Sunday, December 3, 8:00 a.m.
Murphy tossed a copy of the Bulletin across the conference room table. "Howard and Brooks picked up Getts last night. Page four, bottom corner."
Mia flipped to the article with a smile. "Go team." Reed studied her face. "I thought you wanted in on that arrest."
She lifted a shoulder. "Abe and I figured Carmichael was there that night, that she knew where DuPree and Getts were hiding all along and that she was feeding us information to keep her stories front page. She offered me Getts last night thinking I'd swallow the bait. Even tried to tail me. I decided not to play her game."
Westphalen patted her hand. "Our little girl's growing up."
Mia just grinned at him. "Quiet, old man."
Spinnelli leaned back in his chair. "So, Reed, how's your house?"
Reed grimaced. "Now I'll know what it's like on the paperwork end of an insurance claim. But it was Kates, no question. He came in through a window, went through the upstairs while I was downstairs on the phone. We think he grabbed Beth's puppy on the way back out her window, but dropped him halfway down the tree. Ben Trammel] found residue and egg fragments in both bedrooms." He paused, thinking. "He used an egg at Tyler Young's Friday night. He's used nine now. Assuming he had access to a dozen of them in the art teacher's cabinet, he's still got up to three more."
"What do we know about Tyler Young?" Spinnelli asked.
"His name was in the computer we took from Yvonne Lukowitch's house," Jack said. "Kates found Young's real estate Web site through a high school alumni site."
"I called Tom Tennant from the Indy OFI this morning and got the rest of the story. He said Tyler and his wife died. Both bodies were charred, but the ME found organ damage in the wife consistent with the same stab wounds Joe Dougherty had. She was lying on her stomach, just like Joe Junior. But Tyler was chained to the bed, his throat slit."
"He's getting good at that," Mia murmured, troubled.
"I know. Their ME also thinks that Tyler received multiple stab wounds to the groin."
"I think we know what happened in that house the year Andrew and Shane lived there," Westphalen said. "They were trapped and nobody came to check on them."
"And Laura and Penny had put them there," Mia said. "Andrew must have cursed them every day. But they were there a year, then a big fire. Something must have happened on Shane's tenth birthday."
"Maybe it was the first time Tyler assaulted them," Aidan suggested.
Mia nodded slowly. "Maybe. The other son might know."
"Tennant said they found a number in Tyler's personnel file for his brother, Tim. Tim Young's a youth pastor in New Mexico. He works with underprivileged kids."
Westphalen's brows went up. "That's either an attempt at redemption or a kid in a candy store. We may find out which one depending on what he's willing to tell us."
Reed had thought the same thing. "Tennant informed Tim of Tyler's death yesterday. He's traveling to Indianapolis today. Tennant will call me when he gets here."
"In the meantime," Mia said, "that leaves one person who knows what happened. Andrew Kates. We know he's in town. At least he was nine hours ago. He wanted Laura dead, so much he tried three times. He made mistakes with Caitlin, Niki Markov, and with Donna. And still he didn't get Laura. Ironically, he goofed with Penny, too."
"What do mean?" Spinnelli frowned. "She left him there a year."
"No. That didn't sit right with what everyone had told me about Penny. I went back and checked my notes and Reed, do you remember when we talked to Margaret Hill? Remember when she said she almost lost her mother when she was fifteen?"
"Yeah. She said her mother had been shot by a client. She almost died."
"Margaret Hill is twenty-five," Mia said. "You do the math."
"Oh," Reed breathed. She was right. "Penny Hill went into the hospital right about the time she placed Andrew and Shane in that home. She didn't forget about them. I bet her files got forwarded to other people and the kids fell through the cracks."
Mia nodded. "Then Shane dies and somebody says Oh shit. Andrew gets shuffled to another foster home and Shane gets swept under the rug."
"And his file disappears," Spinnelli said grimly. "This is bad for the state. I'll work it."
"That's fine. But back to Kates," Mia said. "Knowing how much he hates to miss his mark, what if he were to find out he'd goofed with Penny Hill? She never abandoned him. She wasn't even working the year he and Shane were at the Youngs'. Someone else dropped the ball with those boys. Someone else is to blame."
"So someone else should pay," Reed murmured, understanding her plan.
Spinnelli's smile started slow and grew. "I like this. We could draw him out."
"We'd have to set up some fake caseworker to take the fall," Mia said. "DCFS would have to cooperate."
