Chapter! 18
AN HOUR LATER, I got everyone together on the Jenks case, hopefully for the last time. There had been a few alleged sightings of Nicholas Jenks -in Tiburon down by the marina, and south of Market, huddled around a gathering of homeless men. Both of them proved false. He had eluded us, and the longer he remained free, the greater the speculation. We got together in a vacant interrogation room that Sex Crimes sometimes used. Claire smuggled Cindy up from the lobby, then we rang down Jill. "I see we've loosened the requirements," Jill commented, when she came in and saw Chris. Raleigh looked surprised, too. "Don't mind meI'm just the token male." "You remember Claire, and Jill Bernhardt from the district attorney's office," I said. "Cindy you may recall from Napa. The team." Slowly, Chris looked from one face to another until he settled on me. "You've been working on this independently of the task force?" "Don't ask," said Jill, plunking herself down in a wooden chair. "Just listen." In the cramped, narrow room, all eyes turned to me. I looked at Claire. "You want to begin?" She nodded, scanned the group as if she were presenting at a medical conference. "On Lindsay's urging, I spent all last night going through the three case files; I was looking for anything that would implicate Joanna. At first, nothing. Other than coming to the same conclusion I had before- that from the angle of the first victims' wounds, the killer was right-handed. Jenks is left-handed. But it was clear that it wouldn't stick. "Then something struck me that I had never noticed before. At both the first and third crime scenes there were traces of urine. Individually, I guess neither the medical examiner in Cleveland nor I ever thought much of it. But as I thought through the crimes scenes in my head, the locations of these deposits didn't make any sense. Early this morning, very early, I rushed down here and performed some tests." There was barely a breath in the room. "The urine we found at the Grand Hyatt demonstrated large deposits of yeast, as well as atypically large counts of red blood cells. Red blood cells in that amount appear in the urine during menstruation. Coupled with the yeast, there's no doubt in my mind that the urine was a woman's. A woman killed David Brandt, and I have no doubt we'll find a woman was in the stall in Cleveland, too." Jill blinked, dumbfounded. Cindy's bright red lips parted in an incredulous half smile. Raleigh just shook his head. "Jenks didn't do it," I said. "Joanna must have. He abused her, then he dumped her for his new wife, Chessy, just as he was about to strike it rich. Joanna tried to sue him twice, unsuccessfully. Ended up with a settlement many times smaller than she would have gotten a year later. She watched him gain celebrity and wealth, and a new, seemingly happy, life." Chris, looked amazed. "You really believe a woman could physically put this off? The first victims were stabbed, the second were dragged twenty, thirty yards to where they were dumped;" i "You haven't seen hern I believe "She knew how to set Jenks up. She knew his tastes, investments, and had access to his possessions. She even worked at Saks." Cwuiy chipped in, "She was one of the few people who would've been aware of Afwtx5oBrid mait" I nodded toward Jill.*Steha the motive, and I'm damaed sure she had tbedestire.?" A really heavy silence filled the room:, t "So Now do you want to play this?" Chris finally said. "Half the force is lookij for Jenks." I'll want to inform Mercer, try to get Jenks brought in without sjwraeone killing him. Then I want to go ahead and pierce Joannas cover. Phone calls, owfat cards. If she was in Cleveknd, something will tie he? tbete. I think you'd agree now," I said to Jill, "we have enough to authorize a search." Jill nodded at first hesitantly, thea with more resolve. "It's just impossible to believe that after all this, we now have to defend that bastard." Suddenly, there was a loud rap on the glass window of the door. John Keresty, an inspector on the task force, broke in onus. "It's Jenks… He's just been sighted. He's up in Pacific Heights."
Chapter 119
RALEIGH AND I LEAPED UP, almost as one, racing back to the command center. It appeared Jenks had been seen in the lobby of a small hotel called the El Drisco. A bellboy spotted him. Free of his cuffs. Now he was on the streets, somewhere up in Pacific Heights. Why there? My mind ratcheted through the possibilities. Then it became clear. Greg Marks lived up there. I radioed Paul Chin, who was still sitting surveillance on the agent's brownstone. "Paul, be on the alert," I told him. "Jenks may be headed your way. He was seen in Pacific Heights." There was a beep on my cell phone. It was Jacobi. Everything was happening at once. "Boxer, there's an All Available Units on Jenks up in the Heights about a mile from here. I'm headed up there."
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"Warren, don't leave," I shouted into the receiver. I still believed Joanna was the murderer. I couldn't leave her unmonitored- especially with Jenks on the loose. "Stay at your post." "This takes precedence," Jacobi argued. "Besides, nothing's happening here. I'll call a radio car to relieve." "Jacobi," I shouted, but he had already signed off and was on his way to the Heights. I turned to Chris. "Warren's left Joanna's." Suddenly, Karen, our civilian clerical, shouted for me. "Lindsay, call for you on one." "We're headed out," I hollered back to her. I had strapped on my gun, grabbed the keys to my car. "Who is it?" "Says you'd want to talk to him about the Jenks case," Karen said. "Says his name is Phillip Campbell."
