Speak No Evil (18 page)

“Do you know if the young man Becca spoke with has a car?”

“No.”

“But you’re certain he left during the five-o’clock hour.”

“Yes. I left at six and he’d gone before then.”

“Do you remember if he looked at any specific book while he was here?”

“No, he came in about four, just before Becca came in, and sat at the table near the front of the annex like he always does. He worked on his laptop the whole time, at least from what I saw. I didn’t have to clean up his workstation like I do
some
people.”

Carina thanked Midge for her time and continued with the interviews. When they were done speaking with everyone who’d been working Wednesday night, no one else remembered the light-haired “young man.” They asked Midge to call them if he came in again, and then they looked at the table she’d indicated that he always used.

It was a small, flat maple table, no drawers. Immaculate. A power outlet was within arm’s reach. The man could see the entire library, but no one could see his computer screen. Not that that meant anything; Carina herself never sat with her back to a room or door. Most civilians didn’t have that phobia.

“I need to put an undercover in here in the evenings,” Carina said almost to herself. “I’m getting a feeling about this.”

“It’s our only solid lead right now,” Nick agreed, “until Gage brings us some physical evidence.”

“You think he’ll come back if he’s guilty?”

“He might think that’s the way to not attract attention. Keep up the same routine.”

They left the library and Carina called in her request to Chief Causey, who agreed to put an undercover officer at the library from four to eight every evening.

Carina had just pulled away from the curb when her radio beeped. She picked up the receiver. “Unit Charles-One-Four-Four here. Over.”

“Charles-One-Four-Four, missing person reported at two-four-zero Beach Boulevard, apartment one-one-six. The caller asked for you specifically.”

Carina looked at Nick. “That’s Abby and Jodi’s apartment.”

TWENTY
-
TWO

A
BBY AND
J
ODI
shared what was considered a “garden” apartment, a small two-bedroom unit on the ground floor of a large U-shaped complex near the university. Carina would bet that ninety percent of the residents were college students.

They lived in a corner unit. The front door opened into a small living/dining/kitchen area. Three doors on the south wall led to what Carina presumed were two bedrooms and the bath. A police officer, Mimi Danvers, was sitting with a hysterical Abby.

“She’s gone!” Abby wailed when she saw Carina. “Please please find her. Something awful has happened.”

“Calm down and tell me everything you remember.” Carina sat on the other side.

Abby took several deep breaths and said, “Last night, after the memorial service, we went to the Sand Shack. It was closed, just open for friends of Angie. So we could talk about what we love and miss about her.” She drew in a shaky breath. “But Jodi and I weren’t into it. After what you said, we were kind of scared. We didn’t know who’d hurt Angie, and so we left and came here. We drank some rum and Cokes, but we were so tired. I-I fell asleep in the living room. I woke up late this morning—I swear, I didn’t get that drunk, it was just the stress—and I’d already missed all my morning classes. Not that I cared, not after Angie.” She took another deep, shaking breath.

“What time did you wake up?”

“Ten-thirty. And I went into Jodi’s room to wake her up . . . and she wasn’t there. So I thought she already went to class. I showered and dressed and tried her cell phone at eleven because I knew she’d be between classes. I heard it ring in the apartment. That’s when I saw her purse.” She pointed to an overstuffed desk in the small eating area that separated the kitchen from the living room. “She’d never go out without her purse, and her car is in the carport—so I called nine-one-one, then I called the number you gave me.”

Officer Danvers squeezed Abby’s hand. Nick slid on gloves and went to the front door. “It’s not forced.” He turned to Abby. “Which room is Jodi’s?”

She pointed to the door on the left. Carina followed Nick. He looked at the window. “It’s unlocked. And look—” He pointed to the windowsill. “Dirt on the ledge.”

“I’ll call the crime techs and get them down here ASAP.”

While they waited for the crime techs, Carina had Abby call every one of Jodi’s friends to find out the last time they had spoken with her. No one had seen or talked to her after they left the Sand Shack at ten the night before.

Jim Gage arrived with his team only thirty minutes after being called. He looked as tired as Carina felt. It had been a long morning.

Carina explained what they knew so far, then left Jim to do his job.

She spoke to Officer Danvers. “Don’t let Abby out of your sight. I’ll clear it with the chief. I’m putting her and Kayla under twenty-four/seven protection until we find this guy.”

Abby heard her. “It’s him? Angie’s killer has Jodi?”

“We don’t know for certain,” Carina said carefully, “but we need to proceed with caution until we know exactly what’s happened.”

Carina ordered two more uniforms to canvas the apartment building first, then every adjacent structure. “Anything, no matter how minor, I want to know about.”

