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“Well, looks like you kids have it under control. See you tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and left them staring at his back. The gathered media followed his progress to his car as if controlled by one puppet master.
“What on earth was that about?” Dani fumed. “Mr. High-and-Mighty thinks we can’t handle the story?”
“The theater is not on his way home,” Logan said.
THREE
Investigator Caleb Jamison examined the scene at the plush box for any lingering threads of evidence the crime scene technicians missed. Soon the techs would cart the marked bags of evidence to headquarters for processing.
He sighed in frustration. This murder had the marks of careful premeditation. Few clues were left behind. To have a great shot at clearing the case, he needed a suspect within the first twenty-four hours. With each successive hour, the chance of resolving the case plummeted.
Caleb tucked his chin toward his chest and took a deep breath. Given a case of this visibility, the chief might assign a more experienced investigator in the morning. Any mistakes Caleb made would be blamed on his inexperience.
“I think we’re done, Jamison. Here’s the lady’s purse.” Nate Winslow, one of the techs, held out the handbag for him to take. “You can take a quick look before we head to the lab.”
Caleb put on a pair of gloves. He took the bag and ran his fingers over the outside of the purse before unzipping it. He looked inside and pulled the contents out one by one. “Nothing unusual. Two twenties, a tube of orange lipstick, credit card and ID.”
He jotted down the information from her driver’s license in his notebook. Renee Thomas, Wainwright Drive, Lincoln.
Caleb swept his fingers in the corners of the small handbag. Nothing lay hidden in its inner folds. After returning the contents to the purse, he handed it to the technician.
“Let me know if anything turns up.”
“Sure thing. See you back at the station.”
He slid his notebook into his inside jacket pocket. Why would anyone risk killing someone in a very public place like this? The killer either felt very confident or acted in the passion of a moment.
Whoever killed Ms. Thomas believed he wouldn’t be caught.
Dani had noticed he didn’t have a ring. Her blush had kept him from admitting he’d noticed the same about her. Her beauty had deepened since that summer when she was sixteen. She wore her hair in a layered cut and looked good. Real good. But she had an edge that hadn’t existed then. A feistiness that dared him to get near. Someday he’d tell her how much he regretted the way he’d acted. She’d deserved better, but he’d been so ashamed, he couldn’t face her again. In the years since, no one had ever measured up to her.
He shook his head and retrieved his notebook. Time to focus on the task. Interviews indicated that none of the theater-goers who’d contaminated the crime scene had seen or heard anything. The murderer could have been a ghost for all the clues retrieved from the scene. He hoped the crime scene technicians came up with something or the case would be nothing but dead ends.
Heavy footsteps reverberated off the marble floor. Caleb turned to see Officers Jack Denimore and Todd Westmont stride toward him. The two were the Lincoln Police Department’s odd couple. Denimore always saw an unsolvable crime, while Westmont’s natural optimism was an unusual feature in an investigator. The police had let most of the public leave after the manager announced there would be no second act. Few had volunteered to talk, and they’d retained only those who had entered the box.
“Jamison, I don’t think you’ll like what we learned.” Denimore’s haggard expression matched his message. The man looked older than his forty-two years. Caleb’s gut tightened.
“He meant he knows you won’t like it.” Westmont grinned at Denimore, and then turned to Caleb. “Nobody saw nothing. Nobody heard nothing. The interviews were a bust.”
Caleb rubbed his left temple, a vain attempt to slow the pounding that echoed his heartbeat. “Someone saw something. This murder did not happen in a vacuum. More than two thousand people attended the show.”
“True, but it happened in a packed theater with everybody focused on the kitty cats onstage. Who’s gonna watch the boxes?”
“And if anyone saw anything, they aren’t talking.” Denimore’s scowl deepened, which made his long face appear longer.
Caleb knew Westmont had a point. Most in the audience were honest bystanders who had seen nothing. As much as he hated it that was the reality. Caleb promised himself his first solo case would not become a cold file stuffed in some dank storage room. Each represented a family that waited endlessly for closure. Police might not have found the hit-and-run driver who killed his father, but he’d found a career. The same pain would not linger for this victim’s family.
“We know the basic information about her. Chase it down. Learn who she came to the theater with, and we’ll find a witness or her killer.” He hoped the trail led somewhere productive.
“And maybe the tooth fairy will put a dollar under my pillow tonight.”
