Targeted (Callahan & McLane Book 4) (12 page)

Jill pulled back, understanding and sympathy washing over her gaze. “Oh, honey. I’d never thought of that.”

Ava assumed Jill was well aware of Jayne’s history. Ray and Mason were tight friends, and Ray had sat in a front-row seat for Jayne’s destructive theatrics over the past year.

Jill wrapped an arm around Ava’s shoulders, pulling her tight and pressing her temple against Ava’s. “That’s a hard reason to swallow. You’re very brave to confront it.”

Something inside cracked, and dammed tears leaked down her cheeks.

It felt final.

I’ve never been upset about it before.

Jill studied her face. “My motto is Never Say Never.”

“Mine, too,” Ava whispered, wiping at her cheeks. She glanced over at Mason, hoping he hadn’t noticed her mini-breakdown. His attention was still on Duff. “There’s no rational reason for us to have kids. It goes against everything we want. Everything we know.”

“The heart wants what it wants,” said Jill. “Mason will never deny you your heart.”

I don’t want to deny him, either.

No wonder she was in a state of confusion.

16

M
ason answered his phone, seeing it was Jayne’s therapist returning his call. It was nearly eight in the evening, and Ava had fallen asleep on the couch. Denny’s memorial had made the day emotionally exhausting. Add in a lengthy drinking session at the bar afterward, and Ava was done for the day. She’d been quiet and slightly inebriated when they’d decided to head home. Mason had drunk more than usual, again thankful his fiancée had insisted on a car and driver for the day. He’d felt like a lazy lush as he’d gotten in the car, but he really hadn’t cared. One of the perks of drinking. You don’t give a shit about most things.

Probably why Ava’s twin had addiction problems.

It felt good to not care about what the world thought.

Dr. Jolene Kersey was on the other end of the line. Mason had talked on the phone with her a few times and read her emails to Ava. Other psychologists worked with Jayne, but Dr. Kersey was primarily in charge of her case. He glanced at Ava. The phone hadn’t woken her from her exhausted sleep. He got up and stepped into the backyard to continue the call.

“Dr. Kersey, thank you for returning my call.”

“No problem, Mason. I noticed Ava hadn’t replied to the email I forwarded her last night. Is it right for me to assume since I’m talking to you that it upset her in some way? That wasn’t what I intended.”

“She’s got a lot on her plate at the moment,” Mason said. “You know she tries to step back when she feels overwhelmed by her twin.”

“As she should,” Dr. Kersey replied.

“We’re both concerned about that last email from Jayne,” Mason said delicately. “We had a much different reaction than it sounds like her team of therapists had.”

“Go on.”

How could he explain without stepping on toes? He plunged forward. “We believe Jayne is manipulating the staff. Both Ava and I think there is no weight in her apology, and she’s doing it to get some sort of attention or reward from you guys. In the end it’s Ava who gets hurt, because she sees it coming but no one believes her when she tries to warn them about her sister. We both thought your staff would see Jayne’s words for what they are: a bunch of bullshit.”

“Oh.” Dr. Kersey sucked in her breath.

“Excuse my language, Doctor, but that’s what we believe is going on—hell, that’s what we
know
is going on, and I hope you’re taking appropriate steps. She’s up to something. Don’t let your guard down for a moment around Jayne. She’s an expert at adapting to get what she wants. Has Jayne been offered something that would motivate her to pretend to change her behavior? A reward or privilege?”

“I wish you could see how much she’s improved,” Dr. Kersey said. “She’s not the same person she was when she arrived.”

“Of course she’s not,” argued Mason. “She wants out. She wants all of you to hop at her commands and give her praise. Any kind of praise. She’s got to be bored out of her mind, so you’re her current challenge. I don’t think you should be keeping Ava apprised of what you believe is Jayne’s improvement. Every time she gets an email, she picks it apart, searching for what it really means. Ava knows her sister better than any team of doctors, but she can’t heal her mind. That’s where we’re hoping you can help.” He fought to keep his voice level. What he wanted to do was reach through the line and shake the doctor until she listened to him.

