The Perfect Murder

Three

“Are you sure you want to get involved in this?”

Detective Willis’s voice came over the phone as Jane stood at her stove, stirring the homemade broccoli-and-cheddar-cheese soup she was making for Kate’s dinner. She’d grabbed a chicken salad as a late lunch and didn’t plan on eating much more today. Now that she was thin again, there was no way she’d let herself gain weight. She wanted nothing to do with the woman she’d been during the Oliver years. Her status as a wealthy socialite before Oliver went to prison; her subsequent fall from grace and expulsion from the tennis-club set; her downward spiral, driven by desperation and despair; her illicit affair with Oliver’s brother; even her job as a two-bit hairstylist. That wasn’t who she was anymore. Taking this case was part of her transformation. “I’m positive.”

“I’m doing all I can, Jane,” he said. “I’ve gone to Luther Wilson’s house three different times. He’s never home or he won’t answer, I don’t know which. I’ve left my card, but he never calls.”

“He opened the door to me.”

“Probably because you’re a woman and quite obviously a civilian. He didn’t feel threatened.”

“So? I got to talk to him. That helps, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it helps, but you don’t have the experience to-”

“How will I get any experience if I never have my own cases? I mean, come on-you have so much to do. With Skye and Ava out of town, and Sheridan on maternity leave, I have time. I can focus on this. Why not let me do some of the legwork?”

“Because I’m not thrilled about you going into Oak Park like you did this evening. Who knows what other risks you might take?”

She’d known in advance that it might be unsafe. She’d brought her gun, hadn’t she? When she’d married Oliver, she’d had no idea of the monster that raged behind his pleasant face… “Are you telling me I did something Skye wouldn’t have?” she challenged.

There was a slight pause. “No. The fact that she’s in South America right now should tell you that. I’m certainly not happy about it.”

“Exactly. I did what I needed to do, and I handled the situation just fine. I believe Luther Wilson will look around, like he said, and call us if he comes up with anything.”

“What if this case really heats up, gets dangerous?”

His mention of heat reminded Jane to lower the temperature on the burner so she wouldn’t burn the soup. “If every person in law enforcement thought only of the danger, the bad guys would win every time. Then no one would be safe.” What if Skye hadn’t taken the risks she did? Jane wouldn’t be around. “Anyway, in this instance, I think the chances of any danger, at least to me, are minimal. These poor girls are probably dead.” Jane hated to acknowledge that, but it was true. And if she wanted to be good at her new job, her new life, she had to deal in the truth. Deal with the truth. When this was over, she’d be lucky to be able to tell Gloria what’d happened to her sisters.

“You could handle that?” he asked. “You could handle getting a call tomorrow saying their bodies have been found?”

“Stop protecting me,” she said. “That kind of loss is hard, but it’s part of what we do. I’m tired of all the coddling. Skye’s protected me for too long. I’ve been at the charity for six months. I’m eager to take my own cases.”

He blew out an audible sigh. “Then what can I say?”

“Say you’ll welcome my help.” Kate entered the kitchen, dropped a kiss on her cheek and grabbed some of the bread Jane had set out for dinner. “Hi, babe,” she murmured before returning to her conversation. “David?”

“Okay, you can help.”

“Good. Is there anything you’ve uncovered that you’d like to share with me?”

“I wish there was,” he said. “I’ve spent three weeks on this case and have almost nothing to show for it.”

“Have you had a chance to talk to Timothy Huff?”

“Gloria’s father? Don’t worry about him. He has an airtight alibi. He was in Arkansas when the girls went missing, staying with a cousin. As a matter of fact, he’s still there.”

So she wouldn’t have to visit the pool hall this coming Friday. “What about the car?”

“We processed it from bumper to bumper and found nothing suspicious. No blood. No foreign strands of hair or other trace evidence. No unusual objects. No receipts. Nothing. I’m guessing whoever kidnapped these girls didn’t have to drag them from the car.”

“You’re saying they got out willingly?”

“It appears that way.”

“So maybe a fellow motorist flagged them down to ask for help? Or waved for them to get off the road because something was wrong with the car?”

“Or they saw someone they knew and trusted,” David added. “A guy one of them had met at a dance place. A friend from work.”

“That opens up a lot of possibilities.”

