Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
Fort Bragg, California
“Three more victims,” Ronan told Howard.
They were doing a video call because he’d been working all night and wasn’t up to driving all the way to Ukiah.
“The one in Spokane who Alexis Hellier found just by googling, and another in Bakersfield which I had to search a little harder for. Plus Cathy Martinelli, the girlfriend of the arsonist in San Francisco. Plus our five. So eight all together.”
Howard looked nearly as tired as Ronan felt. “Serial killer.”
“Yes, but with a different motive than we usually see.”
Howard’s brows went up. “Say more.”
“He’s framing Ms. Randolph for murder. Or attempting to.”
His boss nodded. “We figured that out yesterday.”
You mean I figured it out yesterday, Ronan wanted to snap, but that was his exhaustion talking. He drained his coffee cup, noting the faint tremor in his hand.
Way too much caffeine. Need to sleep.
But he also needed to solve this. To keep Elle safe.
“My theory is that their motivation is revenge, but that it’s not working. She hasn’t been accused formally. Hasn’t been charged.”
“So they keep killing.”
“Yes. I think the murder of Cathy Martinelli two years ago in San Francisco was the first. The two others we’ve found have also been singles, but we have five in Mendocino County in the last month. I think the killer is escalating because they’ve become frustrated by law enforcement’s inaction.”
“They want her arrested and put in jail. Where, being a bounty hunter, she might not survive too long,” Howard added. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
Ronan had reflexively grimaced at the thought of Elle in prison, a slip brought on by his fatigue, he was sure. His boss was observant, though, so Ronan schooled his features.
Be professional.
“Ms. Randolph knew both the San Francisco and Spokane victims,” Howard said carefully. “Both had threatened her. She didn’t tell you about them, though.”
“Are you suggesting she’s part of the plot?” The idea made Ronan angry and he sharply reeled it back in.
“I’m saying we should keep an open mind. She could simply be very smart. Do I really think she’s a killer? No. But let’s not fall into the trap of blind trust. Did she know the other victim you found?”
“I don’t know. I was going to ask her this morning.” And then he was going home and falling face-first into bed.
I’m too damn old for all-nighters.
Well, maybe not that kind of all-nighter, a little voice said slyly, conjuring images of what he could be doing all night with a certain bounty hunter who’d felt way too good in his arms.
Stop it.
She was a victim. He was the cop.
She was vulnerable and he had power.
She’d be leaving when he solved this. And my life is here.
He wanted to scowl, both at the notion and that his mind had gone there, but Howard was nodding. “All right. What patterns are you seeing?”
“I called Homicide in Bakersfield about the victim—Chase Salter. He was the brother of the fugitive. He was angry that Ms. Randolph accused him of harboring his brother, but Ms. Randolph waited outside Salter’s house and caught the fugitive sneaking out.”
“So his anger was a front.”
“Yes. Two weeks later, Bakersfield PD responded to an anonymous 911 call and found Chase Salter’s body. He’d been shot in the head. The cops searched his house and found a lot of meth. They assumed his murder was meth-related.”
“Steve Garfield was found because of an anonymous 911 call, too.”
“He was. Like Steve Garfield and Kasey Arnold, the exact times of death had been obfuscated on both the Spokane and Bakersfield murders, but both were committed either at the tail end of Randolph’s recovery mission or after she left to go back to San Francisco.”
“But Dianne Foster was killed the first day she came to town.”
“Exactly. This killer is escalating, but not out of zeal or a lack of self-control. They’re escalating because whatever they’re doing isn’t working and I think they’ve become impatient.”
“So what are you going to do next?”
First, he was getting another cup of coffee, tremors be damned.
“I’m going to the inn to ask Ms. Randolph if she knows the victim I’ve identified.
” It was getting more difficult to not call her Elle.
“And then I’m going home to catch a few hours’ sleep.
I figure by the time I wake up, CSU and the coroner will have some information for me. ”
“All right. Don’t go yet,” Howard said when Ronan started to say goodbye. “You’re not going to like this, but I don’t care.”
Ronan stiffened. “Are you taking me off the case?”
“No, but I am assigning you a partner. Gary Simpson knows the case and he’s not involved with Ms. Randolph.”
Ronan bit back his anger with Howard for suggesting he’d be unprofessional.
Like…holding her on the bluffs? Like…inviting her to your house because the thought of going back to the station gave her a panic attack?
“I’m not involved with Ms. Randolph.”
Howard’s smile was kind. “But you wanna be. Don’t deny it. We’ve known each other too long.”
Yes. Ronan wanted to be. But it was not going to happen.
It already has.
Shut up, he told himself viciously.
