I'm Watching You (36 page)

11:30 a.m.

„I hate hospitals almost as much as morgues,“ Abe grumbled.

Mia kept her eyes on the rising elevator display. „I know. You told me last night while we were waiting for Carson. Several times.“ The bell dinged and the doors opened. „Don’t be such a baby. Come on, I want to talk to him before he goes unconscious again.“

A nurse frowned as they came into Carson’s room. „He’s in no shape to talk.“

„He’s alive,“ Mia snapped. „That puts him in better shape than the nine bodies in the morgue.“

Carson lay against the pillows, his face ashen. „Munoz?“

„He’s dead,“ Abe said quietly.

„Hell of a bodyguard,“ Carson mumbled. „I’ll have to remember not to pay his bill.“

Mia rolled her eyes, but her voice was professional when she stepped up to Carson’s bedside. „We just have a few questions, Mr. Carson, then we’ll leave you to rest. We need to know what brought you to that particular spot last night.“

Carson closed his eyes and took a shallow breath. „Information,“ he said. „I got a call on my cell phone before dinner. Told me they had information about Melanie Rivers.“

„Who is Melanie Rivers?“ Abe asked and Carson grimaced.

„Little white trash.“ He breathed and they waited. „She filed a rape charge against my client, said he’d molested her at a party. She knows he’s got money.“ He breathed some more. „She just wants a settlement. Her pound of flesh.“

Abe bit back his distaste. „Maybe she’s telling the truth.“

„So what if she is?“ Carson opened his eyes, sharp and canny despite his physical state. „I know what you think about me and frankly I don’t care. I don’t expect you to do much of anything anyway.“

„And why is that?“ Mia asked coldly.

Carson’s gray lips twisted. „He’s doing your dirty work for you, this killer. If the tables were turned, I’d look the other way, too.“

Mia opened her mouth to say something then pursed her lips firmly. Abe stepped in to continue. „Who had your cell phone number, Mr. Carson?“

„Not many people. That’s why I went to meet him. He said he’d gotten my number from a mutual friend and he wanted to help me out. For a fee.“ He breathed heavily, then batted away the nurse’s hand when she tried to adjust the oxygen line in his nose. „Said he wanted two G’s. If we’d won the case, it would have been cheap.“

Abe was wondering what kind of friends a parasite like Carson would harbor when he had a sudden thought. „Would Trevor Skinner have known your cell phone number?“ he asked. „Maybe had it in a phone book?“

„Probably.“ Carson drew a labored breath. „Trev kept his life in his BlackBerry.“

„You mean his electronic organizer?“ Mia asked.

Carson nodded. „Clever little thing. Trev could send e-mails from anywhere.“ He lifted a brow. „His BlackBerry wasn’t on him when you found him, was it?“

„No.“ Abe shook his head. „No, it wasn’t.“

„Then I’d say you have your work cut out for you, Detectives. Trev knew the private lives of every one of his clients and half the lawyers in town. Judges, too.“

Tuesday, February 24,

1:30 p.m.

Spinnelli frowned. „Judges, too? What did he mean by that?“

Mia squirted ketchup over her burger. „He just smiled and told us to figure it out. S.O.B.“

„He’s right, though.“ Abe considered the implications yet again. „If the killer has Skinner’s organizer, he has enough ammunition to hold him for weeks.“

„Speaking of ammunition,“ Spinnelli said, „what happened at the gun shop?“

„She gave us names of customers who make their own bullets,“ Mia said. „We’d visited the first two on the list when we got the call from the hospital saying Carson was awake. Neither had seen the mark before, but we still have four more names.“

„Well, we got a reply on opening Aaron Jenkins’s juvenile record.“ Spinnelli clenched his jaw. „No, no, and no.“

Abe sighed. „Then let’s visit the mother after we see the other old men.“

Mia peeked in the bag. „One more burger. We brought it for Kristen. Where is she?“

Abe’s eyes took yet another sweep of the office area. She’d been his first thought as he entered, occupying a corner of his mind even as they’d updated Spinnelli over lunch. But Mia had smirked at him smugly, so he’d held back his demand to know Kristen’s whereabouts.

Spinnelli shrugged. „She took a break about an hour ago. She went to lunch.“

Abe felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. „You let her go? Alone?“

„She’s a grown woman, Abe,“ Spinnelli said mildly. „And not a stupid one. She told me where she was going and asked Murphy to take her there. Some place called Owen’s. It’s a diner, I take it.“

Abe relaxed a bit. „It is.“

„But you’ll still call her to make sure she’s all right,“ Mia added slyly.

