The Next Victim (34 page)

The unbearable loss of their son was something neither of them would ever get over. But instead of holding tight to each other in their grief, they'd pulled apart. On the surface, nothing changed. They didn't argue or pout. Deena kissed him good-bye each morning, made his dinners, and inquired about his day. Erling checked the tires on her car, opened the jars with tight lids, chuckled at the stories she told about her students. They made love, comfortably if not passionately, but Erling sensed that the tiniest puff of ill wind would rip the fragile fabric of their marriage to shreds.

And now he'd opened the door to that wind.

Erling again rubbed his neck. He got up and walked to the men's room, where he washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He dried himself off with a rough paper towel from the dispenser and tossed it into the trash. A uniformed deputy entered the restroom and greeted Erling with a friendly nod.

"Must be nice to have that Winslow murder wrapped up." The deputy headed for the urinal.

"Yeah," Erling replied, aware of the strain in his own voice.

"You and Michelle did good."

"Thanks." Erling blotted his face again and headed back to his desk.

His family and his job. He'd made a mess of both. Not only hadn't he removed himself from the case, protests to Michelle aside, but he couldn't be certain he'd been totally objective in the investigation.

John O'Brien was clearly a person of interest. His name had surfaced right away. There was evidence linking him to the crime. But Erling wondered if, in his own self-interest, he hadn't taken the easy way out. He'd wanted the murders cleared and put away before anyone started asking questions. Before his connection to Sloane surfaced.

Erling looked around the congested and cluttered squad room that had been his home away from home for more than ten years now. He was a good cop. He knew that. Took pride in it. He didn't want to become anything less.

Swallowing the fear and remorse crowding his throat, Erling pulled the file on the Winslow/Perez murders and went through it again, detail by detail. Nothing jumped out at him.

At five-thirty he put it all away and went home to face Deena.

Deena was at the kitchen table, scissors in hand, cutting shapes out of multicolored construction paper. He surprised her by announcing he was taking her out to dinner.

"Right now?"

"Whenever you want."

Her eyes sparkled. "Half an hour? I need to get cleaned up."

Erling called and made reservations at one of their favorites, a restaurant that was a bit upscale without being pretentious.

"Are we celebrating something?" Deena asked when they were seated. Their table was by the window, away from the main artery of activity and noise.

"We don't have to have an occasion to go out to dinner, do we?"

"No, but you have to admit this spur-of-the-moment stuff is a bit unusual."

That was true. Maybe going out had been a mistake. "I guess I realized I don't tell you often enough how important you are to me and how much I love you."

She angled her head and smiled at him. "I sense there's a bit more to it than that, but maybe I should just shut up while I'm ahead."

Deena ordered scallops and Erling had prime rib. They both had wine. The food was delicious, but Erling could barely swallow. How did one begin to broach the subject of infidelity? Confession might be good for the soul, but it was hell on the digestive system.

"Anything more about Mindy's new boyfriend?" he asked, poking at his mashed potatoes.

"Only that there's definitely someone she's interested in. I overheard her talking on the phone in her room. I couldn't hear what she said, but the tone was a dead giveaway. Very different from the way she talks to her girlfriends. And I've noticed she's been paying more attention to what she wears."

Subtleties. It made Erling wonder what Deena had noticed about his own behavior. "Have you asked Mindy about him?"

"Not in so many words. We agreed to respect her independence, remember?"

"Easier said than done."

"That's true." Deena paused. "After Danny, I worry so much about her. I know you do, too." She touched Erling's hand. "But it's important that we don't burden her with our fears. She deserves her own life."

Erling nodded.

Deena gave him a secretive smile. "I noticed a new book of poetry on her bookshelf the other day. Looks like something a guy would give a girlfriend--soft leather cover, velvet ribbon marker. Not the sort of book that's assigned for English class."

"Maybe you should have a talk with her. She may think she's all grown up, but we both know what it's like to be young." Erling had taken so many risks at her age that the mere memory made him cringe still.

