Daddy's Home (20 page)

“Yes, but we also know there wasn’t any sign of forced entry. I’m telling you, I think we got ‘em. This guy fits the profile, at least somewhat. He’s definitely a sexual predator. Maybe this interests in kids is just now surfacing, and when he tries to mess with the children, the mom goes ballistic,” Holly said. “Or maybe . . .” She bit her tongue, not wanting to think that Lynne was an entirely different person than the one she’d known, because for her to think what she was about to say would mean that Lynne had been someone she would’ve never wanted to know. “Maybe they include the kids, make them watch. Maybe they’re preparing them for the games as well, and none of them have been able to escalate into it quite that far yet.”

The car grew silent, each of them considering the monstrous idea. Moments later, they pulled up in front of James’s house, all with the same thought that he lived within miles of the murders.

“Looks like the dating biz is a profitable one,” Chad remarked, noting the Victorian-style home in the swanky Mission Hills neighborhood.

“Okay, I’ll cover the front door. Cross your fingers that they’re really here,” Holly said. “Chad, you go around back, and Maureen, you cover that side lawn area. Sometimes these old homes have outside doors in weird places.”

Each headed for their stations. Holly walked up the front stoop and rapped on the door. There was no answer. She rang the bell. Still no answer. She walked over to the garage and, finding it unlocked, pulled up the door. A new silver Mercedes sat still and cold.
She found Chad and motioned for him to go through the back. She and Maureen crept back around to the front.

She knocked again. “San Diego PD. We have a search warrant.” No answer. Signaling Maureen, she said, “Okay, on my count. Ready?”

Maureen nodded.

“One, two, three.” Holly and Maureen kicked the heavy door in together. “Police!” Holly shouted. “San Diego PD.”

The house was silent, except for the hum of the furnace heating the old hardwood floors. “Looks like he and Shannon shopped at the same design center,” Maureen commented.

“Yeah, or else she did his decorating for him.”

It was almost spooky to be inside a house where a purportedly single man, assumed not to be gay, had such good taste in decorating that it would put most women’s homes to shame. Even more bizarre was the stark contrast between the house and the offices James owned and worked in. They were so Las Vegas tacky. There had to be a woman, or maybe more than one, who’d whipped this house into shape.

Chad came down the hallway. They walked through the house in a coordinated search. James was nowhere to be found. Coming to the third and last door down the hall, Chad found it closed and locked. Stepping back, he raised his foot and kicked it in, revealing an office filled with books, the desk facing a windowsill that looked out over the San Diego harbor and Lindbergh Field. Sitting at the desk was William James, with a bullet hole in his head. The computer’s screen before him was filled with pornographic pictures of very young women. His blood was splattered across the screen and the desk.

“I guess we weren’t the only ones looking for Mr. James,” Chad said.

“Guess not,” Maureen replied.

“Shit,” Holly said, flipping open her cell phone to call the station.

They had another murder scene to investigate.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Holly had been so sure that James was their killer, that the taxpayers would be saved a pretty penny. She’d have placed bets on it. Now there was still a killer out there, maybe two, and she’d also put money on it that the other killer had been involved in the McKay and Collins’ murders. So her city was still not entirely safe. It was possible, of course, that James was the killer, and his partner had taken him out. James’s residence had been dusted and searched. His body was now at the ME’s office, and an APB had gone out for Darla. Chances were that Darla was in a far remote place by this time.

Carpenter rang Holly on her cell phone. “She’s got five other aliases and a bank account under the name of Jennifer Drake that has been wiped clean of a hundred grand. We’re running background to see what we can come up with on all the aliases. Maybe we’ll get a hit on one, and we’ll be able to see exactly who is behind door number three.”

