Kitabı oku: «Criminal Behaviour», sayfa 3

Chapter Four

Addie’s house was a modest brick ranch tucked back from the street and shaded by two large live oaks that canopied her whole front yard. Beds of impatiens lined her brick walkway, and hydrangeas grew along the sides of her concrete porch. It was a pleasant place to come home to, a cool and colorful oasis.

Once upon a time, as she’d sanded and refinished the original hardwood floors and painted every wall in the house, she’d had visions of dinner parties and backyard barbecues. But a strange thing happened when she finished her renovations. She became greedy of her privacy and protective of her sanctuary. Most evenings, she was all too content to sit alone in the yard watching hummingbirds fight at her feeders and later, lightning bugs flit through the jasmine.

Today when she turned down her street, she took note of a white panel van parked two doors down from her place. The traditional two-story house was undergoing a gut job, so it wasn’t unusual to find any number of vehicles parked at the curb. The side door of the van was open, and Addie glimpsed what looked to be an assortment of tools and lumber inside. The front door to the house was also open, but she saw no signs of life. Addie wasn’t alarmed or even that curious; she was merely observant. East Side fixer-uppers had become hot commodities over the past few years, and the heightened activity in the neighborhood sometimes allowed criminals to slip in and out unnoticed. It paid to keep an eye out.

A late-model luxury sedan was parked in her driveway when she got home. This vehicle she recognized. Addie waved to the older woman perched on her porch steps. The woman waved back and called out to her. Just shy of sixty, Dr. Helen Cutler was pleasantly nondescript, neither short nor tall, neither heavy nor thin, but she had an aura of warmth and vitality that drew one in, and her voice was melodic and soothing—desirable attributes for a therapist. She wore her silver hair clipped close to her head, and she favored oversize eyeglasses and knit cotton clothing with a bohemian flare. She sat on the top step with her full skirt flowing around her ankles as she watched Addie cross the yard.

“This is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to see you this afternoon,” Addie said as she automatically shaded her eyes to check up and down the street. A calico cat rose from the porch, stretched and then sauntered down the steps to greet her at the bottom. She bent to give the feline some attention.

“I didn’t expect to see you, either,” Helen said. “Not for another two days. As to what I’m doing here, did you forget you asked me to feed the strays while you were away?”

“You didn’t get my voice mail?”

“I lost my phone,” Helen said with a sigh. “Second time this year. One would almost think I’m misplacing them on purpose. Fortunately, my new one arrives tomorrow, although I’ve rather enjoyed going old-school for the last couple of days.”

Addie plopped down on the porch steps beside her. “I’d be lost without my phone.”

“Spoken like a true millennial. But David is almost as bad. Sometimes I think he has that thing glued to his ear.”

“Your husband is an important man. The department couldn’t function without our deputy chief.”

“So he tells me,” Helen said drily. “But enough about him. Tell me why you’re back so early.”

Addie pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees, mimicking Helen’s position. The Cutlers weren’t blood relatives, but they were closer to Addie than any of her real family. David had been both mentor and taskmaster, and there had been times when Addie had felt he demanded too much of her, that he held her to a higher standard than any of the other detectives. But in the long run, his expectations had served her well, and there was no one in the department she trusted or respected more.

Twenty-five years ago, as a young homicide detective, he’d been the one to find her mother’s body. In the painful aftermath of that tragedy, Helen had helped Addie cope with her grief, her night terrors and the confusing notoriety that came from being one of Twilight’s Children. The couple had been her lifeline ever since, and Addie knew she would never be able to repay their kindness and support.

“The cabin was wonderful for about three days,” she said. “And then I started to go stir-crazy.”

Helen glanced at her over the top of her glasses. “With that gorgeous lake right outside your door? All those lovely mountains to explore?”

“What can I say, I’m a city girl at heart. I can only take so much of communing with nature before I need my morning fix of car horns and exhaust fumes.”

“You sound just like David. I’ve been trying to get him to slow down for the past ten years, but he just gets busier and crankier. Sometimes I think he won’t be content until he works himself to death. These days he doesn’t get home until well after dark, and he leaves the house before I wake up. And lately—” Helen broke off with a frown.