Abe concentrated on his burger, well aware of the knowing glance passing between Marc and Mia and not giving a damn. „I will.“

Tuesday, February 24,

1:30 p.m.

„You cleaned your plate,“ Vincent said approvingly.

Kristen looked down at the crumbs. „I was hungry.“ Which surprised her. After hours of accepting the pent-up anger of the victims she’d once represented, she’d thought her appetite gone. She’d come here to get away for a little while, agreeing to lunch only after Owen shook his finger in her face before disappearing to train his newest hire. Kristen winced at. the crash of dishes and Owen’s shout. „I’m not sure who I feel sorrier for. Owen or the new guy.“

Vincent shook his shaggy head. „I think you should feel sorrier for me. I’ve got a mind to stop by Timothy’s to ask his mom when he’s coming home. How sick can one grandmother be? He needs to get back to work before I lose my temper.“

„How long did Timothy work here?“ Kristen asked and Vincent scratched his head.

„Well, I’ve been here for fifteen years. Owen bought the place about three years ago and hired Timothy about a year later. Anyway, you want some pie? I made it this morning.“

„You twisted my arm, Vincent.“

Vincent grinned his slow grin. „With ice cream?“

„Of course.“

Vincent was heaping scoops of vanilla on her pie when the little bell on the glass door jangled. Kristen shivered at the blast of cold air at her back, then glanced over her shoulder when Vincent slowly lowered the ice-cream dipper and stared. Kristen stared, too, needing a minute to process the face above the calf-length fur coat that seemed out of place in a diner whose seats were cracked vinyl. Then realization clicked.

„Sara?“ John’s wife.
Oh, God
, she thought, looking at Sara Alden’s stricken face and thinking the worst. „What’s wrong? What’s happened to John?“

Sara unbuttoned her coat with cool grace. „Can we talk privately, Kristen?“

„Of course.“ She led her boss’s wife to a booth in the corner.

Sitting, Sara abruptly asked, „Why did you think something was wrong with John?“

„You went to a lot of trouble to find me here. I just assumed… How did you find me?“

„Lois said you might be here. She said you were out of the office indefinitely.“

Kristen felt the sting, deep inside. „Yes, that’s true.“

„John is responsible.“ Sara’s eyes flashed with anger.

Bewildered, Kristen shook her head. „No, John’s boss made the call. John said he tried to keep him from putting me on leave, but Milt was determined.“

Sara’s lips curled. „Yeah, I’ll just bet John tried real hard.“

Kristen wasn’t sure how to respond to that. „Sara, what’s going on here?“

„Lieutenant Spinnelli’s office called this morning. A Detective Murphy said they were confirming alibis for everyone in John’s department for the nights those men were murdered. He asked about John.“

„That’s true, but it’s standard procedure. Lieutenant Spinnelli’s just making sure that they’ve looked at everyone who was involved in all those old cases. Is that what you’re worried about, Sara? I can tell you, nobody suspects John. He’s not involved in murder.“

„He lied,“ Sara said flatly. „John told Spinnelli’s man that he was home in bed with me. But he lied. He was with another woman. He thinks I sleep, but I know when he’s gone.“

Kristen sat back and drew a deep breath. John was on Spinnelli’s list of sharpshooters. She knew that. She’d also dismissed it as soon as she’d seen his name on the list. Not once had she entertained the notion that John Alden could be involved in murder. John went to great lengths to follow procedure. To ensure all the statutes were followed, that every convicted man was convicted legally. He was a good prosecutor.

But apparently a bad husband.

„Oh, Sara.“ To her dismay Sara’s eyes filled with tears. „I wish I knew what to say.“

Sara dug into her purse for a handkerchief. „He actually expected me to lie for him.“

„Did you?“

„No.“ Sara glared through her tears. „Well, not exactly. I told Detective Murphy that John never came to bed that night, that I couldn’t say for sure where he was.“

„But you know where he was?“ Kristen asked gently.