"Leave that to me," Spinnelli said.
"And," she added, her own smile starting to spread, "it would have to get leaked to the press. By accident of course. And I wouldn't want to lie to any nice reporters."
"Of course not," Spinnelli repeated dryly. "So Wheaton's going down?"
"Oh yeah. I'll have to give her a little factual information, like Kates is angry because he was lost in foster care. Wheaton will dig deeper. It could get ugly."
"He's killed eleven people in my jurisdiction alone," Spinnelli said grimly. "Five more elsewhere, plus all those rapes. I want him stopped. Leak the story. Give his motive. Don't mention the dead brother or the lost file. We'll try to deal with that internally."
"Wheaton said she'd run that clip of Kelsey tonight at six, Marc," Mia said.
Spinnelli nodded. "You think you can pull off the crawl-and-grovel act, Mia?"
"Oh yeah. Wheaton'll think she has the biggest exclusive since Deep Throat."
"Then we wait for Kates to come to us," Reed finished.
She gave a single, satisfied nod. "And then we all live happily ever after."
Sunday, December 3, 11:15 A.M.
Mia walked up to Wheaton's table, angry belligerence in every step. Wheaton had insisted they meet in the same place she'd met Reed a few nights before.
Wheaton looked at Mia's clothing with disapproval. "I thought you'd dress."
Mia took a deliberate look at Wheaton's low-cut blouse. "I thought you would, too."
Wheaton's smile was feline. "Detective, that's hardly adult."
"Neither was sending me that video. And we both know it wasn't a mistake so just cut the bullshit." A lady at the next table gave her a glare.
"If you're done alienating the other diners," Wheaton drawled, "what do you want?"
Mia cocked her jaw. "Don't run that piece on my sister."
"Ah." Buttering her toast, Wheaton smiled. "I was wondering when you'd come to me. Well, that piece is set for tonight, opposite 60 Minutes."
She gritted her teeth. "Airing that tape will put my sister's life in danger"
"That can't be my concern. I'm a journalist."
Mia let her eyes flash. "Okay. Fine. What if you had an alternate story? One that would be bigger. More timely. That nobody else had. Yet."
Wheaton was interested. "Exclusive?"
Mia closed her eyes, made the word drag off her tongue. "Yes."
"What is it?"
"Tell me Kelsey's off the table."
"Can't do that." Wheaton leaned forward, rested her chin on her palm so that her perfect manicure showed perfectly. Her eyes sparkled. "You go first."
Mia drew a breath that was only part pretense. I hate you. I really hate you. "The second victim, Penny Hill, was a mistake. He missed his real target."
Wheaton's eyes narrowed. "Who was the real target?"
Mia set her teeth. Hesitated. "I… I can't do this. You go on the air with this and it paints a big bull's-eye on this person's head. I don't care what…" She got up. "I can't."
Wheaton sat back, eyes cool. "I've got an updated picture of Kelsey. The old one didn't look like her at all. And we girls do like to look our best. Most of us anyway."
Mia leaned forward as if fighting the urge to lunge, her hands curved into claws. But she calmed herself, stuck her hands in her pockets. "You're evil."
Wheaton shrugged. "We can help each other here. Your call, Detective. Either way, I have a really good piece of film. So either way, I win."
Mia closed her eyes. "Milicent Craven," she hissed through her teeth.
"Tell me why Kates is doing this."
Mia opened her eyes, made her face ashamed. "Penny Hill placed him in a foster home years ago. She got hurt, went on disability. His file was passed on to Craven, who dropped the ball, never checked him. Bad things happened to Kates in that home. This is about payback. But he paid back the wrong person."
Wheaton was quiet for so long Mia started to think she wouldn't take the bait at all. Then she nodded. "All right. If this pans out, your sister is off tonight's program."
Mia jerked a nod and turned.
"Oh, Detective Mitchell?" Mia turned back to find Wheaton smiling like the cat who'd swallowed the canary. "I'll see you again next week. Same theme song."
The bitch. "That's extortion," Mia murmured, so low the other diners couldn't hear.
"That's such an ugly word. I prefer 'partnership.' Well?"
"All right." Mia turned on her heel, walked out, then got in her car and after making sure she wasn't followed, pulled next to the police van parked a block away. She climbed inside and sat next to Reed. Jack had on headphones, watching the tape again.
"I almost didn't catch the extortion line," Jack complained.
Mia pulled the wire from under her shirt. "Sorry. I didn't want to scream it."
