Phoenix Feather (26 page)

“My client is telling you the truth,” Briggs insisted.

“Well there’s also this matter of means.” Bryan pulled out the information they had gathered from Social Services. “We’ve discovered that all these women were adopted. Adoption records are sealed. Your client here has access to these records, and according to phone records dating back several months, he’s called every State Adoption Department in the country and made some nice formal requests for such records.”

Briggs casually glanced at the papers. “You don’t have any physical evidence.”

“I think a jury will find that compelling, considering the odds,” Jess put in.

They had a calm staring contest with the lawyer for a few moments before Briggs leaned over and whispered into Scott’s ear.

“He’ll cooperate fully and you agree not to charge him as an accessory.”

“Is he?” Jess asked.

“Of course not.”

Bryan scrutinized Scott. He had been so sure this was the guy, and he was claiming it was someone else. It had to be a lie, but deep down Bryan knew it was probably the truth. This killer had been invisible, leaving no trace, dumping the bodies and everything with them so as to disconnect himself as much as possible. It made sense that he would do the same with the cars, even so far as to pass off the dumping on someone else. If he was that careful, there probably wasn’t much Scott would be able to tell them.

“Talk,” Bryan said, but the overwhelming sense of defeat made it hard for him to care what Scott had to say.

“This old man wanted to find his daughter that had been given up for adoption,” Scott began. “I referred him to the registry, but he said he didn’t have a lot of time and wanted to know if there was a quicker way. He hinted at money, so I offered to do it—for a fee. But he didn’t have any specific information, not even a specific year the girl had been born, so I got everything from the state of Washington. Then he wanted more, so I did.”

“For more money,” Jess suggested.

Scott nodded. “He said he was looking for his daughter.”

“Yeah, and you’re just big-hearted that way.”

“What was his name?” Bryan didn’t expect to get one.

Scott started to squirm. “He said it was Mr. Smith, but…he sounded Russian.”

“That didn’t shoot off warning bells in that smart head of yours?” Jess snapped.

“I object to this kind of treatment,” Briggs interjected.

“What else?” Bryan said forcefully.

“He came back a month later and said he had a car he needed to get rid of.” Scott shrugged. “I had offered him other ‘services’ after our first meeting, so he knew I had connections in that area. He brought me three more cars and that was it. I haven’t heard from him since then, I swear! And I didn’t know he was killing people.”

“You said he was old?” Bryan asked. “How old?”

“Sixties, maybe older. Gray hair and beard.”

“Will you sit with a sketch artist?” Bryan’s heart was no longer in it. It had been another wrong turn, a lead that veered off into the ditch at the last second, leaving them stranded and the killer still miles ahead.

He and Jess left the interview room.

“Our guy is Russian,” she said.

“We’ll have the sketch sent to Immigration and Interpol,” Bryan said, but he wasn’t hopeful.

“Yeah,” Jess agreed. “It could be worse.”

“How?”

“We could have had more than four bodies by now.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“How was Christmas?” Trent asked Sam. They were in the equipment bay checking all the gear. New Year’s Eve promised to hold many car accident scenes, fights with injuries, and fires caused by sparklers.

“A few oven fires, car accidents, the usual,” he replied. “Oh, someone burned their Christmas tree in their front yard.”

“What? Why?”

“I heard pieces of an argument between the wife, husband, and wife’s sister. Not too hard to guess what it was about.” Sam shook his head. “And here I volunteered to work to get away from people like that.” He finished checking his SCBA gear. “You have a good holiday?”

“The best,” Trent replied. Aidan was there. Bryan was there. It had been almost perfect. He knew it would be several years before the upcoming pain would lessen enough to allow them another Christmas close to the one they had just had. That day had also seemed to break the dam for Bryan. He now called often, asking about how things were, how Aidan was. It was nice having him so involved in Trent’s life again.

“Trent, phone!” someone called.

He jumped up and grabbed the receiver hanging on the wall next to the door. “Hello?”

“Hi,” a very pleasant voice answered. “I’m looking at a flier for Comedy Sports hosting a fundraiser for a local college’s drama team,” Aidan said. “This Friday. Want to go?”

Trent grinned. “Absolutely.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding rather pleased. “Have a good night at work, if you can.”

“Have breakfast with me Friday morning,” he said on a whim. “After you get off work.” He didn’t plan to propose, but it was time he told her what his intentions were, how he felt about her, put it into words—at least three key ones.

“Okay, where?”

Trent held back a chuckle. “Not your restaurant?”

“It just feels weird, being served where I usually serve.”

Well he couldn’t have her feeling uncomfortable when he was going to bare his soul. “The tea shop on Skylark?”

“Perfect. See you then.”

They said goodbye and Trent went back to work. He went out on a call where some young kids had gotten impatient waiting to use their firecrackers and set the lawn on fire, leaving a nice scorch mark to remember the occasion by. Other than that, they bided their time until the influx of calls would begin when the partying did.

Trent joined the other guys in the Rec room to watch a game on TV.

Sam slapped him on the arm and nodded to the hall. “You’re popular today.”

Bryan waved from the entryway.

Trent got up to meet him. “Hey. So what’s this visit about? It’s a little early to think about Christmas shopping for next year,” he joked.

Bryan did not look happy. “I need to talk to you.”

Trent frowned, but followed Bryan down the hall and to the front, where Bryan asked Frank if they could borrow the office for a few minutes. Frank left, and Bryan shut the door.

“What’s going on?” Trent asked.

“I don’t know what else to do at this point.” Bryan ran a hand over his hair. “I’ve tried everything to make this better so you’d never have to know, but it’s driving me crazy.”

