Don’t Look Now, page 13
The forensic van arrived, as did three other cop cars behind it. He strode toward Captain Lee, who climbed out of his cruiser. Stubble covered his chin, he was not wearing a tie, and his legs moved as if his knees hurt. Most Texas boys had played football in junior high, high school, and, in some cases, college. By their midfifties, every tackle showed in their strides.
“What the hell happened?” Captain Lee asked.
“Detective Poe called me, told me she had received a call from a missing girl, and she came out here. She called for backup but beat us all here.”
“Drives like a bat out of hell.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Passed the rescue squad on the way in. How is she?”
“Unconscious.”
Captain Lee cursed. He rested his hands on his hips and sucked in a breath before pursing his lips. Spencer read the body language. The captain was doing his best to lock down his feelings.
Spencer spent the next few minutes updating Captain Lee on what he had found. The tire tracks, the footprints, and the discarded plastic expertly sliced up the middle.
Lee cleared his throat. “Same guy that killed the Jane Does?”
“It looks like it,” Spencer said.
“How the hell did Jordan get in contact with the victim?”
“She called her cell. Either spoke to her or left a message. The return call came around an hour ago.”
“I want every available body out here.”
“Already on their way.”
Casey tried to twist out of her captor’s iron grip as he dragged her back to her darkened room. Each time she struggled to break free, his fingers tightened in a bruising hold.
“How the hell did she find you?” he growled.
“Let me go, please,” she begged.
He opened the door and shoved her inside. He reached for the bag that held her clothes and searched each article until he found the phone in her coat pocket. “Two phones. Very clever.”
“Please, let me go.”
“I’m not done with you yet. We have to finish.”
“Finish what? Are you going to wrap me in plastic again?”
“Of course. We’ll have to start over from the beginning.”
The beginning. He had played with her for hours before he’d taken her to the house. She was not sure she could live through that again.
The door slammed hard. And the small light bulb above her head went out. She was plunged into darkness.
She ran her fingers over her face, remembering the weight of the plastic, the blistering panic, and the desperate hunger for air.
The detective had cut into the plastic. Air. Precious air had filled her lungs. She’d believed she had been saved. And then he had reappeared and moved so swiftly Detective Poe had not had time to react. He had raised a club and hit her hard on the back of the head. Triumph had glimmered in his gaze as he’d watched the detective go down hard on the floor.
In the distance police sirens wailed. She had prayed he would panic and run and leave her to the cops. But he had sliced up the remaining plastic and pressed the knife to her neck.
“I’ll kill you if you make a sound. Understood?”
Casey had nodded, knowing his was not an empty threat. He would have gutted her right here. “Yes.”
He had lifted her easily and tossed her over his shoulder and then scooped up the bag containing her clothes. Stunned, she had wrestled against her restraints but had been too weak to fight.
Now as she sat in her darkened cell, naked and cold, she drew in a deep breath and tried not to think about Detective Poe’s blood pooling around them both.
“I’m sorry.” Casey drew her feet up and hugged her knees close to her body. “I just wanted to live.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Thursday, April 15
7:30 a.m.
Spencer pulled up in front of a small ranch in an established neighborhood. An older yellow sedan with a few flower decals attached to the bumper sat in the driveway. The sedan must belong to the sister. From what Captain Lee had told him, Jordan had one sister, Avery Poe; no boyfriend; and no children.
Jordan’s keys felt heavy in his hands as he strode toward the front door, painted a deep orange. The color was unexpected, a little quirky considering Jordan Poe’s intensity. The peephole in the center and the heavy-duty lock and door hinges were practical security measures that fit her personality.
Drawing in a breath, he knew the day would never come when visits like this were anything less than excruciating. By rights, Captain Lee should have made the notification, but Spencer felt as if this was his responsibility. If he had been faster, Jordan would have been fine and Casey safe and sound. Rolling back his shoulders, he rang the bell.
Inside, footsteps hurried over what sounded like hardwood floors. Security chains scraped out of their holders and then a moment’s hesitation as someone must have thought twice and checked the peephole. He stood back, giving his viewer a good look at him.
The door opened to a woman who looked like a younger, shorter version of Jordan Poe. Her hair was lighter, streaked with blue strands, and it draped around her shoulders in a tangle of curls, but the eyes and nose were almost identical to Jordan’s.
“I’m Carter Spencer with the Texas Rangers.”
“I’ve heard about you,” the young woman said. “I’m Avery Poe. If you’re looking for my sister, she left early this morning. I don’t know where she is.”
“Your sister was injured last night,” he said carefully. “She’s at Dell Seton.”
Her curious expression shifted to alarm. “Was she shot?”
“No. She was struck on the back of the head by an unknown assailant. She was still unconscious the last time I saw her.”
“Jesus,” she said, running trembling fingers through her hair. “How? Where did this happen?”
“She’s been chasing a killer we believe is a serial offender.”
“I know about the case. I thought you took it over.”
“I did. But your sister kept working the case.”
