Beautiful Maids All in a Row (24 page)

“Yet you came back,” he pointed out.

“Yes.”

“Do you feel that by catching
this
killer, you can atone for your past sins?”

“Maybe I can begin to.”

“I heard you had a breakdown. You look well now, though. Better than well. Has this pursuit brought you out of your self-imposed hell?”

“I haven't had a single drink or pill since I started this case. Hell, I'm even on the patch for the cigarettes. Do I feel like throwing myself in the Hudson River? No, not today. But who knows what's going to happen when we put you away, and I go home. I might slip back into old vices.”

“This case has given you a sense of purpose,” he said. “You won't lose that when you catch this man. I have faith. You're a remarkable woman, Iris.”

I leaned forward. “Anything else you want to know?”

He thought for a second. “Not right now.”

“Then it's my turn.” I paused to meet his eyes. They glimmered with amusement. “Tell me about your mother.”

He flinched and quickly looked away. “What do you want to know?”

“What kind of woman was she? Your…
mother
?” I asked, arching my eyebrows.

He crossed his legs the second the word escaped my mouth, a reflex to the image she conjured in his mind. He didn't want to be emasculated by her again. “She was a remarkable woman. I loved her dearly.”

“It was just you and her, right? After your father's suicide?”

“My father didn't commit suicide,” Shepherd insisted. “He wasn't a strong swimmer.”

“He wasn't a strong anything from what I hear. He worked under your mother,
for
her really. His only real accomplishment was you. He gave your mother a son and heir to the family empire. His job was done the second you popped out. He knew it and decided to bow out gracefully. Do you blame him for leaving you alone with her?”

He leaned in, matching my pose. “Let's talk about
your
father, Iris,” he said, “if he can even be called that. Won't even acknowledge you're his own flesh and blood.”

“We already did me,” I said, “it's
your
turn now. Do you blame him for leaving you alone and unprotected?”

“Unprotected? What did I need protection from?”

I scoffed and leaned back in my chair. “Fine. You want to do this the hard way, we will.” I paused, trying to figure out how to phrase the next one. “It was just you and your mother when you were growing up, right? Your grandparents were dead, and your uncle had his own family. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“But your mother was a very busy woman. She had a multimillion-dollar business to run. So your time with her was limited.”

“She always made time for me.”

“What did you do in this time?”

“Little boy things. We'd go to the park, a ball game sometimes. Things like that.”

“Anything else?”

“She'd read to me,” he answered hurriedly. “What is the point of these questions?”

“I'm trying to understand your relationship with your mother. So, in your opinion, she was a perfect mother?”

He rubbed his nose. “As perfect as anyone can be.”

“What would she do when you misbehaved?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

He avoided my eyes, glancing up at the ceiling. “She'd sit me down and explain to me why that behavior was unacceptable.”

“She never lost her temper with you? She never hit you or belittled you in public or private?”

“No,” he stated emphatically.

I tsked. “Thought you were going to say that.” I bent down and began rooting around in my box of tricks. I found the folder and set it on the table. Shepherd's face remained neutral. I pulled out my reading glasses. “Do you remember a woman named Shirley Parker?”

“No.”

I opened the folder. “Her husband, Scott, was vice president of Marketing at Crowe Inc. for twenty years. He worked directly for your mother.”

“I don't remember him.”

“Well, his wife remembers you. One event in particular stuck out in her mind. It occurred when you were seven years old at a Christmas party your mother threw. Shirley remembers you creeping down the stairs and hiding under the buffet table. Remember yet?”

“No.”

“Apparently you got thirsty and decided to sneak some eggnog. You peeked your little eyes out to make sure the coast was clear and served yourself. Unfortunately, one of the waiters wasn't watching where he was going and bumped into you. Champagne and eggnog went flying right onto your mother's white carpet. Your mother was, and I quote Mrs. Parker here, ‘as red as a beet. I've never seen a woman in a dress and heels move as fast as Louisa did that night. She grabbed that little boy's arm and tugged him into the kitchen. The entire party could hear that boy's screams as his mother paddled him. I heard plates crashing, too. Louisa was shouting like a wild woman, saying words that I couldn't repeat. It must have gone on for five whole minutes.