“Lately what?”

“He seems...distant. Distracted. It’s probably nothing.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“You know he doesn’t like to talk about work. Not to me, at least.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

Helen patted her arm. “I would never put you in that position. You might suggest to him, though, that a vacation with his wife wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

“I’ll do that.”

“I can’t even remember the last time we went up to the cabin together, much less someplace exotic. We used to love taking cruises in our younger days, but the last one must have been before—” She stopped short and then shrugged. “Before he was appointed deputy chief.”

“Were you about to say before my mother died?”

Helen was silent for a moment. “How did you know?”

“Because you always get that look when you’re thinking about her.”

Helen smiled. “You know me too well. Sandra’s been on my mind so much lately. This time of year is always difficult, and now with the twenty-fifth anniversary looming, so many articles are coming out about the Twilight Killer and James Merrick. You can’t avoid the subject. Or the memories. I was so glad you decided to take your vacation when you did. I wanted you to have some time away from all that darkness.”

“Matt Lepear mentioned he saw a documentary about the Twilight Killer the other night,” Addie said.

Helen’s expression turned grim. “Yes, I saw it, too. I told myself I wouldn’t watch, but I couldn’t seem to resist.”

“He said they showed a picture of me.”

“They had photographs of all the children. It was a where-are-they-now montage.” She paused, and her voice softened. “So many lives were torn apart that summer. So many children lost their innocence because of that monster. I’m so thankful you’ve been able to move beyond it.”

“In no small part because of you and David,” Addie said.

Helen draped an arm around Addie’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “I’m just happy your grandmother allowed us to remain in your life. Your mother and I were always so close. She was like a younger sister to me. And you’re the daughter I never had.”

Addie tilted her face to the warm breeze. “What was it like that summer? It’s all so hazy to me. Like a dream. Yet I can still remember the dress I wore to my mother’s funeral and the songs the choir sang. I even remember hearing you and David talking in the doorway of my bedroom the night she was killed.”

Helen glanced at her. “You never told me that.”

Addie shrugged. “You always get so sad when we talk about her. I thought it best to keep some things to myself.”

Helen regarded her for a moment. “I’m sorry you felt that way. I let you down when you needed me the most.”

“That’s not true. You saved me.”

“You saved yourself, Addie. I’ve never known anyone stronger. Even when you were a child, you were sometimes the one holding me up. I’m glad you don’t remember much about those days, but for me, it seems only yesterday. There was a hushed quality to the city after the first body was found, like we were all holding our breath. Like we somehow knew the worst was yet to come. After the second body, fear settled in, and you couldn’t walk down the street without glancing over your shoulder.”

Addie said, “Was my mother scared?”

“She never let on. But that was our Sandra. She was so full of bluster and bravado. I was scared for her because she fit the profile. Young, single mother living alone with an only child. On some level, she must have been frightened. David and I did our best to keep an eye on you both, but she was stubborn and independent. She refused to change her lifestyle regardless of the warnings. ‘If you give in to the fear, you let him in,’ she would say. And then she’d laugh and tease me. ‘You worry too much, Helen. Only thirty and already you’re an old fogey. Come out and have a drink with me.’ And I would gently remind her that someone had to stay and watch over you. Dear Helen. What would I ever do without you?”

The change in her aunt’s voice startled Addie, and a memory flitted. Sometimes I think you love Helen more than me. I’m glad she’s good to you, boo. I’m glad you like going to her house. But don’t forget who your real mother is, okay? Don’t forget me.

“Addie?”

The sound of Helen’s normal, soothing timbre chased away the memory. “Yes?”

“Where did you go just now?”

“I remembered something Mama said to me once about how much I liked being at your house. Did I stay with you often?”

“Sandra adored going out,” Helen said without really answering Addie’s question. “She had you when she was so young, barely eighteen, so it was only natural she’d crave a social life.”

“You didn’t resent having someone else’s kid dumped on you? You were young, too. You and David must have had things you’d rather do than babysit me.”

