Текст книги "If Looks Could Kill"

Автор книги: Heather Graham

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

But tonight…

Wow.

And all because of his sexy little gift. He’d gone crazy, seeing her in the panties. And the things he’d done…and the responses she had given…

Just the two of them. So alone, so intimate. Having fun. As they hadn’t in a very long time…

“What an idea. Thank you,” she told him softly, kissing his lips, then snuggling back down beside him again.

“What do you mean? Thank you. Honey, you were awesome. So sexy. You have to buy more of those. What gave you the idea?”

She felt the strangest sensation of icy cold sweeping over her. It wasn’t exactly fear, but it was awfully close.

She was silent too long.

“Kaila?”

“I…”

Dan was frowning, leaning over her and staring at her with angry eyes. “Kaila, where did you get those panties?”

“I—I didn’t get them. They were a gift. They arrived at my table today at lunch, addressed to me. I assumed you had sent them.”

“Naturally.”

“Dan!”

He leaned back against the pillows, still staring at her, and the accusing glitter in his eyes was frightening.

“Dan—you didn’t send them?”

“No.”

“But—”

“No, I didn’t send them.”

“Then they must have been a mistake. Someone else was meant to have them.”

“You just said they were addressed to you.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did! Were they, or weren’t they, addressed to you?” he yelled.

“Dan, stop it! This isn’t a courtroom. You—”

“It might turn into a courtroom pretty damn quick. They were addressed to you, right?”

“Right! What are you getting so angry about? If you didn’t send them, one of the girls must have been playing a trick—”

“Oh, Kaila, quit it.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“What does that mean?” he repeated. “It means that you’ve been flirting with someone. Flirting enough to give him the idea that you might be available. Christ! Here I am feeling guilty that you’re so depressed, stuck home being a mother!”

“I’m not depressed being a mother!” she protested. “And I never said that. And I don’t flirt!” She said the words boldly, then realized they were a lie.

She had given someone the idea she might be willing to have an affair.

She felt cold again. Really cold. He didn’t know that she had decided she was every kind of a fool and really truly loved her husband.

Oh, damn.

He might have sent the…gift.

“Look, Dan, honestly—”

“Save it, Kaila,” he said softly, then rose. He slipped quickly into his robe and left the room, slamming the door in his wake.

Kaila stared after him, stunned. And cold, so cold.

The panties…

She shivered, feeling dirty. Had she really come so close to an affair? Worse, had she really already destroyed her marriage?

The next time she saw him, she was really going to give him a piece of her mind. She was going to explain that she had just been going through a bad period, that she really loved her husband.

Oh, God…

She still felt dirty. Squirmy. And afraid.

Dan had never looked at her like that before.

She got out of bed, wrapping up in her own robe, wondering how such wicked ecstasy could turn to something so horrible. She walked out to the living room. He was standing in the kitchen, staring out at the back, drinking a beer.

“Dan?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Who sent you those panties, Kaila?”

She lied. She had to lie. “I have no idea, Dan. Honest to God. I swear on the kids’ lives—I never cheated on you.”

“Well, it’s just interesting that another man would send my wife edible underwear,” he said dryly.

“One of the girls must have done it as a joke.”

“Sure, Kaila.”

She walked to him, slipping her arms around his waist, really frightened that she might lose him.

“I love you, Dan!” she whispered.

She felt his muscles ease. His arm came around her. Tears slid down her cheeks, he brushed them away with his knuckles and kissed her lips.

“Every once in a while…” he murmured.

“What?”

“Well, you look like your mother. Maybe I get a little afraid you might want to try out several husbands.”

“Dan, what an awful thing to say.”

“You did receive edible underwear.”

“I love you, Dan.”

“Do you?”

“God, yes! I’ve just been afraid, I guess, because you’re gone so much! Because you work with young, bright attorneys, so many women. And sometimes I feel that I can’t compete with the excitement of your day because all I do is wear spit-up and baby drool, and all I can talk about is the most recent PTA meeting or the latest Disney movie.”

