“He buried her alive,” Noah said. “Her worst fear.”
Ian stared. “Is that what the snake was all about? And the water in Martha’s lungs, too? He’s torturing them with their worst fears? My God, this guy is a real prince.”
“And we just let him go,” Jack said without emotion.
Ian’s eyes grew wider. “You let him go?”
Noah shook his head. “No, we did not. Jack, we need to talk.”
“Yeah, we do. But this first. Was there dirt in her lungs, Ian?”
Ian hesitated. “Yes.”
Noah found himself hesitating as well. “Shouldn’t that have been caught in the autopsy the first time around?”
“Yes, it should have been. Janice missed it. I don’t know why, but she missed it.”
“If she’d found it,” Jack said, “we might have already been looking for a killer.”
Ian nodded, pain in his eyes. “I know. This is going to kill her. She’s a thorough ME. Maybe she was in a hurry, thinking it was a suicide. Maybe it was simple error. There wasn’t that much dirt, but she shouldn’t have missed it. I’ve informed my hierarchy and we’ll have an internal investigation. In the meantime, we have to live with the fact that we could have prevented two more deaths.”
“What was the official cause of death, Ian?” Noah asked. “Suffocation?”
“No, strangulation. I think she could breathe while buried. There are abrasions along her gumline.” He pointed to the photos of Samantha’s exposed teeth.
Noah pictured the options. “Snorkel?” he asked and Ian nodded.
“Probably. I think he took her out, cleaned her up, and hung her.”
“If she could breathe, how did the dirt get in her lungs?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know,” Ian said wearily. “Maybe he put dirt down the snorkel on purpose, maybe it was an accident.”
Noah didn’t want to think about it, either way. “Anything else?”
“No.” Ian began taking the photos down from the board. “I think that’s enough.”
Noah agreed. “We’ll be in touch. Thanks.” He waited until he and Jack were in the hall. “Come on. I’ll buy you a cup of decent coffee. We need to clear some things up.”
Jack nodded, still subdued. “All right.”
Tuesday, February 23, 9:30 p.m.
“Hello there, Eve.” Kurt Buckland slid onto a bar stool with a smug smile.
Eve gritted her teeth. She was getting damn sick and tired of visitors to the bar. “Mr. Buckland. Still stalking me, I see.”
“Now, Eve. I’m simply sitting here at the bar, waiting for service.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time.” She wanted to throw him out, but Sal was their muscle, and after the “fucking pool” conversation he’d gone AWOL.
“That was an interesting show you put on at the Deli this morning,” Buckland said.
She shrugged. “Believe what you want.”
“It must have been hard to keep that secret from your best friend. I thought it quite interesting that Callie so adamantly insisted you weren’t seeing anyone.”
Eve started wiping down the bar, ignoring him as best she could. She should have warned Callie, but honestly the thought hadn’t entered her mind. I’ve been a bit busy.
He slid a manila envelope across the bar. “Here are some pictures you should see.”
“No, thank you. I’ve already seen your pictures once today.”
“No, these are better. You’ll see your detective isn’t such a good guy after all.”
Shaking her head, she turned away. “I’m not playing your game, Buckland. Leave.”
He reached over the bar and grabbed her arm, his grip punishing. “I said, look.”
Fighting the instant panic that swelled within her, Eve calmly lifted her eyes to his and saw the crazed light of fury. “You are not a smart man, Kurt. This bar is filled with cops. I scream, and they drag you away in handcuffs. Take your hand off me. Now.”
His eyes flickered, as if he’d momentarily forgotten where he was. He let her go, lowering himself back to his stool. “I apologize,” he said stiffly.
Her pulse was still racing, but she kept her voice even. “I don’t accept. Please go.”
“Eve?” Regular Jeff Betz stepped up behind Buckland, hulking over him.
“I’m fine, Officer Betz. Mr. Buckland was just leaving.” She shoved the envelope over the bar and into Buckland’s hands. “Take this with you. I don’t want it.”
Buckland slid off the stool, the fire in his eyes now banked. “I’ll be in touch.”
When he was gone, she massaged her arm. It hurt worse than she wanted to let on.
“You’re not fine,” Jeff said. “You should get that looked at.”
Eve looked up at him, her smile wan. “I’ve had a lot worse.”
Jeff frowned, troubled. “Doesn’t make it okay. You call if he bothers you again. I’m off to pick up my wife. Have Sal walk you to your car when you leave, Eve.”
“I’ve got a ride, but tomorrow I will. Don’t worry. I don’t take chances.” Not anymore.
Tuesday, February 23, 9:30 p.m.
“Why didn’t you just tell me about Eve’s information?” Jack asked wearily.
They’d met at the Deli, but had taken their coffee and conversation back to the privacy of Noah’s car. “Because you haven’t been exactly approachable today.”
“I guess I deserve that. So what if it’s not Girard? What do we do next?”
“Well, right now Abbott’s moonlighting as a woman in Shadow-land’s bar, trying to attract this guy. Abbott is scarily convincing and, I think, having too much fun.”
Jack’s lips twitched. “Wish I’d stayed around to see that.”
Some of the tension dissipated. “If Girard is our guy, we’ve got surveillance tonight. Tomorrow we ask him to alibi the times Eve found the avatar files had been changed.”
“But even if he was home, or at work, or anywhere people can verify his presence, he still could have gone online and made the changes. He could have just pretended to check his email. Or he could have taken a bathroom break and taken his laptop to the john. If his home or office has wireless Internet, he didn’t even have to be at his desk.”
“But if he doesn’t alibi, we get a warrant for his computer and check online activities.”
Jack nodded. “Makes sense. If he does alibi, we’ll have to find something else to tie him to one of the crime scenes or the crimes in general.”
Bathroom break. Jeremy Lyons. Noah closed his eyes. His tired brain was making delayed, haphazard connections. In the heat of tracking Girard, they’d lost sight of the most obvious connection. “Like Eve’s list. Girard had to have had access to it. If he didn’t, we have to comb through the people that did. Like Jeremy Lyons, Eve’s advisor’s secretary. Who knows things like her worst fear.”
“Shit. Did you get any of those background checks back?”
“They weren’t on my desk. I’ll check tomorrow. Right now, I need to sleep.”
“You want me to drive you?” Jack asked, his tone kinder than it had been all day.
“No. I’ll be okay. But thanks.”
“Then I’m going home.” Opening the door, Jack hesitated. “Thanks for the coffee.”
But Jack didn’t move and Noah frowned. “Jack? Go home. Katie will be waiting.”
Jack’s lips twisted and when he spoke, it was with self-contempt. “If I’m lucky. She’s only there because I’m on the cover of a goddamn magazine. And everybody knows it.” He turned his head to look Noah in the eye. “Including you.”
It was true. Katie had latched on to Jack the day after the story had hit the stands, just another woman in what had been a long line over the years. Noah remembered Eve’s description of Jack. Alone in a crowded room. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I will apologize to Eve. But I didn’t know how else to apologize to you.”