Chapter 120
I FROZE, FIXED ON RALEIGH, and lunged back toward my desk. I signaled Karen to put it through. At the same time, I hissed under my breath to Raleigh, "Start a trace." I waited in a trance; seconds could mean the difference. The breath was tightening in my chest. Then I picked up. "You know who this is," Nicholas Jenks's arrogant voice declared. "I know who it is. Where are you?" "Not a chance, Inspector. I only called to let you know, whatever happens, I didn't kill any of them. I'm not a murderer." "I know that," I told him. He seemed surprised. "You know…?" I couldn't let Jenks know who it was. Not with him on the loose. "I promise, we can prove it wasn't you. Tell me where you are." "Hey, guess what? I don't believe you," Jenks declared. "Besides, it's too late. I told you I'd take this into my own hands. I'm going to solve these murders for you." Jenks could hang up any moment and we'd lose him. This was my only chance. "Jenks, I'll meet you. Anywhere you want." "Why would I want to meet you? I've seen enough of you to last a lifetime." "Because I know who did it," I told him. What he said next jolted me. "So do I." And then he hung up.
Chapter 121
SIXTH… MARKET… TAYLOR… the streets shot by, the top hat on the roof of Chris Raleigh's car flashing wildly. EHis. Hyde. We shot up Larkin, climbing through the lights, then rocked over the bumps as we careened over Nob Hill. In a matter of minutes, we arrived in Russian Hill. Joanna lived on the top floor of a town house on the corner of Filbert and Hyde. We were no longer waiting to flush her out. Jenks was loose; he had probably homed in on her. Now it was a matter of preventing more killing. We slowed, cut the lights as we wove through the quiet, hilly streets. The house had been unguarded for maybe fifteen minutes. I didn't know if Joanna was up there. Or where the hell Jenks was. Chris pulled to the curb. We checked our guns and decided how to proceed. Then I saw a sight that tore the breath from my lungs. Chris saw it, too. "Christ, he's here." From a narrow alley two houses away, a man in a beard and baggy sport coat emerged. He looked both ways as he hit the street, then he made his way down the block. It was Jenks. Raleigh pulled out his gun and reached for the door. I looked closer in disbelief, grabbed onto him. "Wait. Look again, Chris." We both gaped in amazement. He had the same look: the short reddish-gray hair, the same unmistakable beard. But it wasn't Jenks. The figure was thinner, fairer; the hair was slicked back, hiding a longer length, not cut short. I could see that much. It was a woman. "That's Joanna," I said. "Where's Jenks?" Chris grunted. "This just keeps getting creepier." We watched the figure slink down the block as a frenzy of possibilities ran through my mind. This was creepy. "I'll follow her," said Chris. "You go upstairs. Make sure it's her, Lindsay. I'll radio for support. Go on, Lindsay. Go." The next moment, I was out of the car, crossing the street toward Joanna's apartment. Chris eased the Taurus down the block. I pushed random buttons until a woman's angry voice replied. I identified myself, and a gray-haired woman emerged from the apartment next to the front door. She announced that she was the landlady. I badged her, got her to locate a key pronto. Then I told her to get back in her apartment. I had my gun out, took off the safety. A film of hot sweat was building up on my face and neck. I reached Joanna's apartment on the third floor. My heart was pounding. Careful, Lindsay, a voice inside me said, then came a cautioning chill. Could Nicholas Jenks be here? I had certainly entered enough hostile environments during my police career. None worse than this. I inserted the key, turned, and when the lock caught, pushed the door with my foot. It swung open… revealing the bright, stylishly decorated apartment of Joanna Wade. "Anyone here?" I shouted. No one answered. There was no one in the living room. Same for the dining room, kitchen. A coffee mug in the sink. The Chronicle out and folded to the Datebook section. No sign that I was in the home of a psycho. That bothered me. I moved on. Magazines- Food and Wine, San Francisco- on the coffee table. A few yoga posture books. In the bedroom, the bed, unmade. The entire place had a relaxed, unforbidding feel. Joanna Wade lived like any ordinary woman. She read, had coffee in her kitchen, taught exercise, paid her bills. Killers were preoccupied with their victims. This didn't make sense. I turned into the master bath. "Oh, damn it!" The case had made a last, irrevocable turn. On the floor, in her workout tights, was Joanna Wade. She was leaned against the tub looking at me, but not really -actually, she was still looking at her killer. Her eyes were wide and terrified. He had used a knife. Jenfes? If not him, then who? "Oh, Christ," I gasped. My head was spinning and it hurt. I hurried over to her, but there was nothing I could do. Everything had twisted again. I knelt over the dead woman as a final, shuddering thought filled my mind: If it wasn't Joanna, who was Chris following?