Trent did not like the way Bryan had started his explanation. “Spit it out.”

“Did you know Aidan’s adopted?”

“Yes...” Trent certainly didn’t have a problem with it, and he couldn’t understand why it would ever be a problem for his brother. “So what?”

“So that guy who’s been killing women in Seattle has been killing women with red hair who have been adopted.”

Trent’s expression morphed into confusion.

Bryan sighed in frustration. “I’ve been following leads and they’ve all ended up nowhere. I haven’t caught the guy, Trent. And Aidan’s exactly the type of woman this guy likes to hunt.”

“You’re serious?” Trent’s assumptions about the conversation took a drastic turn. Bryan didn’t have a problem with Aidan; he was afraid for her. Whether this intense fear was irrational or not scared Trent though, because either way it seemed something to be alarmed about. “How long have you known about this?”

Bryan avoided eye contact. “Long enough to try to solve it without coming to this.”

“The cabin,” Trent said, and Bryan nodded. “Am I supposed to tell Aidan?”

“No,” he said urgently. “If you could just check up on her—frequently. I’ve…I’ve been doing the same, but I still have to work to find this guy.”

“You said all your leads ended up nowhere.”

“We know he’s Russian and we have a rough sketch. We’re checking with international authorities. I just want to make sure. I can see how important she is to you, and I will do everything in my power to make sure this doesn’t touch her.”

Trent didn’t know what to say. Aidan could be the next target of a serial killer. It was almost too wild to imagine, and yet, none of the families of the other victims had ever anticipated it happening to them.

“I need her schedule,” Bryan said.

“What?”

“Her schedule. When she works, if she has other routines, especially places she’d be going to alone. I can ask for favors from officers on the streets—”

“Bryan,” Trent interrupted. “There’s no chance you might be overreacting?”

His brother looked grim. “I’ve seen too much to care if I am or not.”

Trent accepted that. “Okay.” He told Bryan all he knew about Aidan’s schedule and plans. Most of them revolved around Chris and Phoebe, which Bryan said was a good thing. Trent felt numb by the time Bryan left. The fear was contagious. How was he going to act around Aidan when he saw her? Would he be stiff, nervous, wanting to tell her what he was hiding, but afraid to? Fear gave birth to anger. He had been planning to tell Aidan he loved her. How would he get the words out now? They’d be tainted with this knowledge. Would it be worth it if he could keep her safe until Bryan caught the guy? He couldn’t stand the tension building inside him, so he went to the gym to try and work it out. When dispatch tones sounded, he poured himself into his work, trying to keep the image of Aidan’s face off the bodies he saw.

***

Aidan sat on the floor across from Phoebe, rolling a ball back and forth between them while Gypsy chased it. Chris was sound asleep in his room, as he was a lot of the time now, worn out by an invisible battle he had no hope of winning.

“I think he did it so I wouldn’t be lonely,” Phoebe said.

“Hmm?”

“Gypsy.”

Aidan looked down at the puppy that had captured both their hearts. Phoebe was probably right. It had been a sweet and thoughtful thing to do. Phoebe had never been alone her whole life. Chris was always at her side, the two inseparable—until now. It was hard, but Chris had started bringing up discussions about what Phoebe was going to do in the future. After the talk they’d had at the cabin, they were much more open about things, especially the hard stuff. Sometimes it was difficult to listen to, even though Aidan acknowledged the necessity.

“I’m only going to take half a load next semester,” Phoebe continued. “I talked to my professors and they approved it. I don’t want it to be too hard to keep up.”

Aidan nodded. “That’s wise.” Gypsy pawed at the ball in her hand, and she sent it rolling back to Phoebe.

“Chris asked me if I would move in with you.”

Aidan looked up. “Of course.”

“At least until you get married.”

She smirked. “You expecting that soon?”

Phoebe shrugged. “We could start planning it anyway.”

Aidan laughed and tossed the ball through the air.

Phoebe reached up and caught it. “Seriously, we could make a scrapbook of your dream wedding and that way most of the details would already be taken care of when the time comes, and you won’t have to stress about it.”

Aidan shook her head in dismay. “If we make one for me, we’re making one for you.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes, but smiled. They passed the ball back and forth in silence until Gypsy intercepted it, managed to get her tiny mouth around a section, and took off running.

“He’s trying everything he can to make it easier on me.” Phoebe shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready though.”

“Do you regret that he didn’t do the chemo?”

“No,” Phoebe answered right away. “He was right. I remember what it was like with Mom. And we’ve had some really good times these past weeks. I don’t regret that.”

There was silence again except for the click of Gypsy’s nails in the kitchen.

“The emptiness,” Aidan began, working her mouth to get the words right. “It gets smaller.” She looked at Phoebe, wanting to comfort her with the knowledge and wisdom she had gained from personal experience over the centuries. She had lost so many loves: friends, motherly figures, children, lovers, and yet every new cycle she seemed to find the capacity to love again, but she couldn’t explain that to Phoebe. She could only offer half-encouraging words without substance that left them sounding hollow.

Phoebe looked thoughtful. “Do you miss your birth parents, even though you don’t remember them?”

Aidan hesitated. “Even no memories leaves a hole of its own. It does fill up with other things though, like new people to love.”

“It’s not cheating?”

Aidan thought of Ivar for the first time in a while. “No. It’s healing.”

Phoebe nodded and pushed herself off the floor with a groan. “I feel like baking.”

Aidan smiled and stood up also. “Cookies or cake?”