Close to the Bone (17 page)

Don shot to his feet. ‘No.’

‘Here’s the situation. You say you’re innocent, fine, you didn’t steal my baby’s ring. That means I need to move on to my other suspects. I need to know who was in that autopsy room. I need to know if Darryl was the deskman on duty or what, who worked the Property room then, who was diener. I need her file.’

‘Her—’

‘I couldn’t get that sweet little piece Elena to get it for me. So you can go back to the office and get it.’

‘They won’t let me—’

‘They will if you tell them I’m going to slice this girl’s throat if you don’t.’

‘James, seriously—’

‘
Seriously
?’ His voice cut through her like a winter wind off the lake. ‘Something about this make you think I’m not serious?’

‘How am I going to get into the vault without someone noticing—?’

‘Don’t kid me. You guys are in there all the time, looking up something from one of your little reports. You can do it. And I don’t care if they notice you, but if they stop you, she dies. You tell the cops and they try to stop
me
, she dies. You understand that, right?’

‘Okay,’ Don said, holding up his hands. ‘Okay, say I get this file. Then what? How am I going to get it to you?’

‘You let me worry about that. Just get your ass to the office and get them to open the door. And I know you’re thinking that you’re going to be on the phone to the cops as soon as I’m in the hallway, right? But like I said, they take me down, she goes with me. If I so much as see a black-and-white in my rear-view mirror, I slice her throat open. Do you understand that?’

Don gazed at her, their conclusion obvious: they were in a room with a man who had already killed four people. So yes, they understood.

‘I’ve got nothing left to lose,’ James warned, and dragged her backward to the apartment door.

TWENTY

I
t always amazed her how many other people were awake and about in the middle of the night. She drove up Quincy, hands still cuffed together, passing other cars and more than a few pedestrians. They traveled in a beat-up Chrysler sedan of unknown origin, not the Cavalier registered to Justin Warner; a bundle of exposed wires made her think he had stolen it. James seemed to be fairly savvy about avoiding any BOLOs. He had refused to take her car and had given her a very brief but humiliating frisk before shoving her into the vehicle to make sure she did not have a cellphone on her person. She was dressed in nothing but a sports bra and a T shirt and thin pajama bottoms borrowed from Don – suspiciously small, which made her think they might be left over from a previous love – she hadn’t wanted to wear them at all but the alternative would have been even more embarrassing – which left her with no pockets, so she carried nothing, no cellphone, no car keys, no ChapStick, no mascara. She hadn’t been able to either brush her teeth or wash her face and felt distinctly unhappy over both. And when the sun came up she might want a pair of sunglasses since James’ plan seemed to be to drive aimlessly until either Don got the file or they ran out of gas, whichever came first.

James told her to turn a corner. She did, as smoothly as possible with her hands cuffed together. The padding did help; they only hurt when she forgot about them and tried to do something like scratch her nose.

She had cut him, twice, but he had barely noticed and didn’t seem to be bothered now; the stabs were as mosquito bites on a bull.

‘So, Justin,’ she said. ‘I mean James.’

‘Theresa,’ he intoned. He held the knife in plain sight, across his thigh but pointed at her. It frustrated her to be forced into the role of victim, and she consoled herself that cooperation did not equal capitulation. She would only get herself hurt by arguing with him; if she went along, she would learn more about his past crimes and could testify to his statements in court. Most importantly, every minute he spent with her kept him away from Don – and Stone, and Causer, and anyone else he might decide to put in his sights. He did not seem to include her on his list of suspects, but that might be only because he hadn’t noticed her name in the autopsy report – once he got Diana’s file that might change. But so far he had bludgeoned his victims, not stabbed them, and there could yet be the slightest chance that he would hesitate to hit a woman. The slightest chance. Diana had never accused him of physical abuse, but then there could have been many things that Diana had not told her. And Diana had died, almost certainly by his hand. Theresa needed to stop thinking because it wasn’t making her feel any more hopeful.

So she spoke: ‘You got a job at the Medical Examiner’s specifically to track down this ring.’

‘Yes.’

‘You said the cops at the scene saw it … If you don’t mind my asking, why don’t you think they took it?’