“Resent it? The time I spent with you was always the highlight of my week. David felt the same way. He liked having you close so that he could protect you. We were such careful people. We took every precaution. We made sure the doors and windows were locked every night, and we kept an eye out for strangers in the neighborhood. Even so, I never really believed anything could happen to someone so close to us.”

“I know.”

Helen gazed out toward the street, where the sun hovered just above the treetops. As the shadows grew longer, the perfume from Addie’s garden deepened.

Her aunt shivered. “It’s been twenty-five years, and I still get anxious this time of day.”

Addie followed her gaze to the street. Two doors down, someone had come out of the house and climbed into the white van. She could hear the idle of the engine, but she couldn’t make out the driver. Like the Charger she’d seen earlier, the van’s windshield was tinted. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

“Do you see that van parked down the street? Was it there when you drove by?”

Helen had been lost in thought, but now she roused herself. “What? I don’t know. I never even noticed it until now. But I’ve seen a lot of trucks and vans in front of that house since I’ve been feeding the strays. I’m sure it belongs to one of the workers.”

“Probably, but I didn’t see any logo on the side.”

Helen turned to stare at her. “You’re not worried about it, are you? Surely no one would be brazen enough to try to rob the place with so many people out and about.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, but I’m not suggesting they’re up to no good. I just like to keep an eye on any strange vehicles in the neighborhood.”

“David trained you well,” Helen said in approval. “He used to make me jot down make, model and license plate number if I saw anything suspicious. Now I just snap a picture with my phone. When I have one on me, that is.”

“Good idea,” Addie said as she took out her own phone. For the longest time, the driver remained stationary with the motor running. She thought again of that black Charger and Ethan’s revelation of new evidence. Of his insistence that if something happened to him, he could trust her to do right thing.

As if drawn by the power of her stare, the van pulled onto the street and slowly came toward them.

The side window was down, but the driver wore a red cap pulled low over his brow so that Addie couldn’t get a good look at him.

“That’s not at all suspicious,” she muttered as she lifted her phone. She zoomed in, trying to capture the rear license plate. “Did you get a glimpse of him?”

Helen didn’t answer. She stared after the van for a moment, and then her hand flew to her skirt pocket as if something had suddenly occurred to her. But it was her expression that caught Addie’s attention. Stricken was the word that came to mind.

“Aunt Helen? Are you okay? You look as if you just saw a ghost.”

She turned wide eyes on Addie. “A ghost?”

“You’re as white as a sheet. What’s wrong? Did you recognize the driver of the van?”

“What? No. Oh, no.” She shook her head as if to clear her senses. “Nothing like that. I think I remember where I left my phone.”

“Where? Maybe it’s still there. We can go look for it if you want.”

“It’s probably long gone by now, but just in case, I’ll have a look on my way home. Speaking of which...” She rose and stood with her back to Addie. “I really should be going.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

She seemed so tense and anxious that Addie thought she might decline. Then she relaxed when Addie slipped her arm through hers. Helen patted her hand. “Good to have you home.”

“Thank you for looking after the kitties. And for the use of the cabin. It really was good to get away. I hope you and David can make it up there soon. Seems a shame to let it sit empty.”

Helen glanced at her. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Addie searched her face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m just a little tired. I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll make dinner plans.”

“Just name the date.”

“I’ll let you get settled with your new assignment first. Addie...” Helen turned back to the street. “Be careful. I know this neighborhood isn’t as dangerous as it once was, but there are bad elements everywhere these days. Keep your doors and windows locked, and turn on the alarm even when you’re home. Keep your gun nearby when you sleep.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. As you said, David taught me well.”

“Sometimes danger comes from a place you least expect,” Helen said as she climbed into her car. She closed the door and lowered the window. “I’ll call you about dinner.”

Addie watched her back out of the drive and head down the street in the same direction as the white van. The opposite direction from Helen’s neighborhood.

* * *

TWILIGHT CAME LATE and softly in the summertime. The evening breeze brought a tantalizing mixture of jasmine, moonflowers and the more elusive perfume of the tea olives. Ethan’s interest in flowers was limited to his study of Orson Lee Finch. His recognition of the various scents came from Addie. She used to school him as they walked arm in arm through White Point Garden. At twenty-two, Ethan had been more interested in the scent that wafted from her long blond hair. You’re not listening to me, she would scold him.

