Damaged (16 page)

“Anything that made her special?”

“Nah—” she started to say, but then a picture shot through her head. Vangie putting those fucking red shoes
on. The fluttering tattoo covering her skinny ankle. “She had a tattoo. It was a bird…”

Kate Lange leaned forward. “What kind of bird?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” She stretched the hole in her shirt bigger. She used to know the name of it. “It’s a small bird. With little wings that fly really fast.”

“A sparrow?”

Shonda flashed her a look of disgust. “Nah. It sticks its nose into flowers.”

“A hummingbird!”

“Yeah.” Their eyes met in a look of mutual satisfaction. Shonda looked back down at the hole in her shirt. “It was orange and red. Real pretty.”

Kate Lange wrote this down on a notepad. “Anything else?”

Jesus, would she stop with the questions. “No.”

“And there was another girl?”

Shonda felt the pressure growing inside her. She needed another hit. But a vague memory crept across her brain. Karen…Karen what’s-her-name. She was supposed to meet her a few months ago after turning tricks to buy more dope but she never showed up. Shonda had been too high to worry about it.

“Karen,” Shonda said. “Karen went missing. We figured she’d gone out west…” She shrugged. “Turns out the cops said she’d died of ex… of being out in the cold too long.”

“Marian MacAdam said you told the police this and they did nothing about it.”

“I told the cops about Karen. And Vangie. They told me it was so long ago it’d be hard to track her down. They wanted me to make a missing persons report.”

“Did you do that?”

“Yeah.” Shonda remembered the small black words. A
woman cop had helped her fill in the blanks. She shrugged again. “But the cops did nothin’. And now Krissie’s missing.”

“Krissie?”

“Yeah. She’s another girl I know. No one’s seen her since Saturday night. But sometimes she goes home to Cape Breton to see her mother.”

“Do the police know that?”

“I’m gonna call them if I don’t see her…” She bit her lip. Krissie also went on smack binges. She wasn’t going to tell the lawyer about those. But she didn’t want to call the police and get Krissie dragged into the hospital. Krissie would be so pissed with her.

Kate Lange stood. “Thanks for talking to me, Shonda. I’ll check on those missing girls for you. What are their last names?”

“Vangie’s last name was…” She searched her memory. It felt like she was stirring sludge with a stick. “White. I mean, Wright.” She pursed her lips. “Don’t remember Karen’s.”

Kate Lange took out another card and jotted a number on it. “This is my direct line. Call me on it if you remember Karen’s last name.” She handed it to her. “Thanks very much, Shonda.”

“What’re you goin’ to do about all this?”

“Once I track down the reports, I’ll see if there’s something the police might have missed. Then I’ll call you.” The lawyer glanced around the room. “Do you have a phone?”

She stood and patted her pocket. “I got a cell. Here’s my number.” She recited it while the lawyer wrote it down. Then the lawyer headed for the door. Shonda unchained it, scanning the street before letting her by.

“See ya.”

Kate Lange stopped on the sidewalk. “Call me if you have any more concerns, Shonda. I would like to help.”

You can’t help me. The thought flashed through her head. She steadied herself against the door. Fuck, she needed a hit. “Yeah.”

“Goodbye.”

She closed the door and leaned against it. Darrell would be back soon. She got to fill those baggies.

K
ate drove back to her office, idly listening to her car radio. Her mind was on her conversation with Shonda. The girl was a drug addict, but her concern about her missing friends was genuine. She sorted through the facts: the first girl to go missing was Vangie Wright, about a year and a half ago. Then another prostitute by the name of Karen disappeared. But she apparently died of exposure in February…so that girl was accounted for. And the last girl—Krissie Burns—just went missing thirty-six hours ago. All these girls were transients and drug addicts, girls who easily moved around and fell through the cracks when they used. It didn’t mean they were victims of foul play.

“Breaking news,” a chirpy female announcer on the radio said excitedly. “A serial killer is on the loose on the streets of Halifax!” She paused for dramatic effect.

