13 Cope
As Cope followed behind Ronan and Fitzgibbon into the Jonathan F. Langevin Memorial Library on the Salem State University campus, the detectives slung their badges around their necks, hanging from a chain. Cope couldn’t help but wonder if the next time he saw Jude’s badge would be when a uniformed police officer returned it, along with the folded flag that had covered Jude’s coffin. Shaking his head, Cope tried to knock that image out of his head.
The elevator doors opened and Ronan escorted Cope inside. “Usually at a time like this, I’d remind Tennyson to try to read as much from our suspect as possible. Are you going to be able to do that for us?”
Cope nodded. “I need to calm myself down a little bit, but I should be fine.”
Just as soon as he got the image of Jude’s funeral out of his head. He tapped the dark screen of his phone and smiled when he saw the picture of him and Jude with the kids on the beach in Florida. Cope knew any information he read from Courtney could help Ronan and Fitz find his missing husband. He needed to keep his eyes on the prize and concentrate on the situation at hand.
When the elevator doors pinged open, Cope was ready to go to work. He’d worked a case like this once or twice with Jude. The most important thing Jude taught him was to stay quiet and blend into the background. Don’t let the suspect know what he could do with his gifts, so that he’d be free to read them without being blocked out.
“There’s the window.”
Fitz pointed to the back of the large, open room. “Let’s hope she’s still here.”
Cope crossed his fingers and reached out with his gift. “She is. Reading a child psych book and munching on a Twinkie. Guess it’s hard to study on an empty stomach.”
What Cope was really thinking was how could Courtney eat at time like this, after she’d spied on Jude’s family, took pictures of the kids, and may well have something to do with Jude’s abduction.
“Excuse me, Miss Wilcox,”
Fitzgibbon said, sounding every inch the captain he was.
Courtney’s head popped up. “Oh, Mr. Fitzgibbon. Mr. O’Mara. Did I forget something at your house?”
“It’s Captain Fitzgibbon and Detective O’Mara, and no, we’re not here because you left something behind. We’re here because you took something.”
Fitz pulled out the chair to Courtney’s left, while Ronan did the same on the right, effectively blocking her in.
Cope was pretty damn sure if she managed to somehow get away from Fitz and Ronan, he’d be able to tackle the bitch like a linebacker on the New England Patriots.
“Took something?”
Courtney asked, sounding appalled by the idea that she would have stolen anything. “Mr. Fitzgibbon, I sat in the living room with the kids all night long. The only time I left the room was to go to the bathroom and to put little Lizbet to bed. I didn’t steal anything.”
“I never said you stole anything,”
Fitzgibbon said softly. Other library patrons were staring at Courtney. “I said you took something.”
“What is it you think I took?”
Courtney asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Cope thought she looked like a petulant teenager who’d been grounded. He knew this was what lay in store for him as Wolf and Lizbet got older, but the question was if Jude would be around to help soothe teenage angst or if Cope would be doing it all on his own.
“Pictures,”
Ronan said simply.
“You’re out of your mind,”
Courtney said, on an angry whisper. “I didn’t take any of your family photos.”
“Everly told me you took snapshots of the five kids sitting on their sleeping bags.”
Ronan’s tone was calm, but Cope could see the embers of anger burning in his eyes.
Courtney opened her mouth, looking as if she were about to protest.
“Don’t,”
Ronan said. “Just don’t. My daughter doesn’t lie.”
“It’s odd, don’t you think, that the night you come to babysit our kids, is the night Jerry Dunkirk runs into Jude again?”
Fitz asked.
“It’s even odder still that Jude goes missing the next day,”
Ronan added.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who Jonny Dunspirk is.”
Courtney reached across the table and began gathering her books. “If you don’t mind, I have exams to study for.”
“As a matter of fact, we do mind, and it’s Jerry Dunkirk.”
Ronan offered a cold smile. “Which of course you know, because he’s your half-brother.”
Courtney’s mouth dropped open. “I want a lawyer.”
“You’re not under arrest.”
Fitz offered her a bland smile. “Yet.”
“I suggest you start talking or I’ll arrest you for helping to abduct Jude.”
Ronan sat back in his seat. He appeared to be watching for some kind of reaction in Courtney.
“I didn’t kidnap anyone. All I did was watch your kids. You’ve got nothing on me.”
Courtney’s voice rose as she spoke not with anger, but with fear. Cope could feel it pouring off her like smoke off dry ice.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Ronan wore a cat who ate the canary grin. “If you’re an accessory to a crime, you can be charged with the offense itself. Which means, that you’ll go before a judge on kidnapping and false imprisonment charges. Judges don’t like it when crimes are committed against cops or their families. “Of course if we find Jude’s body, the charges will be upgraded to first-degree murder, which carries a mandatory life without parole sentence.”
Cope was stunned to hear Ronan say the word murder, but didn’t let it show. “Say goodbye to getting your degree and becoming a certified teacher working with kids.”
There was no hint of emotion in Cope’s voice. He didn’t know how he managed it. Jude always told Cope he was stronger than he possibly knew. Maybe he was right, after all. How he wished Jude was there to say, “I told you so.”
“I didn’t do anything. None of this is my fault. I can’t go to jail. I can’t!”
Panic warred with fear in the young woman’s eyes.
“Start talking,”
Fitzgibbon said, his voice sounding like a growl.
