Casanova Killer (13 page)

Ethan acknowledged the compliment with a nod. “What about the cars? Did the agents see the Mas?”

“No. The home has a three car garage with separate openings for each bay. We do know that the Mas is not registered to the home, but the blue sedan is. There’s also a Prius registered to the owners; we can only assume that it’s parked in the third bay.”

“Nate’s arranging for tracking devices to be placed on all of the cars, I presume.” Jerry dropped down in a chair across from Dylan.

“Of course. As soon as we get a court order for the security code, we can go in overnight.”

Ethan busied himself with replacing the cushions that broke his fall back on the furniture. “I hope the agents tagging the cars are more competent than the fingerprint tech.”

“I’ll handle it myself. There’s no room for error on this one.” Dylan assured him, just as his phone rang. He retrieved it from the other end of the sofa by the second ring. “It’s Kim.” He told them and placed the phone on speaker.

“Dylan Dawes.” He sounded very professional.

“Agent Dawes? This is Kim, Sonja’s friend.” Kim choked up on the word ‘Sonja.’

“Yes, Kim. What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you hadn’t already told Randall about Oscar. Sonja wouldn’t want him to know.” Her voice caught on a sob.

“I understand, Kim, but I’m not sure how we can avoid telling him. Randall could shed some light on this Oscar, something that could help us catch him.”

“I don’t know how, Sonja only met Oscar after Randall left town. He couldn’t possibly know anything about him.”

“There’s still the matter of just how Oscar knew that Randall was leaving town. Randall may know more than you realize.” Dylan paused. “I’m sorry, Kim, but catching this guy is more important than one person’s feelings.” He hated to tell her that Randall already knew about Sonja and had done everything he could to wash his hands of the whole mess. The man had about as much concern for his dead girlfriend as he would a tree stump in Indiana.

“Oh, well when you put it that way, I suppose it’s more important to catch the guy.” Kim’s voice trailed off.

“I’ll be sure and let him down easy,” Dylan assured her. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I will. Thank you.” Kim disconnected the call.

“Poor girl, she actually believes that Randall gives two cents about her friend. The bastard was more concerned with getting her things out of the apartment than he was with how she died.”

“Must have another one lined up to take her place.” Jerry’s voice was filled with disgust.

“That’s quite likely.” Ethan threw her a sympathetic look. “You brought up a good point, Dawes. How did the unsub know when to target Sonja? Or the other three victims here? Maybe we should focus on finding that connection.”

“So far, there doesn’t seem to be one. The best we can deduce is that Oscar watches the apartment, follows the boyfriend to discover his identity and somehow gets his schedule.”

“We should show a composite drawing to the men’s secretaries. They are the ones who likely make travel arrangements, maybe Oscar got to them somehow.”

“Good point.” Dylan punched a button and soon Nate’s voice came over the speaker.

“Dawes, what in hell did you say to piss off the lab? I’ve been putting out fires for the last thirty minutes.” Nate said by way of a greeting.

“Sorry Boss, I guess I lost my temper. But there’s no excuse for incompetence.”

“There’s also no excuse for your behavior. I expect that you’ll undo whatever you’ve done with a dynamite apology. Today.” Nate’s tone brooked no argument.

“Will do.” Dylan sighed. “Believe it or not, that’s not the reason I called. Where do we stand on the composite drawing of the unsub? Jerry had the idea to show it to the victim’s companion’s secretaries. We’ve hit a dead end on discovering how he determined when the men would be away; maybe he charmed the info out of their assistants.”

“Good point. We should have something in about an hour. You can take it with you and do an interview after you square things with the local lab.”

“Yes sir. I’m on my way.” Dylan clicked off. “Well, looks like you two are on your own.” He said as he stood. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He looked pointedly at Jerry.

“Well, that leaves the field wide open.” She teased.

“Very funny,” Dylan responded, then tossed a sideways scowl at Ethan. “I’ll be in touch after I speak to the assistants.”

“Take your time.” Ethan told him, then moved to stand next to Jerry.

As the door closed behind Dylan, Ethan took Jerry’s hand and led her to the sofa. “Now that we’re alone, what do you say we get to know each other a little?” He noticed her slight frown, but also noticed that she quickly covered it with a polite smile. So the lady was reticent to talk about her past, he thought and felt his curiosity level rise.

“Sure, we can do that.” Jerry tried not to sound as uncomfortable as she felt. Something told her that lying to Ethan about her childhood would be next to impossible. It was as if the man could see straight through her. Determined to direct the conversation away from the distant past, she chose to ask him about work. “You start. Tell me what led you to Interpol.”

Settling beside her on the sofa, Ethan turned sideways to face her. “It was a natural fit, really. We traveled so much when I was growing up, that I couldn’t imagine settling down in one place for very long. I’ve always had an innate sense of justice, starting with Alice McDougal’s missing lunch in in the second grade.” He paused, noting how Jerry had relaxed into the story.

“I take it you solved the case of Alice McDougal’s missing lunch?” Jerry smiled as she pictured a young Ethan, stalwart and serious as he searched for clues.

“Absolutely. Turns out that her brother preferred her sandwich over his own.” Ethan grinned back at her. “I got a black eye and my first kiss for my troubles. I’ve been hooked on righting wrongs ever since.”

