Death Angel, page 25
“Outside of the police, not too many,” Kate said. “Leidecker said they were withholding that fact from the media. The only people who know about it are you, me, and Richard. I suppose he might have told Chris, but I can’t think of anyone else who would have known.”
“Except the killer.”
Her shock must have been evident.
“Maybe now you can understand why I want you to give this up. Whether it’s Garvey or someone else, the ButterSkots was meant as a warning.”
“Why would he take the risk?”
“Maybe he gets off on the risks.”
“I think he wants to frighten me.”
“Well if it hasn’t worked on you, it sure as hell has me scared.” Mike took a sip of his drink, and when he spoke he was under control but adamant. “Get it into your head that if the killer is Garvey, he’s already killed twice and a third time wouldn’t be any big deal.”
His words penetrated Kate’s sense of outraged justice. Thinking about it she knew he was right.
“I’ll admit I’m scared,” she said, “but I can’t give this up.”
“Do you know the danger you could be in?”
When she made no comment, he blew out his breath in a stream of frustration.
“Will you do me a favor? Just cool it for a few days? I know a couple people that I can question very discreetly. Let me do that. I should have some answers by Wednesday, and we’ll talk then. Can you resist the urge to play detective until then?”
“Yes.”
“In the meantime, you have to take this seriously. If you won’t go to the police, you have to be extra careful. We can’t ignore the fact there’s a killer out there.”
After Mike left, the house seemed too large and too empty. Her sense of security had been violated. Locking up downstairs, she took special care to check every window and door. If the purpose of the candy had been to frighten her, it had succeeded.
Upstairs in the guest room, she got ready for bed. She was grateful that the door had a lock and she felt a slight release of tension as she heard it click into place.
She climbed into bed and huddled under the covers. The more she thought about the purpose of the candy in her purse, the more she suspected it was not just a warning, but a message.
To Kate, the message was clear: I can get to you any time, any place.
He stood at the edge of the clearing, waiting for the moon to rise above the circle of trees. The silence of the forest surrounded him. He was wrapped in the security of night. He touched the outside of his pocket, tracing the outline of the bracelet. It had been his best talisman. A powerful token.
His first token had been a yellow ribbon. A bow from Adele’s hair. Even after all these years he could close his eyes and feel the satiny fabric imprinted on the pads of his fingertips.
He had been ten the first time he saw Adele. Her parents were coming over to play poker, and when the sitter canceled, they brought her with them. His mother brought her to the basement and showed her where the toys were kept.
He was in his “cave” and watched her through a slit in the old woolen blanket that covered the card table. She was seven, her body soft with traces of baby fat. She had long, curly hair that bounced and shimmered in the overhead light. He wondered how it would feel to touch it. Holding her hair in place was a yellow satin ribbon, nestling among the curls like a golden rope. He was fascinated by her hair and the satin ribbon.
Even though he hadn’t made a sound, she was aware of his presence under the covered table. She sat down facing him, spreading her legs in a wide V and setting the blocks on the floor in the space between. She built towers of blocks and when they toppled, she flapped her skirt with mock anger, exposing her underpants. Each time it happened she stared at the eyehole in the blanket, her eyes smoky with amusement.
She left when her mother called. She hadn’t said a word to him, but when he crept out into the room the yellow ribbon lay on top of the pile of blocks.
At night, he kept the ribbon inside his pillowcase, rubbing it against his cheek to soothe away the pain from the night encounters. The next time she came, he was huddled in the cave recovering from a beating. She sat on the floor, holding the blanket apart with her two hands, and in the illumination from the basement lights, she saw the bruises and tears.
Without a word, she crawled under the table, dropping the blanket in place, enclosing them in darkness.
She cuddled up against him, plump hands brushing at his cheeks and touching his hair. She smelled of talcum powder and shampoo. The scent of cherries masked the musty woolen smell he was used to. In the dark he stroked her hair, holding a handful up to his nose and inhaling the fruity aroma.
She ran her fingers over his body as if she were trying to learn how he was put together. He didn’t like it when people touched him, but he would have let her do anything as long as she let him smell her hair. Strange sensations coursed through his body as her hands moved over him. When she tired of the game, he wanted to touch her in his turn.
One hand remained anchored in her hair and with his other he touched her face. His fingers skated across skin softer than anything he’d ever felt. He stroked her, and felt her stir beneath his hand. The movement excited him. He grew bolder. Sometimes she pushed him away but when he tightened his hand in her hair, she stopped struggling. He touched her everywhere. Places he had not known existed. Secret places.
After she left, he took out the ribbon. Holding it in his hand, he felt a jolt of energy fill his body as he remembered touching her. She had struggled but it was clear his show of strength had swayed her. He stared down at the ribbon, seeing and feeling each movement with renewed excitement. Power flowed into his body from the ribbon.
Adele didn’t return to the basement. He used the ribbon until the memories began to fade. Over time the golden satin turned dark and limp and when he touched it he felt nothing.
His hand clenched around the bracelet in his pocket, bringing his mind back from the past. He held his watch up close to his face.