“Okay, Robb. Keep me posted.” Her jaw clenched as she flipped the phone shut. It was pretty obvious who had killed William James. The reasons why were not totally clear since there could be a litany of them. It was such a muddle that Holly didn’t want to think about it. In fact, she really didn’t want to find James’s killer, knowing that it was probably Darla, and if so, the woman might have had damn good reason. She had a nagging feeling, however, that Darla was as involved in the horrible murders as James. She wasn’t certain how, but if that were true, there was a chance that Darla would kill again. Was it possible that Darla was the killer herself? Holly didn’t know, but she wasn’t ready to rule out anything.

She headed back from the crime scene and over to the tech lab where one of the computer techs was dissecting James’s computer, bit by bit.

Martin Landon stood up behind his desk as she walked into his office, ran a hand through his stringy, straw colored hair, and peered at her through a pair of Coke-bottle glasses. Martin fit the computer nerd image to a tee, even down to the high-water corduroys and striped button-down. But you could count on Martin to be the one who never forgot anyone’s birthday in the office. Oddball, maybe, but a nice guy. “This pervert was into some really sick stuff, Holly.”

“I figured.”

“He’s got all sorts of downloads from kiddie porn sites and knows all the chat rooms. If you can think it, he’s got it, and I’m sure you can’t even remotely think of half the stuff. Hell, I can’t, and I’m a guy. I can appreciate good porn, but this goes way beyond the bounds. This goes beyond even bad taste.”

“Did you contact Sex Crimes and the internet guys? We might be able to see a nice little spiral from this and catch a few more of the bad guys,” Holly remarked, crossing her fingers.

“I contacted them, and they are all very interested in seeing where this case goes. We’ve already got some of our boys hooked up in chat rooms with these sick jerks. In fact, word from the chat room is one of these losers thinks he’s got a thirteen-year-old girl who’s gonna meet him at the mall tomorrow night. If our guys can string him along, maybe we can pop him. Who knows? Maybe he’ll know something about this James character.”

“Good. So can you tell me anything else about our sicko?” Holly asked.

“Actually, I was printing out his e-mails, because I think you’ll find some of it pretty interesting.” Martin pulled a couple of pages from the printer. “It looks like he’s deleted most of them. But on the day he was iced, he’d put the e-mails in the trash and failed to empty his trashcan. That’s how I found this.”

Holly started reading the e-mails, and as she did, she realized that this case was only getting more complicated. She was not nearly as close to solving it with James’s death as she’d hoped.

The first e-mail was from William James himself.

I know exactly what you and your crazy boyfriend are trying to do to me. Do you think I’m so stupid that I haven’t figured this out? The only reason I haven’t gone to the police is because I want to keep my own life private. But I’m telling you right now, if you don’t back off and forget your screwy game, then someone is going to get very, very hurt.

WJ

The reply back was from someone named Lady Godiva.

You’re right about your private life and all its secrets that I’m sure the police would be terribly interested in. But your fixation on the idea that I have devised some bizarre scheme against you is just that. My “boyfriend,” as you termed him, is far from a boyfriend. In fact, you know that it’s you I love and always have, but you refuse to commit and stop your own freaky games. If I need some company once in a while because you’re out satisfying your needs, then so be it. But I assure you that going to the police would be a huge mistake. I do not have any scheme planned. I haven’t sold you out, nor do I plan to. So let it go. Can we have dinner and talk about this? I miss you.

Lady Godiva.

“No kidding! Have you got a trace on this Lady Godiva’s computer yet?”

“Working on it as we speak. But it will take some time. She’s sharp and was smart enough to switch her address around and get offline real fast, and with internet privacy laws . . .”

“You need a search warrant,” Holly finished his sentence. “More bureaucratic bullshit to trash out my day. Don’t worry about it. I’ll make a few phone calls and see what I can do. It might take some time, too. I think I know who was sending the e-mails anyway. Thanks for the help. I’ll let you know when we get the warrant. And keep me posted on the chats going on with the internet guys.”

“You got it.”

Holly headed back to the station room, found Chad, and handed him the e-mails. “Get a load of these.”

Chad read over them. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know what to think, but I do know this case is far from being solved. I think Darla is our Lady Godiva, and she holds the answers to this puzzle.”

“You think there’s another killer out there?”

