Lullabies & Dead Bodies, page 25
Isaac sat back in the chair with a disgusted huff.
“I don’t know why they can’t understand that we have no answers to give them while we’re still investigating. Don’t they know that anything of any real value that we might tell them could very well tip off the killer and cause him to run. Again!”
“No, they don’t know that,” Gavin said, “and I’m guessing they don’t really care. But we have to tell them something.”
“Well, we can’t tell them that I just took a trip to Dubuque, Iowa to look into our main suspect’s background. Hell, we can’t even tell them that we have a suspect at all. At this point, Lieu, we can’t even tell Chief Branson that.”
Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger before he looked at them.
“No, we can’t. But that day is fast approaching. What we need is to get Jeffery Schiffer’s DNA on record. The mental facility in Iowa had nothing in that regard?”
“No DNA on file for Eugene Talbot. Just his blood type and fingerprints.”
“Too bad we’ve never found a set of prints on the lullaby snippets this guy leaves behind on his victims,” Pete mumbled, almost to himself.
“I know, right?” Isaac nodded.
They spoke for several more minutes, working out the details of what would and would not be brought up to the press. And when the time came, Isaac and Pete both ventured down to the main floor and over to the side courtyard where the press was already eagerly waiting just beyond the doors.
“I hope you have something substantial you can share with us, Lieutenant,” Chief Luther Branson said as they approached.
“There’s a fine line between sharing with the press and protecting the integrity of our investigation, Chief. I can only say so much here. You know that.”
“Just give the people some hope, Lieutenant. You can do that, can’t you?”
Isaac saw the look on Gavin’s face, and he didn’t envy the pressure he knew his boss must be under in that moment. The side doors opened and they all stepped out amid the almost blinding flashes of the cameras. Isaac and Pete stood by while Gavin took the podium.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll give a brief statement of facts and then I’ll take a few questions.”
He launched into the bullet points they’d agreed upon in his office, giving the press a basic rundown of what they knew of victim number four, Sunny Davies, and the circumstances surrounding her abduction, and the discovery of her body early that morning.
When he’d finished and opened the floor up to questions, the reporters turned on him like rabid jackals, flinging questions about the connection to the Lullaby Killer from seven years ago, and demanding to know if this was the same killer or a copycat.
They barely gave him time to respond to one question before another was hurled at him with light speed. It became a free-for-all.
Gavin raised his hands to quiet them.
“I cannot answer if I can’t hear the question clearly. And I can’t hear the questions clearly when you all shout at once! Please. One. At. A. Time!”
He pointed to one of the male reporters from a local station.
“Lieutenant, do you have any suspects at this time?”
“We have people of interest, but it’s too soon to label anyone a suspect just yet.”
“Too soon? Four little girls are dead!”
Gavin ignored the comment and pointed to one of the female reporters in the crowd. Janelle Mandrake of Channel 4 news.
“Lieutenant, is it true that this killer has been taunting one of the detectives on this case with personal messages left at the crime scenes? And is that impeding your investigation?”
Isaac’s stomach dropped out of his body, leaving a gaping hole in his middle.
But that was nothing compared to the look of pissed frustration on Gavin’s face.
“Holy shit,” Pete muttered beside him.
“That’s it. We’re done here.”
Gavin turned without another word, but Isaac caught the deadly look he’d shot the Chief’s way. He marched away from the podium and back into the station, and Isaac and Pete followed after him.
“How the fuck does she know that very privileged information?” Gavin all but yelled, gesturing wildly, and pointing in the general direction of the pool of reporters outside.
“Hell if I know, Lieutenant!”
“Well, it’s coming from somewhere within our department and I want to know who. This shit stops now, do you hear me?”
In the nine years he’d been a detective, Isaac had seen Gavin Hayes upset enough to cuss and yell. But he’d never seen the man completely loose his shit like he was on the verge of doing right now. He was livid, and Isaac couldn’t blame him one bit.
“I hear you, Lieutenant, but I’m at just as much of a loss here as you are. Very few people know about the messages left behind via the lullaby snippets. The three of us. Miller and Dorn. Harry Alvin in forensics. That’s it.”
“Uh… there is one other person,” Pete said as Gavin’s cellphone dinged. “The Assistant District Attorney.”
“No.” Isaac shook his head. He refused to believe the ADA would ever compromise a case — any case — in such a manner, let alone one this important. “No, Hailey Kinsey wouldn’t do that. She is by-the-book professional and damn good at her job. I can’t believe that.”
“Well, we’re about to get the chance to ask her,” Gavin said, putting his cellphone away. “She just texted about that meeting with DA Hanson. He’s free right now.”
Sidney ate breakfast and readied for the day alone, but she did it all with a goofy lovestruck grin on her face and a lighthearted pep to her three-inch, slingback step. Isaac was home. And even though he’d had another very early call out to a crime scene this morning, he was back home from his work trip and would be there tonight for dinner. She wouldn’t have to endure another lonely night of solitude without him.