“ ‘Then she came out of that kitchen as if nothing happened. Didn't have a hair out of place. When she had her back to me I slipped into the kitchen. What a mess! White shards from the plates covered the whole floor. Poor Jeremy was huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth. Most of the plates had been shattered around him. His legs were welted and bleeding. He had a cut on his head, too. A big gash. I was pretty sure she had thrown the plates at him, poor thing. I tried to comfort him, but he just pulled away, whimpering like an animal. My husband finally came in and told me to leave him alone. There wasn't anything I could do for him, so I left. That was the worst, but I saw her strike him quite a few times, especially when he'd stutter. That drove her crazy. That poor, poor boy.' ”

His poker face had resurfaced. I lowered the file and removed my glasses. “While Agent Hudson and I were interviewing you yesterday, we sent out some of our people to talk to your and your mother's acquaintances. Care to hear some more horror stories? We've got quite a few. Your mother made a lasting impression on several people. Her temper and ruthlessness are legendary. She still Mother Fucking Teresa?”

Shepherd glared at me with his jaw clenched so tight he probably chipped a tooth. Violent anger swam around the room, and from the look on his face, he was probably contemplating all the ways he could kill me before the men could get in here.

“Dr. Shepherd?” I asked after a minute. “It wasn't your fault what happened to you. She shouldn't have taken her frustrations out on you.”

“That woman is lying,” he croaked through clenched teeth.

“Shepherd, come on. Why would she lie?”

“I don't know.”

“We promised each other the truth. I was truthful with you; I should get the same in return.”

“I am telling you the truth. I loved my mother.”

“I know you did. I know. You were all she had and vice versa. But you also hated her, with cause. You were never good enough for her. She was always at work when she should have been home playing with you. I'll bet you didn't even mind the beatings—at least she was paying attention to you.”

“This is all terribly fascinating,” he said, “but I still don't see what my mother has to do with what you've accused me of.”

I arched my eyebrows with a sigh. I took out a black-and-white picture from a newspaper of Louisa Shepherd at age thirty-five. It was taken at a charity event, so she was dressed in a white ball gown with her light brown hair down. Close up, Louisa resembled her son, with the same nose and mouth. I stood from the table and leaned across, setting the picture next to the photos of the dead women. The resemblance was uncanny juxtaposed with a picture of Sarah Illes. Uncanny. They could have been sisters.

“See it now?”

He wouldn't look down at the photos, not that I expected him to. Might put a crack in his wall of denial. Instead, he gazed up at me, his lip quivering with anger. He clenched his fists so tight I could hear the knuckles crack. I sat back down.

“When you take these women, they belong to you. You have their undivided attention, just like you wanted from…your mother. Didn't you think it was odd they all had bright-eyed little boys, all a certain age? Didn't it occur to you why these women had to have sons
that
age?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about!” he said.

“It was you and Mom all alone in that apartment for years,” I continued. “We couldn't find a single clipping of her with a man after your father. Nobody could remember her
ever
having a boyfriend.”

“She didn't need anyone. She had…”

“You. She had you,” I said. “She didn't need anyone but
you.
”

“What are you ta-ta-talking about?” he struggled to get the words out.

“I think you know,” I said quietly. “How did it start? Do you even remember? Did she climb into your bed, telling you that you were her big, strong boy? The man of the house?”

“Sh-sh-shut up!”

“Did you make her happy, Jeremy? I'll bet you made her so happy. You—”

Out of nowhere, he leapt from chair, sending it crashing against the wall behind him. Before I could even blink, he was beside me, pulling me and my chair out from behind the table. He towered above me, staring down at me with the fires of hell burning in his eyes. I couldn't help but gasp as he leaned in, supporting himself on my armrests, giving me no means of escape. I leaned back in my seat as far from him as I could get. His face was crimson from suppressed rage and had become feral with narrowed eyes, his mouth forming a snarl.

“YOU SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING CUNT!” he screamed into my face. “I'm going to fucking—”

“And you want to know the really insane thing…”

“SHUT UP!”

I bridged the gap between our bodies, leaning in so our noses touched. “You liked it.”

Both of our bodies quivered spastically from the tension between us. I'd recognize the look in his eyes anywhere. I saw it that night two years before. Rage, all-consuming rage. It was the look that said, “You or me. Only one of us is making it out of this alive.” I just shot it back at him. Our breaths were ragged but in unison. I stared into his eyes, daring him to wrap his hands around my throat.
Come on.

The door swung open, causing us both to break the gaze. Luke and Beaton stood in the doorway, both wild-eyed. “Get away from her,” Luke's voice boomed around the room.

Shepherd loomed a second more before pushing himself away. Beaton brushed past Luke and walked over to his client. “We're leaving now, Jeremy,” he whispered, tugging on his client's jacket. Without taking his eyes off me, Shepherd defiantly yanked his arm away. Nobody told him what to do. He shrugged his shoulders and straightened his coat to regain a little dignity before smoothing his hair off his forehead with one hand. Back to his old controlled self again.

