The Dying Room (13 page)

Butler Springs Way, 10:00 p.m.

Sam Baker was furious. He felt like a prisoner in his own home. He had ordered that lieutenant off his property this afternoon only to have him park at the end of his drive. As if that wasn’t frustrating enough, the manager of the golf course had called to let him know that a Sergeant Harper was sitting in a golf cart at the back of the Baker estate. Of course, the manager had been concerned and wanted to know if there was anything he could do.

Rumors would spread like wildfire. Sam shouldn’t care and perhaps he didn’t. If he were completely honest with himself, he would confess that very little mattered to him anymore. He’d retired last year after Scott’s death. His other sons hardly spoke to him anymore. Except his wife. No matter what he’d done, Clara still adored him and he adored her. She was the one person he could always count on. As soon as he’d realized the seriousness of the situation, he’d sent Clara to Montgomery. She hadn’t argued, but he had seen the worry in her eyes.

She needn’t worry. To a large degree his life was over anyway. He had no desire for the police to know any more than they already did about this matter. He would personally handle whatever came next. Wilson, the poor bastard, was completely disabled or dead. Unless his ghost was back to have his revenge, it could only be someone from the institution who’d learned his darkest secrets during his lengthy stay there. Or perhaps it was his longtime errand boy. The notion that Kinslow was carrying out his own revenge wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility. The man might be physically challenged but Sam felt confident he’d understood exactly who was behind his prison sentence.

Kinslow wouldn’t be so young now. Perhaps sixty, and riddled with physical frailties. Chances were he had a price. Sam would simply pay it and be done with this unholy business. He imagined Rutledge had been too self-righteous to do such a thing and, of course, Pratt had nothing to pay—his assets were all frozen.

Well, Sam had no problem paying the piper for the dance that had solidified his career. In fact, he’d taken fifty thousand dollars from the safety-deposit box at his bank this very day. He had tucked a .22 pistol into his sock at his ankle. Kinslow could be bought or he couldn’t. Either way, Sam was prepared.

Let the trouble come. Every man had his price. Sam would find it, even if it meant emptying the safe hidden in the floor beneath his desk.

He checked all the doors once more as well as the security system. Brandy would be nice before he headed to bed. He padded down the hall, pausing to straighten a painting. He’d commissioned paintings of all his sons as well as himself and Clara. They were beautiful. He enjoyed walking past them each time he went to his study. When he entertained a colleague it was nice to show off those elegant paintings as they made their way to his lavish study.

What good was money if one couldn’t flaunt the benefits of possessing such large sums of it?

Sam knew his study by heart. He stepped into the quiet darkness and moved straight to the bar. He flipped on the light behind the bar, highlighting the rich details of the wood and the ornate mirrors and stained glass. He’d had this one-hundred-year-old bar shipped all the way from Ireland. He loved it and, more importantly, his friends and colleagues were envious of it.

He poured the brandy and drank it down, and then poured another. He set the bottle aside, and a light across the room came on. He whirled around expecting that his wife had tricked him and decided to stay or that the police had somehow...

Not his wife or the police.

The man was moving toward him even as Sam’s brain digested the details of what was happening.

He was tall and thin. Shock held Sam frozen as he recognized the rubber or plastic gloves on the man’s hands, making his intention abundantly clear. His hair was cut too short to identify the precise color, but his eyes were dark sunken pools in a pasty white face. He wore a suit, but it was the high top leather shoes and the shiny metal of the braces visible at the hem of his trousers that drew Sam’s attention.

“Do you remember me, Mr. Baker?”

Sam nodded, understanding settling over him. “Yes, I do.” He did his best to shake off the shock and to gather his composure. “I’ve been expecting you.”

The man didn’t stop until he was standing toe-to-toe with Sam. He wished he’d remembered the gun at his ankle the instant he saw Kinslow. Sam swallowed the last of his brandy and reached out to place the glass on the bar. “How did you get in here? The police are right outside.”

“You have a rather large estate, Mr. Baker. It was easy enough to evade the two officers attempting to keep watch beyond your property lines. Turning off your security system and getting through your locked door was simple. I spent six years in prison with a man who could break into the White House if he chose. It’s amazing what you can learn when you have plenty of time on your hands.”