Of course he’d communicated with her throughout his trip yesterday. She’d gotten a text when he’d landed, and a phone call when he and Special Agent Fox had stopped for a bite to eat. He’d even called to tell her they’d managed to get a flight out and would be back in the wee hours of the morning. Still, the constant contact hadn’t done a thing to stop her from worrying about him.
This case had him wound tighter than she’d ever seen him before. Maybe he’d be able to dump all the baggage he carried around with him once he finally caught this killer.
“He doesn’t think I know,” she mumbled to herself as she drove to work, her head filled with thoughts of Ike. “He tries to hide it, but I know.”
She knew exactly what baggage Ike was carrying around.
Guilt.
Shame.
Embarrassment.
Maybe even a little self-loathing. Oh, she knew, all right. She knew that he was blaming himself for a lot of things related to this case, both the original murder spree and the current one, and she hated it. This case made him doubt himself. And after all the progress he’d made in learning to embrace his psychic abilities, she was afraid this case might set him back to square one again.
She wandered into the Hope House still thinking only of Isaac, and he stayed in the forefront of her mind as she went about her day settling into her new work routine.
Part of her duties was to plan the schedule of visits for counselors and attorneys who volunteered their time and expertise for free therapy and legal aid to the residents of Hope House. She’d been working steadily for over an hour when a loud banging at the front door caused everyone in the house to jump.
“What on Earth?” she said aloud to no one as she got to her feet and rushed from the office.
Sidney didn’t have any of Isaac’s psychic abilities, but she could feel that the tension inside the house had ramped up about a thousand notches in the space of five seconds.
She understood only too well.
Loud angry noises were enough to put anyone on edge when they’d been through what she and these other women had been through.
The loud banging came again, and Zoe ran from the other direction to join her in the hallway.
“It doesn’t sound good. Get your phone ready!” she shouted, and Sidney wondered frantically what she meant by the comment.
Zoe rushed to the front door, where the banging grew ever more insistent. She opened the door, leaving the screen door closed and keeping one hand on the frame, she formed a human barrier at the entrance.
“How can I help you?”
Her tone was decidedly unwelcoming, and the menacing man looming in the doorway glowered at her.
“I want to see my wife. Now.”
“Well, I don’t know who your wife is, Mister…?”
“Her name is Diane. I know she’s here! I want to talk to her.”
“Sir, if you…”
“Tell her to come out here now.”
His voice grew louder, his demeanor more aggressive by the second. Then he bellowed.
“Diane!”
“Sir, if you could just calm down…”
“I want to talk to her.”
“Oh, my God. Tom?”
One of the residents — the one Zoe had allowed without a doctor or police referral, the one whose husband had sent her hiding in a sewer drain — came down the staircase, watching the scene with what Sidney could only describe as horror. Fear climbed up from Sidney’s stomach and clawed at her chest like a beast.
“Diane! I just want to talk. Can’t we even do that anymore?”
Diane came to stand behind Zoe, the human barrier.
“No, we can’t. Because you always end up yelling at me. And then you hit me, Tom. You hurt me!”
“I have apologized over and over for that, honey. Just come outside and talk to me, dammit!”
Without warning, he yanked open the screen door, reached past Zoe, and grabbed Diane by the arm.
Diane screamed.
Zoe grabbed their arms, trying to pull Diane free.
The fear in Sidney’s chest reached her brain, the sharp tingles spurring her into action.
“You are not supposed to be here, and I will call the cops if you don’t leave right now!” Zoe yelled.
“That’s my wife, bitch! You’re not going to keep her from me.”
“You can discuss that with the police. Sidney!”
“I’m already dialing,” Sidney screamed, pushing the buttons with severely shaking hands.
She put the phone on speaker so that everyone clearly heard when the dispatcher answered.
“911. What is your emergency?”
“We have a trespasser at 432 Portsbridge Rd. It’s the Hope House women’s shelter,” her voice trembled with all the terror congealing in her belly. “Please hurry!”
“Dispatching a car now, ma’am. Please stay on the line until the officers arrive.”
“Thank you.”
“Fine!” Tom shouted, letting go of Diane’s arm with a jerk. “I’m leaving. But I’ll be back, Diane. You are going to talk to me!”
He turned and stomped off the porch, and everyone inside the house let go of a collectively held breath.
Pete went back to work while Isaac and Gavin walked across the street to meet with District Attorney Mike Hanson and ADA Hailey Kinsey at the justice department.
At the entrance of the building, they were ushered through the metal detectors, but because of their credentials they were allowed to keep their sidearms upon entering. They stepped into the elevator and Isaac glanced at his boss.
“You think Hanson will think we’re out of our minds?”
Gavin smirked at him. “Honestly, Ike, I’m not certain we’re not out of our minds.”
Isaac grinned, but inside he quivered. They weren’t ready for this face-to-face with the DA. They needed more. They needed something solid, something concrete. But aside from Doc Porter’s deathbed confession — which a clever defense attorney might call hearsay — all they had were speculations and hunches, and Isaac feared DA Hanson would laugh them out of his office. Maybe even out of their jobs.
They got off on the top floor and presented their credentials to the secretary guarding the door.