Reed lifted his brows. "I thought you were going to crawl and grovel."
"She wouldn't have bought it. I hate her too much and it's not my style. So do you think that's enough for Patrick to get an indictment?"
"Hope so," Jack said. "If not, she's just going to up the ante, making reports that threaten cops and their families to get information. We don't know thai she hasn't done it before, with other cops who might not have had the strength to say no."
"Or the support," Mia said quietly. "I'm just glad they moved Kelsey."
Jack started turning off his equipment. "Well, it's Sunday. I'm going to run this tape into the office and go home to my wife and kids. It's been fun, but leave now."
Mia smiled. "Say hi to Julia for me and kiss that baby."
Jack grinned. "I'll kiss Julia, too. Now go. I got things to do."
Mia and Reed climbed out and Mia looked up at the sky. "It's sunny."
"Perfect weather to clean up after a fire," Reed said dryly.
Mia grinned up at him. "I've got some things to do, but I'll come out and help as soon as I can. Then we have to get in position for tonight. This could be it."
Reed watched her drive away, back in her tiny little Alfa. She'd gotten it back from the department garage just that morning, the windows replaced. There was still a bullet ding in the hood. She lived with danger every day and shrugged it off.
If the two of them really had something, if this became something, he'd have to learn to live with that danger. Now he knew how Christine had felt about him going into fires. He sighed. And, speaking of fires, he had one to clean up.
Sunday, December 3, 5:15 p.m.
"What have you done?" Dana came out of the house while Mia fought with the big box some helpful young clerk had tied into the trunk of her Alfa. Twine was every wheie.
"Friday was payday so I went shopping. Got a coat, some books, and this monstrosity." She looked up at Dana. "I'm sorry about last night."
"Me, too. I wanted to tell you about the baby, but you've been kind of fragile lately."
"Yeah. Well. Help me get this out." Cutting at the string with her keys, she freed the box, carried it into the kitchen, and set it on the table. "Open it."
Ethan came to the doorway, barefoot, his shirt hanging open and Mia could only think that Reed was a thousand times better. Especially without the ring. That definitely helped his sex appeal. "Hey, Mia," he said as Dana ripped at the wrapping paper.
"Ethan. Hope I wasn't interrupting anything."
Ethan grinned. "Nope. Too many kids in the house. But I was trying."
"Oh, Ethan, look." Dana looked up, her eyes moist. "Our first baby gift."
Mia shifted, uncomfortable. "It's a car seat, Dana. No need for the waterworks."
"It's the hormones," Ethan confided in a loud whisper, then kissed Mia's cheek. "Thank you." He smiled down at her and Mia knew he understood.
Dana wiped her eyes. "Somebody's here you might want to see."
Jeremy. "Let me guess. He's watching TV."
Ethan's smile faded. "Documentaries on the History Channel, all afternoon. He hasn't said more than a few words. Understandable, given he's just lost his mom."
"I was hoping he'd be here by now. I have something to give him. But first, keep your eyes open. The guy that killed his mom set fire to Reed's house last night."
Dana and Ethan exchanged a look. "Nobody hurt?" Dana asked.
"No. We're thinking it was either payback or a distraction, like when he shot at me. Either way, this guy probably won't bother with Jeremy, but…"
Ethan nodded, jaw tight. "I'll watch. Don't worry."
"From a former Marine, that's good enough for me," Mia went into the living room and sat next to Jeremy. "Hey, kid."
He turned only his head to study her. "You came back."
Her heart squeezed. "Of course. I practically live here. Dana's my best friend."
"You catch him yet?"
"Nope, and I'm here to see you. I brought you something." She reached into the bag from the bookstore and handed him the large glossy book on jet planes.
His eyes widened and he took the book, but didn't open it. "Thank you." He turned back to the television. "This show is about ancient Greece."
"Yeah, I caught it last night." She settled back against the sofa and put her arm around his shoulders. "But I find I pick up a lot more the second time around."
It was about time. He'd waited for Mitchell the whole damn day. He rolled his eyes. She'd been shopping. Somehow he'd thought more of a woman who filled her pantry with Pop-Tarts. But she was here. He crept through the wooded area that cut Dana's house off from the rest of the houses on the street. He wanted to get a look inside. To check the lay of the land in case she planned on staying there tonight.