He glanced out the passenger window at an all-night diner, checking out the clientele. ‘Because he’s blood.’

‘Oh. Yes. Well, that’s one thing we have in common.’

‘What is?’

‘I also have a cousin who’s a cop.’ At his quizzical look she added, ‘Diana told me.’

‘Great,’ he sighed. ‘So you got some blood at the PD who’s going to be taking me out through a scope.’

She debated whether to let him believe that, but it seemed to worry him and she needed him as calm as possible. ‘No. He’s out of town at the moment.’

‘Turn here.’

‘So your cousin happened to be the first responder—’

‘They dispatched another unit, but he recognized the address. So he responded.’

‘—and he noticed her jewelry.’

‘He’d seen it before. A family barbecue, the girls were oohing over it. Diana said she got it at Claire’s for cheap. I could see my cuz didn’t believe her. When I thought about it, I didn’t believe her either. But I wasn’t thinkin’ about a lot of things in those days.’

She considered this. ‘So you think this cheap ring that maybe wasn’t cheap is going to – do what? Help your case somehow?’

‘I got convicted because of that ring, because the judge said it was “so callous” how I – this is his words, now – took it from my dead wife’s hand and pawned it for drugs. But that isn’t true. Someone at the ME’s helped themselves to that ring, figuring Diana wouldn’t need it no more and I wouldn’t be in a position to argue about it. If I can prove that, then it changes the whole
tone
of the case against me.’

‘James – I’m not trying to irritate you, but … you were convicted because you confessed.’

‘I didn’t
confess
! I never confessed – because I didn’t do it.
I did not kill Diana
.’

Treading carefully, but also quite confused, Theresa persisted: ‘But you pled guilty.’

He stared out the window for a while, at the tenements, a convenience store, a battered stop sign. ‘Yeah.’

‘Even though you say you aren’t.’

Trying to keep him from becoming agitated was not going so well. He snapped out: ‘What chance did I have? I was the no-good, drug-addict husband who stole his wife’s jewelry to buy crack. I was smokin’ so much back then that I couldn’t even
say
what happened that afternoon, not and make any kind of sense. My lawyer said if I went to trial I could get the death penalty, so there it was – I could plead or I could die. I see now that I made the wrong choice, but like I said – then, my brain was fuzzy.’

So fuzzy that he might have killed his wife and then spent the next ten years convincing himself that he didn’t. And now he felt willing to murder more people just so he could keep believing that.

‘Turn here,’ he said.

‘It’s a little tough to steer in these things.’

‘Quit complaining,’ he said with a slight smile. ‘I got you padded ones, didn’t I?’

‘Sure. I like the pink, too.’

‘They came in with a victim. The family said to toss ’em, but I thought they might come in handy.’

‘If you don’t mind my asking—’

‘I’m sure I will,’ he said, settling back against the passenger door so he could keep her fully in sight. ‘I heard all about you, Ms MacLean. Diana said you never let anything pass. But go ahead. We got time.’

‘How did you get into Don’s apartment?’

‘Key.’ At her surprised look, he added: ‘From the superintendent’s office.’

‘Did you—? Is he all right, the super?’

‘I dunno. You think he lives in that dump? No, he’s got this crappy little office way down in the basement where no one will hear if you take a crowbar to the door. And there’s keys to everybody’s place, all nicely labeled. Terrific security. Why were you flopping at Don’s, anyway? I’d say he was a little young for you, but then you was sleeping on the couch, so—’

‘We were sticking together. Safety in numbers, and all that.’

‘Oh. Sure.’

It occurred to her that it had worked. Don was still alive, not choking on his own blood – the idea made her bowels quiver – which might not have been the case if she had gone to her own home tonight. She felt a small tickle of satisfaction at that. Granted, she had wound up at the mercy of a multiple killer, but so far he did not seem inclined to harm her. She did not figure into his list of suspects. At least, not until he got the rest of Diana’s file. And the longer they spent together, the more reluctant he might become.

Then she remembered that he had worked with Darryl Johnson for six weeks before killing him. Apparently, familiarity did not breed safety. So keep talking. ‘How did you get your fingerprints through the background check?’