On the way out she called Chief Causey and had a squad car sent over to Kayla’s dorm room at the college. “I didn’t think they were in danger. I asked the chief early on for extra protection, and he approved additional patrols in the neighborhood, but I should have pushed for more. I told them to be careful, but I really didn’t think he’d go after any of them. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.” She slammed her fist on the steering wheel as Nick slid into the passenger seat. “I should have had Angie’s journal taken offline immediately. Then they never would have been able to post those stories about themselves and draw the attention of the killer.”

“First,” Nick said, “you had no reason to think they would do something like that.”

“But—”

“It was Angie’s journal, you kept it online for a valid reason. Her killer could have wanted to gloat, he could have posted a confession for all we know.”

“Yes, but—”

“And you took it down as soon as you discovered what the girls had done.”

“Yes, but—”

“Your boss told you no extra protection beyond patrols. He takes the heat, not you. I should know.”

She turned to him. “That sounds personal.”

“The buck stops at the top, Carina. That’s the way it is. And you know what? I don’t think in a city of one point three million that I would have put twenty-four/seven protection on three college girls who had not been threatened. The killer never contacted them, none of them felt they were being stalked. What could you have done? Can you protect everyone in the city at all times? No. We do what we can. We work overtime, we’re watching everyone, everything around us even when we’re off-duty. Because you know it’s true: cops are never truly off the job.”

Carina stared at Nick. She couldn’t remember him sounding so impassioned. His blue eyes had darkened, his feelings on the surface instead of buried deep inside.

“Do you have regrets from the Butcher investigation?” she asked quietly.

He drew in a breath. “Many. But I don’t know if it’s from playing Monday-morning quarterback or because I really made the wrong decision. All we can do is use the information we have coupled with our experience and make a decision. Everything comes down to choices. I made decisions based on what was best for my county and my people. They were right then. The only time I made the wrong choice—” He stopped.

Nick had replayed the entire Butcher investigation over and over in his mind, from the beginning thirteen years ago when he’d first met Miranda Moore, the only survivor of the Butcher, who ran miles through treacherous terrain only to almost die when she jumped into the Gallatin River to escape her attacker.

That case had still been active when he became sheriff nine years later.

“Nick?” Carina asked quietly.

“I made the wrong decision once. Almost got me killed.” He didn’t want to tell her about it, not now. Maybe not ever. It was one of the few things he honestly regretted in his life, and showing his weakness to a woman he admired and respected made him uncomfortable.

He’d learned from his mistake.

“Where to now?” he asked, changing the focus back to the current investigation. “The Sand Shack?”

“We need to trace Jodi’s steps from when she and Abby left the Shack last night until they came home.” She pulled out her notepad. “The manager, Kyle Burns, had classes all morning. He should be there by now.”

She started the engine but before she could drive away, Jim Gage ran up to her car. She rolled down the window. “What?”

“Two preliminary findings. The first: Abby and Jodi were drugged. There are trace narcotics in the two-liter soda bottles, the orange juice, and an opened bottle of wine.”

“He was in their apartment,” she said flatly.

“We’re dusting the entire place, including everything in the refrigerator. I have my assistant taking blood from Abby to confirm that she was also drugged. They were drinking rum and Coke last night. The alcohol coupled with the narcotics would have knocked them both out.”

“Which is why she didn’t wake up until late this morning.”

Gage nodded. “And we found something else. A small hole in the kitchen cabinet.”

“Why is that important?”

“Because there was also a small motion-activated webcam attached. It runs on a battery. I’ve bagged it for Patrick. I don’t know enough about the electronics to tell you the range, but I’m sending my assistant downtown to get it analyzed ASAP.”

“Thanks, Jim.”

“He was watching them,” Nick said.

“Why the kitchen?” Carina asked. “Why not the bedrooms?”

“Because he wanted to know when they were drugged,” Nick said. “So he could come in and kidnap Jodi without commotion.”

“Why Jodi?” Jim asked. “Why not Abby? Or both of them?”

“Like Angie, Jodi slept with my brother,” Nick said quietly.

“Becca had no relationship with Steve,” Carina said.

“Coincidence?”

They looked at each other and Carina started the car. “It warrants a conversation with him. Maybe there’s something else going on here.”

They found Steve at his apartment drinking iced coffee on his deck with Ava.

“Jodi is missing,” Nick told Steve.

Ava exclaimed, “Oh my God. It’s not the same guy, right?”

“We don’t know for sure what happened,” Carina said cautiously, “but I need to ask you, Mr. Thomas, where you were from four p.m. Wednesday afternoon until now.”

“You want me to recount the last nearly forty-eight hours?”