She shook her head. “That would be Jordan.”
“I can drive you to the hospital.”
“No, I’ll drive myself.”
Avery shared her sister’s fearless, independent vein. “There are too many unknowns at this point. Your sister received a call from a missing woman, who we haven’t found yet. I don’t know if the killer set your sister up or she surprised him. It would be safer if I drive you.”
The first reactions at times like this were shock and fear. And then the brain kicked into gear. Schedules were hurriedly rearranged. Priorities shifted, and most of what had been important turned trivial.
“Okay, you can drive me. Let me grab my purse.” She grabbed a leather satchel purse from a small table in the foyer and shoved her feet into worn Birkenstock sandals. She locked the door behind her, and he followed her toward his car. Avery paused when she saw the empty spot in the driveway where Jordan must park.
He handed her Jordan’s keys. “Her car is with the forensic team. We’ll return it as soon as it’s processed.”
“God,” she muttered as she twisted her fingers around the keys.
Soon, they were both in the front seat, and he was driving toward the hospital.
“How could this guy target Jordan?” Avery asked. “She’s not reckless or stupid.”
“We know the victim was able to contact Jordan and asked for help. I don’t think the woman was working for the killer, but time will tell.”
“I heard her leave the house after two a.m. But that’s the way it’s always been with her job.” Avery gripped the keys tighter. “Where the hell was backup?”
“The deputies and I were minutes behind her. We think when she arrived on the scene, she decided to investigate.”
Avery shook her head. “I’ve told her a million times not to be a hero.”
He tightened his hands on the wheel. “I’ve been in situations like that before. It’s hard not to act.”
Both sank into a heavy silence as he drove to the hospital. When he pulled up to the emergency room entrance, he put the car in park. “Go on inside. I’ll park and then meet you.”
“Is she still in emergency?”
“She was. I don’t know where she is now.”
“You saw her, right?”
“Yes.”
“What am I going to be facing?”
“It was a blow to the back of her head. I detected no other injuries.”
Avery dropped the keys in her purse and reached for the door handle. “Right.”
“You okay?”
“I have to be.”
Out of the car, she walked through the sliding glass doors and vanished into the hospital.
Spencer had remained at the hospital for several hours. When the doctors took Jordan into surgery, he realized he was of no help to anyone, sitting around and waiting. His focus shifted to his job and finding Casey Andrews.
He decided to visit the Austin Police Department’s missing person division. Removing his hat, Spencer walked into the Austin Police Department station and went directly toward Detective Rivers’s office.
When he knocked on Detective Rivers’s door, she was on the phone, but as soon as they made eye contact, she ended the call and rose.
“You must be Ranger Spencer,” she said.
“That’s right, Detective Rivers. We need to talk about Casey Andrews.”
“I’ve been pulling everything I know about her since Detective Poe’s attack. Have you heard how Jordan is doing?”
“She was in surgery when I left.”
Rivers drew in a lungful of air as she dropped her gaze to the file on her desk. “I assumed you would be by, so I’ve gathered everything I know about Casey Andrews. Detective Poe said she was going to talk to the girl’s mother, Dot Andrews, and I assume she followed up.”
“I’ve not had a chance to debrief Detective Poe, but I hope to soon.” He had no idea when Jordan would be able to process case information, but for her sake, he wanted everyone to believe she would recover.
He thumbed through a contact list. At the top was Dot Andrews, and below that was Missy Stapleton. “Who is Ms. Stapleton?”
“Casey’s former roommate,” she said.
“Have you spoken to Ms. Stapleton?”
“I’ve put several calls into her cell phone, but she has not called me back. She has a history of drug abuse. According to Casey’s mother, Casey moved out when she decided to get clean.”
Casey fit the profile of so many missing women. Their transient lives meant critical time could pass before alarm bells were sounded. If not for Dot Andrews, weeks might have passed before anyone thought to look for Casey. “I’ll find Ms. Stapleton.”
“Understood.”
“What can you tell me about Tammy Fox?”
“She’s originally from back east. She still has an uncle in Maryland. She also filed a restraining order against a boyfriend in Houston.”
“Any word on where he is?”
“Prison. Convicted of armed robbery three months ago.”
“I’ll need copies of her case file as well as files for Susan Wallace.”
“Of course.”
He leaned close, knowing he towered over her. “Search your records back about ten years. Find me the files of all the missing persons who resemble these women.”
“I’ll get on it now.”
“And Detective Rivers, next time you have a lead in one of my cases, you call me. Don’t go behind my back again.” His voice was low, level. “Understand?”
She raised her chin a notch. “Yes, sir.”
Jordan’s injury had burrowed under his skin, scraped against his nerves, and left him spoiling for a fight. It was better he left now than unload his frustrations on Rivers.
In his car, he checked the address for Missy Stapleton and drove to the small rental house in East Austin. The house was one level and made of an earth-color stucco. The front yard was littered with trash, unused tires, and several cars.