I’m hanging on your every word. How could I not when you have me wrapped around your little finger?

And then she would stand on tiptoes to kiss him as he threaded his fingers through that soft, soft hair, turning her face to his, kissing her back with an urgency that surprised even him.

Ethan let the memory fade as he climbed the steps to the Battery. After leaving the Gainey house, he’d gone back to his hotel to shower and change into more casual clothing, but he felt vulnerable out of his G-man uniform. The dark suits gave him a veneer of invincibility, and now in jeans and a cotton shirt, he felt increasingly unsure of himself. He had a feeling Addie would be able to see right through him, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. He needed her on his side, and complete honesty was the only hope he had.

He trained his gaze on Charleston Harbor, marking the rise and fall of the tide as sailboats floated in the distance. He had always loved this city. His maternal grandparents were native Charlestonians, and despite the publicity surrounding his father’s breakdown and arrest, he and his mother had lived here for a time before she’d dated Richard Barrow. After their marriage, his stepfather had moved them to his home in Alexandria. He and Ethan’s mother still lived in the same gleaming white colonial. To anyone unaware of the backstory, they seemed an idyllic family, and yet even as a kid, Ethan had felt like an impostor.

Sensing eyes on him, he turned his head, almost expecting to find his counterparts in dark suits and sunglasses watching him. Instead, he saw Addie making her way through the evening crowd. She’d gone home to change and now, in cutoffs and sneakers, she looked more like a college kid than a seasoned police detective. She’d pulled her hair back and tucked it up loosely at her nape. She wore sunglasses, too, so he couldn’t see her eyes, but she wasn’t smiling. Her sober demeanor took nothing away from her attractiveness. She looked fit, tanned and ready to take on the world. Or him.

Ethan turned back to the water, collecting his thoughts and emotions as he waited for her to approach.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said, his gaze still on the distant sails. He turned slowly to face her, eyeing her leisurely from behind his own dark glasses.

“I told you I would. I always try to keep my word.” She moved up beside him at the rail. “You’re early, I see.”

“I didn’t want to take a chance on missing you. I know this can’t be easy. The way things went down between us—”

She glanced away. “I don’t want to talk about that. That’s not why I’m here. You said you had information about my mother’s murder. I don’t know what you could have possibly dug up after all this time, but here I am, so let’s get to it.”

He flicked a glance behind her down the crowded walkway. “Not much privacy out here. Are you sure you don’t want a drink or a bite to eat? We could go to Pearlz.”

“I’m not going to eat or drink with you, Ethan. This isn’t a date.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that it was. Can we at least go across the street to the park and find a quiet bench?”

Her mouth tightened as she reached up to tuck back a strand of hair. “Fine.”

They went down the steps and crossed East Bay, keeping a careful distance between them. Ethan could still smell jasmine on the warm breeze that blew across the harbor. The scent and the woman beside him stirred memories he’d tried to keep buried for ten long years, ever since that final showdown when Addie had made it clear she never wanted to see him again. He could still remember the glitter of angry tears in her eyes and the faint quiver of her lip before she’d turned and walked away. They’d both been so young, and Ethan had made so many mistakes. Maybe it was fitting that Orson Lee Finch’s words should once again come back to haunt him. A man like you will always be at war with his emotions. Tormented by what he can’t know. Unable to make peace with his past.

Addie stopped in front of a bench facing the street. “This okay with you?”

Her voice snapped him back to the present. “Yes, fine. The shade feels good.”

She waited until he responded before settling herself at one end of the bench. He joined her, draping one arm across the back. Addie took off her sunglasses and laid them on the seat between them as if to create a physical barrier.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Ethan wondered if she were as lost in the past as he was. If she remembered all those moonlit drives, the walks on the beach, the nights spent in her garage apartment off Morrison Drive. Now she lived in a small East Side house with a mortgage, but she wouldn’t like him knowing that.