“Besides her? Maybe. Or when she talks about his sick needs, she was referring to his need to kill.”

“Or maybe she was writing about his kiddie porn cravings,” Chad interjected.

“That’s possible. But I’m not sure that would bother her so much. Seems that she and William James were two of a kind, and maybe she got into it as much as he did. But I think they’re all tied in together, and if there’s a third party, we better figure out who it is. Because God forbid that third party is the real killer,” Holly said.

“Where do we go from here?”

“We try and track Lady Godiva, and hope she makes a mistake somewhere. If Martin from tech can get a trace on her, then maybe we’ve got a chance of getting her. Hopefully he will, and if so, maybe she’ll screw up and e-mail her other friend. Or better yet, if we can confiscate her computer, which I need to make a call about to a judge right now, then we’ll find some more answers.”

“Have you checked on Kristy yet today?” Chad asked.

Holly shook her head and grimaced. “I talked to the doctor this morning. He says that her brain is swelling, and they’ll most likely have to resort to surgery.”

“That’s awful. What about her dad, have you spoken with him?”

“Briefly. He’s way too upset and stunned. It was pretty awkward since we hadn’t seen each other since Jack’s funeral. But, no, he’s not doing very well. For the first time ever I feel sorry for Bill. I never liked him much, you know when . . .” She caught herself and realized that she’d just opened the door to getting thrown off the case. What was she thinking? She looked at Chad to see if he’d caught her reference to her friendship with the family.

“I had a hunch, Holly. You’ve been way too involved in this, and I had a feeling there was a stronger connection than you were letting on. You knew them? Obviously you knew them,” Chad said.

“It was a long time ago, partner. You can’t say anything to anyone, please. I really want to catch this son of a bitch, and if you tell anyone, you know as well as I do that I’ll be pulled off of it.”

“You should be. You know the rules, Holly,” Chad said, lowering his voice. “You should not be working on this case. I know you’ve worked on it until you’re dragging, but you need to step aside, Holly. It’s not good for you.”

“Please Chad, don’t say anything. I can handle this. I’ve got to.”

“Why? So you can get your revenge on the killer who murdered your friend and nearly killed her daughter? You know that’s not how to do this. It’ll get clouded and someone will get hurt. Most likely you,” Chad implored, looking at her with concern.

“Listen. Yes, you’re right, I want to catch whoever is behind this, and I want to avenge Lynne’s killer. But that is not the only reason I’m keeping myself on this case. I’ve been working it since day one. I know what this bastard or group of freaks, if that’s what we’re dealing with, is capable of, and I can smell the blood, Chad. I can. I’m begging you to keep this quiet. If it gets out of hand, I’ll know. I’ll walk away then. I promise,” Holly pleaded.

Chad took a step back, crossed his arms over his chest. “I shouldn’t do this. I ought to blow the whistle on you. Your staying with this is a bad idea, and I don’t think it will benefit you, this case, or anyone involved to maintain the secret that you knew this family.”

“We all have secrets, don’t we?” She was beginning to get angry. “I don’t exactly agree with some of your methods or secrets, partner, but I’m discreet because I know it’s important to you.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Chad replied. He stood back and they looked at each other for a silent moment. “Fine, you’ve made your point and pleaded your case. I’ll shut up for now, but if I see that you’re becoming a detriment to yourself or this case, I will go above your head. I’ll have to for your own good.”

Holly snatched the e-mails from Chad’s hands and stormed back to her own cube, where she collected herself and picked up the phone to call the district attorney to get another search warrant, this one for Darla Monroe’s house. She knew Chad was still watching her. She could feel his eyes on her. She was angered to no end—at herself for screwing up and saying anything, and at him for being such a bastard about it.

But none of it mattered, because no one was getting in her way on this, not even her partner.

She did a rash thing after leaving her office and went to see Brooke with the intention of passing on a warning through her to Chad to keep his mouth shut, but when she reached the good doctor’s office and stood outside her door about to knock, she changed her mind. This would be a stupid move.