“This won’t be an easy problem to solve, Jane.”

She nudged Kate’s fingers away from the fruit salad she’d made for dessert. “What about the media?” she asked David. “Could they be of some help?”

“I’ve been in regular contact with them. They’re running the story again tonight.”

She’d have to record the news. “Maybe that’ll stir up some leads.”

“It always does-but I can’t promise they’ll be viable.”

“You’ve already interviewed all the girls’ neighbors, coworkers, friends?”

“Of course.”

“Can I get a copy of your file?”

“I don’t see why not. Just don’t mention that I passed it along.”

“I won’t.” She switched off the burner. The soup was ready. “Where are you now?”

“Home with the kids. But I have the file with me and I have a fax machine in the back room. You want it tonight?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

She laid the spoon she’d been using in the sink. “Fax it to TLS and I’ll pick it up after I get Kate fed.”

“Pick what up, Mommy?” Kate asked as Jane disconnected.

Setting her cell phone on the counter, she turned to her daughter, who seemed to be maturing more and more every day. “Some paperwork on my new case.”

“Your new case? You have your own case?”

“Yep. I got my first one this morning.”

Kate smiled brightly. Her wide dark eyes, thick brown hair and creamy skin-as well as the curves that were just becoming noticeable-promised great beauty. Her face reminded Jane of a young Brooke Shields, but she had little chance of being very tall, not with a mother who was only five foot four and a father who was five foot nine.

“So what’s your case about?” she asked as she slathered butter on her bread.

Oliver had gone to prison when Kate was three and had been killed shortly after he came out when she was seven, so losing him hadn’t affected her as much as knowing what he’d done. But it was hard to live in the shadow of such evil. Jane preferred to shield her daughter from the uglier details of the cases they tackled at TLS. “I’m trying to find two girls, possibly runaways.”

“How old are they?”

“Seventeen and eighteen,” she said, dishing up the soup.

“Why did they run away?”

“We’re not sure.”

She swallowed the bread in her mouth. “I hope you find them.”

Jane smiled. Maybe she’d been shortchanged in the husband arena, but having such a great daughter made up for it. For the most part, anyway. There were times Jane lay awake at night, remembering what it’d been like to love Oliver’s brother, Noah. Despite the betrayal that’d caused her so much anguish, he’d been a good man, the exact opposite of Oliver. Tall, handsome, strong, honest, giving. He’d owned her heart.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?”

Quickly pulling herself out of the melancholy that threatened whenever she thought of Noah-their love, their mistakes, her heartbreak, his murder-she summoned another smile. “Nothing, why?”

“You had such a sad look on your face.” Her daughter’s lip came out in a pout.

Jane carried Kate’s soup to the table. “I’m not sad. We have a comfortable home, we’re both safe and healthy, I like my job and you’re doing well in school. You even get to spend every other weekend with Grandma and Grandpa Burke. What more could we ask?”

Again, the image of Noah drawing her into his arms, of their lips meeting, appeared in Jane’s mind. Not only did she miss his lovemaking, Jane missed his laugh, his conversation, his support. He’d been her life the entire time Oliver was in prison.

But so what if she no longer had the companionship she craved? If, after nearly five years of celibacy, her body hungered for a man’s touch? She didn’t have a boyfriend. And a casual encounter was completely out of the question. She was too afraid of what lurked beneath the smiles of the men she met. She’d once believed she’d married so well. Oliver had been a successful dentist. So pleasant. So friendly. So smart.

And an absolute sociopath.

Remaining single was far safer than seeking another relationship. She knew from experience that there were worse things than loneliness.

Malcolm was pretty sure he’d made a tactical error. He’d thought it would break up the terrible monotony to grab a couple of slaves, make them do his laundry, cook his meals and clean his house. He missed that aspect of being married more than any other. Emily had always kept a fine house.

But the free labor wasn’t worth the effort required to feed the girls and keep an eye on them. Since he’d taken them captive, they’d severely hampered his ability to live as he’d grown accustomed to living. He couldn’t go to Mary’s house and watch her, couldn’t gamble at the Indian casinos, couldn’t drive around with his police light pretending to be an undercover cop. It’d been difficult to get the chains he’d needed to restrict the girls’ movements, but he’d simply used handcuffs and rope until he could get to the hardware store. He was set up now-he’d even gotten them some old secondhand clothing-but he was so damned bored. And he hated not being able to move around with ease.