‘I went and had myself printed at the Police Department, just like they said to. Then I took blank cards and rolled someone else’s on them. A kid from my old block, touched in the head. He’s in adult assistance programs and all that. I figured if the cops caught up to him, even they would be able to figure out that he hadn’t been out committing no crimes and that they couldn’t blame him if I talked him into using his fingerprints. So he’d be okay. ’Cause the Feds don’t care if your prints don’t match you, they only care that they don’t match a criminal history. They didn’t, so they came back clear.’

‘And the drug test?’

He seemed to bristle, slightly. ‘I haven’t used in ten years. Nothing. No-thing. My blood is as pure as a baby’s.’

There is no rehab quite like prison, Theresa thought. His system had been cleansed and his body buffed. James’ only occupation for ten years had been to work out his muscles, and she could attest to that. Overcoming him with any sort of force ranked as a ridiculous fantasy. He had five inches and a hundred pounds and four thousand hours of free-weight work on her. ‘I never met you when – when you were married. But I saw a picture of you in the paper. You look different. I can’t really say different how … It’s not just the weight—’

‘Three years and two months in, a guy started a little dispute with me about the lunch tables.’

Theresa didn’t ask for details, figuring it didn’t take much to start ‘a dispute’ in prison.

‘He had his posse, I had mine. So he waited until one of my best had the flu and another one got a special detail, and then brought it on in the hall. Those meal trays are plastic but they’re just as hard as metal, and sharp when they break. He was tryin’ to slice up my face with the edge of one of them when the guards pulled him off.’

She actually moved to squeeze his hand, before the jerk of the cuffs reminded her where they were.

‘So I’m bleedin’ in the infirmary, and this white kid comes in and tells me he’s a doctor – or a resident, whatever they call them student doctors – and he’s specializing in plastic surgery and wants to get some practice by putting me back together. I told him to knock himself out. He took his time about it, kept coming back to check on stitches. Even brought in a portable laser once for the scars – experimenting on me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about much of anything right then. And he did a hell of a job. Made me beautiful.’

He smiled, teeth gleaming in the dim interior. Theresa could not decide how she should respond to this, so she kept her eyes on the road.

‘I didn’t recognize myself for six months. Then finally, I did, once all the swelling went down and the scars faded. But I looked different.’ He paused. ‘That was when I got the idea.’

‘To become Justin.’

‘And go right to where you all worked. I already knew a lot about the place, from listening to Diana. I studied up on medicolegal investigator work, worked on my spelling and typing – all you really need to be a deskman is basic computer skills, upper body strength, and a strong stomach.’

Theresa nodded, and they drove in silence for a while.

Then she said, ‘You never quite explained Dr Reese. We got distracted talking about the bags on the hands.’

‘What about him?’

‘Why did you attack him?’

‘He was next on my list.’ For a man with four murders under his belt, he managed to avoid saying much about them.

‘Why did you look in the filing cabinets?’

‘For a pawn receipt, in case they pawned the ring. Or a receipt for buying it in the first place.’

‘You thought they’d keep evidence of either a theft or a purchase made for a mistress?’

‘You spend that much money on something,’ he intoned somberly, ‘you don’t throw the receipt away. It was worth a try.’

‘Did you eat a Pop-Tart when you were done?’

He gave her an odd look, but perhaps he was more puzzled by the need for the question than the question itself, because he said, ‘I was hungry.’

Theresa didn’t want to ask any more.

‘I was pretty sure Darryl was the deskman for Diana’s case – I can’t be positive, but I’m pretty sure, even though he wouldn’t admit it.’

‘His initials are on the autopsy report,’ Theresa said.

‘Oh. I didn’t catch that. But that’s what I thought – Darryl Johnson and George Bain would have the best opportunity to steal the ring. But after that would be the pathologist. He’s all alone in the autopsy room, and no one questions anything a doctor does.’

Reese hadn’t been alone, but Theresa wasn’t about to shove Stone and Causer into James’ sights.

‘And there were some other things I wanted to ask Reese about. When it got … out of control with Darryl, and I couldn’t clean it up in time because you were coming back, I figured I’d better move on to Reese immediately. The cops would be looking for me. They
are
looking for me, right?’