He smiled and smoothed her hair. “That’s my child’s spit-up you’re wearing, Kaila. And I love Disney movies, and believe it or not, the PTA matters to me. And you’re intelligent and articulate and interesting. I love you, too, Kaila.”

“Oh, Dan!” she murmured. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that the kids are so little, I sometimes feel that I need three hands, and yet I adore them, and…and I adore you. You’ve been so good!” she whispered.

“You know what?” he told her, his voice growing harsh again.

“What?”

“I’m going to find out where the hell those panties came from.”

His arms were around her, but despite that, she felt the devastating cold once again.

“I’m really not sure why you’re so worried,” Madison said. She was driving, and Kyle was at her side in the passenger seat, sipping coffee from a paper cup as he reached in the back seat for the Miami Herald she had just bought. “Kyle, this guy is a pattern killer, and if he goes by his past record, he isn’t due to strike again for another several weeks. The middle of the month.”

He was staring at the paper. “Damn it!” he swore.

She nearly jumped. “What?”

His knuckles were white as he clenched the paper.

“Kyle?”

He shook his head, staring at her. “Someone leaked the information that we were searching the last victim’s house for snapshots of the killer.”

“What?”

“Jimmy and I found the place where Holly Tyler, the last victim, got her tattoo. The woman who ran the place said Holly nearly showed her a picture of the man she was going away with, except that she couldn’t find the picture. The cops are searching her home. And it’s in the damned paper.”

“Kyle, maybe it’s not all that bad. I mean, the cops are already searching the house, right? So the killer can’t come in now and ransack it to get his hands on the pictures himself, right?”

“Right,” he said, staring out the front window, still furious. “And in a perfect world they’ll have found the pictures by the time we reach Miami, he’ll have a record, we’ll find his identity by computer and arrest him by this afternoon.”

“It could happen that way.”

“It’s not going to. What will happen is that we’ll wind up tracking down Holly’s third cousin twice removed who lives in rural Arkansas. And both crackpots and helpful friends will start sending in snapshots, and our needle will wind up in a giant haystack.”

“Maybe not. The first scenario is still possible.”

“Sure,” Kyle said. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed headquarters, getting Jimmy on the line. Jimmy assured him that they were looking for the leak, and that there was going to be hell to pay for someone.

Kyle clicked off.

“Kyle?” she said quietly.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking at her.

“Remember what I said before? The killer strikes in the middle of the month. He isn’t due for another three weeks.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you can’t be so worried about me. I’m going home now.”

“And?”

“And Carrie Anne is coming home tonight.”

“And?”

“Kyle, I can’t just…I can’t just sleep with you at home. You’ve got to go back to your hotel tonight.” She felt him watching her as she drove. “Kyle, she’s a little girl, and I don’t know how to explain—”

“So you think Darryl never sees anyone when he has his daughter?”

“I’m the custodial parent,” Madison said. “She’s with me most of the time—”

“So you’re going to spend your life having two-day affairs when your daughter is with her father?”

“You’re being completely unreasonable—”

“I’m just curious. What are you going to do if you ever get serious about a man?”

“If I get really serious, I’ll get married again, and that way I can explain to Carrie Anne that I’m married!” she explained, aggravated. “Kyle, she’s a very little girl. And no matter how well Darryl and I get along, I don’t ever want to give him any ammunition against me if he decides he suddenly wants custody.”

“Darryl wouldn’t do that.”

“You never know.”

She felt him watching her. “Well, you can always marry old Darryl again. That would solve that problem. Or sleep with him now and then—I guess that would be all right.”

She stared at him, incredulous and furious. There was a gas station ahead. She pulled into it.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Stopping. Get out of my car.”

“What?”

“Out!”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m telling you to get out.”

His eyes narrowed. “And I’m refusing. I have to get to work in Miami.”

“Call a cab.”

“Out here? In the middle of the Keys? Call a cab to Miami?”

“Call a cab—call the damned FBI. I don’t care. Get out of my car.”

“Why?”

