Desperate Girls

28

BRYNN WATCHED in a daze as buildings and storefronts raced by. Her mind was spinning.

I don’t remember a goddamn thing. And I don’t know why I don’t remember.

Was she saying Ross drugged her and raped her? Ross?

It seemed impossible. Brynn had known Ross for years. She knew he was a player, but she couldn’t imagine him being capable of something like that.

Molly thought he was, though. She was so sure of it that she’d turned down a lucrative job offer with one of the state’s top defense attorneys.

Brynn’s stomach clenched, and she closed her eyes. Ross. Ross. The idea of him drugging and raping someone . . . And the implications . . .

Brynn’s taxi pulled into the driveway of the Atrium. Her hands were clammy, and she wiped them on her skirt before taking out several bills for the driver.

“Keep the change,” she told him, sliding from the cab.

She took out her key card and swiped her way into the building as wild thoughts raced through her head. She had to be wrong. It was lack of sleep. And the roller-coaster morning she’d had. Her brain wasn’t functioning right. She pressed her hand to her stomach, wishing it would calm down, as she rode up the elevator to her floor. She let herself into her apartment and went straight to the dining-room table.

Mug shots of Corby stared up at her. His booking photo, his prison photo, an array of computer-generated drawings showing him in various disguises. Brynn had memorized all of them, and she swept them aside now as she searched through the paperwork. For days, she’d been culling through trial notes and transcripts and case-related documents Lindsey had sent her. She found what she was looking for: the search warrant for the initial suspect police had zeroed in on after the third murder, the meter reader who had been at all three of the victims’ houses. Investigators had executed a search warrant at the suspect’s apartment but had come up empty.

She skimmed the document, including the list of items investigators had told the judge they were looking for. The list included a heart-shaped locket, an ankle bracelet, a lock of human hair—all the souvenirs Corby had taken from his first three victims. Brynn flipped to the attached affidavit and scanned the legalese: Affiant requests that a Warrant be issued forthwith to permit the search . . . Brynn read the name of the officer requesting the warrant.

She whipped out her phone and looked up the number for Dallas PD. Her stomach did a nervous dance as she waited for the operator to put her through.

“Martinez.”

“Hello. Is this Detective Jorge Martinez?”

“That’s me.”

“I’m Brynn Holloran, formerly with the DA’s office. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

“I remember you.”

Brynn closed her eyes with relief. At least his voice sounded friendly. “Good. Listen, I’m checking up on some details related to the James Corby trial, and I see here that you were the officer who requested the initial search warrant?”

“The initial one, yeah. Mick McGowan handled the search warrant for Corby’s place.”

“Yes, I understand. I’m talking about the first search warrant for the suspect who didn’t pan out.” She took a deep breath. “I remember you guys used to call us sometimes, to give you a hand with the affidavits? I was wondering if you remember asking for help with this one?”

“Yeah, you know, I’m not much on paperwork. Truth is, I hate it. All that legal speak isn’t my thing.”

“I understand. So did you get anyone’s help writing the affidavit?”

“Yeah, one of your guys over there. Foley.”

“Ross Foley?”

“Yeah, him. Hey, I saw on the news about him—”

“Thank you, Detective. I appreciate your help.”

Brynn hung up. Her heart was racing. Her legs felt noodly. She sank into a chair and stared at her phone. With trembling fingers, she called Lindsey.

“Hi, it’s Brynn.” Her quiet voice sounded strangely disconnected from her screaming thoughts. “I need a favor.”

“Sure. What do you need?” Lindsey asked.

“Did you ever get the evidence-room logs? From the day after Corby was arrested?”

Lindsey grabbed an empty cubicle in the squad room and set her files down. This wasn’t her department, but she’d been at Dallas PD all morning, meeting with detectives and filling out paperwork related to the Corby case.

“You mean the first arrest? Yeah, one of my contacts sent them over.”

“I need you to check something for me.”

Lindsey flipped open a file and found the papers. “This log’s pretty lengthy. What name are you looking for?”

Silence.

“Brynn? You there?”

“Ross Foley.”

She paused. “Ross?”

“That’s right.”

Lindsey frowned as she skimmed the list. “Yeah, he’s on here.”

“What’s the date?”

“June tenth. The day after Corby’s arrest. He was in the evidence room at ten fifteen a.m., signed out at ten twenty-five.” Lindsey paused. “What’s this about? Are you thinking Ross might have planted evidence?”

More silence.

“Brynn?”’

“Ross had an interest in Corby being convicted.”

“Okay,” Lindsey said. That wasn’t surprising—everyone at the DA’s office wanted a conviction. “But what you’re suggesting doesn’t make sense. How would Ross know that Corby collected souvenirs? And where would Ross get the necklace?”

Brynn clutched her phone in her hand. Her heart was sprinting now, and she felt light-headed.

“People from the prosecutor’s office weren’t at Lauren Tull’s crime scene,” Lindsey continued. “I checked into that already. Detectives were at the scene, several patrol cops, the ME’s people.”

The killer. Brynn couldn’t bring herself to point out the obvious. “I need to talk to you,” she said instead. “It’s important.”

“Where are you?” Lindsey asked. “I’m at DPD downtown.”

“Can you come to my apartment? I don’t have a car. It’s not far from you.”

“I know. I’ve been there, remember?”

Of course, she had. Brynn’s brain was muddled.

“It’s important,” she repeated.

“I’m on my way.”

