Chapter Fourteen #3
The question Chance asked drew Rory back to the conversation.
“My laptop. The cash in our wallets. Our cell phones. Car keys. Since we had no house phone, we had to go to the closest neighbor’s house to call for help.”
More of that outrage crept into Rory. The intruders did that to her and Pete as well—took their phones and key fob. Bastards.
“But the most important thing they took,” Alita went on, “besides…what they took from us mentally and physically, especially me…was our gold coin collection. Carla inherited that collection from her father. It was worth north of twenty thousand dollars.”
Chance and Rory exchanged a glance. That part was certainly different from what had happened to her and Pete. Of course, they’d had nothing valuable at the cottage—except their lives.
“Was there any mention of similar cases,” Chance asked, “that you recall?”
Alita considered his question at length before deciding how to answer.
“No.” She made a face. “Well, maybe. In the beginning, the detective mentioned another case over in Fort Payne that was very similar. Two men, dressed the same way, came into a couple’s home, robbed the place and assaulted the wife, and got out.
No one was murdered or injured beyond…well, you know.
” She seemed to shake herself. “How do you quantify that kind of assault?”
“I understand.” Rory wasn’t sure when she would ever be ready for sex again.
A part of her understood she had to get past that barrier.
So far there had been no reason. Maybe there never would be.
Her gaze rested on Chance. But there were moments when she felt things with him… so maybe there was hope.
Alita went on, “Carla and I weren’t happy when they decided to designate our attack as a hate crime.
That’s not what it felt like. It felt like two men doing what they wanted to do to two women.
I honestly don’t think personal beliefs had anything to do with what happened.
Frankly, I believe our intrusion was the same as the case in Fort Payne.
” She turned to Rory. “The murder makes yours different, but there are definitely similarities.”
“I’ve been trying,” Rory said, feeling a burst of emotion at the shared travesties, “to get the police to see that there were two men in our cottage that night, and they refuse to believe me because they say there was no evidence. No fingerprints. Nothing to confirm what I said happened.”
“Well, obviously, they left no prints because they were wearing gloves,” Alita railed. “The detective on your case should be questioning the guy who assaulted me.”
Rory and Chance shared a look. She had to have heard her wrong. “They caught one of your intruders?” How could Rory not know that? Of course she hadn’t known. She hadn’t even known about the damned case because it was designated as a hate crime.
“Oh yeah,” Alita concurred. “He screwed up. Removed his condom while he was still in my bed. He took it with him, but enough semen slipped out onto the sheet for them to get DNA.”
“What about the other guy?” Chance asked.
“I guess he was too smart to do something so stupid.”
Rory was almost too stunned by the news that there had been an arrest in the case to think, but there was one other thing she had to know. “How long after your attack was he arrested?”
“Months.” She grunted a frustrated sound.
“Like seven months or so. Rick Hill—that’s his name—attacked another woman and was caught in the act.
With the DNA evidence from our case, he wasn’t getting away.
But he never gave up his partner’s name.
I think they offered him a deal, and he wouldn’t take it.
The police thought it was someone close to him, but I guess they never could prove it.
” She exhaled a big breath. “Anyway, we got the locks changed. Had a high-end alarm system with cameras and everything installed. Eventually, we reached the point where we could sleep again.”
Chance passed her a business card. “If you think of anything else you believe might help, please give me a call.”
“Count on it,” Alita promised.
When they were driving away, Rory turned to Chance. “It makes sense that if the guy wouldn’t rat out his partner, it had to be someone close to him, right?”
“It’s a strong possibility,” he agreed. He braked for a traffic signal. “But if it wasn’t, then it means the partner was someone he was afraid of. Someone too dangerous to risk crossing.”
And if Rory’s gut was right, the unidentified intruder was someone who had done this not just once before, but at least two times. Maybe more. Someone who wasn’t afraid of getting caught.
“I’m going to try and get an interview with Rick Hill,” Chance said. “I don’t know that he will tell us anything, but it won’t hurt to try.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “It can’t hurt to try.” She leaned back in her seat. “Can we go by the house and see how bad the damage is?”
“We can.” He glanced at her. “Then we’ll go back to see Detective Fowler. I have a few new questions for him.”
Rory studied Chance’s profile. “You think we’re on to something here. That maybe at least two other cases are related to mine? I mean, there was nothing of real monetary value taken from us.” Except the precious life of a good man. “But we weren’t home, so there really was nothing to take.”
Chance sent a look her way. “I believe there is a strong possibility they are related. But there’s one major difference besides the murder.”
She waited for him to go on, not daring to breathe.
“The other two we’ve learned about were home invasions—the homes where the victims lived.
Where there was a greater likelihood of finding sellable assets—like that coin collection.
There’s a possibility they may have targeted the Allston home because of that collection.
Your attack didn’t occur at your home and didn’t appear to be about sellable assets.
Which begs the question, were the intruders targeting the place or the two of you? ”
The reality of what he had just pinpointed felt like a blow to her gut. He was right. It was no random invasion. Certainly not a random act of violence. It was targeted. Not at the place but at the victims.
This was solid proof! Who couldn’t see that? Everyone but her and Chance it seemed.
Kindred Residence
Tupelo Pike
Scottsboro, 10:00 a.m.
The kitchen area of the house was a complete disaster. A total loss. That whole section would have to be rebuilt.
The good news was, the other rooms were in pretty good condition other than the smoke and water damage. If Chance hadn’t woken up and taken immediate action, the whole house would no doubt have gone up in flames. And they would both be dead.
She glanced at the man walking around the house with her.
They weren’t allowed to go inside, but Chance had been able to get details from the fire marshal’s office.
Rory had called Austin and told him the latest episode of their ongoing nightmare.
He too was devastated, but also thankful that she was unharmed.
He passed along the name of the insurance company Lulu had used.
That could wait as far as Rory was concerned.
The case was all she could think about right now.
Rory suddenly felt utterly exhausted. She sat down in one of the swings on the old set Lulu had bought secondhand at a moving sale.
She’d had to dismantle it and bring it home one piece at a time.
In her bug at that. What a sight it was.
Another hilarious scene had been Lulu trying to put it back together.
It was a miracle it didn’t collapse now with grown-up Rory slumped in one of the swings, but she was too tired to care.
On one level, she felt a bit of new confidence given that the case in Henagar was so similar to hers.
With potentially another in Fort Payne. There would need to be further investigation—or some way to get the one jailed perp to talk in order to make it matter.
The timing appeared to be correct in that he would have still been a free man when it came to the invasion at the cottage.
He could very well be the man who assaulted her, except he’d been smarter about not leaving any evidence that time.
She shuddered at the thought.
Either way, she still had no rock-solid proof of the connection.
Chance joined her but didn’t risk sitting in the remaining swing.
“I think we should try getting another meeting with Carter. He may be able to give us some additional insights since we’ve spoken with Alita Whitmore.
Who knows, he might be able to get us in to talk to the guy they caught, Rick Hill. ”
Rory tugged her phone from her hip pocket and made the call. It went straight to voicemail. She left a message and ended the call. “Hopefully he’ll call me back.”
“Next step,” Chance said, “I suggest we track down Detective Fowler. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled that we’re finding more questions for him to answer.”
Rory laughed as she rose from the swing. She actually had nothing to laugh about except an image of Fowler hiding under his desk that had just popped into her head. “At least with all these curveballs we keep throwing his way, he won’t get bored—as my aunt would say— licking his calf over.”
Because he damned sure hadn’t done the job right the first time.