He squinted through his binoculars. He could see in the living room window, barely. Well. He lowered the binoculars, blinked hard, then raised them again. It was double or nothing and he'd hit double. Finally. For sitting next to Mitchell, his head on her shoulder, was Jeremy Lukowitch. If he wasn't with Yvonne, she must be dead or really sick, so the pill swap must've worked. If she was dead or really sick, the boy was the one who'd turned him in. I should have killed the brat when I had the chance.
A plan started to form. He had three eggs left and he knew exactly how to use them. His stomach growled. But first he had to get some food and some sleep.
Sunday, December 3, 6:15 p.m.
The mustache and wig afforded him some anonymity. Enough so that he could chance entering a diner and getting some food. Mitchell had made it so he couldn't show his face anywhere in Chicago. He scowled at the television behind the counter. His picture was on the news again. He fought the urge to see if anybody was looking at him, keeping his eyes on the screen. The reporter was talking about Penny Hill.
"Action News has learned today that Ms. Hill was not the caseworker who handled Mr. Kates's placement. An unfortunate accident placed her on disability for a year, during which time case manager Milicent Craven allowed the boy to go unmonitored. The boy was lost in an abusive environment, his cries for help unanswered. Now Penny Hill is dead. Ms. Craven could not be reached for comment. Andrew Kates remains at large, another victim of an American social service system too bogged down by bureaucracy to adequately care for the children whose lives depend on them. We'll keep you up to date on this breaking story. This is Holly Wheaton, Action News."
Fate had denied his justice with Laura Dougherty. He would not be deprived again.
But the timing was interesting. Mitchell had proved far more resourceful than he'd expected. It could be a trick. He'd check out Craven. If she was legit, then he'd act.
Sunday, December 3, 6:20 p.m.
Spinnelli switched off the television in the conference room. "Good work, Mia."
"And I'd like to thank the Academy…" Mia smiled. "Okay, now what?"
"Now 1 want you to meet Milicent Craven." Spinnelli opened the door to a woman, middle-aged and graying. She came in and sat at the table.
Reed leaned close. She looked fifty, but she was probably no older than Mia. "When I'm fifty, can you make me look thirty again?" he asked and the woman grinned.
"I'll give you my card."
Spinnelli smiled, too. "This is Anita Brubaker. She's undercover, getting ready to come back to the real world. She's been living as Milicent Craven for two years at the address in the phone book. Her neighbors know only that she works for the state."
"So you're the canary in the cage," Mia said. "You okay with this?"
"I am. I'll be in the house every evening through the night until we catch him. Then once we do, I won't need the undercover ID anymore anyway. Everybody's happy."
"Except Andrew Kates." Spinnelli sketched the neighborhood on his whiteboard "This is Craven's house Mia, I want you and Reed here, Murphy and Aidan here, and Brooks and Howard here, in unmarked cars. I'll have cruisers in position. DCFS is alerted that if anybody calls for Milicent Craven they'll be connected to a voicemail we've just set up. If Kates or the press call, they'll get a confirmation of her existence."
He looked around the room. "Questions?" All heads shook no. "Then get busy. This time tomorrow I want Andrew Kates in custody."
Stacy stuck her head in. "Excuse me. There's a man out here saying he needs to talk to whoever's in charge of the Kates investigation. He says his name is Tim Young."
All eyes flew to Reed who shrugged. "Tennant was supposed to call me when Young got into Indianapolis. He never did."
"Show him in." Spinnelli stood arms crossed over his chest. "This should be good."
Tim Young entered slowly, his step heavy. He was about twenty-five. His gray suit was wrinkled, his face dark with stubble. "I'm Tim Young. Tyler Young's brother."
"Please sit." Spinnelli pointed to a chair. "Stacy, call Miles Westphalen. Tell him to get down here as quickly as he can. Tell him why."
When Stacy was gone, Spinnelli took the head of the table. "This is a surprise."
Young looked around the room, took in each face. "I had to change planes in O'Hare. While I was waiting for my flight to Indy I saw the paper. I walked out of the airport and took a cab straight here. Andrew Kates is a name I've tried for ten years to forget."
"Why?" Mia asked.
"Andrew and Shane were placed with my family ten years ago. Andrew was thirteen, Shane nine. I was fifteen and counting the days until I could graduate and leave. My father had a farm. He liked foster kids because they were an extra pair of hands. My mother went along with it, because she did everything he said. My older brother Tyler…" He let out a breath. "Was bad."
"He abused the boys," Mia said softly. "And you?"