Sam struggled to regain his composure once more. “How... how is Mr. Hilliard?”

Kinslow smiled. “Funny that you ask, Mr. Baker. Mr. Hilliard sent me to collect. I’m sure you remember there were certain compensations expected. Unfortunately, my time is short so we’ll have to get on with the collection. I would have preferred to spend some time, you know, to do a good job for Mr. Hilliard as I did with Judge Rutledge and Mayor Pratt, but the timetable has been pushed up. There’s no time to be as thorough as I’d like with you.”

Sam nodded. This was good. Progress. “All right. What would Mr. Hilliard like? I’m prepared to pay whatever price he desires.”

“He’d like your life.”

Sam tried to raise his hands to defend himself but it was too late. The man pressed a cloth to his face and pulled him against his body before Sam could react.

“But first,” Kinslow growled against his ear, “he’d like me to remind you of all that he gave you and all that you allowed to be taken from him.”

Sam tried to scream. He kicked and failed his arms, but the thin man was far too strong.

“He wanted you to know,” Kinslow continued, “how it felt to endure those hideous shock treatments and to be abused by a person charged with your care.” Kinslow held him tighter still. “He wanted you to know what it is to be utterly terrified.”

As his ability to hang onto consciousness slipped from his grasp, Sam wished he had allowed that damned detective into his home. He wished he didn’t keep the shutters closed on the windows of his study... he wished he could tell his wife and sons how much he loved them and how sorry he was for the mistakes he had made.

His body refused to struggle anymore and the lights around him faded to darkness.

Butler Springs Way, Friday, April 3, 9:00 a.m.

Jess would be glad when this killer was caught and this case was behind her. She much preferred riding to work with Lori or another member of her team. Sylvia was in a mood this morning. Or maybe Jess was the one in a foul mood. Either way, Sylvia hadn’t said a word beyond ‘morning’ since Jess climbed into her car. It was bad enough to start the day off with a murder, she didn’t need the silent treatment as well.

As they arrived at the crime scene and Jess reached for the door handle, Sylvia finally spoke. “Jess, wait.”

“She speaks.” Jess turned an unapologetic look in her direction and immediately felt contrite. “I know you’re worried about your father.” Who wouldn’t be? They now had their third victim in this case. Senator Robert Baron was on the same short list as the three victims. All they had was a photo of a tall thin man, possibly Bernard Kinslow, who had been Wilson Hilliard’s personal assistant. And who, unfortunately, could not be found. The address listed on his prison release papers was bogus. He had no current driver’s license. He was out there somewhere preparing for his next kill.

“I am very worried about Daddy, yes.” Sylvia stared forward where crime scene tape was being strung around the Baker home and cops had fanned out to protect the perimeter. “Buddy came to see me last night.”

Jess hadn’t taken the Buddy-Sylvia thing too seriously when Dan told her about it. Buddy always had a new woman, or two or three, in his life. Sylvia played the field a little herself. Jess was under the impression she had no desire for a complicated relationship.

“Are the two of you seeing each other?” Jess asked when Sylvia didn’t appear compelled to say more.

Sylvia exhaled a big breath. “Sort of.” She turned to Jess then. “We’ve had sex a few times and... we seem to connect.” She shrugged. “But that’s not why he came by.”

Jess shifted in the seat. Her lower back was still nagging at her today. She’d even resorted to wearing tennis shoes in hopes they would help. She wouldn’t win any fashion awards but at least the shoes were brown like her slacks. The sweater was one of her favorites. It hugged her round body gently. Maternity clothes had come a long way since Lil had been pregnant.

Sylvia looked at her hands. Jess loved her French manicure. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken the time to get a manicure. Dan was helping with her pedicure needs but he didn’t trust his skill with a fingernail polish brush enough to do her fingernails. So she cut them short and left them bare. She really needed to change that.

“Whatever’s going on, you can tell me, Sylvia.” Hopefully, before detectives started knocking on the windows asking why she and Sylvia were still in the car.

“I didn’t really go to Paris before med school.” She lifted her gaze to Jess’s. “I spent a semester in California to have a baby.”