She stared at him, absolutely incredulous. “Because you’re being hateful and vile and—”

“Scared!” he told her, his voice so deep and husky that she broke off, staring at him. He crushed his empty coffee cup in his hand, his knuckles white around it.

“Kyle…”

His coffee cup fell unnoticed to the floor, and he took her face between his hands, staring into her eyes. “Someone is murdering redheads in the middle of every month, and you’re a psychic—whether you choose to be or not. You see the murder victims. Law enforcement is beginning to get a few leads. Just a few! But maybe enough to spook the killer. I don’t want you to be alone. We don’t have to sleep together, but I won’t leave you alone at night. I can sleep on your couch, and we can explain to Carrie Anne that I’m a cop like Jimmy, and I’m just there to watch out for you both. Any objection?”

Madison tried to shake her head. “No, I guess not. And you can let go of my face now!”

He released her, easing back into his own seat. “May we go?” he asked politely.

They drove again. In dead silence. But fifteen minutes later they passed Theater of the Sea, one of the few facilities where people could swim with dolphins.

“I always wanted to do that,” Madison mused aloud.

“Go to Theatre of the Sea?” he inquired, puzzled.

She laughed. “Swim with dolphins.”

“You dive with sea creatures all the time.”

She shook her head. “I’ve never run into a playful dolphin. Never.”

“If it’s something you want to do, the answer’s easy. Do it.”

“When you want to do something, do you usually just do it?”

“Yup.”

“What was the last thing you wanted to do really badly?” she asked him.

He grinned slowly. “Sleep with you.”

She couldn’t help but smile in return. “Oh,” she said lightly. Then she realized that he was looking at her gravely again.

“Madison.”

“What?”

“What day was your mother murdered?”

She felt a strange, twisting tension inside. “June fifteenth.”

“Right. The middle of the month.”

“It has to be coincidence.”

“Does it?”

Killer should have waited for the night.

But he didn’t dare. And the challenge was actually getting quite intriguing.

The tattoo parlor didn’t open until ten.

It was 9:03. He pulled on his gloves. Thin plastic gloves, taken right out of a dispenser designed for doctors’ offices.

He parked in the grocery store lot down the street and walked the distance to the tattoo parlor. He was wearing a wig and dark glasses.

The front door was locked.

He went around the back and stepped in.

Good old Tammy, with her dyed hair and blowsy face, was at a desk in the back, going over her receipts. She looked up when she saw him.

“We’re not open yet,” she said.

He looked her over with disgust. Ugly old broad. He despised the fact that he had to waste his time and talents on her. But Holly had snapped a picture of him. The cops had searched her house. She probably didn’t know she had it, but the old broad here had his likeness. Holly must have lost it here somewhere.

“Hi, Tammy.”

“Do I know you?”

“I know you. And I know you’re not open, but…well, I’ve seen you before. I had to figure out a way to talk to you…alone.”

“Alone?”

He nodded. “Hey, you know, I just needed to ask a favor,” he said, smiling charmingly as he closed and locked the back door behind himself.

Tammy rose from her chair. “Sure, sugar, talk to me. What can I do for you?”

He manuevered himself behind her, his breath at her ear as he whispered, “Die, lady, just die….”

He was behind her as he slit her throat. The killing was incredibly neat. He didn’t spatter a drop of blood on himself.

She slumped to the floor, and he went to work, literally tearing the place apart.

And finally, wedged into the reclining chair where her customers lay as she worked, he found the Polaroids.

He looked at himself, as taken by Holly Tyler.

He slid the photos into his pocket and glanced at his watch. It had taken him less than fifteen minutes. He needed to get out.

But still…

He hesitated. He looked down at Tammy, and he couldn’t resist. He had a few minutes left….

He looked over her equipment, and then he went to work.

13

By eleven that morning, Madison had made the drive back to her house. She’d wanted to leave Kyle at the police station or at his hotel, so he could pick his rental car, but he insisted on coming back to her house. He came in with her, searching the premises—despite the fact that her part-time housekeeper, Peggy O’Rourke, was in residence. And though he was polite to Peggy—it was hard not to be, because Peggy was round, rosy-cheeked, reassuringly matronly, with a touch of her old-country accent still remaining—he gave Madison the third degree, demanding to know exactly who had keys to the house.