It was midnight. He’d chosen the time specifically even though he normally didn’t believe in superstition. The clouds shifted and moonlight radiated down into the woods. Listening intently for any other movements, he walked to the very center of the clearing.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the talisman. Even in the uncertain light, he could tell that the bracelet was not shimmering as brightly as it had been. He had noted it several days earlier, but dismissed it as imagination. Now he was certain.
The charm bracelet was losing its power.
Wings that used to flutter in the light remained stiff and unresponsive. The robed angel was dull, the golden face dark and forbidding.
He’d tried other tokens, but they didn’t hold the power the way the bracelet did. Holding it by the broken clasp, he extended it toward the moon, as if the mere presence of the mystical crescent would rejuvenate the life force. He rubbed it against his body.
Before this, he could hold the talisman in his hand and, merely by recalling the events in the forest preserve, he was able to reach orgasm. The intensity of those memories was fading. Just like they had with the ribbon. Eventually the charm bracelet would lose all power.
He closed his eyes, picturing another angel. This one was larger than the one he held in his hand. He could see it clearly, nestled in the valley between her breasts. The angel necklace caught the light, shimmering as it rose and fell with each breath. When he needed a new talisman, he would take it.
Soon. It would be soon.
Kate parked as close as possible to the grass so that other cars could pass on the narrow roadway. Without looking out the windows, she turned off the engine, put the keys in her purse, and opened the car door. She stood on the tarmac, letting the silence of the cemetery seep into her body.
I can’t do it.
Closing her eyes, she leaned weakly against the side of the car. She had not been to the cemetery since the day of Jenny’s funeral. The memories of her daughter, alive and happy, had sustained her, and she knew the sight of the grave would bring her face to face with the long-term emptiness of a life without Jenny.
She’d found another message from All Saints Cemetery on the answering machine. It was the third request to inspect the engraving on the headstone to ensure that everything had been done correctly. This time she knew she had to go.
Standing beside the car, Kate stared blindly across the vast garden of granite stones, each as individual as the person they identified. How strange it was that the simple details surrounding death could be so incredibly painful. All she had to do was check two lines of writing on a gray-white rock. Why did it seem as if each cut of the engraving tool would open a gaping wound in her heart?
You can make it, Katie. Kick harder.
Her father’s voice was clear, floating across the grass on a breeze. He always used to shout that at the swim meets. No matter how loud the crowd was, she always heard the words.
She squared her shoulders, and stepped onto the grass, weaving through the stones toward the top of the hill where Jenny was buried. They had chosen the spot because it was shaded by a flowering crabapple tree and was the highest spot in the new section of the cemetery. Spring blossoms would flutter down around her and she’d catch the first drops of rain and feel the warmth of the sun for most of the day.
The first thing she saw was freshly planted daffodils just starting to open.
“Chris Mayerling,” Kate said aloud. She remembered the basket of daffodils he’d sent to the house. How kind he was to take the time and trouble to plant the flowers.
And God knows where he found daffodils in July, she thought.
It had been good to see him at the Fine Arts dinner the other night. She felt guilty for not keeping in closer touch with him.
Knowing she couldn’t put off the moment any longer, Kate raised her eyes to inspect the headstone. She reached for the trunk of the tree, afraid her legs would give out on her. Seeing the inscription, she had an overwhelming desire to close her eyes and never open them again. She tightened her grip on the tree, letting the roughness of the bark anchor her to reality.
Jennifer Louise Warner
September 14, 1997 – May 16, 2006
She read the words, lovingly tracing the sharp-edged letters with her eyes. In the right-hand corner above the name was the fresh cut image of a winged angel. It had been Richard’s idea; not hers. Jenny’s guardian angel had not protected her in life, what good to guard a dead child? Kate glared at the crisp outline of the angelic face.
The Angel of Death.
Bitterness accompanied her down the hill to the car. She opened the door then turned for a last glimpse of the leafy guardian above Jenny’s grave. She committed herself to continue her search for the truth. She’d return when justice was done.
Richard’s name had to be cleared. The killer had to be identified.
Kate realized that those two goals were all that mattered to her now. For the moment, neither was likely to happen. The police hadn’t been able to come up with the murderer. She was aware that Leidecker didn’t have all the facts. His focus on Richard had frightened her so much that she purposely withheld things, afraid they would somehow make matters worse.
Was that what Leidecker was trying to tell her that day in the library?
She squinted up at the sky, trying to bring back his words. He had asked for her help. She remembered that much. And he’d said she couldn’t hurt Jenny or Richard anymore. God what a quandary! What if she told Leidecker something that would prove conclusively that Richard was the murderer?
Could she take the risk? Slowly the answer came to her. In a sense, Richard had already been found guilty, so no matter what she told Leidecker it couldn’t be any worse for him.
She got in the car and took out her cell phone. If Leidecker was at the station, she’d take it as a sign and agree to talk to him. She took a deep breath and dialed.
“Pickard police station. May I help you?”