Stunned, Jess snapped her mouth shut. She hadn’t meant for her jaw to go slack. “Oh,” was all she could manage to say.

“No one else in this world knows except Buddy and whoever he hired to help him find her.”

For heaven’s sake. “You have a daughter?” She’d be what? Twenty-two or three?
Wow! Just... wow
.

Sylvia nodded. “Her name is Addison Devers. She’s twenty-two and a surgical nurse.” A shaky smile slid across her lips. “She’s beautiful.”

“This is amazing.” Jess shook her head. “So, where does she live? Was she raised in California?”

“She was, but the people who raised her are dead. She recently decided to look for me.” Sylvia’s lips trembled. “She’s
here
, Jess. In Birmingham.”

“Oh my God!” Jess squeezed her friend’s hand. “You have so been holding out! Have you spoken to her?”

Sylvia shook her head. “It’s not that simple. She came here two months ago. She found a place to live and a job, but she hasn’t approached me.”

“She’s probably nervous and uncertain.”

“I suppose so. With this murder case,” she stared out the windshield again, “I’m not sure now is the time to approach her.”

“I don’t know,” Jess countered, “waiting might not be the right thing to do either.” She couldn’t imagine how difficult this was for Sylvia.

“She’s dating Chad.”

Taken aback, Jess had to close her sagging mouth once more. “Our Chad?”

Sylvia nodded. “She’s a nurse for the surgeon who took care of his leg. That’s how they met.”

“She’s the woman he was talking about in the office yesterday.”

“She is.”

OMG
. Jess kept that to herself. “Here comes Lori. We’ll talk about this later.”

Sylvia managed a smile and nodded. “We will.”

They emerged from the car and met Lori at the front steps. “The ME estimated time of death at between two and four this morning. No visible cause of death. The same ligature and Taser marks as the other two victims. No visible bruises. Baker was apparently worried. He had a .22 stuffed into his sock. For all the good it did him.”

“Who’s here from my office?” Sylvia asked.

“Toni James.”

Jess nodded. They had worked with James before. “The officers on surveillance last night didn’t see or hear anything?”

Lori shook her head as they stepped through the front door. “Nothing”

“No indications of forced entry?” Jess knew the answer before she asked the question. They paused in the entry hall to pull on shoe covers and gloves.

“The walk-through door in the garage as well as the one between the garage and the kitchen appear to have been left unlocked. We believe the killer came in that way and left that way as well. Evidence techs are crawling all over the place inside and out.”

“He probably left through the golf course,” Jess speculated. “With all those trees forming a border between the public space and the residences, staying in the shadows wouldn’t be difficult.” A two-man surveillance detail not allowed to come on the property could only do so much.

“I was thinking the same,” Lori agreed.

Baker’s home was large and grand. Jess hadn’t expected anything less. She surveyed the entry hall as they entered. “Anyone call the wife?”

“Chief Burnett let me know he was making that call,” Lori explained.

Suited Jess. No one liked making those kinds of calls. Dan knew the Bakers. Jess was glad he’d made that decision. “Bring me up to speed on what we’re doing here?”

“Cook is interviewing the neighbors,” Lori said, “Hayes is in the den taking a statement from the housekeeper who found him. Chet is trying to track down anything on our persons of interest.” Lori gestured forward. “The body’s in his study.”

“Any luck learning the status and whereabouts of Wilson Hilliard or where Bernard Kinslow is holed up?”

“Not yet. I did, however, track down the secretary who worked with him for most of his career. Patricia Phelps passed away last year.”

“Has anyone from the institution where Hilliard was a patient been able to identify who signed him out six months ago?”

“The administrator recalled Hilliard’s departure and remembered that the man who signed him out was very tall and slim, and that he had a limp. He used the name Hitchcock and introduced himself as Hilliard’s nephew.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “See if you can track down the last physician who cared for Hilliard at the institution. Maybe he knows the physician who’s treating him now.”

“On it.”

Dr. Toni James was just stepping away from the body when Jess and Sylvia entered the study.

“Detective Wells gave you my preliminaries?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Jess flashed her a smile.

“Looks like that baby’s coming any day.” Toni smiled. “Hopefully not at a homicide scene.”