“Peggy does. She comes three days a week.”

“Which days?”

“It depends. We go on a week-to-week basis.”

Kyle ran his fingers through his hair, looking exasperated. “All right, who else?”

“Jassy. My father.”

“Anyone else?”

“Ummm…Kaila.”

“And?”

“Trent…maybe Rafe, I don’t remember if I gave him a key or not.”

“Why the hell did you bother with keys? Why not just ask all of Miami in?” Kyle demanded.

“I don’t always know ahead of time when I’m going to be traveling, and we have a cat, two hamsters and fish. Sometimes I call and have to hope I can catch someone just to feed the pets. And everyone I just told you is a member of my family, except—”

“Except…”

Madison hesitated. “Jimmy Gates might have a set of keys, too.”

“Jimmy Gates?”

“Jimmy is a cop. You know, sometimes he’d meet me here so I could work with him, and I couldn’t leave him just sitting outside if I was running late or—”

“Madison!” he snapped. He was losing his temper, he realized, running his fingers through his hair with such force that it was getting ragged. He shook his head, trying to gain control. “Interesting. I told Jimmy I was coming in here the other morning, and he didn’t even tell me he had a key.”

“Well, you shouldn’t break and enter,” she murmured.

“Madison, you’ve got to get your locks changed.”

“The keys all belong to people I know and trust—”

“Who might accidentally leave them lying around somewhere.”

“Kyle, you’re getting paranoid.”

“It can’t hurt. Is Peggy with you all day?”

“All day.”

“What time is Carrie Anne coming back today?”

“I get her at two o’clock.”

“All right. Come right back here and—”

“Kyle, wait! I take her out on Friday afternoons. We go to the movies, to the ice-cream parlor for dinner, or something. It’s her afternoon.”

“Fine. Call me on the cellular. Let me know where you are.”

“This is ridiculous,” she assured him.

As she spoke, his phone started ringing. He patted his pockets until he found it, flipped it open and spoke his name tersely into the mouthpiece. His eyes were on hers as he listened. She saw disgusted dismay sharpen his green gaze and new tension tighten his features.

“Pick me up at Madison’s,” he said briefly, then clicked off.

“What happened?” Madison asked.

“The tattoo artist who gave us the information about Holly Tyler is dead.”

Madison had to admit to a quickening of uneasy fear within her. “What happened?”

“Throat slashed.”

“Where was she found?”

“In her tattoo parlor.”

“Maybe it was a robbery attempt gone bad. The serial killer hasn’t been leaving his victims where they can be found. Was she a redhead?”

“Umm, more like orange. Neon orange.”

“And it’s not the middle of the month—”

“The killer is a psychopath, but a clever one. He’s able to don and doff his charm and respectability as easily as he might a coat. Usually—whenever we get lucky enough to make an arrest—this kind of killer eventually begins to lose control. He dons and doffs his coat too quickly, cracks somewhere, and becomes visible to his family or friends. But right now, I don’t think our killer is working from need or to satisfy the demands of his damaged psyche. Logic warned him that this woman had proven to be dangerous to him once and told him that she had to be silenced. Either that, or…”

“Or what?”

Kyle shrugged. “The snapshots Holly Tyler told Tammy about weren’t in her house. They were lost somewhere between home and the tattoo parlor, so to find the photos, our killer might have thought he had to get rid of Tammy. So, Madison,” he added, just as a horn began beeping outside, “you let me know where you are all day, you understand? And carry your cell phone with you at all times.”

“People get mad at you when your cell phone rings in the movies!” Madison said.

“Skip the movies, then, or let them get mad.”

“Kyle—”

“Jimmy’s out there. I’ve got to go.”

“But, Kyle, this might not even have been the same killer.”

“It was.”

“But how—”

“Because when the killer was done, he left his signature.”

“His signature?”

“He used Tammy’s own instruments to tattoo a rose on her back. Satisfied?”

Madison nodded, meeting his eyes.

