The Dying Room (3 page)

So much for narrowing down the suspect pool.

Jefferson County Coroner’s Office

Monday, March 30, 5:30 p.m.

Sylvia removed her gloves. “The blows that caused the bruises on his abdomen didn’t do any real damage.” She indicated the torso of the victim with its freshly sutured Y-shaped incision, and then the damaged tissue on his wrists and ankles. “The ligature marks, as you know, resulted from being restrained. He was remarkably physically fit for his age. I can only hope my heart will be in such good condition when I’m in my seventies.”

“What about the Taser marks?”

“I don’t think the Taser is what stopped his heart, but I can’t completely rule it out at this point. We’ll know more when the tox screen results are back.”

“So he didn’t have a heart attack.”

“He did not.”

Jess considered the victim. “How long before you have the tox screen results?”

“The lab is putting a rush on all results related to his autopsy.” As much as she wanted to help move the investigation along, there was little else Sylvia could conclude until she had those in hand. “We may have some results by tomorrow, and I should have most within seventy-two hours.”

Jess removed her gloves and tossed them in the same hazardous materials bin Sylvia had used. “Let me know the minute you have something.”

Sylvia followed Jess into the corridor. Lori spoke quietly with a caller a few feet away. “You look a little tired today, Jess. Did you get any sleep last night?” The woman was only days from having a baby, she should be taking it a little easier.

“A couple of hours. It’s hard to sleep when I first start a new case.” Jess wrestled the straps of that big black bag she carried a little higher on her shoulder.

Sylvia had gone to a lot of trouble to find an exact match to the bag Jess had lost in the fire at Dan’s old house. Jess had been carrying that enormous black leather bag when she first waltzed into Sylvia’s life last year. Jess swore she carried her life in there, and Sylvia had come to see that her friend wasn’t kidding.

“We’ve been sorting through the cases posted on the judge’s library wall,” Jess went on. “Forensic techs are going through fingerprints. So far the only ones we’ve identified are those belonging to the judge and his housekeeper.”

“Chief.” Lori tucked her phone into her bag. “Lieutenant Hayes tracked down the brother of the guy who was executed last year. He’s agreed to an interview.”

“One down and a whole lot more to go.” Jess looked toward the autopsy room door. “Judge Rutledge sentenced more defendants to death than any other judge in Alabama’s history. He had a reputation for overriding a jury’s recommendation of a life sentence when death was what he wanted for the defendant.”

Sylvia recalled well the headlines and her father’s comments when, after turning seventy, Rutledge was finally forced to retire. “The media referred to him as the grim reaper.”

“Do you remember when a bomb was delivered to his home?” Lori asked.

“I do. It was the summer after my junior year in college.” Sylvia nodded. “The judge and his wife were away that morning. The housekeeper he had at the time was killed. I think the bomb exploded unexpectedly as she brought it into the house.”

“We’re trying to locate a sister,” Jess said, her expression indicating that she, too, recalled the awful event, “the only remaining family of the man convicted in that case. He was executed two years ago.”

“You think the killer might be female?” Considering the obvious signs the judge had been drugged with something, Sylvia supposed the idea wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

“She may have hired someone to do the deed.” Jess shrugged. “We haven’t found any financial issues or bad habits on the judge’s part. Beyond his propensity to enforce the capital punishment statute, I’m not seeing any sort of motive for murder.”

“Maybe several of the families banded together to punish him, “Lori suggested, “for doling out death sentences to the loved ones they believed to be innocent.”

“With a strong enough motive anything’s possible,” Jess granted. “With Rutledge’s history, we could be looking at hundreds with sufficient motive.”

“Were you able to reach his son?” Sylvia couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Harvey Rutledge. Not since high school.

“I spoke to him late last night. He sent me a text this morning saying he had a flight into Birmingham around six this evening.” Jess checked the time on the wall clock above the autopsy room door. “He’s probably landing about now. I don’t know how much help he’ll be. He hasn’t seen or spoken to his father since Christmas.” She frowned. “How could Rutledge pretend his own child didn’t exist 364 days out of the year?”

Sylvia shook her head, the words she wanted to say clumping into a hot ball of hurt in her belly. “I’m sure the son can shed some light on their relationship.”

“Maybe so.” Jess flashed her a smile. “Thanks for the update. Call me as soon as you can with those tox screen results.”

Lori gave Sylvia a wave as the two rushed away. Sylvia returned to the autopsy room, donned a fresh pair of gloves, and prepared the body for storage. There were morgue assistants she could have called to do this part, but the familiar movements kept her mind off other things.

After more than twenty-two years, she couldn’t understand why the past had to come back to haunt her now. In all likelihood, it was the endless talk and fuss around Jess’s pregnancy. Now, yet another of her friends was expecting. Lori’s baby was scheduled to be a Thanksgiving delivery, which meant more baby showers and celebrations in the coming months.

