Chapter Seventeen
Ethan drove his rented Buick out to the theater, following the limo bus. He would need transportation later, when he met Heath Ford at the crime scene.
All morning he worked with his team, going over possible problems inside the theater, security precautions they would need to take for the show on Friday night. He didn’t get the call from Heath until two in the afternoon.
“CSIs are finished,” Heath said. “I’ll meet you out there.”
With Dirk and a busload of security people at the rehearsal hall to cover the women, Ethan drove his rental car out the North Stemmons Freeway toward the Tiger’s Eye Lounge, a fifteen-minute trip out of Dallas.
The address Heath had given him for Mandy Gee’s house was only five minutes from where she worked.
The July afternoon heat was stifling, at least a hundred degrees.
There’d been a time when he’d been used to the scorching weather, but not anymore.
Ethan slid his wraparound sunglasses over his eyes, turned the air-conditioning up full blast, and tried not to think of the deep green forests of Seattle.
It didn’t take long to reach his destination. Parking the Buick behind Heath’s unmarked white sedan, he headed up the walk. Mandy Gee’s small, gray-stucco, single-story, hip-roof house needed a paint job. The lawn was mostly dirt. What little grass grew in the yard badly needed mowing.
As he got closer, Heath walked out of the house and stood waiting for him on the porch. Yellow crime-scene tape stretched over the front door.
“They’re finished and gone,” Heath said. “Come on in.”
Ethan removed his shades and hooked the earpieces into the top of his T-shirt. Walking in behind Heath, he paused in the living room to look around.
“Lots of blood, so be careful,” Heath said. “The guy was a real crazy.”
The place was a shambles. Broken lamp shades on the dingy brown carpet was soaked with the victim’s blood. The worn sofa was bloodstained. Scarlet drops splattered one of the walls. Mandy and her roommate were lousy housekeepers, but the place was so torn up Ethan barely noticed.
“Body was sprawled on the floor in front of the couch,” Heath said.
“Way it looks, he threatened her with a knife, cut her pretty bad a couple of times as she fought him.” He pointed to a blood smear on the edge of the coffee table.
“Fell and hit her head. Fall knocked her unconscious. Killer raped her, then strangled her.”
Ethan started shaking his head. “Not our guy,” he said. “Not even close.”
Heath’s dark brown eyebrows went up. “One look and you’re that sure?”
“Your perp got off on the violence, wanted to draw it out. He wasn’t careful. Blood everywhere. Likely left fingerprints.” He looked up. “I’m guessing you got DNA?”
Heath nodded. “Got semen. Hair follicles. Fingerprints. Blood beneath the victim’s nails.”
“And?”
Heath shook his head. “That’s the bad news. Nothing in AFIS. Nothing anywhere that we’ve turned up so far. We’re hoping for a DNA match, but—”
“But if he isn’t in the system, he isn’t in the system. You’re probably not going to find a DNA match either.”
“You could be right.”
“Maybe that’s the reason he didn’t care what evidence he left behind. Maybe he isn’t quite as crazy as he seems. Maybe he knew he didn’t have to worry about you finding him. At least not through the system.”
Ethan wandered slowly through the living room, careful not to step in any blood, then moved into the bedroom. The bed hadn’t been made, but it didn’t look recently slept in.
“What was she wearing?”
“G-string and pasties under a red silk robe.”
“So she hadn’t had time to change after she got home. Wonder why she didn’t change at the club.”
“House is just blocks away. I’ll ask, but it’s probably just her normal routine.”
Ethan’s gaze went to the bedroom window. It was open, the screen pulled off. “Guy went into the backyard, came in through the window.”
He walked over to the closet. The sliding doors were open. He could see where the clothes had been pushed aside. “Hid in the closet till she was in the house, then went after her. The neighbors hear anything?”
“If they did, they aren’t talking. Good chance he caught her by surprise. No time to scream, sound any kind of alarm.”
That was Ethan’s thinking. “Where was the note?”
“On the coffee table, next to the body.”
He started nodding as the picture began to form in his head.
“Killer saw the photo of the note on TV. Damned media showed it to the public and described it in detail. Started calling him the Hellfire Preacher. Killer liked the idea, got himself juiced up just thinking about what he was going to do.”
They walked back into the living room for a final look around. Ethan briefly checked the kitchen, but it didn’t look like Mandy had made it that far. He and Heath walked back out on the porch.
The detective paused at the top of the steps. “So it’s not your guy. I guess that means you’re done here.”
“Not by a long shot. Whoever did this couldn’t get to one of the models, so he killed Mandy Gee.
He’s scored a big victory. We don’t have squat, so now he thinks he’s smarter than the police.
There’s every chance he’ll go after his original target.
Thanks to the media, he’s got the names of all the women who received one of the original notes. ”
“Or he might just figure any one of the models is fair game.”
“Yeah.”
“So . . . you gonna help me find him?”
Ethan smiled grimly. “You can bet on it.”
Val and Meg sat side by side on one of the plush red-velvet wraparound seats on the limousine bus. The vehicle, designed to hold up to forty people, was equipped with color TVs, CDs and DVDs, a satellite tracking system, and a fully stocked bar.
Rehearsal was over. They were headed back to the Ritz.
Dirk was aboard and so was Beau Desmond and his right-hand man, Bick Gallagher.
Val wasn’t crazy about either one of them.
Beau was a control freak and Gallagher believed he was God’s gift to women.
At least they seemed capable of doing their jobs.
During the bus ride, she phoned her mom in Bellingham and asked how Pops was doing.