Kate shook her head. The radio stations were getting really desperate for listeners if they had to resort to pronouncements like that.

“Yesterday we reported that police found the body of a young woman. They are viewing the death as suspicious,” the announcer added in an I’m-a-serious-news-anchor voice.

Kate’s scalp prickled. She turned up the volume. “We
have just learned this hour that sources close to the scene have indicated the young woman was killed in a similar fashion to fifteen-year-old homicide victim Lisa MacAdam.”

Suddenly the announcement of a serial killer preying on Haligonians didn’t seem so preposterous. Could the victim be the prostitute whom Shonda said had disappeared on Saturday night?

Kate waited for more details, her pulse racing. “And now a look at sports,” the news announcer intoned.

“Damn,” Kate muttered. Until she knew who the murder victim was, she wouldn’t be able to get the missing Krissie Burns out of her head. She hurried back to her office. Ignoring all her messages, she checked the local news sites on the Internet. But there was no further information.

Now what should she do?

Call Ethan.

But after their last meeting it was the last thing she wanted to do.

She could call the police.

She bit her lip. She could just imagine
that
phone conversation. Yes, I’m the lawyer who gave bad advice to the first murder victim’s grandmother and then reported her missing. I’m also the ex-fiancée of one of your detectives. You know, the one who humiliated him in front of your division on New Year’s Eve? Now I have information that may show you guys aren’t on the ball…or at least Vicky isn’t.

They’d love that. Just as much as Randall would. His pointed warning flashed through her mind.
Do a good job on the TransTissue file
. She was still waiting to hear back from John Lyons about her memo. But what with the events of the past week, she’d barely thought about TransTissue’s defense, hadn’t even dug into the piles of research mounded on her desk. And if she really wanted
to impress John Lyons, she should be determining the evidence needed to support their position. Panic welled inside her. She wanted this case. She wanted to do a good job. Not just to assure herself a spot on the LMB letterhead, but to prove to herself—especially after the Marian MacAdam debacle—that she actually was a good lawyer.

But she couldn’t ignore what Shonda had told her.

If the second murder victim was Krissie Burns, then maybe Shonda’s other missing girls were related to this case, too. The police needed to be given the heads-up.

She reached for the phone. Her stomach clenched.

Ethan’s cell rang as he was pulling out of the halfway house parking lot. Frustration seethed in him. Tracking down the ex-cons Judge Carson had put away was looking more and more like a dead end with the discovery of a second victim. Krissie Burns’s connection to Judge Carson was nil. Unless the murderer had been bitten by bloodlust and had begun to pick off other prostitutes for the fun of it, Ethan was wasting his time.

“Drake,” he said into the phone.

“It’s me. Kate.” Her voice was low, strained.

His body reacted before his brain did: his heart accelerated, a vein pounded in his temple. Despite himself, despite his rationalizing that Kate was the wrong woman for all the right reasons, his heart squeezed painfully. He bit down on his bottom teeth. He couldn’t afford to feel this way about her. Especially after the way she pushed him away. She was in Randall Barrett’s camp now. And she couldn’t risk going against the bastard. He had to remember that. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Hi.” He forced his voice to sound businesslike. “Did you find the notes?” Although Judge Carson had moved
down the list of suspects, he still wanted the notes. Just to tie off loose ends.

Just to make sure that Kate kept her promise to him.

“No.”

His disappointment angered him. He should have known better.

She hesitated. “But I’ve got some information. It might be pertinent to the MacAdam case.”

“Just a sec,” he said curtly. “I’m gonna pull over.” A convenience store was just ahead. He slid into a parking spot. “So. What kind of information do you have that wasn’t in the notes?” He allowed a derisory edge to sharpen his voice.

He could feel her tension over the phone. It fueled his own in a perversely satisfying way.

“I had a phone call from Lisa MacAdam’s grandmother. She met a girl named Shonda at Lisa’s funeral who told her some other girls went missing. Other prostitutes. One of them was named Krissie Burns.”

