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Authors: Jim Gallows

The Christmas Killer (12 page)

BOOK: The Christmas Killer
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27
Wednesday, 12.50 p.m.

Jake was still boiling as he walked back to the detective bureau. As he reached the door his phone buzzed. He didn’t want to talk to anyone now, but it was Leigh. They hadn’t made up last night. Somewhere he had read that it was not good to go to bed angry, but life has a way of screwing up even the best of intentions. He forced some sunshine into his voice, hoping that she was just calling to ask if he could pick up a Christmas tree or something like that. Something mundane that they could not possibly argue over.

‘Hi, Leigh. Everything all right?’

‘No,’ she sighed. ‘Your mother has gone missing.’

Jake froze. She had gone walkabout before but Leigh had never needed to phone him in the middle of an investigation. ‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know. She didn’t come down for breakfast this morning. I thought nothing of it. It’s happened before. But when I settled Jakey down for his nap I went into her room to check on her. Jake, I don’t even know if she slept in the room last night. She’s been gone for hours. I’ve phoned around the neighbours, and no one has seen her.’

Jake could feel the waves of tension banding his forehead. ‘Maybe—’

‘No “maybe”, Jake,’ Leigh interrupted. ‘She’s a danger to herself. You can’t just look away from the fact that your mother is losing her mind.’

His stomach tightened and he felt that ulcer again. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then said, ‘I’ll be right over.’

Mills was at his desk, phone in hand. He hadn’t dialled yet. He cradled the phone when Jake walked in.

‘Howard, I need to go out for a while.’

Mills nodded. He didn’t ask where Jake was going. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Where do we take this case?’

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally shifting thoughts of his family to one side, allowing his professional mind to tick over unimpeded. ‘Start with the victims. Both of them. See if there’s something that links them. But something tells me Belinda Harper is the key. So find out everything you can about her – her friends, her enemies, who she calls, her personal trainer. We need to know everything.’

Mills nodded and Jake backed out of the room.

‘I’ll have a radio and my phone. Any breaks, let me know.’

As he turned to leave Asher was walking up the corridor towards him. Jake nodded at his superior and walked out.

He was not going to tell the chief where he was going.

28
Wednesday, 12.55 p.m.

Jake lost a bit of time finding a patrol car with keys in the ignition. But when he found one he pulled out of the precinct yard and into the street, keeping his head low. The car had a radio and flashing blues, so he could get back in a hurry if he had to.

For a moment he wondered where to begin the search, but then logic kicked in and he decided to start where she was last seen.

He drove home.

He didn’t go in, though. This was just the starting point. Instead he drove slowly from there towards the convenience store that the family occasionally went to. His mother had been there once. As he drove he went through a mental checklist making sure Mills could find him if anything happened: mobile phone – on the dash; radio – tuned into dispatch. But mostly he just scanned the sidewalk on both sides, and peered into yards and down lanes. He saw no sign of her. He drove back towards his house, using a different route. Still nothing. So he began circling slowly, gradually expanding the radius of his search. He was forty minutes in and beginning to panic.

The radio crackled beside him, letting cops throughout the city know about traffic jams, muggings, all the minutiae of day-to-day policing. He had tuned it out – Mills would call his mobile if it was anything important – but suddenly his attention was drawn to the end of a bulletin. ‘… wandering on Berkshire …’
Shit!
He had missed it. He lifted the mouthpiece and pressed the button, putting him through to dispatch.

‘Car 62, Detective Austin. Can you repeat that last announcement?’

‘Sure, Detective,’ said the dispatcher. ‘It’s an old woman wandering around, looking confused.’

‘Where?’ snapped Jake.

‘On Berkshire. There’s no cars in the vicinity so I put it out on the all-points bulletin.’

‘Where is she now?’

‘Five minutes ago she was passing the low fifties, heading east. She won’t have got far.’

‘Thanks, bud.’

Jake thought of putting on the lights, but then another thought hit him – what if another car responded? He didn’t want the whole station knowing his personal business. Some things were best kept in the family.

Jake hit a button on the radio, addressing all cars on patrol and forcing the tension from his voice: ‘This is car 62.’ He didn’t identify himself. ‘I’ve got the woman on Berkshire. I’ll see that she gets home.’

He slowed, found a spot for a U-turn and headed
across town. It was lunchtime and traffic was light, but three stop lights went against him. He was tempted to run one of them, but the junction was too busy. It took six minutes to hit Berkshire. That meant it was more than ten minutes since the call came into dispatch. Would his mother still be there? He turned on to Berkshire and drove briskly up the numbers, past the fifties, then he slowed. He scanned both sides. No sign of her. Then he was past the sixties, the seventies, up to the eighties. Where was she?

Finally he saw her. His heart rose and he breathed out a long sigh. She was coming down the street towards him, walking slowly, looking about her as if she was lost. He pulled up and got out of the car.

‘Mom,’ he called, feeling snow clutching at his feet, climbing above his ankles. His heart lurched with worry for her – these conditions were not good for a woman her age. ‘Mom, it’s me. Jake.’

She looked up at the sound of the voice, then smiled sweetly. She recognized him, a look of relief passing over her face.

He ran over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Are you enjoying your walk?’ he asked through gritted teeth.

‘Jake! I can’t find a street sign,’ she explained. ‘I was looking for a policeman to help me.’