“I’ll be here tonight,” he told her.

She nodded, following him to the door and watching as he met Jimmy on the front walk.

Jimmy began talking entreatingly. Kyle shook his head emphatically.

Jimmy wanted her to come with them, Madison realized.

Kyle wasn’t going to let it happen.

She closed the door softly, leaning against it. She might be able to help at the tattoo parlor or she might not. She didn’t want to go, that much she felt strongly.

Which meant that she should.

“Peggy!” she called to her housekeeper. “I’ve got to go back out.”

Peggy came walking quickly from the kitchen, dusting her hands off on her apron. She was a bundle of energy. When Madison and Carrie Anne were both out of the house or she had a hard time finding anything else to clean, she started baking.

“Shall I get Carrie Anne?”

“That might be a good idea,” Madison agreed. “The keys to my Cherokee are on the buffet there. I know, pick her up for me, then meet me in front of the movie theaters at the Falls. We can meet at three.”

“Sounds like a fine idea, dear. I’ll be there.”

Madison cracked the door open again. The two men were still arguing.

“Will Mr. Montgomery be staying here? Do you need the guest room freshened?”

Madison looked around at Peggy. “I suppose. I should leave him out here on the couch…. No, fix the guest room, I guess. Thank you, Peggy. I guess I’ve got to hurry now—I think I have to break up a fight. I’ll see you at three at the Falls!” she said, and hurried out.

“Madison only sees the victims!” Kyle was insisting angrily.

“But what she sees may be what we’re looking for!” Jimmy pleaded.

“Kyle,” Madison said from behind him.

She watched his shoulders tighten, then he turned around and stared at her.

“Kyle, it’s all right. I’m coming with you.”

“If you insist,” he said coldly, and walked ahead to Jimmy’s car, sliding into the front passenger seat.

Jimmy shrugged unhappily at Madison, then walked with her to his car, opening the rear door and ushering her in. As they drove, Kyle asked Jimmy curt questions, and Jimmy replied in kind.

Tamara Leigh Harding had been found at ten-thirty by one of her employees. The tattoo parlor had been ransacked. There were fingerprints everywhere, but the print people were already ninety-nine-and-nine-tenths-percent certain that the killer had been wearing gloves.

No murder weapon had been found at the scene or in a search of the nearby area. The coroner believed that the killer had been right-handed, seizing Tammy from behind, then slashing his knife from left to right across her throat. The killer wouldn’t necessarily be covered in blood, because the blood would have spattered forward while the killer was protected from the spray by the body of his victim. Tables, chairs, desks and records were all in disarray, yet nothing appeared to have been taken. Tammy’s purse had been dumped out on her desk, but her wallet, with approximately two hundred dollars in it, had been left undisturbed. There was almost five hundred dollars in cash in the register.

Yellow crime tape roped off the sidewalk and the front and back doors to the tattoo parlor. As they walked quickly to the scene, Jimmy flashing his badge to the street cops on duty, Kyle put a hand on the small of Madison’s back to hurry her past the crowd of gawking onlookers.

She felt an uneasily little quiver as they neared the back door. She paused, looking around quickly, wondering if the killer was watching them. She didn’t get a chance to test the feeling, because Kyle was anxious to keep her from being seen. He propelled her the last few feet toward the door.

The victim remained on the floor. Photographers were still taking shots of her from different angles.

She lay in a pool of congealed blood that resembled a big spill of cherry Jell-O. Madison braced herself, staring down at the woman. Her eyes remained open, as did her mouth, as if she had died in complete surprise. Her shirt had been ripped open at the back, and there was the rose.

It was sketched out as if a kid had done it. Stem, petals, flower—and thorns.

A fly buzzed, then settled on the dead woman’s mouth.

Madison was afraid she was going to be sick. She breathed through her mouth.

Kyle stood slightly behind her, arms crossed over his chest. He was watching her, she knew. He didn’t intend to lend any support. He was angry; she shouldn’t be here.

Voices droned around her for a minute while she wavered, Jimmy and Kyle talking to the officers on the scene. Then Jimmy turned to her.