At least he could call his bookie and place a few bets here and there. And, fortunately, he lived in Turlock out in the sparsely populated boondocks among the dairies, orchards and tomato farms south of Sacramento. Otherwise, it would’ve been even harder to leave his victims unattended while he ran errands.

Still, he worried whenever he had to take that chance. He was leaving one of the girls alone right now. The other he had with him. He’d finally decided that if he had to run an errand, it was safest to take one along so he’d always have the other as leverage. That way, they couldn’t scheme together. They’d proven to be a lot smarter than he’d expected. Yesterday, they’d somehow freed themselves and almost slipped out the back door. If it hadn’t been so unnaturally quiet, if he hadn’t gone to check on them when he did, they would’ve been long gone.

But putting a captive in the vehicle meant traveling at night and staying in remote areas. It was a pain in the ass.

“You try anything while I’m in that store, I’ll kill you,” he warned the one named Marcie. He had her in the back of his van, gagged, hands cuffed to the sliding door, feet tied together with a rope. The supermarket was ready to close, so there weren’t many customers. But he parked around back just to be safe. He needed to buy some milk and eggs and bread or they’d go hungry tomorrow…

“If you’re gone when I get back, I’ll cut your sister up into tiny pieces before disappearing myself,” he told her. “I’ll be out of here, and your sister will be dead. Do you understand? Do anything, anything at all, to piss me off, and you’ll be signing her death warrant.

“Do you get it?” he snapped when she gave no sign of comprehension.

This time she made a frightened grunt.

“Good.” He tossed a ratty old blanket over her for added security. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be willing to put up with you, so I suggest you stay on your best behavior.”

She acknowledged this with another grunt, and he slid the door closed and hurried away.

His mind completely occupied with collecting groceries as fast as possible, he didn’t realize he’d forgotten his cell phone until he was standing in line at the checkout register. He usually placed it in the seat next to him as soon as he got in the van so it could sync with his Bluetooth. In California, it was illegal to talk on a cell phone while driving, and he couldn’t afford to get pulled over for something stupid. But leaving his cell behind with Marcie in the van was about as stupid a mistake as he could imagine.

“Son of a bitch!”

The woman behind him must’ve heard the curse. She frowned in disapproval, but he didn’t care whether he’d offended her or not. He’d left his damn cell phone in the car! He’d told Marcie not to try anything. Then he’d put temptation only two feet away.

Shoving his cart to the side, he abandoned his groceries so he could hurry to the exit.

His breaths were short, foggy puffs as he jogged around the building. At first glance, everything looked normal. Chances were she was exactly as he’d left her. He’d warned her, hadn’t he?

But as he crept up on the front bumper and peered through the windshield, he knew he’d had good reason to be worried. She’d managed to get her hands free, just as he’d feared. Her gag was down, too. He could tell because the lit screen on his phone bathed her face in an eerie glow-she was in the middle of placing a call.

If it was 9-1-1, they could trace the phone’s location using the federal government’s Global Position System satellites. Even if it wasn’t 9-1-1, the location of any phone could be traced by the signal it sent to the closest cell phone towers.

Jerking open the sliding door, he leaned in and wrenched the phone away. Then he turned it off, used his T-shirt to wipe it clean and chucked it as hard as he could into the field behind the grocery store.

Marcie had one hand still cuffed to the door handle. The other was bleeding because she’d forced it through the metal circle of the other cuff. But that didn’t stop her from pushing her legs through the opening and trying to get out.

Without warning, he slammed the door on her legs. When she arched back and cried out, he widened the gap enough that she could yank her legs in. Then he closed it tightly.

“I didn’t call anyone important,” she sobbed as he climbed behind the wheel.

If he’d had the time, he would’ve punched her in the face. “You lying bitch!”

“No, I swear,” she said. “I jus’ wanted to tell our older sister we’re okay. She don’t know where we’re at. I don’t even know…”

“You’re dead,” he promised but, careful to do nothing that would attract attention, he backed up, swung around and turned out of the driveway at normal speed. He had to get away from the supermarket before his vehicle could be spotted by whatever police unit had been dispatched. And he had to do it without creating a witness to his flight.