“Well, Jayne has improved. We have standards here, and she’s made lovely progress. She has earned a number of privileges, and I won’t keep those from her. If she abuses a privilege, she loses it. We’ve found loss of privileges to be sufficient motivation to keep a lot of patients moving forward. Jayne also has therapy sessions three times a week and works in the kitchen. She’s never missed a session or a work shift. She’s learning responsibility.”

Mason wanted to bang his head against a tree. Jayne lived where she worked. If she missed a shift, there was no excuse.

That wasn’t the real world.

He knew Jayne was biding her time until she got out, and it put him between a rock and a hard place. He and Ava were paying for Jayne to stay there; it kept her out of their lives and hopefully gave her some mental help. But now he wasn’t so certain about any mental improvements. It appeared her doctors had fallen under her spell.

Should they keep paying?

It’s keeping her off the streets. And away from Ava.

To him that was worth its weight in gold. But was all the expensive therapy teaching her to act like a decent human being?

It was a futile question. He firmly believed Jayne couldn’t improve until she decided she wanted to be a different person. Even then he had doubts about how long it would last. Commitments weren’t Jayne’s strong suit.

Ava had the same doubts.

“I’m glad she has a safe place to live,” Mason said. “All we ask is that you don’t trust her. Don’t believe a single word out of her mouth. Keep working with her, but understand she has a brilliant part in her brain that knows how to manipulate people, and that includes all of her doctors.”

“I understand, Mason. I’m sorry that’s how you and Ava have come to view her sister.”

“It’s out of necessity and experience.”

“We’ll keep moving forward,” said Dr. Kersey. “Should I continue the emails or not?”

He immediately wanted to say no, but knew the positives outweighed the negatives for Ava. “One a week,” he said. “No more.”

She agreed and ended the call.

“She didn’t understand?” Ava asked from behind him. He turned around. She was barefoot, with Bingo beside her, one of her hands deep in his fur. She still wore her slim black skirt and silk blouse from the memorial. Her hair was mussed with sleep.

He would move mountains to protect her, but the biggest threat was from a small woman who shared Ava’s genes. A woman who was nearly impossible to stop. She attacked with emotions that he was helpless to deflect, and made him feel powerless. “No,” he said. “She didn’t understand.”

“We did what we could,” said Ava. “They’ve been warned. I suspect they’ll learn hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

Drained, he shoved his hands in his pockets and simply looked at her. He didn’t want to talk about Jayne. Or Denny. He was done being an adult for the day.

“Bedtime?” she asked.

“Please.”

The next morning Ava entered the task force room and nodded at Nora Hawes as she looked up from her computer. Ava spotted the dark circles under Nora’s eyes and knew hers were just as bad. Yesterday had been long and they’d all taken the day off for the funeral. The investigators had been torn about the time off. Should they continue their work or take a break to honor their friend? A unanimous vote had made their decision.

Mason had gone to his own desk that morning, aware he had work piling up and that Ava would keep him updated. His absence was palpable.

The other task force members were already present, and Ava slipped into a seat sat next to Zander. “Anything new?”

“Bits and pieces. No new deaths.”

“Always a positive,” Ava muttered.

Nora cleared her throat to gather everyone’s attention. “What do we have from the memorial service yesterday?” She looked at Thad Chari, the detective from Multnomah County.

“We’ve got several hours of footage,” Thad said. “The FBI has generously offered to run it through some of their facial recognition software. That database is limited, but I figure it can’t hurt.”

“Did you get the fight on camera?” Nora asked.

“What fight?” Ava whispered to Zander.

“It was outside during the service,” he said quietly. “Some antipolice protesters decided to exchange words with the bikers who’d shown up to provide protection.”

Disbelief swelled in Ava’s chest.

“We did, Detective Hawes,” Thad said. “Do you want to see what we got?”

“Did we get better angles than the news cameras? I saw the fight on two different stations last night, but they were far from the scuffle,” said Nora.

“I think so.” The detective brought his laptop to the front of the room and spent a moment connecting it to a projector aimed at the large screen on the wall. An image of a long line of bikers appeared. Ava’s throat tightened.

“We tried to get all the faces of the people forming the lines,” said Thad. “Even though it was a remarkable service they provided, sometimes the intent isn’t the best, and we wanted a record of who’d been there.”