“Madison?”

She hesitated, stared at the victim again and closed her eyes.

She looked up then, toward the back door. It seemed to be covered in shadows. But there was someone there. She heard the dead woman, telling the man that she wasn’t open yet. The man spoke again, his voice husky.

The dead woman smiled. Coquettishly. She was flirting; she was excited….

More excited as the killer came up behind her. Then, briefly, so briefly…she saw the flash of steel.

Tasted…tasted hot blood in her throat. Oh, God, she tasted it even before she knew what it was….

And that was that.

“Madison?”

She realized she’d almost blacked out, almost fallen. Kyle hadn’t caught her, Jimmy had. He steadied her. One of the officers quickly brought her a cup of water. She thanked him.

Kyle wasn’t even in the tattoo parlor anymore, she realized.

“What did you see?” Jimmy asked her.

“Nothing. A man in the shadows. She was flirting with him. She invited him in, even after she had said she was closed.”

“What did he come for? Why did he do this?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t know. He just appeared at her door, she liked him, he came in…and killed her.”

Jimmy nodded gravely, “All right, Madison. I know how rough this is on you. Thanks.”

“It’s all right, Jimmy.”

“Come on.”

He led her back out to the car. Kyle was already seated in the front passenger seat.

“She didn’t actually see the killer,” Jimmy said as he and Madison entered the car and he revved it into gear.

“Of course she didn’t,” Kyle said flatly.

“You never know—”

Kyle swung around, staring at Madison. “You watched the victim die.”

“Yes. But—”

“And now images of that poor woman are going to haunt you, along with the dozens of others you’ve seen. Bit by bit, you’re going to strip away your sanity.”

“I’m all right, Kyle.”

“It’s madness, Madison. You can’t be used this way.”

“Kyle, if I can stop the killings—”

“Madison, you haven’t stopped the killings! All you may have done is endanger yourself! What good is this doing?”

She inhaled deeply. “I know that Tammy didn’t know her killer, or why he had come. And I know that…that she was attracted to him, and that he was able to kill her very quickly.”

Kyle turned around again, staring out the front window.

“You’re not going to see the killer, Madison,” he said harshly.

“Why not?” Madison asked.

“Yeah, why not?” Jimmy demanded.

“Stay out of this, Jimmy!”

“Then tell me, Kyle!” Madison demanded angrily.

“The killer doesn’t want you to see him.”

“How can the killer stop Madison from seeing?” Jimmy asked. “How could he even know about Madison?”

“Oh, easily enough. Madison is a public figure. There have been articles in the paper about her gift. Maybe the killer is even someone close to her. There’s a block in her mind for some reason.”

“But could he really believe he could create a block?”

“Maybe. Maybe he thinks she can only see the victims of a violent crime. Maybe he believes that she just won’t look at him. If you don’t look, you can’t see. Then again…”

“What?” Jimmy asked.

“Then again, maybe somewhere along the damned line, he’s going to get nervous as all hell—and decide that Madison needs to be eliminated. Like that poor woman in there. She could end up with her throat slit!”

He was angry.

And maybe right.

The three of them drove in silence.

Kyle refused to just let her out of the car at the Falls, so he and Jimmy escorted her past the various shops until they reached the movie theaters. Peggy and Carrie Anne were already there. Carrie Anne let out a screech of delight and hurled herself into her mother’s arms. They hugged and laughed, and Carrie Anne assured her mother that her daddy was fine, and they’d had a good time, and Daddy had even remembered to pay for her class pictures on time.

Carrie Anne greeted Jimmy with a hug, and Kyle the same way—just a little more shyly. Carrie Anne wanted Jimmy and Kyle to join them for the movie and dinner, but though they both said they were really sorry, they had to go back to work.

Warning Madison to go straight home after dinner, Jimmy and Kyle left at last.

Madison watched them go, disturbed to realize that Kyle seemed to be growing more and more nervous where she was concerned.

“What a handsome man!” Peggy said approvingly before she left.

“Daddy said Kyle was a good guy,” Carrie Anne told her gravely.