‘Don’t worry, Mom. I know the street signs. I’ll take you home.’

‘Yes. That sounds good. Perhaps we’ll do that.’

Jake helped his mother into the car and drove back in silence – what was the point of asking her what she was doing? She wouldn’t answer, or she would talk nonsense. There was that band of tension around his forehead again, the stinging prickles of acid in his gut. This was just too much, on top of everything else. Something within him wanted to explode, but he was careful – it wasn’t her fault.

This couldn’t take long; he had just walked out on a homicide investigation that happened to be the biggest one the town had ever seen.

Jake pulled the car into his driveway and got out. His mother was just sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for the door to be opened for her. Sighing, he walked around and popped the handle. Then he put a hand on her arm and helped her out of the car.

‘We’re home now, Mom,’ he told her.

‘Home?’ She looked up at the house as if she’d never seen it before.

He fished out his door key and took her into the house. She smiled gently, but when she thought Jake wasn’t looking her lip trembled in terror.

29
Wednesday, 1.30 p.m.

Leigh was vacuuming. There was a time, when they had first got married and were living in a cramped apartment on Lake Shore Drive overlooking Lake Michigan, when they didn’t even own a vacuum cleaner. Even when that changed, neither of them had been especially diligent about keeping their house tidy. That just wasn’t their way.

Until they had come to Littleton. Now Leigh seemed to be cleaning everything two or three times a day.

Jake forced a smile to his face. It wasn’t his mother’s fault. It wasn’t Leigh’s fault. It was just life. It wore you down. Best not to say anything about the fight last night and see how the land lay.

‘I found her,’ he said brightly.

‘So I see.’ Leigh was smiling too, but he could see the tightness around her lips. ‘Where was she?’

‘Walking along Berkshire, not a care in the world.’

‘That’s a long way from here.’

‘I know. Any idea how long she was gone?’

Leigh bit her lip. ‘As I said, the bed doesn’t even look slept in. We’ll have to get a lock.’

Jake looked to see if his mother was taking any of this in, but she was pottering around the kitchen, oblivious. Jake knew it was wrong to be talking about her as if she wasn’t there, but in a sense she wasn’t. He frowned slightly, and Leigh caught the message.

‘We’ll talk later,’ she said. ‘Want a coffee?’

Jake did, but he was pressed for time.

‘Sit down – I’ll have it for you in a minute.’

Feeling guilty for each second he was away from the station, he sat on the sofa. The news was showing, sound muted, so he boosted the volume. The second killing was getting blanket coverage. Some reporter he didn’t recognize was describing the scene to the anchor in the studio. She didn’t have much information, but she was spinning it as best she could. Then it struck him that she was spinning the same vague information they had had a few hours ago – the press did not have the identity of the second victim yet. He was impressed. Asher was keeping a lid on this one. Out of respect for Councilman Harper? Unlikely. Much more likely Asher was simply trying to make sure he hogged the limelight himself when he finally broke the news to the press. Probably a late-morning press conference, feeding live to the lunchtime news shows. Police colonel was not an elected position, but the incumbent needed to be a good politician all the same.

Leigh came back into the room. She had a mug of coffee, which she set on the table before settling down next to him. He moved over on the sofa and killed the
sound. He tried to keep any combative tone out of his voice. ‘Can we talk about this later?’ he said.

‘We can’t keep putting it off,’ Leigh replied. ‘We have to make a decision soon. Do we get a nurse, or do we find a place where they can take care of her? These aren’t just bouts of forgetfulness. She has a medical condition, and it’s getting worse.’

‘Now’s not a good time.’

‘I know. But when will be? It’s for her own safety as much as anything. She could get hurt on one of her wanders. And they’re happening more and more often.’

‘We can cope.’

‘You’re not here to help with the
coping
,’ she said.

‘I’m here now.’

‘But in an hour you’ll be back at work, and I’ll be on my own – as I’ve been since we arrived. You do know it’s Christmas, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he said, aware that his voice was clipped. He softened it. ‘I also know we have a potential serial killer at large, and that people are at risk until I’ve caught him. I have to focus on that.’

‘Insurance would cover the costs,’ was all she said, changing the topic to one where she had the higher ground.

‘It’s not about the cost,’ he snapped.

‘Fine,’ she said. But he knew it wasn’t. This would run and run.

He stood, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and headed for the door. She hadn’t turned towards the kiss.

As he walked briskly to the car, he was seething. Whatever Leigh said, he would not be putting his mother in a home. Never. Christ, they should be on the same side.

He saw Faith coming up the driveway towards him. ‘Hi, Dad.’ His daughter grinned. ‘What are you doing home? Have you—’

‘Sorry, Faith, I have to go back to work,’ he said, opening the car door. ‘We’ll talk tonight.’

As he made to slide his body into the car, he caught the pained look that clouded Faith’s face. But he did not have time to make it better. Not today. He closed the car door.

What sort of a man am I turning into? That’s my daughter.

He opened the car door and stepped out, spreading his arms. He put a big goofy grin on his face.

Faith smiled back at him, running into his arms. He hugged her tight, feeling her small skinny body folding into his strong arms. She snuggled like she hadn’t since she was seven or eight, and he felt the tension easing around his forehead.

‘Are you coming in for lunch?’ she whispered.

‘I just came for the hug,’ he replied.

BOOK: The Christmas Killer
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