“Good call,” said Nora.

The camera neared the end of the line and a small group of people carrying signs moved into sight. They moved close to the bikers and yelled in their faces.

“Seriously? At a funeral?” Anger filled Ava’s chest. “If you have a problem with the police, take it to the proper channels. No one will give you respect when you do that at a memorial.”

“They wanted the shock value,” said Zander. “They’re picking arguments with people who aren’t even part of the police force . . . playing it safe.”

“I wouldn’t get in the faces of some of those bikers,” Ava stated.

“Watch,” said Zander.

Immediately a burly biker stepped forward and punched a sign carrier in the mouth. The man collapsed and hit his head, and his friends rapidly stepped away, leaving him lying on the pavement. Two other bikers stepped out of the line and applied pressure to the bleeding head wound with a bandanna one pulled out of his pocket.

“His friends just left him there,” Ava said in astonishment. “The cowards. Did we get their faces on camera?”

“Yes, we were able to pull some still shots from the video.”

“Did anything else happen?” Ava asked.

“The general crowd took great offense at the protesters’ tactics. Some more words were exchanged and the protesters left for good.”

“Do you have those stills from the protesters?” Zander asked Thad. He nodded and pinned four faces to the bulletin board.

Ava moved closer to see.

“I already pulled the mug shots of three of them. We knew who they were. These three have arrest records in Portland,” the Multnomah County detective said. “The fourth is from Washington and doesn’t seem to have been in trouble before. This is the one who caught the fist to the jaw.” Thad tapped one glum face. The man looked forty, white, and angry.

“Do we know what made this particular group protest a cop’s funeral?” Ava asked. “I mean, outside of the incidents that have been in the media across the nation.”
Would that same anger drive him to kill a cop?

“Haven’t had time to look for a reasonable cause. Between the three protesters we have records for, we’re talking pages of complaints and arrests to analyze to figure out what could have made these guys hate us.”

“We could just ask them,” Zander said quietly. “They seem to want to get a point across.”

Ava grinned for the first time that day. “That’s why they pay you the big bucks, Zander.”

He made a wry face.

“Anything out of the tip line?” Nora asked Henry Becker.

“It’s been going crazy since the press started talking about the funeral,” said her partner. “We had to add another person to handle the volume of calls during the news hours last night. The sight of the procession really brings out the crazies. Four people called in to say Gary Ridgway did the killings.”

“The Green River Killer? He’s in prison,” said Ava.

“That’s what we told them. A few threw Ted Bundy under the bus for the murders, too.”

“He’s dead,” muttered Zander. “Did you get any usable leads?”

“We’re following up on each one,” said Henry. “Nothing looks good yet. We’re still sorting through the ‘I’m pissed at my boyfriend, so I’ll call his name in to the police’ type of calls.”

“Every freaking time,” said Ava.

“The deaths have made every police officer look over their shoulders,” said Nora. “We need to figure out who’s doing this so people don’t nervously pull triggers.”

The room was silent. Officer training was vital for proper procedure in an escalating situation, but there’d been no escalation in the murders. The dead men had been flat-out assaulted and left on display. It was every cop’s nightmare.

“I feel it’s more personal,” said Zander. “Several of the other cop deaths across the nation have been impulsive, and the murdered cop was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone
chose
our three men; deliberately hunted down these men. When we know the reason why, we’ll be able to find him and prevent more.”

A small shudder shot through Ava.
More deaths? More deliberate targets?
“How many people can one person target?”

Zander’s smile was sad. “Depends on how much anger he carries and how many cops he believes wronged him.”

“You’ve been talking to Euzent,” she stated.

“Who?” asked Nora and several of the other detectives.

“Special Agent Euzent is with the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico,” Zander said. “I reached out to him last night. They’d already taken notice of the deaths.”

Nora looked interested, but Ava saw the Multnomah County detective roll his eyes at the mention of the elite FBI unit. Not everyone was sold on its analytical skills and suggestions. Ava had imagined that the BAU office back East was full of nerds in bad ties who were short on social skills and stared at their computers all day long. Euzent had proved her wrong—the man loved to talk to people.