Shepherd jutted his chin up and stalked out of the room, Beaton in tow. The moment he was out of sight, I let my breath out in ragged intervals. I lifted my shaky hand to stop the gasps. Luke hurried over and knelt in front of me. “Are you okay?” he asked in a whisper.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Luke hung his head. “That was really,
really
fucking stupid, Iris. He could have…” He shook his head for a few seconds. Then, out of nowhere, he began to chuckle. “Oh, God. The look on his face…” He shook his head again. “You've got some balls, woman.”

“Yeah, and I just added his to my collection.”

My thousand-dollar-an-hour, good-for-fuck-all lawyer trailed behind me, having the nerve to scold me as he did. He should have stopped it sooner, the fat bastard. What the fuck was I paying him for? His job was to save me from myself and from cunts like that. I had the strongest urge to pull out a hunting knife and watch his fat guts spill out. Maybe later. More important people to deal with first.

“I warned you that talking to her was—”

“Shut the fuck up if you want to keep your job.”

We reached the waiting area, where my closest friends sat in silence on opposite ends of the room. The sight of them turned my stomach. Henry stared at me with his dead eyes. I knew he wouldn't talk. One rarely betrays a father figure. It was such a shame what I'd have to do next. It would be impossible to find someone so dedicated again. As for her…

“It's time to go.”

Both stood and walked toward me. I grabbed Diana's arm and her body tensed, as it always did under my touch. “I said what you told me to,” she whispered.

I squeezed her arm until she whimpered. “Let's go home.”

Bitch was going to pay. Both of them.

Surprise, surprise: the searches of his office, home, and cabin came up clean. No boots, no scalpel, no hearts, not even dust bunnies. He didn't even rip the tags off his pillows like a normal human being. So we were right back where we started. No corroborating witnesses, no murder weapon, and no way in hell we could convict him. Worse, I'd run out of ideas. I pulled out every trick I could think of, and it had gotten me bubkes. All I successfully did was piss off a serial killer. It was a gift of mine.

Feeling both mentally and physically drained, I agreed to return to my hotel for a short siesta. I managed to nap for about an hour and a half, waking up more tired than before. The run around the Central Park reservoir was no help either. This time I had two bodyguards, one on either side of me. I felt claustrophobic sandwiched between two walls of man, so we only got a mile in before I gave up. Running was one of the few things I truly enjoyed in life, and Shepherd had managed to ruin that, too. After a shower, I changed into my pajamas to watch a mind-numbing romantic comedy about an uptight lawyer and an eccentric billionaire who secretly love each other but just can't get it together. I hoped it would kill enough of my brain cells so I could pass out. No such luck.

Just as the movie ended, someone knocked on my door. Luke, still in his suit, stood in the hall, holding two white bags in his hands. “I brought you dinner.”

The man always could read my mind. “You are a God among men, Luke Hudson. A God among men.” Smiling, he walked over to the desk to start unloading the boxes. The smell circulated around the room and into my nostrils. My empty stomach rumbled.

“You like beef and broccoli, if memory serves,” he said.

“I can't believe you remember that,” I said, grabbing a plastic fork and my carton.

“I ordered it enough times for you in the past,” he said. “I bet you remember what I always order.”

I thought for a second. “Sweet and sour pork.”

He reached into the bag and pulled out another carton. “Give the lady a prize.”

We both sat on the bed and dug in. I finished my beef and broccoli in about two minutes and started on the egg drop soup. “We didn't find
anything
?” I asked.

“Not a thing. All the thiopental sodium was present and accounted for at each of his clinics. All we took were a few scarves, some knives, and three pornos.”

“The gun wasn't at the cabin?”

“No. A few rifles, but no nine-millimeter.”

“He has to have them somewhere.”

“If he's keeping anything, it's well hidden.”

I sighed. “He's gonna get away with it.”

“No, he won't. He has a compulsion. He can't stop himself. I don't care how in control he thinks he is.”

“So the only way to stop him is for another woman to die. That isn't right.”

“No it's not,” he said. “But we're watching him now. If he even jaywalks, we'll pick him up. Don't forget, we got Al Capone on tax evasion. One little slip and that's it.”

“My, aren't we optimistic all of a sudden.”

Luke stood from the bed and tossed out his empty container. “Well, I was reminded today of something I had almost forgotten.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

He tossed a fortune cookie at me. “Just how good you are.”

Damn.
My cheeks flared again. I looked to the ground with a small smile on my face. This was getting ridiculous. If I wasn't careful my cheeks would stay red forever. I quickly regained my composure and looked back up at a smirking Luke. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Agent Hudson,” I said in a mock seductive tone.

