Unforgivable (23 page)

He started to say something but stopped himself. She was right.

He clenched his teeth and felt the anger washing over him. She’d lied to him. That was bad enough. But worse, someone was terrorizing her, and she’d gone all this time
without telling him or asking for his help—not just as a friend but as a cop. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until every bit of information she’d been hiding from him came spilling out.

He closed his eyes and made himself get a grip. When he opened them again, she was watching him.

“Where?” he asked.

“Where did I do it?”

He nodded.

“An abandoned factory. Out on Highway 12.” She shook her head. “Why does it matter? It’s like I told you, there’s nothing left.”

“Are you all right now?”

“Not really. I’m not hurt.” She shrugged. “My reputation is ruined, though.” Tears filled her eyes, and she looked away. “Every case I’ve ever touched will probably come under fire.”

Ric waited while she composed herself. Obviously, she’d been tearing herself up over this.

“No more lies, Mia. I need you to be honest now.”

“I am.”

“Something spooked you the other night and made you run. What was it?”

She cleared her throat and looked down. “He was in my house.”

“Who?”

“The man who carjacked me and killed Frank. The person behind all this.” The fear in her eyes pulled at him. “I had these Mardi Gras beads in my Jeep, hanging from my mirror. They were a souvenir from a wedding in New Orleans. When I came home from dinner with you, they were sitting on my table.”

“Did you—”

“I took them to the lab already. No prints, nothing.”

Another spurt of anger, but this time it was directed at himself. He’d known something was wrong that night, and he should have stayed with her, but instead, he’d let her send him away.

He watched her closely now, trying to read her mind. She wasn’t much of a liar, but she was good at hiding things. And she was still doing it—he could tell.

That was going to end today. This was a murder investigation, and they were doing it his way from here on out.

He checked his watch. “All right, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Highway 12.”

“But I told you—”

“Save the argument, Mia. I want a look at this crime scene.”

CHAPTER 16

Mia stood in the mud, shivering. The temperature had climbed above thirty, but a front had moved in, and a blanket of moisture had settled over everything. She hunched her shoulders against the chill as she watched Ric tromp around the site. He was in detective mode now—had been since they’d left the safe house.

“You say he was watching you?”

“I don’t know. I just think he was.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her barn jacket and stepped closer. “Something he said over the phone made me think he could see my car as I pulled in.”

The metal door to the incinerator stood open, and Ric shone his flashlight inside it for the third time. Nothing but ashes.

“And where did he leave the tongs?”

Mia walked over to the spot and pointed. “There. That’s where I left them, too. Our fingerprint tracer lifted several good prints but said it would take a few days to run them through.”

Ric muttered something.

“What?”

“You should have given it to me,” he said. “I could have had our guy turn it around same day. He owes me a favor.”

“I don’t know your guy. I know my guy. And I trust him.”

His gaze shot up. “What does that mean?”

“I think this person, whoever he is, is in law enforcement.”

Ric’s expression darkened. “Why’s that?”

“His gun, for one. It looks just like yours.”

“This is one of the most common pistols out there.”

“That’s because they’re standard issue for so many law-enforcement agencies.” Mia had researched it. “Also, he knew things. Like how the lab works, where things are stored during processing. I talked to our evidence clerk, and someone called her twice to check on the status of that evidence and find out which person in our lab was assigned to it. He claimed to be a detective.”

His brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Jonah Macon.”

Ric looked away and shook his head. Then he walked around to the front of the building, and Mia followed.

“I looked inside already,” she said. “No cigarette butts. No soda cans. If he was in there, it looks like he cleaned up after himself.”

The door stood ajar, and he pushed it open, causing a rusty squeak. He stepped inside, and again she followed.

The place was empty except for an overturned milk crate and a stack of wooden shipping pallets. The floor was dusty concrete, but there were no fresh footprints.
Light streamed through the broken second-story windows. Ric walked into the center of the room and looked around.

“What makes you think he was watching from the building?” His voice echoed through the cavernous space.

“I don’t know. At the time, I just thought that’s where he was. Where else would he be?”

They walked back outside. Mia looked around, but all she saw were pastures transected by the highway. There was a farmhouse about half a mile up the road, but it had pickups and a tractor out front. Not the sort of spot where you could camp out and watch someone unnoticed.

Ric surveyed the area, then walked north, toward a rise about a hundred yards away. The ground sloped up to a wire fence that bordered what looked to be the grounds of the former factory. A couple of mesquite trees swayed in the breeze, but they were too slender for anyone to hide behind. A pair of low boulders sat between them, and Ric crouched down there.

“Bingo.”

She joined him beside the rocks, which were about the size of two tires. “You think he was
here
?”

“Looks like he was prone. See the grass flattened down? And these marks where he dug the toes of his boots in?” A cold look had come into Ric’s eyes, one she was beginning to recognize. He took the threat to her personally, and she wasn’t sure what to think of that. It didn’t make her special, necessarily. He was a cop—he was protective by nature.

“This was his blind,” he said. “He set up here, probably
before he made the call, then waited for you to come. He probably watched every move you made through a rifle scope.”

Fear rippled through her. “Why didn’t he just shoot me then?”

“Why would he? You were doing exactly what he wanted. Now that it’s over, though, maybe he thinks it’s time to eliminate you.” Ric frowned down at the rock and rubbed a finger over a black mark on it. “He smoked a cigarette here, too, while he was waiting. Stubbed it out, but I don’t see the butt.”

They spent a few minutes separately combing the area until Ric let out a whistle.

“Found something.”