He felt her gaze on him and turned to find her eyes slightly narrowed as she studied him. Then she glanced at her watch. “I don’t have long. We should get started.”

He wanted to ask if she had a date later that evening, but instead he nodded. “To explain the new evidence, we’ll have to talk about the crime scene. I’m sorry. I know that’ll be painful for you.”

“And for you,” she said, her gaze lifting to meet his. Her expression was not without compassion. “Go on.”

“Three DNA samples were collected at that scene. Your mother’s, my father’s and a third blood sample that was never identified.”

“Both the police and FBI concluded the unidentified DNA had been in the alley before the murder.”

“A reasonable explanation, but that sample has always tormented me, even though nothing ever turned up in the databases.”

“It was your obsession,” Addie murmured.

She would remember, because she’d suffered the consequences of that obsession. “My father’s erratic behavior at the time of his arrest and his subsequent mental breakdown made it all too easy to accept him as the murderer, especially since his abilities as a profiler enabled him to mimic the Twilight Killer’s MO. That MO included things that hadn’t been released to the public at the time. The staging of the bodies, for example. But my father wasn’t the only one who had access to that information.”

“You’re leaving out the most damning pieces of evidence,” Addie said. “Not only was James Merrick’s DNA found at the crime scene, the murder weapon was located two blocks from his hotel and his bloody clothing was found in the hotel dumpster.”

“My father was a brilliant man. He knew the criminal mind better than anyone of his time. It’s hard to imagine he would make such careless mistakes.”

“But that was his whole defense,” Addie reminded him. “He wasn’t in his right mind. You said yourself his behavior was erratic at the time of his arrest and he subsequently suffered a complete mental breakdown.”

An exasperated edge crept into Ethan’s tone despite his best efforts at neutrality. “Those discoveries were too convenient. If he still had enough rational thought to remove the murder weapon from the crime scene, why dispose of it in such an obvious location rather than tossing it in the harbor? Why not burn the bloody clothing? None of this has ever made sense to me.”

“What puzzles you the most?” Addie demanded. “That he was careless in disposing of evidence or that he killed my mother in cold blood?”

That was blunt.

Ethan inwardly winced. The meeting wasn’t going well. Far from breaking down barriers, he had forced her to put up more walls. She was withdrawn and defensive, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake coming to her with what he’d found. Who else would believe him, though? Whom could he trust to help him dig for the truth if not the victim’s child?

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to get into any of that. I just wanted to remind you about the third DNA sample.”

She made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Got it. Keep going.”

“Two weeks ago, I received an email from a genealogist here in Charleston who claimed she’d cross-referenced the third DNA sample against a number of public databases. She got a match.”

Addie whirled, her eyes going wide with disbelief. “What?”

Ethan nodded. “Thousands of those databases exit, created mostly by people who post their DNA profiles online in the hopes of finding long-lost relatives. Biological mothers and adopted children, for example.”

“Now that doesn’t make any sense to me,” Addie said. “I don’t mean the part about the databases or long-lost relatives. I’m talking about the sample itself. How would a genealogist get her hands on DNA evidence that’s been in police custody for over twenty-five years?”

“I think she or someone close to her had a connection in the police department.”

Addie frowned. “You think a cop gave her the sample?”

“She may have had it for years with no way to check for a match. These public databases are fairly new technology.”

“Did you ask her where she got the sample?”

“Yes, but she was guarded. She refused to provide details through email or over the phone. She insisted I come to Charleston to meet with her in person.”

“And that didn’t set off any alarm bells for you?”

“Her credentials checked out. She said she needed to be discreet because if anyone found out about her research, her life could be in danger.”

“And you believed her?”

“I didn’t at first. I thought she was exaggerating to coerce my cooperation. We emailed back and forth a few times, and then the correspondence just stopped. I told myself to let it go. No good could come from digging all that up again, but—”

“You couldn’t.”

He shrugged. “When she didn’t answer my emails, I made some inquiries. I found out she’d been killed in a hit-and-run two days after she first made contact with me.”

Addie stared at him for the longest moment. Then she asked in a strained tone, “What was her name?”