Courtney sighed. She scanned the library with a wistful look. “Okay, Jerry’s been in love with Jude for years. Seven or eight, I think. Jude chewed and screwed, if you get my meaning and never called Jerry again, wouldn’t return his calls either. I tried to tell my brother that he needed to forget Jude and move on, especially after I saw your wedding announcement online. I thought he’d finally let the idea of Jude go, until Dr. Armstrong was arrested for trying to kill Jude and you.”
She pointed to Ronan.
“I knew Jerry worked at Salem Mercy, but what’s his connection to Armstrong?”
Ronan asked.
Armstrong was a name Cope never wanted to hear again. Doctor Paul Armstrong was the anesthesiologist who attended Jude’s knee surgery at Salem Mercy nearly two years ago. He was also the killer angel who’d been stalking and murdering patients. After nearly killing Jude and attacking Ronan, Armstrong had been arrested, tried, and convicted of four murders and the assault on the detectives. He was serving two consecutive life sentences a men’s prison in western Massachusetts. The only way Armstrong was getting out of jail was feet first in a pine box.
“Jerry was Armstrong’s PA.”
Courtney wore a despondent look, as if she’d just given up her most treasured secrets.
“What’s that?”
Fitz asked.
“Physician’s assistant. Jerry was working for Armstrong when the shit hit the fan. He was put on unpaid administrative leave when Armstrong was arrested. He lost his job when the good doctor was convicted and hasn’t been able to find another PA job in the state. Jerry has been working at a medical library during the day and Wendy’s at night to make ends meet and is most likely going to lose his house in the next few months.”
“That’s not a problem,”
Ronan said. “When he’s convicted of abducting Jude, he’ll have ten by ten foot cell to call home, courtesy of the Massachusetts Department of Corrections.”
“You really are an asshole,”
Courtney said.
“I couldn’t give a monkey’s rosy red ass what you think of me. Tell us what the plan was for Jude,”
Ronan demanded.
Cope had never seen Ronan like this before. Harsh, mean, and focused on getting the information he needed. Cope prayed he never had to sit across the table from Ronan and answer questions. He was practically shitting his pants between Ronan’s attitude and the intense look in Fitzgibbon’s eyes. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how Courtney was holding up. He would have dissolved into a puddle of tears ten minutes ago, were he in her shoes.
“I don’t know,”
Courtney said. “All Jerry told me was that Jude would be able to set things right in his life. That all I had to do was watch the kids and send him pictures of them.”
“Why?”
Fitzgibbon asked, slamming the palm of his hand on the table.
“To show Jude. To let him know we could get to them at any moment if he didn’t do what Jerry wanted.”
Cope felt sick. The meager lunch he’d eaten bubbled in his gut. It wouldn’t take much and he’d be spewing all over the table. He took a deep breath and tried to focus again. “What was it that Jerry wants Jude to do?”
“Die,”
Courtney said simply, giving her shoulder a little shrug.
Cope felt like he was weightless. Like that scene from Alice in Wonderland when the girl falls through the looking glass. Cope turned to Ronan, who looked as stunned as he felt. Ditto for Fitzgibbon. “Why?”
Cope asked, when he finally found his tongue.
Courtney laughed. She sounded like she was really enjoying herself, as if being questioned by two members of the Salem Police Department didn’t bother her one bit. “Because the beast has reawakened.”
“The beast?”
That was the name Dr. Armstrong had given to the voice in his head urging him to kill innocent people. What the hell did Courtney mean that the beast had reawakened. “Armstrong’s still in prison, right?”
He and Jude were supposed to be contacted if anything changed with the status of Armstrong’s incarceration, if he was back in court or had filed an appeal. Cope hadn’t been notified and couldn’t imagine Jude keeping something like that from him.
“As far as I know,”
Ronan said, looking terrified.
Cope had never seen a look like that on the detective’s face before and hoped he never would again.
“The job was left unfinished last time. The last two victims escaped their fate. Jerry is simply doing his part to right history.”
Courtney laughed. “I’d watch myself if I were you, Detective O’Mara. You’re the last loose end.”
Packing the last of her books into her bag, she stood up and made to walk away.
Fitzgibbon was faster, grabbing Courtney’s arm and forcing her down, face-first, onto the table. He reached behind him for his handcuffs which he slapped on. “Courtney Wilcox, you’re under arrest for the abduction of Detective Jude Byrne.”
Fitz marched her toward the elevator bank, while Ronan called Cisco Jackson. He told the chief what they’d learned and ask that units be dispatched to Jerry Dunkirk’s home.
Feeling like he was glued to his seat, Cope tried to make sense out of what Courtney had told them. Armstrong failed to kill Jude and Ronan at Salem Mercy Hospital and now Armstrong’s former PA was going to right history. “Sweet fucking Jesus,”
Cope muttered as Ronan ended the call with the chief of police. “You’re next, Ronan.”
“Over my dead body,”
Ronan said. He grabbed Courtney’s backpack from the floor where it had dropped when Fitzgibbon handcuffed her.
That’s exactly what Jerry Dunkirk wanted, Jude and Ronan’s dead bodies. Digging deep for courage, Cope got up from his seat and headed for the elevator. If Dunkirk had a plan to kill his husband, he was going to have to get through Fitz, Ronan, and Cope to do it.