“He did, did he?”

Carrie Anne nodded solemnly. “He said that you always loved Kyle a whole lot.”

“Well, you know, he was my stepbrother,” Madison murmured.

Carrie Anne shrugged. “I think Daddy meant you were always in love with Kyle,” she said, sounding incredibly mature for her age. “But he’s okay with it,” she assured her. “He’s dating Lindy. She was real nice. It’s funny. She kind of looks like you, Mommy. She’s not as pretty, but she has green eyes—and real pretty dark red hair. Just like yours and Aunt Kaila’s. He talked a whole lot to Lindy.”

“Carrie Anne, you shouldn’t have been listening, and I don’t want to hear everything your daddy said to Lindy, okay?”

“Okay.”

Madison shivered. Oh, God, she wasn’t going to start suspecting Darryl of evil doings! she told herself. Damn Kyle! She couldn’t run around being afraid of her own family and friends. There had to be somebody left to trust!

“Let’s go see this movie. And it doesn’t matter what Lindy looks like, as long as she’s good to you and Daddy,” Madison told Kaila.

Because it didn’t matter what the woman looked like.

Did it?

While Kyle was at the morgue, drinking stale coffee in the lounge and awaiting a full report on Tammy, Jassy came to see him.

“Hey, big brother.”

“Hey, sis.”

“Lobster bisque, shrimp étouffée, fried potatoes, green salad with a vinaigrette dressing.”

He arched a brow. “Jassy, I’m not hungry.”

“Holly Tyler’s last meal. Here’s a copy of the lab report. We’ve already got guys from Dade and Monroe checking out restaurants from Miami to Key West.”

“Tell Jimmy to get them to concentrate south of Florida City. We already know what time Holly got her tattoo. Dinner probably followed, and it looks like they were heading south.”

“You sure?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Your sister ‘saw’ them driving south, past Lake Surprise. Yeah, I’m sure.”

“I’ll tell Jimmy.”

There wasn’t much else the coroner could tell them about Tammy’s death that they didn’t already know. She’d trusted her killer until she swallowed her own blood. She hadn’t fought, hadn’t protested, she had just died. There wasn’t a smidgen of anything but ink beneath her fingernails. A number of the fingerprints they had been able to lift from her desk, the doorway and a few other places matched up to some guys with lengthy criminal records, and Kyle knew they would have to check them all out. He was certain, though, that the ex-cons had come for tattoos. The killer’s fingerprints wouldn’t be on record anywhere.

He spent part of the late afternoon and early evening interviewing Tammy’s employees and friends and two ex-lovers. They all seemed to check out.

At six he called his office in Virginia, hoping that Ricky Haines would have something to tell him, either on Harry Nore’s whereabouts, or on any similar crimes elsewhere across the country. Ricky sounded tired and defeated. “The only thing I found that might have some relation is a case that occurred in West Palm Beach about two years back.”

“Tell me.”

“There’s not much there, because no one ever prosecuted. A young female cop tried to get some of the women involved to do something, but you know how rape cases go. It’s hard to get the victims to testify against their attackers, because no matter how we try to bring things into the twentieth century, it’s almost impossible to keep the victims from being victimized all over again.”

“I know. Tell me about this case. Maybe I can go see this policewoman.”

“Well, it’s a tough one. The policewoman is a lady named Marge Krell. A friend of hers dragged her out to see another friend who had been roughed up. She’d been charmed into going out with a guy, then decided that it was going faster than she wanted. They wound up at a hotel, and she said no, and the next thing, he’s wielding a knife at her. He doesn’t cut her, but he threatens her, ties her up, and rapes her. The girl doesn’t do anything, because she did go to the hotel with him. Plus she’s married. She’s been separated, but now she’s got a chance to get back together with her husband, and she doesn’t want the husband to know what happened. The guy supposedly works as a tennis pro at a Palm Beach club, but when the woman calls the club, he doesn’t exist. Off the record, the policewoman finds out about a few other women he charmed and then raped, but the ladies were all afraid to testify, since they had gone with him.”