“Krissie Burns?” His contrariness evaporated. That was victim number two. If this girl Shonda had actually seen the killer pick up her friend… “You sure?”

“Yes.” She paused. “Was Krissie Burns the girl whose body was just found?”

He hesitated. It was confidential information, and Kate was officially—and unofficially—off-limits.

His conscience won out. She’d called him in good faith. “Yes. We’re still tracking down her family.”

“How did you ID her?”

“Vicky remembered her from her criminal record.”

“Oh.” That one word spoke volumes. Vicky had also remembered Kate’s father from his criminal record.

“She gave us our break, Kate,” Ethan said softly.

“Yes. I understand.” Her voice was cool.

“Did this girl Shonda report her suspicions to the police?” he asked abruptly.

“She hadn’t reported Krissie Burns’s disappearance because she said sometimes she went to see her mother in Cape Breton. Apparently there were two other girls—”

“When?” He tensed.

“One was a long time ago, at least eighteen months. But Shonda only reported her missing a few months ago when her other friend disappeared.”

“Neither of them have been heard from since?” His mind was racing. Eighteen months ago. Could the killer have been operating since then?

“The girl who went missing a few months ago—her name was Karen—was found dead. Of exposure.”

Ethan exhaled slowly. So at least one of the missing girls wasn’t a victim. And her death fell right between two missing girls, breaking up the chain of disappearances. “And the other one?”

“Her name was Vangie Wright. She’s still missing. But the police told Shonda that she took so long to file the report she’d be hard to track down.”

“That’s true, especially if she lived on the streets. We’ll have to determine if this Vangie Wright is even related to the case.” He stared out his car window. He knew what he was going to say next would rankle, but damn it, he had a job to do. “I’ll pass this on to Vicky. If anyone can track her down, it’ll be her.”

There was silence. “Can you let me know what she finds out?” The unspoken message was clear: Kate wasn’t about to call Vicky herself. “I told Shonda I’d get back to her.”

The implications of this slammed into his exhausted brain. “You’ve spoken to her already? I thought you’d gotten this information from Lisa MacAdam’s grand
mother.” He fought to keep his voice calm. “Kate, this is a homicide investigation. We can’t have you interviewing potential witnesses. You know the best information comes from the first interview. It needs to be done by an experienced investigator.”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry to Ethan. He knew once she got something in her sights, she was relentless about tracking it down. That had been a quality he’d admired in her. Until now. “I promised Marian MacAdam I’d talk to Shonda because she said the police weren’t doing anything about it.”

“And you believed that?” He didn’t bother to hide his anger. Too little sleep, two murders too many and too few leads weren’t helping. “You think we’d just ignore the only lead we’ve got? You think we’re a bunch of idiots, Kate?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Did Randall put you up to it?” It’d be just like the bastard to mess around in a police investigation. He’d done it before. If he knew Ethan was on this one, it’d be all the more reason for him to get in the middle of it.

“No. Of course not.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

She inhaled sharply. “You really don’t think much of me, do you?’

He couldn’t answer that. He didn’t know what he thought about her anymore. Finally, he said, “Stay out of this, Kate. There’s a psychopathic killer on the loose. Leave it to the police to handle. Stay away from Shonda.”

She could not jeopardize a homicide investigation because of personal demons. Two young women were dead. And he was scared—yes, he’d admit it, he was scared—that there’d be a third. Soon. His eyes scanned the sky. When would it turn leaden and menacing with rain?

“I can’t, I made a promise—”

Kate needed to understand just how high the stakes were. “Damn it, Kate, there are young girls’ lives at risk here—”

“I know—”

“And you are jeopardizing them!”

“No. I’m not.”

He drew in a deep, frustrated breath. “Already you’ve potentially ruined our best source of information on the case by speaking to Shonda, and now you want to call her again and share confidential information. It could affect the whole outcome of our investigation. It could cause the killer to either not be caught or, worse, be released for lack of evidence.” He knew that she would understand the implications of this.

There was a painful silence. “I was just doing what I thought was best.”

He sighed heavily. “Leave it to the police. We’re the good guys, remember?”