“Don’t touch it.” Mia pulled a small kit from her pocket and walked over. She handed him some tweezers and unfolded a paper bag, although she couldn’t even see what he was looking at.

“What is it?”

“Cellophane wrapper from a pack of smokes.”

Mia looked at the clear plastic. “A butt would be better for DNA.”

He stood up and dropped the wrapper into the paper evidence bag. The corner of his mouth curled up. “You’re making it too complicated. I bet we get a print.”

Mia looked around, uncomfortable standing there, even in the presence of an armed police officer. The place felt spooky, and she pictured eyes watching her from every direction.

“The more I see of this guy, the more I think he has military training.” Ric’s voice was serious again.

“You don’t think he’s a cop?”

“Could be he’s both. Anyway, if he is military, I’m guessing it’s in the distant past.”

“Why is that?”

He reached out and sank his fingers into her hair. It was the first time he’d touched her since they’d left the cabin.

“Because he missed,
querida
. A man on his game would have made the shot.”

Mia’s heart pounded. A bubble of panic rose in her throat. She smiled. It was either that or burst into tears. “Guess I’m lucky, then, huh?”

“Don’t be lucky. Be smart.” Ric’s hand dropped away, and he looked out over the horizon. “His pride’s at stake now. He won’t miss again.”

Jonah tossed his empty can into the trash and waited for the Red Bull to kick in. He’d been up half the night on this case, and he was starting to feel it.

“So, we’ve got a print at the lab from your cigarette wrapper, three matching shell casings, but no murder weapon and still nothing on the missing Jeep,” Jonah said.

He and Ric were in one of the conference rooms at the station house, comparing notes on their cases. Ric seemed convinced that they were all connected, although Jonah hadn’t totally bought into the theory. Shooting and stabbing were pretty different as far as MOs went. Seemed to him like two different perps.

“That’s all we have on the shooter,” Ric said. “At least, until that sheriff’s deputy gets back to me with whatever they found yesterday at the gas station.”

“If there was something to find, they probably would have found it by now.”

“Our best bet is that print.” Ric rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The lab is running it through AFIS. We’ll see what comes back.”

Jonah scarfed down the last bite of a soggy Italian sub and watched his partner. He looked tense, tired. He’d probably been up all night, too, but Jonah doubted he’d been working.

“Where’d you stash Mia?” he asked.

“Somewhere safe.”

Jonah waited for more, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Update me on the girl in the lake,” Ric said, changing the subject. “Didn’t you have a message in to that sheriff?”

“Still no ID on her. They thought they might get something off that cinder block, but so far, no word. Got some stuff on Fort Worth, though.” Jonah shoved the trash away and flipped through the pages of his notepad. “I’ve been working on that guest list from the country-club party where Laura Thorne was last seen.”

“High-class hooker at a country-club party. How come I’m not surprised?”

“First off, the term is ‘escort,’ according to her employer.” Jonah skimmed his notes. “This woman runs a pretty big business, from the looks of it. Anyway, the victim’s last scheduled date was at this pool party, which followed a men’s poker tournament there at the club. Not a lot of wives invited, as you might guess. Victim’s boss got a text message from her about nine p.m., saying she’d made it to the party. That was the last anyone heard from her. Her body turned up two days later in the woods off the golf course.”

“And the day after that, the groundskeeper gets shot,” Ric said. “Same gun used to kill Hannigan. Detective up there thinks the gardener might have witnessed something.”

“So here’s the interesting part. The guest list. If her boss knows who Laura’s date was at that party, she’s not saying.”

“Any cops there?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“Just a theory Mia has. It might be off base.” Ric reached across the table. “Here, let me see. How’d you come up with this?”

Jonah slid his notes over. “Clerk at the club. Promised I’d keep his name out of it since I didn’t have a warrant.”

“Lotta movers and shakers,” Ric said, reading the list. “Tim Connell’s been all over the news. He’s running for state attorney general. And Jeff Lane is the lieutenant governor. Shit, which one of these guys is using an escort service?”

“My guess is half of them.”

“Holy shit. Camille Lane.”

Jonah frowned. “There’re no women on that list.”

“No, I know. She’s the lieutenant governor’s wife. Her name came up already.” Ric pulled a thin folder from the stack on the other end of the table.

“What’s that?”

“Jane Doe case from Lake Buchanan. Some remains were found up there, never been identified. Bone expert at the Delphi Center thinks it’s the same MO as Ashley Meyer—duct tape, blunt-force trauma, stabbing with a serrated knife.”

“What’s that got to do with Camille Lane?”

“Sheriff up there interviewed her when he was making the rounds. They have a lake house down the road from where the body was found.” Ric was combing through the file now, but there wasn’t much in it. “Damn, where’s that guy’s number?”

Jonah stared at him. “You’re telling me Laura Thorne and this Jane Doe have a link to the lieutenant governor?”

Ric glanced up. “I guess I am.
Fuck.
Rachel’s going to hate this.” He raked a hand through his hair. “This is going nowhere.
Damn it.
”

He was right. No DA in her right mind would start investigating a political heavyweight like Jeff Lane without a boatload of evidence. Which they didn’t have. They had more like a thimble, and it was all circumstantial.

Ric cursed again and stared down at the file.

“Yo, you guys hear about our boy Corino?”

He and Ric turned to see Vince Moore standing in the doorway. Jonah scowled.

“Yo, dirtbag. Thanks for backing me up the other night with Sophie Barrett. What the fuck?”

Moore grinned. “Thought you’d like that.”

“She damn near shot my dick off! That girl packs heat.”

“No kidding?” Moore looked intrigued, and Jonah decided to shut up about it.