Sara pulled her fur collar high on her neck, gathering her composure. „He’s talked in his sleep for years, Kristen. He says all kinds of things. Sometimes things I shouldn’t hear, but I’ve been a good wife all these years and haven’t shared any of his confidences.“

Kristen’s eyes widened at the implications. „He talks about cases in his sleep?“

„Among other things.“

„He said the other woman’s name in his sleep?“

„He did. Have you wondered how Zoe Richardson found out about the letters addressed to you, Kristen? About how he signs the letters ‘Your Humble Servant’?“ Kristen’s mouth fell open. „He muttered about it,“ Sara said softly, „in his sleep, a few nights after all this started, so I’ve known. So did Zoe Richardson.“

Kristen swallowed, connecting the dots but still unable to believe the picture. „He’s having an affair with Zoe Richardson? John? John Alden? My boss?“

„Your boss. My husband. Richardson’s not his first, Kristen. But this is different. You’re in danger and it’s because that woman plastered your face all over the news as some kind of link to this killer. I know about Friday night and Sunday night. You’ve been attacked twice.“

Kristen pressed her fingers to her lips, her brain reeling. „I…“ She met Sara’s eyes across the table. „Why didn’t you call him on the cheating before?“

Sara lifted a shoulder, misery in her eyes. „I was humiliated, so I let it go.“

„Until now.“ Kristen closed her eyes under the enormity of it all.

„I won’t lie for him, Kristen. And he should pay for what he’s done to you. The night you found the first letters, in your trunk? You tried to call him. Three times.“

„He didn’t have his phone on.“

„Because he was with
her
. He came home in the middle of the night, sneaking in like the dog he is. Took a shower, thinking I was sound asleep. I turned his phone back on, listened to his messages. Then I deleted them so he wouldn’t know what I’d done.“

„He was mad at the phone service for losing his messages,“ Kristen remembered, her mind still reeling. „He was mad at me for not calling him.“

Sara slid out of the booth. „Perhaps he’ll be taking a ‘vacation’ soon, too.“

Kristen watched her go, sighed, then took out her cell phone and dialed Spinnelli.

Tuesday, February 24,

5:30 P.M.

„Come in, sit down.“

Abe looked around the little apartment owned by Grayson James. There was a small fireplace with a mantel upon which rested several trophies, all for marksmanship. „Thank you for taking time to talk to us, Mr. James.“

„Diana said you’d be coming. She said you’re interested in maker’s marks.“ He put a small lamp on the kitchen table and flipped it on. „Let’s have the bullet.“

For the sixth and final time that day Mia drew out the plastic bag holding the bullet. No one else on Diana’s list had been able to help them.

„Can I touch it?“ James asked.

„By all means,“ Abe said and watched the old man handle the bullet with deft fingers. James held the bullet under the light.

Then sat down slowly. „Where did you get this?“ he asked.

Mia looked at Abe, a new energy in her eyes. „You’ve seen it?“

„I have. More years ago than I’d like to remember.“ For a long moment, James stared at the bullet, his face taking on a faraway expression. Then he blinked and gave the bullet back to Mia. „I had a friend when I was a boy, back before the War. He and I would shoot together at his father’s cabin.

His father made his own bullets, taught us to do it, too. That was his mark. I’d never seen it before and never seen it since. Where did you find it?“

„Your friend, Mr. James,“ Abe said as calmly as he could. „Can we talk to him?“

James’s lips thinned. „Not unless you’re into séances. Hank Worth died at Iwo Jima in 1944.“

Mia exhaled, her disappointment as palpable as his own. „Any surviving children?“

„Nope. He was only eighteen when we joined up. Look, I’ve helped you. The least you can do is tell me where you found this bullet. You’re detectives, so whatever it is, it can’t be good. I hate to see someone tarnishing Hank’s memory. He was my friend.“

Abe hesitated. „I can’t give you details, Mr. James, but we’re homicide detectives. This bullet was used in an attempted homicide.“

James’s eyes widened as he put two and two together. „You’re investigating that vigilante, the one killing criminals and lawyers.“

Mia’s back straightened at the implied accusation in James’s voice. „We are.“

„Seems like a quandary,“ James said. „He’s poppin’ off guys that deserve it, but still…“

„Still?“ Mia asked.

„Still, it’s killin’ all the same. I did it, in the war, because I had to. But it changes you. When you take the life outta somebody else’s body, it changes you.“

Mia looked lost for a moment and Abe knew she was remembering the firefight the night her old partner was killed. She’d shot a man that night, killing him. The punk’s pal shot both Mia and her partner. Mia was lucky to be alive. „Yes, Mr. James,“ she said, „it does. We need to find this guy. Please tell us anything else you remember.“