He smiled and reached into the white bag again. “Will chocolate chocolate-chip ice cream?” He returned to the bed and sat next to me, handing me a spoon.

“You're not playing fair,” I said with my mouth full. “You know chocolate is my one weakness. Are you trying to soften me up or something?”

“Or something.” He put his ice-cream-filled spoon in his mouth and leaned back on the bed. “Still have your tattoos, I see.”

I craned my head to look at my shoulder blades, where the words
Diabolus
and
Angelus
were written in Gothic script. Drunken spring break idea. “Devil on the left, angel on the right.” I patted the left. “So…” I said, taking another spoonful, “are you still waking up at the butt crack of dawn to go swimming or does Art Theft take up too much of your time now?”

“Not every morning.”

I nodded.
Oh, just ask, Iris.
“And that woman…” He glanced up at me. “The
blonde,
is she part of your unit, or…”

He stuck the spoon into the ice cream and cleared his throat. “Yeah, um,” he cleared his throat again, “she is.”

“Oh,” I murmured. “And are you two…serious?”

“Have you ever known me to be serious about anyone?”

“Hell no,” I answered truthfully. In all the years I knew him, the longest relationship he had lasted eight weeks. At every barbeque or official dinner he brought a new variety of the same woman: tall, usually blond, and runway-model gorgeous. The old married men—whose envy was written all over their faces—dubbed him “Don Juan Hudson.”

“I don't know,” I continued, “I just thought maybe you'd grown up in the past two years.”

A hard glare formed on his face. “I don't have to explain myself to you, Iris.”

“I just want you to be happy, Luke. That's all I've ever wanted for you.” I paused. “So, are you? Happy?”

He met my eyes. “Getting there. You?”

“Getting there.”

We stared at one another, our grins growing almost in unison. A memory I'd been trying to suppress since I laid eyes on him again could no longer be contained. Those blue eyes broke the wall. The sensations rocketed back through me. His lips on mine, tender but hungry. The taste of him. His fingers caressing my naked body. Him inside me. It was good. Damn good. Very intense. I—

His cellphone began chirping in his pocket, breaking whatever was passing between us.
Thank God.
Luke sighed and answered it. “Hudson…Wait, slow down…
What?
” he shouted. “How the hell is that possible? I told you to watch all of them…He was? Well, is he okay?…No, put out an APB on the car. When did all of this happen?…That was hours ago! They could be anywhere by now…No, we're on our way to the hospital right now. Keep him there until we arrive.” He snapped the phone shut and looked over at me. “Shepherd's in the hospital with a concussion.”

My mouth dropped to the floor. “
What?
What happened?”

“Apparently Mooney smashed him over the head with a lamp. He and Diana are missing.”

“That doesn't make any sense. Why would he—”

“We'll find out. But we need to get to the hospital. Right now.”

After battling the ten blocks to Lenox Hill Hospital in New York traffic, we located Shepherd in the ER, engaged in a heated discussion with Clarkson and Liu. Not even a concussion could suppress the man's temper. He begrudgingly sat on a gurney, a large white bandage covering the right half of his forehead. I could see a few drops of blood on his powder-blue shirt, which was not tucked in for once. Shepherd jumped off the gurney, outrage written all over his face. Clarkson and Liu held out their arms to stop him.

“Dr. Shepherd,” Liu pleaded to the incensed man.

“You cannot keep me here! This is harassment. I am leaving right now!” Shepherd glanced at Luke and me as we approached, letting out an aggravated sigh. “Great.”

“Dr. Shepherd, you suffered a serious head injury—you need to calm down,” Luke instructed in a calm voice. “We are doing everything possible to find Mr. Mooney and Ms. Hall.”

Shepherd threw his hands up in exasperation. “I feel so much better now.” He turned his fiery gaze at me, eyes as wild as his hair. “This is all
your
fault,” he said, pointing at me. “He wouldn't have taken her if you hadn't pressed so hard. I am holding you
personally
responsible.”

“Why do you think he took her?” Luke asked.

“He's afraid she'll talk,” he answered.

“What about?” Luke asked.

“I don't think I should say anything until my lawyer arrives,” Shepherd said. “Look what happened last time.”

“Sir,” Luke said, taking a step toward Shepherd, “Mr. Mooney has just assaulted you and abducted your girlfriend. My guess is that his intentions toward her are not good. You need to tell us everything
right now.
”

Shepherd mulled this over before sighing. “I may or may not have…gotten my dates wrong in regards to the nights you questioned me about.”