“Yes, sir,” said Carina.

Steve faced Nick. “So you’re on staff with the San Diego Police Department now?”

“Please answer the question, Steve,” Nick said.

“I don’t have to. Isn’t that what you told me? Get a lawyer to protect myself? I just didn’t think I would need to protect myself from my own brother.”

“I don’t think you killed Angie or kidnapped Jodi. What I think is that it’s a coincidence that one woman you slept with is dead and another is missing. Maybe you know something you don’t think is important, something that can lead us to Jodi before she’s killed.”

Ava put her hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Steve, you need to help.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder at Ava, then pulled her to his side. “I had a class Wednesday afternoon. I left campus at five-thirty. Picked Ava up and we went to dinner. Came back here about eight. Watched a movie.”

“What time did you go home, Ava?” Carina asked.

She cleared her throat. “I didn’t.”

“Do you know Becca Harrison of La Jolla?”

He shook his head.

“She works at the La Jolla Library,” Carina prompted.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in there,” Steve said. “I don’t know a Becca, at least that I can remember. If I need to go to the library, I use the one on campus.”

“Ava?” Nick turned to her. “Do you know Becca Harrison?”

“No, I don’t.”

Nick looked at his brother again. Steve was still angry at him for the interview at the station. Would they ever get beyond it? “Steve, can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you?”

“Me?” His eyes widened. “I don’t have any enemies.”

“No threats? Have you felt like you’re being watched, especially when you’re on a date?”

Steve shook his head. “No. And no one knew about my relationship with Jodi. It was . . . brief.”

“No one knew about it until Jodi posted it online,” Carina said. “But she didn’t identify you, Steve. We were able to pick up on it because of the connection to Angie.”

“Coincidence?” Nick wasn’t sure he bought it.

“Sometimes coincidences are real,” Carina said. “Rare, but possible.” She faced Ava and Steve and said, “Be careful. Don’t go anywhere alone, especially at night. The killer has been targeting specific women—it doesn’t seem random—but we can’t discount that it may indirectly have something to do with your relationship with Jodi and Angie.”

Steve nodded. “If I can do anything,
anything,
to help, please let me know.”

Nick motioned for Steve to come into the apartment. Alone, he said, “Steve, I’m sorry. I should never have pushed you the other day.”

Steve looked like he wasn’t going to forgive him, but then he sighed and gave Nick a tight hug. “You’re right about something.”

“I am?”

“I haven’t done anything with my life.” He glanced through the sliding glass door at Ava. “I really care about Ava. And I can’t provide for her. I don’t have a job. I can support myself but a wife? A family? I didn’t think I wanted one, but . . . ” he shrugged.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to talk to a career counselor at the university next week. See what they recommend for a disabled veteran with three degrees.” He gave Nick a self-deprecating grin.

Nick’s conscience felt lighter. He clapped Steve on the shoulder. “I’m glad. You let me know how I can help, okay?”

“You hanging around San Diego?”

“For a while. I need to finish out this case.”

“What about your job? You’re a sheriff in Montana, Nick. Not like you can just walk away from it.”

“I know.” He glanced at Carina. He wasn’t ready to go home yet. “But for now, I need to find this killer.”

“Are you okay?” Carina asked Nick when they were back in the car heading to the Shack. She wanted to talk to the manager, Kyle Burns, about the closed party the night before.

“Yeah. I think Steve and I came to an understanding.” Nick had been worried he’d gone too far the other day with Steve, telling him to grow up. But it seemed to have done some good. He couldn’t say that he approved of Steve’s relationship with Ava, but she was more mature than many of her college-aged counterparts, and maybe there was some balance there. Nick suspected Ava had more to do with Steve thinking about the future than he did.

“Becca’s body was discovered at the library at four this morning,” Carina said, recounting the time line, “but she died between eight and ten the night before.”

“He had her for twenty-four hours before he killed her. That gives us a few more hours for Jodi. If his MO holds this time.”

“I don’t like the changes,” Carina mumbled. “Why can’t killers be logical?”

“They are. In their own heads. Everything he does has a purpose. We might not be able to see it, but it’s there.”

“You sound like Dillon.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I think he’s the smartest guy on the planet. Next to my dad, of course.”

She pulled into the Shack parking lot and said, “So he kills Becca. Watches the webcam to see when Jodi drinks the Coke. Sees it, dumps Becca’s body on his way to kidnap Jodi. Brazen, arrogant.”

“He’s ultraconfident right now. He’s gotten away with two murders. He thinks he’s invincible.”

“Becca lived and worked across town,” Carina said. “There doesn’t appear to be any connection between her and Angie or Jodi.”