Deena patted his hand. "She's entitled to her life, honey. You worry too much. Your day is filled with bad guys, but for the rest of us, bad guys are a rarity."

"The
guy
part is enough of a worry."

Deena smiled. "Better get used to it."

She'd raised the subject of work. It was an ideal segue into the topic Erling wanted to discuss. He cleared his throat, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Speaking of which," Deena continued after a moment. "I saw in the paper that you finally identified that poor young woman whose body was found in the wash a couple of weeks ago. Do you have any idea who killed her?"

Erling shook his head. "We don't even have much of an identity. Just basic stuff--name and address. No next of kin, but we do have a lead on someone who may be a relative. A woman in Minnesota."

"Have you contacted her?"

"Not yet."

Deena grew quiet and Erling knew they were both remembering the call from the hospital following Danny's accident. It had come out of the blue--he'd been spending the afternoon at a buddy's house--and that one simple call had knocked their world off its foundation.

Now Erling was about to wield another hammer blow.

Deena speared a scallop. "You think her killer might be someone she knew?"

"Possibly. But she was apparently a friend of Olivia Perez's, the girl who was killed in that double homicide not long ago."
That double homicide where one of the victims was a woman I slept with
. His tongue itched with the words.

"You caught that killer, didn't you? An employee with a grudge against the older woman."

Older woman
. Sensual, passionate Sloane. Erling felt a wracking hollowness in his gut. "We were pretty sure he was the guy. We were building a case when he died."

"But you don't know for sure?"

Erling shook his head, took a sip of water. He could feel his pulse racing. Here was another opening where he might move from the case to his own misconduct. He took a couple of breaths, but again the words wouldn't come.

"Two young women," Deena said slowly. She sounded worried. "You don't think there's a serial killer on the loose, do you?"

"The two murders don't fit the same pattern, but we can't rule out anything at this point."

She sighed and put her hand on his. "Not good dinner conversation, is it? How's your prime rib?"

When they arrived home, Erling pulled the car into the garage and turned off the engine. Then he turned to Deena before she could get out of the car.

"There's something I need to tell you, honey." Despite the dim interior light, he was able to make out the expression on her face. He watched as confusion gave way to alarm.

"What is it?" Deena asked, her voice husky with concern. "Are you sick?"

Erling shook his head, ashamed that her first thought had been concern about him. "I meant what I said earlier about loving you."

"What's wrong? Has something...Oh, God." She covered her face with her hands. "I think I know where this is going. There's someone else, isn't there? Another woman."

"Not now. Not anymore. But we...I..." Erling's heart was in his throat. This was the hardest thing he'd ever done. "I was involved with someone last spring. It didn't last long."

Deena removed her hands from her eyes, but she didn't look at him. Nor did she say anything.

"I don't really know why I did it," Erling continued. "I'm ashamed. Deeply ashamed, and so sorry. You don't deserve this."

"No, I don't," she whispered. She bit her knuckle.

"I'm sorry," he said again. Never had words been so inadequate.

"Who was it?" Deena asked finally. Her voice was thin and ragged. "Anyone I know?"

Erling shook his head, but Deena wasn't looking at him. "It was the woman who was murdered," he said. "Sloane Winslow."

"The Logan Foods heiress?"

The description didn't fit Sloane any better than "older woman" had. "It's a family business," he said lamely.

"How did you meet her?"

"At a civic event."

Deena was crying now and trying not to, which only made her sobbing more plaintive. "When?"

"Last fall. It was a luncheon honoring community contributions of local businesses. I was one of the speakers. Sloane attended on behalf of Logan Foods."

"Someone introduced you?"

Erling shook his head. He could recall that afternoon as clearly as though it was yesterday. "We were seated next to one another at the head table."

"And you just somehow ended up sleeping with her?"

"More or less." Not that afternoon, but Erling had no doubt that the seed had been planted in both of their minds by then.

"
Why
?" It was a pathetic sound, like the meow of a hungry kitten.

Erling spread his hands, reaching for words that wouldn't hurt her further. How could he explain his behavior to Deena when he didn't really understand it himself?