“What?” I asked.

“I am fairly sure Henry wasn't with me and Diana the night that first woman was killed, or when we went to the cabin.” He looked down at the linoleum floor. “All those other dates you mentioned correlate to times he asked for time off.” He shook his head. “I did recognize those women. After each signing, they hung around, and I remember Henry speaking to them. Honestly, I didn't connect the dots until you did.”

“Why didn't you tell us any of this sooner?” Luke asked.

“The man is my best friend. Best friends
lie
for best friends,” he said, glancing at me. “I never thought he actually did it until he hit me.”

“Why did he take Diana?”

“You told Henry she told you everything. She knows what I do about him.” He paused. “Look, Henry is a very troubled man. Ever since his wife left he's been in a downward spiral. He's on two types of antidepressants that I know of, and I believe is abusing cocaine again. He's not himself, especially after today's nightmare. You have to find them before he hurts her.”

“All right,” Luke said. “We're going to need you to come down to our office—”

“No way. I am leaving this hospital and finding them. You can't stop me!” He pushed past Clarkson and Liu, muttering to himself.

Luke followed behind him. “Dr. Shepherd, we need your help finding them.”

Shepherd spun back around. “I'm not helping you do a damn thing. I can find them myself.”

“Dr. Shepherd, we are on the same team right now,” Luke said. “We have an APB out on his car, and every officer in the state is looking for it. We've even released the make and model to the press. Agents are at his apartment as we speak. He can't get far, but if there's any place he might go that you know of, you must tell us.”

He smoothed his wild sandy hair again and shook his head. “I can't think of anywhere. He sticks close to the city.”

“Is there any place private he could go?”

“No,” he answered. “I don't…wait. He has keys to my cabin. It's isolated. He might take her there.”

“All right.” Luke stepped away from the group, taking out his cellphone at the same time. He walked over to the other side of the room and began talking.

I turned to Shepherd. “You set this up, didn't you?”

He scoffed. “I got hit over the head,” he snapped. “I was unconscious for hours. If he had killed me, then would you have believed I had nothing to do with this?”

“No. I'd think Mooney figured out you weren't worth a life sentence and decided to do America a great service.”

“Dr. Ballard…” Clarkson said.

Shepherd gave me that scathing look I'd gotten to know so well.

Luke returned. “We're going to notify Samsonville police, and they'll send someone out right away.”

“We can't just wait around here—” Shepherd said.

“We aren't,” Luke assured him. “There's a chopper waiting at the office.”

“Then let's go!” Shepherd commanded.

“You're not going,” Luke said. “This is a live kidnapping and possible hostage situation. It's too dangerous.”

“Nobody knows Henry like I do. If he'll listen to anyone, it'll be me.” He looked me square in the eye. “I can call him off. You know I can. I am the only one who can.”

Bastard.
I didn't have a single doubt Mooney would kill her if Shepherd wasn't there to call off the whole pantomime. It was a gamble, but we'd all be watching him, so the damage would be limited. Also, I just didn't want him out of my sight. “He's right. He should come.”

Luke mulled this over. “Fine.”

The car Clarkson and Liu arrived in sat outside waiting for us. When everyone had piled into the car, Clarkson pushed a button and immediately white lights started flashing in front of and behind us, complete with siren. We pulled away from the curb and began speeding down Lexington Avenue, maneuvering through confused motorists who looked put out by having to make room for us.

We arrived at the office in five minutes. On the elevator ride to the roof, the men all took the time to check their guns, pulling back the chambers with a swish and having it fall back with a click. Shepherd's eyes grew when the guns came out. For the rest of the ride he kept running his hand through his hair, making it stick up more and more. I couldn't tell if he was actually nervous or just doing a good impression of it. My guess was the latter.

When we reached the roof, the wind from the helicopter blades pushed into us before the doors fully opened. Shepherd instantly covered his ears to block out the loud thumping. He removed them only when he put on the headset inside the helicopter. I sat between Liu and Clarkson, with Luke directly across from me. Shepherd moved next to Luke by the door, as far from me as he could possibly get. We made it a point not to look at each other the half hour it took to fly to Samsonville. He gazed out his window, deep in thought, and I looked out mine for most of the trip, trying to work out every possible scenario and contingency. The city of New York quickly disappeared under us, giving way to the tract houses and shopping malls of the suburbs. Luke talked constantly into his microphone the entire ride, but I couldn't hear him over the thumping blades. He was patched directly to the New York Field Office. He wrote several things down on the pad he took from my purse. I thought that should warrant me being in the loop.