Hand on his weapon, he walked to the front door and banged on it with his fist. When there was no response, he struck the door again, determined to wake up every damn person in the house. Finally, a curtain covering a window fluttered, and the front door opened. The woman standing there was petite with bleached-blond hair. She wore a tank top that showed off a bee tattoo on her arm and cutoff jeans.
She raised her gaze to the star pinned on his chest, her annoyance softening. “Texas Ranger. What’s going on?”
“Are you Missy Stapleton?” he asked.
“Yes.” She shifted her weight back and forth.
“You haven’t been answering your cell phone.”
“Ran out of minutes. Why are you here?”
“I have questions about Casey Andrews.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I haven’t seen her in weeks. Maybe a month.” She slipped her hands into her pockets. “We both worked at the same place but different shifts. We were supposed to get coffee soon but never could settle on a time.”
“Why did she move out?”
“She’s on this new clean-and-sober kick.”
“And that’s not for you?”
She hesitated. “I want to be. And will be one day. But now’s not the best time.” She glanced at her bare toes painted with red polish. The big toe’s polish was chipped.
“I’m trying to find Casey. Did she ever mention anyone that might be bothering her?”
“Her drug dealer was hassling her the other day. He had tempted her with a baggie of drugs. She took it but said she couldn’t toss it.”
“You said you haven’t seen her.”
“It was a text.” She reached for her back pocket and produced a phone sporting a blue rhinestone case.
“Can I see your recent text exchanges with Casey?” Spencer asked.
She hesitated. “Sure.”
April 13, 7:00 p.m.
Casey: Saw Walker.
Missy: And?
Casey: He gave me a sample.
Missy: Bring it by, girl. We can celebrate.
Casey: I should toss it.
Missy: Give it to me if you don’t want it. Crazy to waste anything.
“Do you know Walker?” Spencer asked. When she hesitated, he asked, “Marco Walker?”
“Yes,” Missy said. “He deals drugs.”
“Any idea why she was back in his area?”
“She lost a lot of friends when she got sober. When someone gets clean, they get a little full of themselves. They become kind of a buzzkill. When no one wants to be around them, they get lonely and start to miss their old life. When they return to the streets, it’s a matter of time before Walker appears.”
“Why is Walker so popular?” Spencer asked.
“He gives freebies if you’re willing to trade sex with him or one of his friends,” Missy said.
“Tell me about these friends,” Spencer said. “Any one of the friends not get along with Walker?”
“Walker pisses a lot of people off. He often makes promises he doesn’t keep. Most can’t do anything about it, but some can.”
“Tell me about the people he can’t charm,” Spencer said.
“I make it a point to keep away from those guys. I don’t want to end up hanging from a rope in my house like he did.”
Casey had vanished hours before Walker had hanged himself. If Walker had passed Casey off to a friend, he would have had to have done it on the thirteenth or fourteenth. “You ever heard of a guy named Harold Sunday?”
“The lawyer?”
“That’s right.”
She shifted her feet. “He’s been with a few of Walker’s girls.”
“Did he ever get rough?”
“Sure. But they all can be.”
“Anyone like to strangle the girls?”
“Once in a while.”
“What about Sunday?”
“I don’t know. The girls don’t talk that much. They’re too afraid.”
“I won’t let him hurt you.”
A bitter smile twisted her lips. “You can’t make that promise. No one can.”
He handed her his card. “If you change your mind and want to talk, call, okay?”
“Sure. Sure.”
“Thank you for your time.” He left her staring after him as he crossed the yard and got back into his vehicle. Casey had disappeared on April 13 or 14, and they were hard dates he could work from.
Spencer’s next stop was the forensic department. Inside the building, he removed his hat and found Andy Lucas and an assistant looking into a microscope. Neither looked up when he entered the room, forcing him to clear his throat. “Officer Lucas.”
The man shifted his gaze up. “Have you heard how Poe is doing?”
“No, but when she’s awake, I’d like to take her status report. You have anything new?”
“We do.” He pulled off his glasses, drawing attention to dark circles under his eyes. They were all putting in long hours. They had two, possibly three, victims and an injured cop.
“First to the Jane Does,” Lucas said. “The first did not have any kind of dental, breast, or medical device I can track with a serial number.”
“And the second victim?”
“The medical examiner was able to pull fingerprints, and we matched those to Tammy Fox’s.”
Jane Doe #2 had a name. According to Rivers’s file, Tammy Fox had vanished five or six days ago. She had last been seen in a bar called the Saloon. Her employer had filed her report.
“Less than one week means there’s a good shot at getting security footage,” Lucas said.
“We already have the footage. Detective Poe spoke to Dustin Tate at the Saloon and requested it. Got a tech going through it now.”
“Perfect.”
“Now to the plastic found at the last crime scene.” Lucas motioned him toward a light table. “We put it in a fuming chamber.” When evidence was placed inside a fuming chamber, superglue was added to the heating element, and after a press of the start button, the vaporized glue adhered to latent fingerprints.