“Lord, you know you can’t keep that man down. Doctor says it was probably the flu. He’s outside feeding the chickens or I’d put him on.”
“I’m sorry I missed him. Tell him to call me when he comes back in.”
“I will, but you know how he hates talking on the phone. Maybe I can get him to text you.”
Val grinned. Pops was determined to move into the twenty-first century. She liked that he wasn’t giving in to old age without a fight.
“There’s something else, Mom.” She went on to tell her mother about the murder in Texas, making it clear the victim wasn’t one of the models.
She left out the part about the note since her parents didn’t watch a lot of TV news and so far the information hadn’t been released.
“Love you,” Val said and ended the call.
“You always smile when you’re talking to your parents,” Meg said as the bus rolled through the heavy Dallas traffic. “They must be really great.”
“They’re the best. I don’t know what would have happened to me if they hadn’t taken me in.”
Meg knew about her childhood, her rebellion, her escape from her cousins, and the foster-care system she had barely survived.
“My folks are great, too. We’re both really blessed.”
“Yes, we are,” Val agreed. But she knew from experience, the kind of unfeeling people she had lived with as a teen were more the rule.
“Have you talked to Ethan anymore about the murder?” Meg asked.
“I haven’t seen him since breakfast. I know he was going out to look at the crime scene with a friend of his in the police department.”
Meg shook her head. “That poor girl. What a terrible way for her life to end.”
“I guess she tried to fight him. I like her for that.”
Meg’s chin firmed. “Me too. I’d fight. I wouldn’t just let him kill me.”
Val blew out a breath, rested her head against the back of the seat. “I acted like an idiot when Ethan told me. Two women murdered. It really scared me. I’m usually not such a wimp. The second murder freaked me out even more than the first, and that . . . umm . . . kind of freaked Ethan out.”
“I was pretty freaked myself when I heard about it.”
“I’m not supposed to say anything, but Ethan told Matt Carlyle that from now on he’d be staying in my suite.”
“Yeah? I’m not really surprised. Dirk went ballistic after Ethan called him. He told me in no uncertain terms that he’ll be staying in my room from now on.”
“Matt agreed to that?”
“Dirk is a little different from Ethan. He didn’t ask permission. He’s just planning to show up.”
“What about the security guard? Ethan says there’s one on each floor.”
“I get the impression getting past the guard won’t be a problem for Dirk.”
Val thought of Ethan. The look he’d cast her way had warned he would be staying with her, no matter what it took. “I guess you’re right. So how do you feel about Dirk staying in the room with you?”
Meg toyed with a thread on the dark blue skinny jeans she was wearing with a sexy little tank and a pair of heeled sandals. “I’m really attracted to him. I’ve been thinking . . . maybe if I just, you know, slept with him, I could get him out of my system. Then we could both go back to normal.”
After this morning, Val had been considering something along those same lines. “You think it would work?”
“I don’t know. You’ve got a thing for Ethan. What do you think?”
“God, I don’t know either. I can’t figure out what it is about him that attracts me so strongly.”
Meg laughed. “Besides the fact he’s smart, gorgeous, has the ultimate male body, and the superhero protective gene?”
Val managed to smile. “Yeah, besides that. Maybe they attract us just because we’re so dependent on them. I mean, two women are dead. We could be next. Without Ethan and Dirk, we’d be a lot more vulnerable.”
“Yeah, if it weren’t for Ethan and Dirk, we’d have to pander to Beau Desmond’s ego or screw Bick Gallagher.” She grinned, tipped her head toward the back of the bus where Bick was sitting, and did a fake shiver, making Val smile.
“So . . . are you going to do it?” Meg asked.
“Do what?”
“Sleep with Ethan.”
Val’s skin went warm just thinking about it. “I kissed him this morning. Totally an accident and completely my fault. It was after he told me about the murder. I was pretty shook up and it just sort of happened.”
Meg glanced around, then leaned closer. “Okay, dish. How was it?”
Val grinned. “Incredible. Scale of one to ten—it was a fifty.”
Meg started fanning herself. “If I kiss Dirk, I’m going to combust. I just know it.”
Val’s grin faded. “Until someone catches this killer, we need to let them do their jobs. We don’t want anyone else getting killed.”
“You’re right. Maybe when this is over we can think about having sex with them.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Meg’s cell started ringing. She pulled it out of her purse and pressed it against her ear, started smiling.
“It’s my mom.” They talked for a while. Meg told her mother about the second murder but said it didn’t have anything to do with the models, which was kind of a stretch, but Meg wouldn’t want her mother to worry.
“She’s putting Charlie on the phone,” Meg said, her smile even brighter. She talked to her little boy for a while, told him Mommy loved him, and finally ended the call. When Meg looked away, her eyes were sad.
“I can’t get involved with Dirk. I have a little boy to think of.
If Dirk started coming around, Charlie would get attached to him.
Dirk isn’t a kid person. He rides a Harley, for God’s sake.
When things ended between us—which eventually they would—Charlie would be crushed.
Just like when his daddy left. I can’t let that happen to him again. ”
Val made no reply. She didn’t have a child, but if she got involved with Ethan, she had a heart that could very well get broken.
We’re all just conquests to Ethan.
After being around the tough teen boys she’d grown up with, then modeling in front of an audience full of hungry males, she knew most of them thought exactly that way. A woman was an object to be conquered, nothing more.
Besides, she didn’t want to distract Ethan from doing his job, part of which was working to find a killer.
She didn’t want to be the cause of another woman’s death. Maybe even hers or Meg’s.
She had to leave Ethan alone.