“Come on, Denimore. You don’t want to lose more of your baby teeth. We’ll do this the old-fashioned way and wear out some shoe leather.” Westmont looked at Caleb and shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll chase down this lady at the station while we wait for forensics.”
As the three officers strode out the main doors of the theater, Denimore slowed his long stride at the sight of media vans collected along the edge of the parking lot. Grabbing Caleb by the collar, he hissed, “There’s your star witness.”
Caleb followed Denimore’s outstretched arm. Moonlight reflected off Dani’s blond hair as she leaned against a Jeep. She looked tired but gorgeous.
Westmont pointed him toward the cameras. “Ready to make a statement?”
With a tight shake of his head, Caleb scanned the assembled reporters, cameras and lights. He saw only piranhas who’d devour him alive. “Nobody tells you talking to the media is part of being an investigator.”
“That’s why you get paid the big bucks.”
Caleb grimaced. It was after ten-thirty, and he’d been up since 6:00 a.m. working another case. Fatigue washed over him. His mind slogged through quicksand as he considered what to say. He rolled his neck in an attempt to loosen the muscles and his growing headache. “Might as well get this over with.”
He stepped off the wide veranda and onto the stairs. The reporters shoved a forest of microphones in his face. Trapped, he planted his body.
“Tonight is too early in the investigation to comment. Expect a report on the status sometime tomorrow.” After a quick glance at his watch, he locked on Dani. “That’s all. Thank you.”
Westmont and Denimore stepped in front of him and pushed a path through the small crowd of cameras.
“Come on. Give us something we can use.” The assembled media’s audible groan followed him down the steps.
“You didn’t win any friends in the media with that long-winded speech.”
“That’s not my job, Denimore. All we know is a young woman named Renee Thomas was killed, probably strangled. We have to notify her relatives before we release details. See you back at the station.” Caleb got into his vehicle and sank into the seat. An edge of exhaustion crept over his body and into his mind.
Who was Renee Thomas? If he could answer that question, he’d be able to trace back to who killed her. He doubted she’d attended the theater alone, and Dani seemed to think she’d been waiting for her date. Figure out who’d accompanied Ms. Thomas and he’d have one suspect.
Dani stifled a yawn as she watched Logan pack the camera. The night had drained her more than the mini-marathon she’d completed a year earlier. She peeked in the window and noticed Aunt Jayne’s mouth open in sleep.
“Ready?” Logan’s voice penetrated her scattered thoughts.
“Yeah. Let’s get moving, so today can end. Since Andy wants a report for the morning show, I’ll head to the station after I get Aunt Jayne home.” She scanned the parking lot.
“Your aunt’s asleep. Let me give you a ride. Where are you parked?”
Dani rummaged through her handbag for the parking ticket and handed it to him.
“It’ll only take a minute to get there. Hop on in.”
She pulled herself into the Jeep and tossed her hair over her shoulder. Logan glanced at Tricia in the rearview mirror and smiled. Silence filled the van. Dani watched stores flash by until the parking garage came into view. “Thanks for the lift. Nice to see you again, Tricia.”
Logan slid the vehicle into park and waited while she climbed out.
“Be right back.” She looked around the outside of the garage for the stairwell on the first floor of the garage. Once she found the right floor, she couldn’t miss her bright red Mustang. Arrows pointed to a stairwell across the structure but no signs indicated an elevator. She groaned at the thought of the climb as her feet pinched in the too-tight shoes. Dani scrunched her nose against the odor of trash and too many unwashed bodies. One foot in front of the other, stair after stair. She stopped at the second floor to look for her car, the first words of her package playing in her mind. Tonight, a murder ruined intermission at the Lied Center for one patron. At this time, police have no suspects.
Reaching the third-floor stairwell, she walked through the door. Unbidden, her thoughts returned to the body in the box. Had the killer selected the victim at random? Could he have entered her own box and strangled her instead? Dani shuddered at the thought. Her breath came in gasps as she sucked in the stale air. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She scanned the dim floor, looked over her shoulder for the gaze she felt. Nothing. She tried to laugh at her reaction but couldn’t find her voice.
“My imagination is running away with me.” Shadows shimmied across the empty garage’s floors and walls. She quickened her pace.
There. Dani flew to her car. She pulled open her purse. Dug for keys. She yanked them out. Punched the unlock button. She opened the door. Slid behind the wheel.