Sylvia groaned. The trouble had started at Jess and Dan’s wedding just before Christmas last year. She’d never been one to act on impulse. At least not when it came to sex. That night it was as if her hormones simply wanted to punish her for what might have been. Her parents had long ago stopped asking when she was getting married again so they could have a grandchild. Whatever this unsettling and confusing longing was, it appeared to be an internal struggle. Had some errant brain cell decided she deserved to relive the one regret in her life over and over?

The memory of how and where she’d spent the night after Jess and Dan’s wedding abruptly flashed through her mind. Sylvia groaned again. “I still can’t believe I did that.” She stared at the judge, stalling in the closure of the body bag. “I really am quite screwed up, Your Honor. I’m reasonably sure there’s no repairing me.”

As she prepared to close the bag, the slightest hint of blue amid his hair gave Sylvia pause. She parted the thick white hair and searched. Often times, the elderly used a bluish rinse or hair dye to tone down a particularly harsh gray color. Perhaps a little excess blue dye on the scalp was the culprit in this instance. Yet the judge’s hair didn’t have any lingering bluish color. Her fingers stilled on a small, approximately dime-sized, faded blue object. An eagle, she realized. A tattoo of an eagle. The tattoo was on the parietal region of the scalp, in line with but an inch or so above the ear.

Sylvia snapped a photo to send Jess via text, but she hesitated. Where had she seen a tattoo like that before? Memories of covering her dad’s eyes while her mother and younger sister sneaked in with a surprise birthday cake rushed through her mind. She’d been twelve or thirteen. She’d noticed the tattoo and asked her father about it. He’d said the small tattoo was from his Air Force days.

Anyone could have an eagle tattoo. Though the similarity of size and location seemed a little more than coincidence. Perhaps the judge had been in the Air Force as well.

Sylvia shook off the moment of déjà vu and sent the text. Deciding not to risk that she’d overlooked anything else, she unzipped the bag. “Sorry, Judge, but I need another look to make sure you’re not hiding any more secrets from me.”

Sylvia never missed a detail like this one. Yet another indication of the difficulty she’d encountered lately in keeping her mind on work and out of the past.

She couldn’t deny its existence anymore. It was time to deal with that past.

17th Street South, Five Points, 7:55 p.m.

Buddy Corlew tossed back the last of the beer and set it aside. He leaned back in his chair and glared at the pile of papers cluttering the desk in his home office.

“I hate this stuff.”

What good was an accountant if he still had to do all this paperwork come March every year? He laughed. To hear his CPA tell it, if he kept up the paperwork year round he wouldn’t have this mess as the dreaded tax deadline approached. She also reminded him that she had actually needed all this last month.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” Buddy pushed back his chair and grabbed his empty longneck bottle. Facing this pile of disorganized work history required at least one more beer. Maybe he’d break out the hard stuff.

A distant memory abruptly elbowed its way through his frustration. “Maybe not,” he muttered.

The last time he’d filled out any government forms while under the influence of his favorite eighty-proof he’d gotten hauled in for questioning. Apparently, it was frowned upon to make smart ass remarks in answer to questions from the federal government. He’d hired his CPA that very year. Buddy grunted and decided it was best not to get all worked up about the things he couldn’t change. Life was a hell of a lot more pleasant when he focused on fixing the problems of his clients rather than his own. Not that he had any real troubles beyond paperwork.

Nah. His house was paid for. So was the sleek black Charger parked out front. He had a little cash in the bank and all the sweet babes he could handle. What else could a man want? His traitorous mind instantly conjured up the image of one babe in particular. A firm rap on his front door prevented him from going down that not so smart path.

He spent about two seconds considering whether or not he should find a shirt to drag on before answering the door. Deciding not to bother, he headed that way. Anyone who showed up at his house at this hour was probably a client who knew him well enough to have his home address. Or, he mused, the ex-husband of a client who’d found him through the only competitor in town dumb enough to stoop this low. Giving out a PI’s home address to the wrong guy was like sanctioning a hit.

A couple more hard raps echoed through the house. “Hang on.” He grabbed his snub nose as he passed the hall table and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. Sounded like his anxious visitor was pretty pissed or damned scared. Either way, it could mean trouble.

Buddy moved to the window on the hinge side of the door and eased the curtain aside. Visitors were typically focused on the knob side of the door, allowing him a quick peek from this side without being spotted.

Sylvia Baron stood on his porch. Even if he hadn’t been surprised to see her there he still would have lingered to get a good long look at her before opening the door. Damn. The woman was hot. Those legs of hers went on forever. The green skirt and white blouse failed to hug all her subtle, sweet curves, but he knew every damned one. Dark glasses hid her eyes, and she had all that silky hair twisted into a conservative up do of some sort. She presented an uptight, conservative image, but he knew better. Peel off the designer labels and drag her between the sheets and she was a wildcat. His body reacted instantly to the memories.

“Fool.” He flipped the latch and opened the door. “Well hello,
Doctor
Baron.” He braced against the doorframe. “Took you long enough to decide you wanted an encore.”

