don’t happen to have any hammers lying around anywhere, do you,
Miss
Reynolds?”

She turned as dark as the night. “What the
hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means we know you hammered your husband
to death,” he told her straightforwardly. “Do you get turned on by
bats these days?”

“You son of a bitch!” Esther’s face contorted
into a scowl. “You don’t know the first thing about the hell that
man put me through.”

Ray sighed. “Why don’t you tell me about
it?”

Esther put her weight on one foot, her focus
hard and unyielding. “He beat me till I damn near couldn’t even eat
or walk almost every day we were together. The police did nothing
but give him a slap on the wrist, if that, and only after I had to
beg them to help me. The restraining orders were a joke!” She
snorted derisively. “All they did was make him more angry, more
determined, more violent. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I knew
it was either him or me—”

“So you chose him?” Ray was thoughtful.

“You’re damned right I did,” she retorted
peevishly. “Haven’t lost a night’s sleep over it since.”

“Maybe you decided killing your husband
wasn’t enough.” Ray went after her with full force, hoping she
might crack like an eggshell when too much pressure was applied.
“Maybe this seemed like the right time to take some of that rage
and use it against other battering men. Or should I say alleged
batterers. How good are you at swinging a bat, Esther?”

“Go to hell!”

Ray got in her face. “I’m already there, so
long as this nut is on the loose in the city,” he retorted. “Why
don’t you do us all a favor and confess to murdering four men in
the image of your husband?”

Esther sneered. “You really think that you
can just come in here and accuse me of murder without proof—proof
that you’ll never find?”

“Why won’t we find it, Esther?” He kept
tightening the screws, hoping she was either their culprit or knew
who was. “Where is it? Where the hell do you keep the bats that are
left behind as a calling card by the killer?”

One of the officers came in the room, a
Hispanic female in her late twenties. “We’re all finished,
Detective Barkley. No bats anywhere. Not even so much as a
stick.”

Ray nodded disappointedly. “Thanks.”

After the officer left, Ray turned to Esther
who had not backed up an inch. He realized the hard assed approach
had done little to shake the suspect. In fact, it had done more of
a number on him. If he had hoped to intimidate her into a
confession or some information, it wasn’t working.

He took a breath and said to her quietly:
“Are you sure there isn’t something you want to tell me, Ms.
Reynolds, while you have the chance?”

Esther glared and said in a strong voice:
“Yes, I have something to say. How dare you come in here, accuse me
of murder, and scare my residents and staff half to death with
these Gestapo tactics. I plan to file an official complaint with
your superiors, Detective Barkley!”

“You’re entitled to,” he said unaffectedly.
“I don’t think it’ll do you much good, though. We had a search
warrant and probable cause to believe this shelter may be connected
to a vigilante run amok.”

“That’s rubbish!” she assailed. “You’re
grasping at straws, detective. We both know you have nothing but
vague and misguided suspicions.”

Ray backed away, realizing she would not
buckle. Not yet. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he stated.
“Sooner or later, the truth will come out. For your sake, I hope
you or this damned shelter aren’t caught in the middle of it. In
this state, female serial killers don’t get a free ride from death
row—”

* * *

“I talked to some of the women,” Nina told
Ray after they had left the shelter. “Or let’s just say I did most
of the talking and they did most of the listening. Seems as if
there’s a gag order in place. If anyone knows something—or
someone—they’re not saying.”

“Same thing with Esther Reynolds,” groaned
Ray, behind the wheel. “Couldn’t get the lady to budge from her
hard as granite stance. If she’s not our killer, she sure as hell
knows something. I can feel it!”

“You don’t think they’re carrying out these
murders by committee, do you?” Nina widened her eyes. “All for one,
one for all?”

“At this point, I’m not prepared to rule out
anything,” he said. “Who knows, they may well have decided
collectively to pay back all the men who have done them and others
like them wrong, taking turns swinging the death bat.”

Nina turned in her seat. “I suppose if
caught, they would all claim temporary insanity or use the battered
women’s syndrome defense.”

“Or maybe the battered women’s shelter
syndrome,” said Ray dryly. “We’ll see if we can shake some of them
up when we get them to the station one on one. In the meantime,
maybe the files we took on the people who passed in and out of
there in the last six months or so can yield some interesting
results.”

* * *

Long after the detectives had gone, taking
away everything they could like a tornado, Esther Reynolds sat in
her barren office. There were two glasses on the table. She filled
both with scotch, passing one to the woman sitting on the other
side of the desk.

“They’re not going to stop digging until they
find who they’re looking for,” Esther warned.