Inside the locked car, Dani leaned against the steering wheel and inhaled deeply. Closing her eyes, she put the key in the ignition and started the engine. She turned onto the second floor of the garage, and her headlights slid across a man standing by the stairwell door. Her heart skipped. She looked again. Was that the usher from the theater? Involuntarily she stepped on the brake. Watched him drop a cigarette on the pavement and then wipe a handkerchief across his forehead. Looking at her, he stepped on the butt and twisted it into the concrete. His gaze pierced her. Then he started toward her, hands fisted at his sides. She shook herself. Stepped on the gas. His face twisted into an angry scowl. He hit the hood of her car as she drove past.
The tires squealed as she raced around the corner and down the ramp. Why wait for her and then rush her car? Why hit it? Her mind raced to create an explanation.
She reached the exit kiosk and pulled behind Logan. Aunt Jayne eased into the passenger seat of the Mustang. Dani glanced in the rearview mirror but didn’t see the usher. Her heart rate calmed, and Dani headed toward Peaceful Estates. Nearly an hour later she pulled into the station parking lot.
She wobbled into the newsroom on the narrow spikes of her sling-back shoes and wished for her more comfortable pumps.
Catcalls laced the air as she headed toward her cubicle. She waved at Mark and Jon, the overnight production assistants. “Come on, y’all. You should have seen me before I left if you think this looks good.”
Dani joined Logan at his editing bay at the back of the cavernous room. She plopped onto a stool and looked at the clock hanging on the wall. It was almost midnight. “Let’s get this story together so we can get some sleep before we start all over again.”
Logan prepared the deck, and Dani walked into an adjoining sound booth. Her voice sounded as high-pitched to her ear as the first shocking time she’d taped a package. Stepping to the microphone, she ran a sound check. When Logan gave her the thumbs-up, she took a deep breath and voiced the story. This was what she loved about journalism. The pressure to perform. To tell a story without full information. Ad-libbing and making it sound polished. Tomorrow the research would kick in, but for now she’d finished her job.
Dani stepped out of the booth and looked at Logan. “Do you want me to pick the video?”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Who’s shot video in more countries than you’ve visited?”
“Well, I’ve never visited Yemen, but you’ve got a point. See you in the morning.” Dani limped toward the door and her car.
“I’ll work from home and come in around 11:00 a.m.”
She left the building and the image of a well-dressed woman leaning slightly off balance flashed through Dani’s mind. A woman who’d wanted to attend Cats and return home filled with the music of the show. Instead, her body was en route to the morgue, where a detached stranger would examine it for clues.
Questions raced through her mind. Did the woman know she would die? Had her murderer been a friend, someone she felt safe with? And most important, could Dani have stopped the killer?
FOUR
Silence filled the police station. Caleb stood and stretched. He glanced at his wristwatch and grimaced at the time. It was after three in the morning. Time to move or fall asleep at his desk. While he stared at a wall, a killer roamed.
Yesterday Renee was a twenty-four-year-old graduate student at the university. This morning her corpse rested on a stainless-steel gurney in the city morgue. When the registrar’s office opened, he’d send Denimore or Westmont down to learn more. Maybe a student or professor had developed an unhealthy interest in her.
She’d lived off campus, apparently by herself. After leaving the theater, he’d driven to her home, and nothing appeared unusual. Technicians were on-site collecting evidence. When they’d finished, he and a couple of officers would examine the house. While there, he’d get a feel for the victim and potential suspects.
Rikki Wilson, the energetic and petite night dispatcher, caught up to him as he headed toward the kitchenette for more coffee. She clucked her tongue. “You look awful. The captain’ll arrive in a few hours. Go home and get some sleep.”
“I don’t have time.” It took twenty minutes to drive from the station, time he didn’t have. His cabin near Branched Oak was the ideal retreat from homicides on those rare occasions he got time off, and a decent place to live the rest of the time. Unfortunately, tonight was neither of those.
“Then go to your sister’s or sleep on the conference-room couch. You aren’t doing the victim any good tired as you are.”
Her motherly advice resonated. If he showed up at this early hour of the morning, he’d scare Tricia to death. So long, soft guest bed. Hello, lumpy conference couch. “Wake me before day shift arrives.”
“Sure, honey.” The scanner screeched, and Rikki raced to her station.
Caleb pulled a pillow and blanket out of the cluttered closet and studied their rumpled state. When was the last time the pillowcase had seen a washing machine? The aura of dirty gym socks told him not lately. He knew he should care, but his tired body demanded rest over clean sheets. With a sigh, he lowered himself to the couch and shifted until the lumps aligned with his body. He willed his mind to release its questions and welcome sleep.