There was pain in his eyes. "Until I got big enough to fight back. He used to laugh that he liked his boys young enough to be flexible but old enough to put up a fight. He knew to back off when his prey got too big. Normally, none of the kids stayed that long."
"Did your parents know?" she asked.
"I don't know. I never knew if they knew or if my father would have cared if he had. My mother would have looked the other way. I don't suppose you understand that."
Mia's eyes flickered and Reed knew she understood too well. "So what was Tyler's age of initiation?" she asked.
"Ten." Young's lips curled. "But he nearly made an exception with Shane. Shane was an attractive child and he'd had it before. Tyler could always tell."
"He'd been abused by his aunt's husband," Reed said.
"Like I said, Tyler could always tell. He teased Andrew that he'd make an exception for Shane, just to see Andrew try to fight back. Then he'd take Andrew. But Tyler had standards and methods. He'd hurt the older ones, then count to the younger ones. He'd count from one up to their age, then smack his lips and say 'when I get to ten, you'll be mine.' Shane was nine. Tyler would count to nine, then taunt Andrew that soon Shane would be ten. 'Count to ten, Andrew,' he'd say. And laugh."
"That connects a lot of dots," Mia said. "What happened when Shane turned ten?"
"Andrew was desperate. He'd tried to run away with Shane at least a dozen times, but the police always brought them back. He begged my mother to do something, but she told him not to make up stories. He hated her. I know Andrew had tried to set a few fires in the basement. Newspapers in the trash can kind of fires. He wanted to get caught. He wanted somebody from social services to come and take them away before Shane turned ten. Anyplace would have been better than our house."
"What did you do?" Reed asked.
Young's laugh was mirthless. "Nothing. I've lived with that for years. Not just with Andrew and Shane, but all the others. So many others. But you're interested in Shane."
"For now," Mia said. "We'll sort through the others later. Tell us about Shane's tenth birthday. That was the day of the fire. The day Shane died."
He let out a breath. "The day Shane turned ten, Tyler… did his thing. First thing that morning. Shane was…" He shuddered. "The look on that boy's face-I can still see it. He was just a kid. He was bleeding. But Tyler cleaned him up and our mother sent him to school. That afternoon, Andrew left school early. I saw him go." He lifted a shoulder. "Andrew was thorough. The house burned very well. But he didn't know Shane had left school early, too. Later the nurse said Shane had a stomachache. Later people said a lot of things. Nobody knew anything."
"He set the fire in the trash can," Reed said quietly and Tim Young nodded.
"In a trash can in the living room, then he ran away. He came back a little later, pretended to be shocked. He knew I knew. He thought I'd tell, but I stayed quiet about that like I did everything else. Then the firefighters found Shane. They carried him out, looking like a rag doll. He was dead. Andrew went numb, into shock. Catatonic even.
"The social workers came then. Took him away. A few cops asked me questions and I lied. I said he'd been at school. He couldn't have done it. The autopsy showed Shane had been sodomized. But nobody said anything. And eventually, life went on. We rebuilt the house. I graduated high school and left town and never looked back."
"And never heard from Andrew?" Mia asked, kindly now.
"No. Although barely a day goes by that I don't think about him or one of the others."
"Andrew always saves the pets," Reed commented. "Do you know why?"
"Yes. We had a dog." His smile was sad. "Sweet old mutt. After Tyler was done with Andrew, Andrew would hide in the barn. A few times I found him, curled up against that old mutt. But he never cried. He just petted that old dog till it was a wonder he still had any coat. The day of the fire that old dog was in Shane's room. He died, too."
"He never told the sheriff any of the times he was caught running?" Spinnelli asked.
Tim's smile turned sardonic. "You mean Sheriff Young, my uncle?"
Spinnelli looked grim. "I see."
"I'm curious, Tim," Mia said. "You said you lied and gave Andrew an alibi that day, but didn't his teachers or some of the other kids notice he was missing?"
"Funny thing about that," Tim drawled, his tone self-mocking. "See, Tyler was a bully at school, too. All the kids knew it. The teachers did, too. Andrew's teacher at the end of that school day would have been Miss Parker. She was young and pretty and terrified of Tyler. Nobody 'missed' Andrew that day." He sighed. "Maybe if we had, none of this would have happened."
"I don't think you can know what would have happened, Tim," Reed said quietly.