“Two weeks and four days,” Jess confirmed. “Definitely not at a homicide scene.”

As Sylvia and Toni discussed the body, Jess took a quick look and then moved to the collage the killer had created on the wall. Like the other scenes, he had arranged photos and newspaper clippings about Baker and the most controversial cases he prosecuted as well as articles about his rise to power.

The killer evidently wore thick gloves. He hadn’t left the first print at any of the scenes. Since it hadn’t rained in a week or so there were no shoe prints outside any of the other victims’ homes. No security cameras that took photos. No neighbors who heard or saw anything. Jess expected the same here. Still, they would go through the steps and hope he’d made a mistake this time.

She touched the first newspaper clipping and then the next. Some were decades old yet they looked extremely well taken care of. Who else besides a friend or family member—and there were none—would keep such meticulous records? As Hilliard’s personal assistant, Kinslow must have been immensely dedicated.

He was their killer. Jess was convinced. They just had to find him.

She hesitated. Their attempts to find Kinslow would typically be focused on locating family and friends and finding a residence or a vehicle registered to him. None of those options were available. Kinslow had no known family and no address. Yet, he’d taken Hilliard somewhere when they left the institution. The two had to be somewhere. A place suitable for an elderly, disabled, and perhaps very ill man. Hilliard had been an investment banker. Despite having lost all his money, he might still own a small house or two somewhere in the city.

Jess surveyed the study. Kinslow murdered each of his victims in their personal study or library. Most were retired already or had home offices, so he’d selected that space for their
dying room
. A place where the victims had likely executed their duties from home. Duties that came with the positions Wilson had helped them attain. That, too, was telling. This was personal, but it was also business.

Lori appeared at the door, and Jess joined her in the hall. “I have the name of Hilliard’s last known physician. I just sent his name and address to your cell.”

“Sylvia and I will head that way. Check in with the senator’s surveillance detail. I want eyes on him at all times.”

“I’ll drive over and check in with them in person.”

“Good idea.” Jess glanced back to see if Sylvia was still tied up with Toni. “Call Chet and ask him to look for a house or any property owned by Hilliard. Maybe all his assets weren’t liquidated. An investment specialist would know how to hide resources.”

“Will do. I’ll touch base with you after I check in on Senator Baron.”

“Stay safe,” Jess warned. “Just because this guy seems to prefer striking after dark doesn’t mean he won’t change his MO.” Lori was pregnant. She had to take special care of herself.

Lori laughed. “I seem to recall someone I know hating when people told her to take it easy out there in the field.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Go and be safe anyway.”

Sylvia emerged from the study. “What next?”

“We take a look around, and then we leave the scene in the capable hands of Hayes and Cook and the forensic folks.” She hoped Baker’s computer and cell phone records gave them additional clues. They needed all the help they could get.

“I called Daddy.”

Jess glanced at her. “Lori just left to check on him.”

“He swears he won’t leave the house and that everything’s locked up tight.”

The past few days had taken a toll on Sylvia. Her face was uncharacteristically pale and she was visibly tense. If the murders weren’t enough, there was the business with her daughter.
Wow
. Jess still couldn’t believe Sylvia had kept that kind of secret all these years.

“Would you rather be with him?” Not that Jess considered the idea a good one but she knew how she would feel under the same circumstances.

“He won’t have it.” Sylvia shook her head. “I swear, Jess. My gut tells me these men are behaving so stubbornly because they don’t want us to know their secrets.”

“I’m certain of it. It takes sacrifice to achieve great power. Sometimes those sacrifices are outside the lines. As proud as your father is, I doubt he wants you or anyone else to know he crossed a line of any kind.”

“I just can’t imagine any other reason for his determination to face this alone. Yet, I can’t imagine him crossing any lines, either.” She sighed. “He said if I came near the house he’d call Dan to come and pick me up.”

It wasn’t funny, but Jess had to laugh. “Dan would do it, too.”

Sylvia shot her a look. “He’d try.”

Jess laughed and finally Sylvia joined her. They needed a good laugh even if the forensic folks didn’t get it.

Sometimes a person just had to laugh... this was one of those times.