“I respect her,” Ronan finally said.
Not a lie. Just…not the whole truth.
“Uh-huh,” Howard said dryly.
“I do.” Then Ronan shrugged and admitted most of the truth. “I also like her. She’s kind. But I am not involved with her.”
“Uh-huh,” Howard said again, even more dryly than before. “Ask her your questions, update both me and Gary, then get some sleep. This is good work, Ronan. I mean that. But I don’t want you burning yourself out on this case. Gary can help with the load.”
“And make sure I don’t get involved with E—” He cut himself off. “Ms. Randolph.”
“Uh-huh.” Howard looked satisfied that he’d made his point. “Keep me updated.”
“I will.” Ronan had lifted his finger to hit the “leave meeting” button when there was a knock at his door. Not waiting for a response, their admin assistant opened the door and peeked inside.
“Sorry, Ronan, this is important.”
“Amy, what’s wrong?”
Because Amy was pale. And crying.
Not Elle. Please let Elle be okay.
“It’s Judith,” Amy said. “The call just came in. She’s dead, Ronan.”
Shocked, Ronan fell back into his chair. “What? How?”
“Who’s dead?” Howard asked anxiously.
“The innkeeper where Ms. Randolph has been staying,” Ronan told him, then rose and walked Amy to the visitor chair next to his desk. He turned the camera so that both he and Amy were visible to Howard. “What do you know?” he asked Amy.
Maybe it was a heart attack. Or a car accident.
But he knew in his gut that wasn’t the case.
“Home inva-vasion.” Amy’s breath hitched on a sob. “Someone broke in and beat her, then shot her in the head. Her son came to check on her when she didn’t show up at the inn for her shift or answer her ph-phone.”
Ronan ran his hand over Amy’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”
Amy lifted her face and glared at Ronan. “This is because of that—that woman, isn’t it? That bounty hunter.”
Ronan blinked, stunned into a moment of silence by the venom in Amy’s voice. “Amy?”
“Judith was kind to her,” Amy snarled. “Even though Dianne is dead because of her, too. Judith even invited her to Dianne’s memorial service. I told her not to. I told her that woman was trouble. That woman brought a killer into our town, Ronan, if she didn’t do all the murders herself.”
Ronan glanced at Howard, who looked as surprised as Ronan felt. Howard also seemed to be at a loss for words.
When Ronan had sufficiently gathered his thoughts, he began talking—and walking a very thin tightrope. He needed to defend Elle. But he also would remain professional.
“First, I’m shocked at Judith’s death. I am very sorry for your personal loss, Amy. But ‘that woman’ has a name. It’s Giselle Randolph.”
Amy’s eyes narrowed, her fury clearly rising. “You are defending her?”
Yes. Totally. In a heartbeat. Even though he was not involved with her. “Amy.” He tried starting again, then hesitated, not sure how much information Amy could be trusted with. He needed to nip this absurd anger in the bud before it spread.
On the other hand, if Amy spread the news, the community would know the truth and not be angry with Elle. She needed their sympathy and understanding, not their rage.
Amy was waiting, chin lifted in defiance all while tears streaked down her cheeks. “Well? Are you defending that woman?”
“I’m going to leave defense to the lawyers,” he said, drawing on the calm he’d developed being a single dad for most of Penny’s life. “But I will tell you that I don’t think Ms. Randolph ‘brought’ a killer into our community. I think a killer’s been following her for a long time.”
“What does that mean?” Amy asked after a few beats of silence, her tone only slightly less hostile.
“It means,” Howard said, “that we have a killer on the loose who’s been committing homicides for years. Ronan believes the motive includes revenge against Ms. Randolph. I happen to agree. Look, Amy, I don’t want you spreading this all over the place. Understand?”
Amy nodded, seeming to be calmer as well. “Yes, sir.”
“What I do want you to tell people is that we do not consider Ms. Randolph a suspect at this time.”
At this time?
“At this time,” Howard repeated slowly as if reading Ronan’s mind.
Maybe he could. Maybe Ronan’s fatigue had finally demolished his poker face and Howard knew everything he was thinking.
“I’m in the early stages of this investigation,” Ronan told Amy, schooling his features so he didn’t give any more away to his boss.
“We don’t have enough to hold Ms. Randolph here.
She’s free to return to San Francisco, but I’d like her to stay in case we have questions. And we will have questions.”
“Okay,” Amy said, more subdued now. “So she’s…what? A victim? Does she have a stalker?”
“Something like that.” It wasn’t as simple as that, but he didn’t have the energy to fully explain. “But if she feels threatened by the community, she will leave. My best link to solving these murders will be gone.”