“Please.”

She set her hands on her hips and glared at him. He didn’t have to see her eyes, he could feel them raking over him.

“I’d like to speak with you. Privately. If you’re not too busy.”

“Come on in.” A whole list of potential issues was suddenly running through his mind. They both had gone a little stupid the night of Jess’s wedding. He’d never had sex without using a condom... except that once. Surely a woman as sophisticated as Sylvia was on some sort of birth control. He suffered a twinge of panic.

“Would you please put on a shirt first?” She lifted her chin in that haughty manner she used to put people off. “I have no desire to look at your naked chest.”

He shrugged. “So don’t look.”

She shot him a glare that warned she was dead serious. Rather than argue, he left her standing at the door while he went in search of a shirt. He grabbed the tee he’d tossed across the bed when he got home this morning and pulled it on. The sound of the door clicking to a close told him she’d come inside. When he swaggered out of the bedroom, she stood in the small entry hall, looking sorely out of place.

“You want a beer or something?”

She took off her sunglasses. “I’d really like to move straight to business.”

Buddy rubbed the back of his neck, his uneasiness mounting. “Sure.” He gestured to the living room. “We should probably sit down.”

She settled in the chair near the front window. It was the one with the most direct path to the front door. Didn’t surprise him. She looked ready to run.

Holy hell. Twenty-seven years. He’d never once had sex without using a condom until...
her
. The only good advice his drunken old man had ever given him was never ever to have sex without a condom. Even at the hormone-driven age of sixteen, he couldn’t have sex without that sage advice echoing in his head.

“This is very difficult.” She took a deep breath.

Buddy recognized he should say something, but he couldn’t find his voice.

“I’ve been carrying this around for too long, and it’s time I did what needs to be done,” she announced.

He couldn’t take it. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” He exhaled a chest full of tension. He could do this. If Jess could have a kid, he could. Sure. Hell yeah. No problem.

Sylvia appeared taken aback or confused. “Isn’t that generally your job? If I knew what to do, I certainly wouldn’t be here.” She tucked her sunglasses into her bag and clasped her hands in her lap.

Now he was confused. He swallowed, wished he’d gone for the hard stuff when he’d had the chance. “Why don’t we start with exactly why you’re here?”

“I’m here because...” She shifted in her chair. Crossed her legs, and then tugged at the hem of her skirt. “I’d like to hire you to look into a... situation.”

Relief roared through him like a freight train. “Whew.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “That’s a relief. I thought you were here to tell me you’re pregnant.”

Judging by the horrified look on her face he should have kept that to himself.

“You...?” She stared at his Eagles t-shirt, then his ragged jeans and bare feet. She laughed, but not quickly enough to cover the way her breath quickened and her cheeks flushed. “No. Absolutely not.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Right. So, tell me about your
situation
.”

She uncrossed her legs. Then crossed them again. Her edginess was killing him. Every time she crossed or uncrossed those gorgeous legs he remembered the feel of them around his waist.

“Let’s get something straight first.” She scowled at him with those dark as midnight brown eyes. “You are bound by privilege, Buddy Corlew. You cannot discuss this with anyone else. Are we clear?”

Whatever this situation was, it was big and personal. He leaned forward, braced his forearms on his knees. “You listen to me, Doc. I’ve been doing this for a while now. You think I’d have the reputation I do if I didn’t know how to keep secrets?”

She cleared her throat as she clasped and unclasped her hands. “You can’t even tell Jess.”

Their gazes met and he saw the hurt there. Whatever this was, it was not only big and personal it was painful. “You have my word.”

“All right.” She nodded. “By the way, I appreciate your discretion about... that night.”

He gave a nod. He didn’t kiss and tell. As he waited for her to begin the silence settled around them. No need to push. They had all night.

“When I was twenty-two I found myself in a difficult position.” She stared at her hands. “I’d just graduated college. I’d been accepted to medical school and I was very excited. I was in love with a young man with the same career hopes and dreams as I had.” She met Buddy’s eyes briefly. “Except his hopes and dreams didn’t include a future with me.”

Buddy flinched. “Most guys are real shits at that age.”

She nodded. “I was naïve. I never saw it coming.” She squared her shoulders. “In any event, I couldn’t go to my parents. I didn’t want to disappoint them and Nina had just been diagnosed with schizophrenia. They didn’t need another problem to deal with, so I handled it myself. I told them I wanted to take a semester off in Paris and they agreed. With Nina falling apart midway through undergraduate school, I think they were terrified I might fall apart, too.”

“But you didn’t go to Paris,” he guessed. It was easy to see what was coming.

She shook her head. “I spent the next six months in Sacramento. When I came home, I never told anyone what happened. You’re the first person to know.”

No wonder she was so uptight. She’d been carrying this burden all alone for a hell of a long time. He appreciated her trust more than she could know. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

She exhaled a big breath. “I’d like you to find my daughter.”