Lindsey left the police station and spotted Erik pulling into the lot. She rushed to intercept him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you were with Brynn.”

“I’m meeting with the task force. Brynn’s in court all day.”

“No, she’s not. I just talked to her. She asked me all sorts of questions about Ross.”

Erik’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. She wanted me to come by there and talk to her. She’s got some theory that Ross planted the Lauren Tull necklace. You know what that’s about?”

Erik just stared at her.

“I mean, it doesn’t even make sense,” Lindsey said. “How would Ross know about Corby taking souvenirs? Only the detectives knew that, and they kept that info under wraps for when they got a suspect.”

Something flickered in Erik’s eyes. Fear? Lindsey had to be imagining it.

He stepped closer. “Where is Brynn?”

Brynn combed through the mess of papers, making stacks and piles, as if organizing everything would somehow fix what was wrong. Her phone chimed. She saw the name and realized she’d forgotten to call Reggie. Shit.

“Congratulations!” Reggie boomed. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“It’s been a crazy morning.” She sifted through the paperwork. She took everything related to Ross and her theory and shoved it into a file folder for Lindsey.

“Where are you now?” Reggie asked.

“At the apartment. Why?”

“I’m coming over.”

“You’re in Dallas?”

“I just closed Sheffield. We have a new client! That’s two victories this morning, plus Ross getting discharged. Time to celebrate!”

Brynn froze. “Wait, what?”

“I’m bringing champagne. This day deserves a toast.”

“Reggie, Ross is out?”

“They sent him home this morning.”

“Home, as in here?”

“Yeah, his sister dropped him off. He’s packing up today and going back to Pine Rock.”

A sharp knock sounded at the door, and Brynn whirled around. She hurried over to check the peephole. Ross stood there, leaning his hand on the doorframe. No doubt he’d heard her in here on the phone with someone.

“Brynn?” Reggie said.

“Talk to you later, okay, Reggie?” She hung up and glanced around. She stuffed the file in her hand under her arm before opening the door.

Ross smiled. “Hey, tiger. Congrats.” He leaned in for a hug, and Brynn played along. “I heard your good news.”

“Yeah, you, too.” She pulled away and looked him over. His complexion was sallow, and he seemed to be supporting his weight against the doorframe.

She pictured him struggling with Lauren Tull on her living-room floor, smothering the life out of her.

“So you’re up and around already?” Brynn tried to sound normal. “How do you feel?”

“Pretty good, considering. They’ve got me on pain meds.” Ross eased closer. “Are you okay? You don’t look happy.”

“I’m fine. Great. Reggie’s on his way over with champagne. I’ve got to run an errand first.” She slipped past him into the hallway.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He reached for her arm, and she jerked back. The file slipped loose and cascaded to the floor.

She crouched down to slap the papers back inside, and Ross bent over.

“Holy shit!” He clutched his side, gasping.

“Don’t move! I got it!” Brynn snatched up the affidavit, the search-warrant inventory. She jammed everything back into the folder and tucked it under her arm, hoping Ross hadn’t gotten a good look at the papers.

He seemed to be preoccupied with his pain.

“Don’t pull your stitches.” She stepped away from him, anxious to get out of there. She’d meet Lindsey in the lobby and talk to her at the police station. Anywhere but here.

“Brynn, what the hell’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Talk to you later.”

She race-walked to the elevator without looking back and hit the button. She stared at the glowing numbers, holding her breath as she waited for the sound of Ross returning to his apartment. She jabbed the down button again, then the up button. She didn’t care, she just wanted off this floor. At last, she heard the sound of his apartment door opening and clicking shut again.

Brynn blew out a breath. She glanced over her shoulder at the empty hallway. She took out her phone and debated calling Erik. She should.

Ross had a gun. He’d borrowed it from a friend for self-protection. The realization turned Brynn’s blood cold. She’d never thought Ross capable of using a gun. She’d never thought him capable of a lot of things before this moment.

A door opened behind her, and she spun around to see Ross in the hallway. He wore a gray hoodie now, and his hand was in one of the pockets. Brynn’s heart lurched.

Dear God, where is the elevator?

Ross stayed beside his door, though, not moving closer.

“So, Brynn, what’s your plan?” he called.

“Huh?”

“Your plan? You don’t have a car here, do you?”

“Oh. No, Erik’s picking me up.”

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open, and Brynn jumped inside, bumping into a woman in workout gear.

“Brynn, wait.” Ross started down the hallway. “Hold the elevator.”

She stabbed at the close button, and the doors whisked shut. The woman beside her snickered. But then the car lifted, and she realized they were going up. She glanced around. There was also a man in business attire, who was probably headed to his apartment, while the woman in workout clothes was going to the fitness room. Next stop, Brynn would jump off and take the stairs down.

She dialed Erik’s number, and he picked up on the first ring.

“Erik, it’s me.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at my place. I’ve got a problem. With Ross.”

“He’s out, Brynn. He got discharged this morning. Are you alone at your apartment?”

The door slid open, and Brynn stepped out. The businessman headed down the corridor, and the woman disappeared into the gym. Brynn moved for the stairwell nearby.

The stairwell door opened, and Ross stepped through. Her stomach flip-flopped. He was sweating and breathing hard from the exertion of the stairs, but his eyes were alert. His hand was in his pocket, and she saw the outline of a gun pointed in her direction.

“Hang up, Brynn,” Ross ordered.

Her throat went dry.

“Now.”