“Yes, Mr. Hanson is expecting you.” She stood and escorted them to the door, knocking once before she opened it. “Lieutenant Gavin Hayes and Detective Sergeant Isaac Taylor.”
“Come in, gentlemen. Have a seat.”
Mike Hanson was a young man. Early forties and newly elected, he was brash and confident, but he’d also gained the reputation of being thoughtful and levelheaded. As Isaac and Gavin took their seats, Hanson gestured to the smartly-dressed brunette already seated in front of his desk.
“Hailey’s been telling me an imaginative story about collusion at the highest levels of our police department. A story she claims she got from the two of you. Start talking.”
Isaac and Gavin glanced at each other, and Gavin quietly cleared his throat. They took him through the entire case, and Hanson said nothing while they spoke. He listened silently, and Isaac found himself wondering what the man was thinking. When they’d gone through everything, Hanson still said nothing, but Isaac could see the man’s mind working.
“Tell me what you can prove,” Hanson finally said, looking Isaac in the eyes.
Isaac’s stomach dropped like he was on a rollercoaster. He licked his lips and shifted slightly on his chair.
“Well, we can prove that Jeffery Schiffer and Eugene Talbot are one in the same. Which means we can prove that Deputy Chief Jay Schiffer did, in fact, whisk his son out of state and hid him away in a mental institution for seven years to avoid prosecution for the first lullaby murder spree.”
Hanson nodded, but Isaac didn’t think he looked convinced.
“We can also prove that the second lullaby murder spree didn’t start until after Jeffery Schiffer was released from that mental institution. Beginning with two unsolved murders in Dubuque, Iowa that are eerily similar to the lullaby murders,” Isaac continued.
“Do you have any physical evidence linking Jeffery Schiffer to either murder spree?”
Isaac’s stomach plummeted again, the rollercoaster swooping down the steepest hill. He and Gavin looked at each other.
“Not at this time, sir.”
“Then there’s nothing I can do for you.”
He and Hanson stared at each other for a long moment, and Isaac sighed and looked down.
“It is…” Hanson paused and shook his head. “It’s an intriguing theory. And you may very well be right about all of it. But without any physical evidence to support your theory, you know my hands are tied.”
“Yes, we do,” Gavin spoke up. “Which is why we didn’t wish to waste your time until we have that physical evidence.”
“I understand that,” Hanson said, “but when one of my ADAs comes to me with something that could have explosive ramifications for one of our highest local offices, I consider that something I need to be kept in the loop on. This meeting was necessary. Find your physical evidence and we’ll talk again. In the meantime, keep a lid on your investigation.”
“That may be easier said than done,” Gavin tossed out, his glance bouncing briefly over to Hailey.
“What does that mean?” Hanson asked.
“Well, sir, it seems someone leaked pertinent information to the press. Information that’s been strategically kept out of the news until today was just thrown in my face by the Channel 4 News barracuda.”
“Let me guess. Janelle Mandrake?”
Gavin nodded.
“That woman is relentless. She made my campaign a nightmare,” Hanson mumbled. Then he looked at Gavin again. “How sensitive is the information she’s dug up?”
“Very. Our killer is leaving personal messages for Ike behind at each lullaby scene. We were trying to keep that knowledge in-house, but now the world knows.”
“Wow.” Hanson looked at Hailey Kinsey. “You didn’t tell me that part.”
“No, sir. I knew they were trying to keep that under wraps, and I didn’t think it would have a bearing on this meeting, so…” She shrugged a shoulder and said no more.
“And I was confident that leak couldn’t have come from you,” Isaac assured her. “It’s in house, and it’s getting worse.”
“Then it sounds like you’ve got more than one problem on your hands, gentlemen.” Hanson shook his head. “Well, like I said… find me that physical evidence. If your theories about the Schiffers are right, I want them. Corruption of any kind in our police department? Not on my watch.”
He stood and reached out his hand, which Gavin readily shook.
“Thank you, DA Hanson.”
Isaac took a step back, giving a small bow and an awkward wave of his hand.
“Thank you, sir. Ms. Kinsey.”
They left the office, and once they were back on the elevator Isaac looked at Gavin.
“Well, he didn’t think we were crazy.”
“Nope,” Gavin stated. “But now we need to step up our game and find our physical evidence. If any actually exists.”
“It exists, Lieu. It has to. Otherwise we’re fucked.”
20
After their meeting with DA Hanson, Isaac got back to work with his team. But it seemed no matter what angle they tried, all their efforts were met with more frustration than answers, and it had been a long day of disappointments.
“Okay. Remember those paper coveralls we were looking into, Sarge?”
Isaac turned to Curt Dorn, giving him his full attention. He was slightly amused that Dorn actually seemed to be coming around where he was concerned. Up until their work on this case, Dorn had never been one of Isaac’s fans. Just the opposite, in fact. They’d come up through the police academy together, and normally Dorn would be one of the first to ridicule Isaac over his touch issues and perceived odd behavior. But over the course of this case, they’d finally begun to work well together, and Isaac appreciated that.