"Perhaps not. I've spent the years since I left home time trying to make up for what I did. And what 1 didn't do. Now I have to face my part in this. I can't be free until I've made some kind of restitution. Legally and morally. I'll do whatever you need me to do."
Sunday, December 3, 8:35 p.m.
Mitchell thought she was smart. I am smarter. He approached Penny Hill's car, then reached in the backseat for her briefcase. He was glad now he'd left it behind. If he'd buried it in the backyard, Mitchell would have it by now.
Bitch cop, thought she could fool him. He'd found Milicent Craven's home address with ease. He'd called DCFS, was transferred to her voicemail. It was luck that he'd called again when the operator had been busy with another call.
Well, not luck. That was instinct. He'd known it sounded too good to be true. When the operator was busy, calls were sent to the automated line. Please enter the first few letters of the person's last name. So he had. Three times. And all three times got the same answer. No names match the letters you have entered. Please try again.
So Milicent Craven was suspicious. Probably a fraud. But in the event he was wrong, he'd look at Penny Hill's belongings. She'd had a retirement party the night he'd killed her. There were presents and cards. If Milicent Craven existed, maybe she had signed one them. Maybe she'd be listed in Hill's Day-Timer. He needed to know.
He sat on the seat and started sorting through the contents of her briefcase. It was stuffed full of papers and files, but one labeled folder stood out. shane kates.
After a moment his heart started beating again. He opened the folder and stared at the photo inside. He hadn't looked at his brother's face in nine years. He'd been such a beautiful little boy. Too beautiful. Too much of a temptation for perverts like his aunt's boyfriend or Tyler Young. They'd killed him. Every last one of them had killed Shane.
And they were all dead. Penny Hill was no innocent. She had Shane's file. She'd known where he was all along. All those months of hell in the Young's house.
Mitchell had lied. There was no Milicent Craven. She'd lied to lure him into the open. She was as conniving as the rest of the women. She should suffer for that.
She should die for that, just like Penny and Brooke and Laura and his aunt.
They'd be watching Milicent Craven's house. The minute he went in. he would have been dead. So he wouldn't go in. And he'd master their game. His original plan would stand.
He'd draw Mitchell to him. And then he'd kill her. He'd see her burn.
First he'd get a good night's sleep. She'd wait for him outside Craven's house all night long. She'll be tired tomorrow and I'll be fresh as a spring daisy.
Monday, December 4, 12:45 a.m.
"Wake up, Reed." Mia poked him in the darkness of the car. They were staked out, watching for Kates. Anita Brubaker was inside the house, armed to the teeth while their unmarked cars watched from all directions. If Kates approached, they'd know.
"I'm not asleep," Reed muttered, turning from the window. "Wish I were, but I'm not."
"Poor baby. You worked hard this afternoon, cleaning your house."
He narrowed his eyes. "You said you'd come help."
"I did… just later." As they were calling it quits for the day. "I went to see Jeremy."
His eyes softened. "You're getting attached to the kid."
Her chin lifted. "Is that so wrong?"
"No. Not if you don't plan to walk away. He'll have enough people walk away in the years ahead. The kid's got a long row to hoe."
Her gaze swept the area and seeing nothing, returned to Reed. "I wish I could take him home with me. But he's not a cat. I can't take him. I don't even have a home."
"So you gave him to Dana. It's the next best choice. You did good, Mia." He resettled himself in the seat, grimacing. "Where did Spinnelli get this car? Yugoslavia?"
She chuckled. "We couldn't use yours. Kates's seen it."
"And five minutes in your car would put me in traction."
"Hey, it's a classic. I can't help that you're too big."
"I don't get it, Mia. You wait to buy a coat until you get paid, and it's a nice coat by the way, much better than the old one, but you have enough cash for a sports car?"
"Most of my money goes to Kelsey's lawyer. Every time we get close to parole, his billable hours go up, so I've been cash strapped this month. Besides, the car wasn't that expensive. David got me a deal on a fixer-upper. I'd broken up with Guy and wanted something to lift my spirits, so I splurged. David fixed it up, keeps the engine happy."
He frowned. "Mia." He hesitated. "About Hunter."
"Friends. Just friends. Always have been, never will be more."
He looked unconvinced and she sighed. "Look, I've told you all my secrets, but I won't tell you his. It would have been easier if we had wanted each other, but we didn't."
"You were with him last night."
She lifted a shoulder. "I guess I wanted to be with someone else who couldn't have who they wanted." She smiled. "But things change."