“Is Captain Leidecker there? This is Mrs. Richard Warner calling.”
The operator hesitated for a fraction of a second as she registered the name. “Just one moment. I’ll check to see if he’s in.”
Kate could feel her heart hammering as she was put on hold.
“Kate?”
Leidecker’s voice made her jump. She was breathing through her mouth, her lips too dry for speech.
“Kate,” he repeated, “are you there?”
“Yes. I’m here.” Once she got the words out, she didn’t know what else to say.
“Are you all right? I can barely hear you.”
“It’s my cell phone. I’ve been doing some thinking.” She stopped to organize her thoughts. “In the library the other day, you asked me to think about things and I did, and I thought maybe sometime when you were free I could talk to you.”
“I’d really appreciate that, Kate.” She sensed he was choosing his words, so he wouldn’t sound too eager. “Would you like to talk now? I’ve been sitting here doing paperwork, and I have nothing scheduled for the rest of the day.”
“I’m free for the day too. I’ll come to the station.” She swallowed her fear and checked her watch. “Is ten minutes all right?”
“Fine. I’ll be here.”
She didn’t really know what she could tell him that would be helpful. And what about Garvey? Should she tell him about her suspicions? By the time she turned into the parking lot of the police station, she was no closer to a decision on Garvey. She’d just have to play it by ear.
She was nervous as she got out of the car and walked around to the entrance. Leidecker, dressed formally in his uniform, was sitting on a bench outside the front door. He got up at her approach, holding out a hand in greeting. Chatting casually, he led her into the station, whisked her through the main rooms and, once they were in his office, closed the door behind her.
She had only been in Carl’s office once before and then she was too nervous to look around. The room was neat but not fanatically so. Diplomas, certificates, and commendations vied for wall space with pictures of fishing boats, fishing resorts, and endless strings of dead fish. On the opposite wall was a large bulletin board. Catalog cutouts of fishing rods and reels and notes of various sizes were pinned to the cork.
Leidecker stood behind the desk, one hand on the high back of the black leather swivel chair. It was obvious he had been watching her, but he made no comment. His eyes were direct, and he held himself straight as if for her inspection.
His walnut desk was big, old-fashioned, and battle scarred, looking incongruous in the otherwise modern office. A pile of papers and folders took up the left-hand corner. On the right there was a desk lamp, a daily agenda book, and the telephone. Telephone numbers and doodles were scribbled on the blotter. The only personal touch was a wood-framed picture of an older man and woman who were probably his parents.
She sat down on the chair in front of his desk.
“Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
“Water, please.”
Picking up a tray from the computer table, he brought it over to the desk, pushing papers out of the way as he set it down. He unscrewed the top of the ceramic carafe and poured two glasses of ice water. He handed her one.
He sat down behind the desk. His posture was relaxed. As she looked at his face, she was reminded of the character, honesty, and sense of fair play she had noted in the early days of the investigation. She didn’t know if she could tell him everything, but for the time being her level of trust was acceptable.
“I am afraid of you.”
He blinked in surprise at her words. Slowly a thin smile softened his expression and lit up his eyes. “My sister’s kids used to call me ‘granite face.’ After awhile they got used to me, and stopped fleeing the room when I came to visit.”
She could feel her face flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to say that, but in part that’s the reason I’ve come. You have a quiet tenacity that terrifies me. It’s the kind of power, like water dripping on stone, that finally wears away the outer layers and reveals the truth. Only doggedness and determination will solve Jenny’s murder. I thought about what you said the other day. I am willing to do what I can to help find the killer.”
“No matter who it is?”
Although Leidecker’s posture had not changed, Kate could feel the tension in his body. She sat very straight, staring directly into his eyes, knowing exactly what he was asking.
“No matter who it is,” she said.
The ground rules were set.
Leidecker let the words hang in the air for several seconds while he examined Kate’s face. Since Jenny’s death, she had been less than forthcoming, caught between her loyalty to Richard and her desire to find Jenny’s killer.
Something was different about her. He sensed a resolution, absent during the investigation. She appeared more alive than he’d ever seen her. Fear, excitement, and hesitancy all registered in his mind.
He had known all along that the best hope of solving the case was with Kate’s help, but when Richard became a suspect that avenue was closed. Now that she’d had time to sort through her feelings, her loyalties shifted to finding Jenny’s murderer.
“I’ll be honest with you, Kate. I had a pretty good circumstantial case built up against Richard when he disappeared. I was planning to arrest him, and I think he knew it. But no matter how often I’ve gone over the evidence, I can’t prove the case against him. I’m not as close minded as you think. Once I have all the pieces to the puzzle, I’m hoping to be able to fit them into one cohesive picture. I’m not absolutely sure I’ll see Richard’s face.”
The glow in Kate’s eyes was reward enough for Carl.
“I don’t know how to begin.”
“Can I make a suggestion?” She nodded. “I think you should start right at the beginning and tell me everything you can remember. It’ll be easier and less painful than going back and forth. And you’re less likely to forget something that might turn out to be important.”