“Did Alice give you the black eye, the kiss, or both?” Jerry asked, laughing.

“Young Alice gave me the sweetest kiss, right here,” Ethan tapped his left cheek, “after her brother had punched me in the eye. I’ll never forget it.”

“And look at you today, chasing serial killers around the globe, fighting the good fight.”

“That’s right. I still get the same rush when we put one away as I did back in the second grade, only now it’s much more satisfying. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”

“No, it’s amazing, the feeling I get when we take one off the street. You’ll probably think I’m crazy, but I always feel a little deflated after we’ve solved a case. Part of me loves the thrill of the hunt, trying to think like they do and outsmart them at their own game.”

“I get it,” Ethan nodded. “If you didn’t enjoy that part of the job, you wouldn’t be very good at it.” He glanced at her before asking his next question. “Seems like the SSCD is a good fit for you, too. How did you find your way there?”

“Nothing as exciting as Alice MacDougal’s lunch,” Jerry lied and felt an instant pang of guilt. “I took a criminal justice course in my first year of college and loved it. I haven’t looked back since.”

“I bet your parents were proud.” Ethan prodded gently. His instincts told him Jerry was avoiding any discussion of something painful in her past.

“I wouldn’t know. I grew up in the foster system.” She replied curtly.

Ethan knew by the way her shoulders tightened that he’d hit a nerve. “I imagine that was difficult.” He said softly.

For some reason, Jerry’s pat answers wouldn’t come. The sudden need to share everything with Ethan was overwhelming. But why? She’d never told anyone about the horrors she’d endured as a child. There was nothing anyone could do to change it and she didn’t want sympathy. So why did she want so much to open up to Ethan?

“It was,” she closed her eyes as he took her hand. “It really was.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Ethan saw the debate rage across her face. He hoped the desire to share would win; somehow he knew that she needed to talk it through.

“No, I’d like nothing more than to forget about it.” Jerry sighed. “But it’s always part of me, deep down.”

“Just because something is a part of you, doesn’t mean that it defines you.” Ethan squeezed her hand in support.

“I know. What doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger and all that.” Jerry replied, glancing over at the compassion on his face. “You probably thought I was a crazy person, crying the way I did after the opera.”

“You’d be surprised how often I’ve cried after the opera.” Ethan told her in all seriousness. “For some of us, the passion and the story and the music touches a place where old emotions go to hide. It’s like ripping a bandage from a bloody wound; first you cry out from the pain, and then the air and light help it begin to heal.”

“That’s exactly how it felt. When Violetta died so young, for some reason it made me remember my mother, which I haven’t done with kindness in a very long time. The tears helped, so did the memories.” Jerry’s smile was tremulous but genuine.

“Then I’m glad we went.” Ethan assured her. “How old were you when she died?”

“Three. As far as I know, I have no other family. At least none that the courts could find. For the first year or so, I waited for her to come and get me, but of course she never did. Then I blamed her for leaving me to those people. I know now that blaming her was a coping mechanism, it was one way I kept my sanity and got through it.”

Ethan wondered if she knew how much her voice changed when she mentioned ‘those people.’ His stomach clenched at the awful possibilities that could befall a child in the foster system. “The point is that you did get through it. Whatever happened back then, you are a strong, amazing woman today.” He brought her hand to his lips.

“Thank you.” Jerry realized he was giving her an out, a way to not speak of the atrocities, unless she wanted to. She appreciated his discretion and was surprised to find that it made her more inclined to talk. “I’ve never really told anyone about those years.” She confessed. “I’ve gotten pretty good at blocking out the ugly.”

“There’s no need to block anything out with me. There’s also no need to discuss it. I’m here and I’m a good listener, but I won’t push you to tell me anything you’d prefer to keep to yourself.”

“It’s not a very pretty story,” Jerry hedged. “I couldn’t blame you for not wanting to hear it.”

“If you want to tell it, I want to hear it.” Ethan’s eyes met hers.

Jerry studied his face for a long moment before she began. Turning away from him, she stared out the window on an orange sunset hovering over the city. She may be ready to talk about it, but she definitely couldn’t watch his face as she told him her secrets.

“I remember very little about the family who took me in just after my mother died. That time is pretty much a blur, but for the feeling of waiting for her to come get me.” Jerry cleared her throat. “The beatings began with the second foster family. Apparently, I was a handful, at least that’s what he said as he brought down the belt.” She felt Ethan stiffen beside her, but continued on, her voice dropping to a monotone.

“Not long after the beatings became normal, my foster father began visiting my bedroom at night.” She had a death grip on Ethan’s hand, but she didn’t even notice. Ethan did his level best to keep his breathing steady and not show the vile reaction he felt well up inside of him at her words.

“I remember that it was the night before my fifth birthday, the first time he raped me. He told me that I was a woman now, and that he had the perfect present.” Jerry shuddered at the memory, but her voice never wavered.

Silent tears rolled down Ethan’s face for the tragic ending of Jerry’s innocence. His heart broke for the beautiful little girl, forced to endure such an horrific experience. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and soothe away the memories, but he waited, still and silent as she continued.