He smiled back. "Yes, they do."
"I never asked, did Beth win the slam poetry competition last night?"
"First in her age group."
"Did you hear her poem?"
He shook his head. "We haven't made up quite that much."
"You should ask her to… slam it for you, or whatever the right word is. It was good."
He frowned and looked out the window at shadows. "Christine was a poet."
She thought about the poetry book she'd found. This is my heart. "Really?"
"We met in college. I was taking a lit class and poetry was like ancient Greek to me. She saw me scowling, told me if I bought her a cup of coffee, she'd explain it all."
"And she did."
"She did. Then she read me her poems and it was like… listening to a ballet. She brought beauty into my life. I'd made myself disciplined through the army, gave myself a career with my degree. Made myself into a son the Sollidays were proud of. But I couldn't make beauty. Christine did that for me."
Mia swallowed hard. "I can't do that for you, Reed. I don't have that gift."
"Not for ribbons and bows, no. But last night I realized you make me happy." He turned his head. Met her eyes. "And what's more beautiful than that?"
Moved, she had no words to give him back. "Reed."
His lips quirked up as he settled back into the seat. "Plus you've got really nice breasts. So when I'm feeling lonely for ribbons and bows, I'll just look at those."
She laughed. "You're a bad man. Who makes bad rhymes."
"I never claimed to be a poet."
But he has the soul of one. Christine had been his soul mate. She wondered if each person truly only got one. And hoped not.
After a few minutes he sighed. "Mia, listening to Young had me wondering something. It's going to come out sounding bad, but I don't mean it that way. I just don't know how else to ask."
She frowned. "So just ask."
"You grew up around cops. Why didn't you ever tell one of them about your father?"
"If you only knew how many times I've asked myself that same question, especially after Kelsey went to prison. When I was little, I was too afraid. Then when I was older, in high school, I didn't think anyone would believe me. He was a respected police officer. Then later, when I became a cop, I was… ashamed. I felt people would pity me if they knew, that I'd look weak and I'd lose respect. Then when Kelsey finally told me the truth, it was guilt. And now he's dead, so it doesn't seem to make much sense to tell now."
"You told Olivia," he said and she winced.
"And that went well, didn't it? I didn't want her to feel rejected. I should have just kept my mouth shut. When this is over, I'm going to Minneapolis to talk to her."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
She studied his face. There was no pity there. Only support. "Yes, I'd like that."
He smiled. "You accepted my help. Progress. Now, let's talk about your shoes."
She grinned. "Watch it, Solliday." The grin faded. "And thank you."
His eyes became intense. "You're welcome. I think we need to change the subject because it's becoming increasingly difficult not to touch you." He shifted again and looked out the window. "I wish the sonofabitch would come. I want this over with."
Monday, December 4, 7:55 A.M.
Mia sat at her desk. "I can't believe this."
Reed yawned. "He either didn't see Wheaton, or he made us."
Kates hadn't taken the bait. "Shit," Mia grumbled. "Now what?"
"We regroup. Then after morning meeting, we go back to the hotel and get some sleep. There's no way we'll find him if we're not sharp."
"Maybe he's gone after Tim Young."
"Santa Fe PD is watching," he said, then sat up straighten "That's interesting."
Mia twisted to look then shook her head. Lynn Pope from Chicago on the Town was walking her way, a distinctly hurt look on her face. Crap. "Lynn," Mia said.
"Mia. I'll be brief. You met with Holly Wheaton yesterday. Then last night Wheaton gets this great scoop. Why? You hate Wheaton."
Mia met Pope's eyes. "Yes, I do." Head tilted, she continued to hold Pope's gaze until the woman drew in a breath and cognition dawned.
"Oh. And it didn't work, did it?"
"Nope. Look, Lynn, when this is over, I'll call you." One of her neurons fired unexpectedly, and the idea made her smile. "Wait." She walked to Solliday and whispered in his ear and he nodded. "Lynn, check out a guy named Bixby. Runs an outfit called Hope Center. It's juvie. You might need to dig a little."
Pope brightened. "I will. Call me when this is over. And watch your neck."
"I will." Mia leaned on Solliday's desk. "She'll do it right."
But he wasn't listening. "Now serving number two," he said and again she twisted.
Margaret and Mark Hill must have passed Lynn Pope in the elevator. The brother and sister wore twin looks of grim resolve. "Mr. Hill, Miss Hill. How are you?"