“Naomi Quinlan. She taught night courses on genealogy research at the community college. She was struck while walking home from class one evening.”

“Quinlan, Quinlan,” Addie muttered. “I know that name. I remember that hit-and-run. It happened right off King Street. I caught the call, but another detective was already on the scene by the time I got there. It was bad. The impact was so severe the coroner said she probably died instantly. There were no witnesses, nothing at the scene or in the victim’s history to support premeditation. We assumed the driver was under the influence and lost control of the vehicle.”

“The driver has never been found?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“You said you caught the call. Why didn’t you lead the investigation?”

“Like I said, another detective was already on the scene, so I backed off because I was being transferred out of the Investigations Bureau, anyway.”

“Why?”

“New assignment.”

“So you never followed up on the hit-and-run?”

“I had my hands full trying to clear the active cases on my desk.” But remorse flashed in her eyes before she turned to stare at the street.

“I understand,” Ethan said. “Never enough hours in the day. When I tried to press Naomi for the name of the DNA donor, she reminded me that careers had been built on the Twilight Killer case and on my father’s subsequent arrest. If either investigation was discredited by a new piece of evidence, a lot of important reputations would be tarnished.”

“That sounds a bit dramatic,” Addie said.

“I thought so, too. Right up until the time she turned up dead.”

Addie frowned. “You don’t know that her death was related to the DNA match. That hit-and-run could have been nothing more than a tragic accident. The driver panicked and fled. Coincidences do happen, you know.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

She looked annoyed. “Okay, let’s break it down. Naomi Quinlan claimed she got a hit from a public database, but she wouldn’t provide you with any of the details. She wouldn’t tell you how she obtained the DNA sample or the name of the donor match. Isn’t it possible she was just messing with you, Ethan? There are a lot of sick people in this world. I still get anonymous letters around this time of year. And now, with all the hoopla surrounding the twenty-fifth anniversary, I expect crackpots will be crawling out of the woodwork.”

Ethan’s voice sharpened. “You get anonymous letters? What do they say?”

Addie tucked back her hair. “Nothing important. What matters is this woman’s motive and her timing. Why now, with the anniversary looming? Is it possible she wanted to inject herself into a famous case for the notoriety? You are James Merrick’s son. She wouldn’t have had to do much digging to find you, even with the name change. It’s just all very curious—convenient, to use your descriptor—that she was able to get a match when CODIS has never turned up a single hit.”

“If the unsub doesn’t have an arrest record, he or she wouldn’t be in any LE database,” Ethan said.

“True. But why would someone who left DNA at a murder scene knowingly allow their genetic profile to be publicly cataloged?”

“I’ve given that a lot of thought,” Ethan said. “The unsub may not have realized he’d been wounded. Adrenaline blocks pain, and a thrill kill produces euphoria. Sometimes an almost fugue state of rapture. And remember, the third blood sample was never made public, so the unsub had no reason to believe his DNA could be traced back to the crime scene.”

“You have given this thought.”

“Yes, and having said all that, I think there’s a more logical explanation. Naomi Quinlan’s hit was only a partial match. Familial DNA.”

“That’s a slippery slope,” Addie said.

“For law enforcement, yes. Some states are more stringent about such searches than others. They require that the criminal and the person in the database share an identical Y chromosome, which means the match is limited to men. But a genealogist is under no such constraint. She could have cast a wide net.”

“That kind of scattershot approach produces a lot of false positives. You know that as well as I do.”

“Depends on how closely the samples matched up.”

Addie scowled at him in the fading light. “You’re playing with fire, Ethan. This is the kind of thing that got us both into a lot of trouble ten years ago. Some days I feel as if I’m still wading out of that mess. What are the chances you’ll forget all about Naomi Quinlan and go back to Quantico?”

“Zero.”

She sighed. “I figured. And just what is it you expect me to do?”

“Nothing. I don’t expect anything from you. I just wanted you to have this information in case—”

“Nothing is going to happen to you.”

She said it so fiercely, he almost believed her. “I know you want to believe that justice was served in your mother’s case, but what if it wasn’t? What if her killer is still out there somewhere? Can you live with that possibility?”