The woman tasted the scotch, seemingly
relishing its bitter taste on her tongue. “Let them dig all the way
to hell,” she said confidently. “They won’t find anything. I
covered my tracks too well.”

“Maybe you should lay low for a while,”
Esther suggested.

“Why should I?” The woman rolled her eyes.
“Did they lay low for a while? Hell no! They beat the crap out of
us whenever it suited their fists, which was daily for most of us.
I’ll be damned if I take pity on them when their time comes to meet
their maker in a most appropriate way.”

Esther brought her arched brows together.
“I’m not talking about for their sake, I’m talking about
yours
! Those detectives are clever. Sooner or later they’re
going to put two and two together—and they won’t come up empty
handed. Don’t give them a straight path right to your door.”

The woman’s mouth tightened, tiny lines
deepening all around it. “I’m on top of the situation,” she
insisted. “Barkley and Parker don’t frighten me one bit.
But you
do, Esther
. Don’t let them get to you. It could ruin
everything. Do you understand? For all of us—”

Esther downed the rest of her drink like it
was water. As far as she was concerned, her life had already been
ruined years ago when she did the only thing she could to get away
from a monster. And she had paid dearly for it. She would have to
spend the rest of her life wondering if there might have been a
better way. Wondering if she could have seen the signs from the
very beginning that set her up for a violent relationship.
Wondering if she truly deserved to live after taking another’s
life, no matter how despicable.

All that was left for her was to help other
women who had experienced the same horrible treatment she had at
the hands of a man.

That meant she could not turn her back on her
sisters. Not even one who seemed hell bent on ridding the streets
of as many women abusers as the courts saw fit to return to those
they had battered, beaten, and broken in spirit, soul, and
body.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Carole went on her early morning run, taking
the time to enjoy the fresh air and spectacular, though distant,
views of the Cascades. She thought about her dinner date tonight
with Ray Barkley. Indeed, she had done little but think about it
since their lunch yesterday. Why had she agreed to go to his house,
for heaven’s sake? He was a guy she was attracted to, yes, but she
hardly knew him.

What Carole did know of Ray concerned her
somewhat. He was investigating crimes that seemed to lead right to
her, at least in theory. She wondered if she was still the apparent
target of his investigation or had she sufficiently quelled such
suspicions?

That aside, she found the detective very
manly and appealing. And extremely sexy.

Though Carole hadn’t figured she would ever
get involved with a cop, there was no denying Ray’s chiseled
arresting features and firm body worked for her. Even his
personality was very intriguing.

Was there more?

What did he see in her? She knew he saw
something that struck his fancy. She had known that from day
one.

It would have been easy to suggest it was
merely her good looks that captivated Ray, which Carole saw no
reason to deny. After all, if she had a quarter for every man who
came on to her, she would probably be halfway towards fulfilling
that dream of living in retirement in the Bahamas or Jamaica.

No, she sensed his interest in her went
beyond the superficial, per se, to something deeper, of greater
appreciation and perception.

The entire notion of this meeting of the
minds, and perhaps bodies, excited Carole more than she cared to
admit. But she knew she still had to tread water carefully with Ray
Barkley. Otherwise she just might find herself knee deep in
something she couldn’t get out of.

When Carole returned to her condo, she was
surprised to find Vivian Wolfe waiting by the entrance. Vivian
smiled nervously.

“Vivian—!” Carole did not hide her surprise.
“What are you doing here?”

Vivian ran her tongue across lips that were
covered with a bright red lipstick. “I was just in the area doing
some shopping,” she explained. “And thought I would drop by and say
hello. Stuart told me where you lived. He didn’t think you’d mind
my coming over. I know I should have called first, since you’re
probably all worn out from running—”

Was it that obvious? Carole tried to catch
her breath. What else had Stuart told Vivian about her? More
importantly, why?

“No, it’s fine,” she told Vivian, even if
Carole would have preferred to take a long shower and a nap. And be
alone.

She unlocked the door and the two of them
went inside.

“Make yourself at home,” Carole told her
guest, but didn’t mean it too literally. “I’m just going to go and
freshen up.”

Ten minutes later Carole returned to the
living room, wearing jeans and a green knit tank top, along with
summer clogs. She had applied a hint of makeup, though her
naturally radiant tone made such unnecessary for the most part. She
saw that Vivian was admiring one of her ivy plants that hung from
the ceiling in a wicker basket. Vivian was wearing white pants and
a yellow short-sleeved shirt. Carole didn’t see any sign of a baby
bump yet.