"Have you caught him?" Margaret asked.
"No, but we're close. Why are you here?" It felt strange to be the one saying it.
Mark Hill drew an envelope from his coat pocket. "Our mother's lawyer read her will on Saturday. He gave us this. We agonized yesterday over whether or not to give this to you. But we want our mother's murderer found and punished. So here."
Mia took the envelope, read the letter inside. "Oh boy." She passed it to Reed who shook his head silently. "We'll try to keep your mother's name out of it. Thank you. I'll call you as soon as we catch him." The Hills walked away, Mark putting his arm around his sister's shoulders. Margaret leaned against him. "I guess they cleared the air."
Reed stood. "So it would seem. Come on, Mia. Let's get to morning meeting."
Murphy and Aidan was already there. Spinnelli frowned when they came. "You're late." Mia gave him the letter and reading it, he sat down. "Oh boy."
"What is it?" Murphy asked.
"A letter from Penny Hill," Mia said, "documenting what happened when she returned from disability, nine years ago. She went through her files, found Shane's buried at the bottom of some other records. No one had been assigned the boys. She then found Shane was dead and Andrew had been placed in another home. She went to her supervisor who told her to destroy the file. She threatened to go higher, he convinced her she'd be fired if she did. She had medical bills, so she stayed silent."
"This letter is dated six years ago," Spinnelli said. "She was experiencing a great deal of guilt, nightmares. She sealed the letter and gave it to her lawyer for safekeeping. I'll take care of this." He blew out a breath. "So where are we?"
"Either he didn't see the news or he made us," Mia said.
"I figured that out for myself," Spinnelli said darkly. "What will you do next?
"Follow him to Santa Fe?" Mia shrugged, frustrated. "Set up Tim Young as bait?"
Spinnelli's brows went up. "Tim Young it is."
Mia shook her head. "Wait, I was just… We can't use a civilian as bait, Marc."
Spinnelli's mustache went down. "He said he'd help. Kates must be stopped. And now we have one more victim. Mia, your super was found dead in the closet of an empty apartment in your building. Her keys were gone."
As Mia's mouth fell open. Jack came in carrying a box. "Kates was there. He left a mess in your bedroom, Mia. Blankets, pillows on the floor, clothes everywhere."
Mia felt her cheeks heat even through the shock of her super's death. "That doesn't mean he was in my place. I'm not much of a housekeeper. The bedroom was like that."
"Did you leave your photo album out?"
Her heart started to pound. "No. Hell." Jack put the box on the table and Mia lifted the album to the table, sorted quickly. "I'm not organized, but I know what was here. Bobby's obituary is gone." Then her pounding heart stopped. She held Dana's wedding invitation in her hand. "And so is Dana's reply card. He has her address."
Spinnelli reached for the phone. "I'll send a unit out there now." But Stacy poked her head in with a frown.
"Marc, there's a Dana Buchanan on line one for either you or Mia. She's upset."
Spinnelli put the phone on speaker. "Dana, it's Marc Spinnelli. I'm here with Mia and others. Kates has your address."
"Kates has Jeremy," Dana said, her voice frantic. "Mia."
Mia's blood went cold. She slowly rose, trembling. "How? How did he get Jeremy?"
"Let me talk to her." The phone changed hands. "Mia, it's Ethan. We're at Jeremy's school. We came in early this morning to get him enrolled. Jeremy went to his new class while we were still signing forms. The fire alarm went off right before school started and it wasn't a drill. Fire blocked one of the exits. It was chaos. We immediately started searching for Jeremy, but he was gone. How did he know Jeiemy was here?"
"He had your address from my apartment. Marc, when was my super murdered?"
"Sometime Saturday afternoon."
"I shook a tail when I left your place Saturday night, Ethan. I thought it was Carmichael. It must have been Kates. He must have come back yesterday and found Jeremy." Her knees buckled and she sank into her chair. "He was looking for me. He killed my super and now he's using Jeremy to get to me." She drew a shuddering breath. "Get Dana calm. This isn't good for the baby. We'll find Kates. And Jeremy."
"Was anyone hurt in the fire at the school?" Reed asked.
"Just bumps and bruises. The teachers got control quickly. We weren't sure if we should push Jeremy back to school so soon, but we couldn't let him sit in front of the TV any longer. We wanted to get him back into a routine. Please find him."
Mia rubbed her forehead. He'd taken Bobby's obituary. "I think I know where he is."