Thoughts of Dani drifted in. She’d looked real good tonight, but harder around the edges than the girl he remembered. How much of that had he caused? She’d been back in town for months, but he hadn’t exactly sought her out. His memories of her were tinged with a shadow of guilt. The kind that came from taking what wasn’t his.
He pulled the pillow on top of his head and groaned. Guess he wasn’t as free of the past as he’d imagined.
Dani sat in her car in the dark alley behind her home. The small Arts and Crafts home dated to the 1920s. She’d loved visiting when she stayed with Aunt Jayne each summer as a child.
Now an irrational fear pushed her deeper into the seat, and she searched her mind for anyone she could call or stay with. Most of her friends from those long-ago summer visits had moved on, and she hadn’t bothered to reconnect. Her job took up too much of her schedule to make building friendships easy. Her mind rebelled at the thought of calling Caleb. She could imagine the kind of comfort he’d force on her. That left everyone at work. Just the image she wanted them to have—Dani Richards, reporter extraordinaire, cowering at shadows.
She pushed the car door open and grabbed her briefcase from the passenger seat. She hauled herself from the vehicle, opened the picket-fence gate and wobbled up the back-porch steps with keys in hand. Tired, she fumbled with the lock.
As she entered the kitchen, peace settled on her. The home retained Aunt Jayne’s sweet spirit even though she no longer lived there. Dani kicked off her horrid heels, ready to pitch them in the trash can, and then threw her briefcase onto the island. She crossed the kitchen to the counter for a glass and filled it with water.
The questions and images of the night refused to leave her alone. She leaned against the sink and crossed her arms.
“So much for relaxing at the theater.” Who talked to themselves like this? She felt crazy, even though the silence cried for sound. “I need a cat. At least then I’ll have someone to talk to.” Dani reached around the refrigerator and flipped on the under-counter radio. Strains of classical music filled the air, bringing with it memories of evenings spent dancing with Caleb under the stars. One encounter with him, and he occupied her mind. She shook her head at her foolish heart.
She sipped the water as if it could wash the images away. Aunt Jayne had asked her to stay in the house and pay the utilities and routine upkeep expenses. The house had more room than she could afford on her salary, so she’d gladly accepted. Since she’d arrived, there’d been no time to unpack. That had to change. It was time to admit she was staying. She took her glass of water and headed for her room.
Upstairs, Dani slipped out of her black cocktail dress and into flannel pajamas. She slowly rubbed her feet and the bed with its fluffy pillows and warm comforter beckoned. With a sigh, she returned downstairs. She’d write down everything she’d seen and heard before she allowed herself to sleep. She turned up the soothing music until it filtered from the kitchen into the living room.
Dani slid down the wood floors to the living room. She avoided the prim Victorian couch and opted for the over-stuffed chair. She eased into its soft leather, and then tucked her feet underneath her. She grabbed a notepad. Her pen flew as she wrote down every detail including her impressions and guesses. Her mind raced through the events. By the time she finished, Dani felt energized again.
Sleep would be impossible. Since the rest of her books sat in boxes, she wandered over to Aunt Jayne’s bookshelves. She slid her fingers along the book spines. Nothing jumped out at her until she saw a Bible tucked on top. Dani couldn’t remember the last time she’d voluntarily held a Bible, but Aunt Jayne always valued hers. Maybe the poetry would calm her and help her sleep.
Dani retraced her steps to the chair and opened the book. Its well-worn pages automatically opened to the Book of Psalms. Running her finger down the page, she started to read Psalm 62.
Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
The words and the image they conveyed enthralled her. Could He be trusted to be a fortress? After the night she’d lived through, a fortress sounded wonderful.
My salvation and my honor depend on God; He is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in Him at all times, O People; pour out your heart to Him, for God is our refuge.
The passage sounded strange yet sweetly familiar. The image of a rock of refuge soothed her, pushing the slide show from the theater from her mind. She clutched the Bible as if it were a lifeline. No matter what she’d seen or the questions chasing her, He is my mighty rock, my refuge.
FIVE
“Hey, buddy. Wakey, wakey. It’s eight-fifteen, and the captain’ll catch you sleeping.”
Caleb rolled over with a groan. “What time?”
“8:15.”
“So much for Rikki waking me up.”
“Hey, that’s what partners are for.” Todd’s grin stretched even farther across his face.
“What do you mean ‘partners’?”
“Captain’s decided I get to babysit you.”