"Never mind," she said. "I'm not sure I want to know." She reached for a tissue from her purse. "Why did it end? Because she died?"

"No, it was over before that. It was never anything serious."

"It's serious to me," Deena shot back.

"I never stopped loving you. You have to believe that."

"But screwing the heiress was more fun, right?" The tears had given way to outrage. "She was thinner, prettier, sexier, better in bed."

"It wasn't like that."

"Like hell." Deena's face contorted with anger. "Damn you!" She threw open the door and stormed out of the car.

Erling followed on her heels. He reached for her arm and she spun around, pushing him against the garage wall.

"Stay away from me."

"Deena, please."

"Please what?"

He didn't have an answer. He'd agonized so much about telling her, he hadn't thought how she'd react. It had been about him again, he realized, not her. With sudden clarity, Erling understood that Deena had been right all those times she'd accused him of being insensitive.

"Why are you telling me this, anyway?" she asked.

"I'm tired of keeping secrets."

"Great, unburden yourself so you feel better. How do you think I feel now?"

"Terrible," he said. "You must feel hurt, and angry, and humiliated. Totally devastated."

His words seemed to calm her some. She took a deep breath. "Right."

"I shouldn't have been involved in the investigation of her murder," Erling added. "I'm going to recommend that we take another look at the evidence."

"Fine. Whatever." Deena turned to go inside.

Erling cleared his throat. "I saw on our caller ID readout that Sloane called here. It was a few days before she was killed." He paused. "Did you talk to her?"

"That woman called you at home?" Deena asked shrilly. "I thought you said it was over by then."

"It was. I have no idea why she called. But I'm wondering if...maybe the call was important. Relevant to her death, I mean. You didn't speak with her?"

"No, thank God. She'd have gotten a kick out of that, I bet. The mistress playing coy with the unsuspecting wife."

Erling wanted to tell her that Sloane wasn't like that. But he knew he'd lost the right to say any such thing.

Deena headed straight for their bedroom and locked the door. Erling was sure she was allowing herself the tears she'd fought in the car. When she emerged twenty minutes later, her eyes were puffy and her face red. She handed him a folded set of sheets and a blanket. "You can come get your toothbrush and whatever else you need from the bathroom."

Another consequence he hadn't foreseen. "Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"The den or the living room--take your pick."

"You have every right to be angry, but shouldn't we--" He took one look at her expression and shut up.

When he'd retrieved his gear from their bathroom, Deena brushed past him into the bedroom and again locked the door. A few minutes later he heard her running a bath.

Mindy was in her room. She'd poked her head out long enough to say hello when they'd first come home, but she'd apparently picked up on the tension between them and had quicky retreated to her room. A good thing, really. Neither he nor Deena could have kept up a pretense of normalcy.

He prowled around the kitchen, though he wasn't hungry. The house seemed bleak and lifeless, like a place abandoned. But it was Erling who'd been abandoned. He hadn't realized how much he depended on the vitalizing energy of his family for comfort.

Finally, he poured himself a tumbler of scotch. What if Deena left him? Would he ever feel whole again? And how could he explain to Mindy what he'd done? He'd never be able to look her in the eye.

He already felt the pang of missing them.

He turned on the television and flipped through the channels. Nothing held his interest. Finally, he tiptoed down the hall. He could see from the crack under the door that the lights in the master bedroom were out. Later, Mindy's lights went out as well.

Erling chose the living room sofa because it was roomier than the one in the den. He remembered shopping for a replacement sofa with Deena. It was only last week but seemed a lifetime ago.

He spread the sheets and crawled between them, pulling the blanket over the top. He turned from side to side but he couldn't get comfortable. At a little after two, he got up to get a glass of water and stopped at Mindy's door. He opened it softly and stared at his sleeping daughter. Moonlight glimmered on her golden hair and fair skin. She had a tiny, rosebud mouth. He remembered how, as a baby, she'd suckled at her mother's breast while he'd watched with a contentment he'd never thought possible.