“Excellent,” Olivia said, scanning the list. “This will save us some time.”
“Good. I have to go now. I have class at one. Don’t tell Noah I was here. I’m supposed to travel with an escort but that’s a pain in the ass.”
“Web’s worried about this guy.” Olivia swung her boots to the floor in a movement that was both athletic and graceful. “I haven’t had lunch yet. I’ll follow behind you.”
Wednesday, February 24, 1:05 p.m.
“Thanks for seeing us, Mrs. Millhouse,” Noah said.
Geraldine Millhouse nodded tightly. “I always help the police,” she said.
Jack had lost the toss on this one and he cleared his throat to begin. “Ma’am, we’re here to talk to you about your daughter Amy’s death.”
“My daughter committed suicide. So what?”
“We have some follow-up questions,” Jack said. “Our records show she hanged herself, but that when the police arrived, she’d been cut down. Did you do this?”
For a moment they thought she’d say no, but she nodded, stiffly. “Yes.” She drew a jerky breath. “I couldn’t stand…” Her voice broke. “I couldn’t stand to see her like that.”
“Ma’am, we need to know exactly how you found her,” Jack said. “It’s important.”
“I found her hanging in her room,” she said. “I cut her down and put her on her bed.”
“Did you change her clothes, Mrs. Millhouse?” Jack asked and she flinched.
“No.” She stood, visibly trembling. “Go away, please.”
Both Noah and Jack stayed where they were.
“Mrs. Millhouse, we need to know,” Jack repeated. “We think there’s a chance your daughter didn’t commit suicide. That perhaps she was murdered.”
Mrs. Millhouse sank into her chair, the color drained from her face. “What?”
“Have you read the paper in the last few days, ma’am?” Noah asked gently.
“No. My eyes aren’t so good.”
Neither was her back or her hands. Noah could see the signs of arthritis. There was no way this woman had cut her daughter down, at least not by herself.
“Several women have been killed recently,” Jack said, “their deaths staged to look like a suicide. Please be truthful with us. How did you find your daughter? We need to know how the room looked, how she looked, everything you can recall.”
Mrs. Millhouse covered her face with her hands, a strangled sob escaping her throat as she rocked pitifully. “She was hanging, dressed like a whore. I couldn’t stand it.”
“Did you call someone?” Jack asked, still gently.
“My son, Larry. He came and took care of me. He took care of everything.”
“We need to talk to Larry, ma’am,” Jack said softly. “Where is he now?”
“At work. He works for 3M. He’s a chemist.”
Noah controlled the urge to snap his head up-3M made glue. A quick glance told him Jack had come to the same conclusion.
Jack’s smile was both sad and encouraging. “Ma’am, it would be a huge help if you could come down to the station and tell us everything you remember about Amy’s death. We’ll bring you home when we’re finished. Would you come with us?”
Shaken, she nodded. “I’ll get my coat after I call my son.”
Noah and Jack stood when she did. “Let me help you with your coat,” Noah said softly. “If you give me his number, I can call your son for you.”
Wednesday, February 24, 1:05 p.m.
Eve slid into one of the empty chairs at the back of the class, a few minutes late. It was Donner’s once-weekly ethics seminar and she’d been dreading it all morning. Noah said Donner had apologized, but still…
Luckily, Donner wasn’t here yet. He’d been late a lot recently, and sometimes when he showed up he was angry for no apparent reason. It was a personality change that had the older grad students worried. Even two years ago, Donner had been considered a mentor to most and a friend to some. Not anymore. And certainly not to me.
Her cell phone buzzed. It was Olivia. “I can’t talk now,” Eve whispered. “I’m in class.”
“I’m out in front of your building. We need you down at the station,” Olivia said tautly.
Eve’s gut twisted. “Noah?”
“No, Looey. You know, Kurt Buckland. He’s missing. We need to walk through the events with you. Now. I’ll either drive you in or drive behind you.”
Eve had already shouldered her computer bag. “On my way.”
Wednesday, February 24, 2:30 p.m.
He was feeling downright lucky for the second time in twenty-four hours. Had he lingered another minute over Rachel and the crime scene last night, he would have been caught. Now, if he’d been another minute later, he would have missed Eve.
He’d gone to her apartment hoping to find her home alone, planning to force her into his SUV and bring her back to his pit. Instead, he’d pulled onto her street just as her car was pulling away. He followed, wondering if she’d seen his text, if she’d been afraid.
He so hoped she was afraid, or at the very least angry. Angry people weren’t careful, weren’t aware. It would be easier to force her off the road and into his SUV.
She’d be discovered missing soon enough. Her friends within the police department would make it their quest to find her killer. But they didn’t have a clue. Because he’d given them none.
Wednesday, February 24, 3:00 p.m.
Jack pulled up behind Noah’s car, then joined him on the sidewalk in front of the Girards’ house. “You get your new phone?” Noah asked.
Jack held up a shiny new cell phone in response. “But I didn’t get lunch.”
“I went by the Deli,” Noah said, “hoping reporter-boy would come back.”
“Did he?”
“No, but I did get you an extra sandwich in case you didn’t have time to eat.”
Jack met his eyes for the first time all day. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’m not looking forward to this,” he said, turning his gaze to Axel Girard’s front door.
“Me either, but we need to know how Girard ties, because he can’t have killed Rachel Ward last night. I think Girard will be more disposed to talk to us than his wife.”
“Why would you think that?” Jack asked, eyes narrowed.
“I went to see him last night. I felt I owed him some explanation after yanking him from his bed. I told him his car was seen again, pressed him to think of somebody who’d set him up. I should have told you earlier, but other things kept coming up.”
Jack looked angry, but reined it in. “I guess I should thank you for telling me now.”
Noah sighed. “Jack.”
“Forget it. We’ve only got an hour before Geraldine Millhouse’s son’s plane gets in.”
Millhouse’s boss had reluctantly provided his travel itinerary. Luckily Larry Millhouse was at thirty thousand feet at the moment, unable to get cell phone calls or escape.
As predicted, Joan Girard was not happy to see them. “Go away,” she said, very politely, and shut the door in their faces.
Noah knocked again. “Mrs. Girard, please tell your husband we’re here.”
“No!” The answer came through the closed door. “Go away.”
Jack started to leave, but Noah shook his head. “Axel Girard will come to the door.”
Sure enough, the door opened about a minute later. Axel Girard’s face was weary and haggard. “Come in,” he said quietly.
Mrs. Girard was standing to one side, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She said nothing, but her eyes were furious. “Let’s sit in the living room,” Axel said.
“Did you tell your wife what we talked about last night?” Noah said when they’d all sat down. “About the newest victim?”
Axel nodded. “I did.”
“My husband is not guilty,” Joan hissed. “But you dragged him off in the night. To jail. And our children had to see it.”
“I’m sorry your kids had to see it,” Noah said calmly, “but we have five dead women and so far, no one in custody. We can trace your husband’s vehicles to some element of two of the crimes. Now, I don’t think he’s guilty, ma’am, but there is an undeniable connection. If you know anything, you have to help us, or we could have another victim.”