A
gleaming black truck with an enclosed bed in the back pulled into Kate’s driveway at exactly 7:00 p.m. That was a good sign. He was right on time.

She’d gotten home ten minutes before, her briefcase crammed with her neglected TransTissue research, the disastrous phone call to Ethan still running through her head. He’d been right about everything. But he couldn’t see that she’d tried to do the right thing, too. He thought she had ulterior motives. He didn’t understand that she was doing this to try to help victims, just like him.

The truck door swung open and a young guy in his twenties stepped out.

Whoa
. She’d seen this guy before. Tall, blond, muscular. He strode toward the house, hips swaggering slightly. She smoothed back the corner of the living room curtain before he could spot her.

Alaska jumped excitedly at her heels. She didn’t get many visitors, so anyone showing up on her front porch was worthy of delirious excitement. It was infectious. She felt a bit excited herself. It helped smother the loneliness that had suddenly hit her.

A brisk knock announced the new dog walker’s arrival.
She swung open the door, hoping that the Doggie Do dog-walking service would assuage her guilt at leaving Alaska alone for so long.

“Hi,” the guy said, smiling. He had a great smile, warm and friendly. “I’m Finn Scott.”

“Hi. I’m Kate.” She opened the door wider. “Please come in.”

He walked in, his gaze taking in Kate in a slow, languorous sweep. Was that a look of appreciation in his eyes? Her cheeks grew warm, surprise mingling with a foolishly girlish glow. Being checked out was a welcome balm to her ragged ego after dealing with Ethan today.

Finn turned to Alaska. The husky wagged his tail and nosed Finn’s hand. Just his hand, fortunately. She still remembered the way he had greeted Ethan. It had been a prescient foreshadowing of every interaction she’d had with her ex-fiancé since.

“This is Alaska,” she said to Finn. She allowed herself a proud smile.

Finn knelt down and looked into the dog’s eyes, scratching him behind the ears. Then he stood, ignoring the white fur coating his faded Levi’s. Alaska leaned against his legs. “I’ll take you out in just a minute, buddy,” he said.

He turned to Kate. “I always like to take them out on their own the first time, so we get used to each other before I introduce him to all the other dogs. Where’s his leash?”

“Right here.” She passed it to him, already feeling reassured by this man. He seemed to know instinctively how to handle dogs. She’d quizzed him on the phone about his dog-handling experience and his program, feeling slightly ridiculous about how much reassurance she needed that Alaska would be in good hands.

Finn took the husky out the door. The dog obediently
trotted by his side. They walked down the block, around the corner. He had a relaxed but purposeful stride. Alaska obviously had warmed to him. She had, too. Ten minutes later, he was back. She watched them come inside. How in the world had he gotten Alaska so completely under his thumb in ten minutes? “You’re going to have to show me how to do that,” she said with a rueful smile. “He pulls me like a sleigh.”

“You have to let him know who’s the lead dog,” Finn said. “It’s all in the body language. Look at my shoulders. See how relaxed I am?”

Did he realize she’d been looking at his shoulders since he’d gotten out of his car? A flush heated her chest. His shoulders were broad, solid, well developed under his white T-shirt.

Like Randall Barrett’s.

Shit. She was really losing it. There was no question. First Ethan, then Randall, and now one look at Finn and she was suffused with a desire to feel the hard body of a man.

She looked away. “Yes. I can see that.”

He removed Alaska’s leash. “Go get some water, boy.”

The dog went into the kitchen.

“You’ve got a very special dog there,” Finn said.

She smiled, bemused at the effect the dog walker had on Alaska. And on her.

She was being pathetic.
You’re just feeling weak and vulnerable, that’s all.
The events of the past week had made her doubt everything she’d ever done that was good in her life and forced her to remember everything she regretted.

She’d never felt lonelier.

“I’m so glad you could come tonight.” Then realized how that could sound. She rushed on, “It’s really important to me that Alaska gets some company during the day. I’m at work until at least six…”

Finn responded with an easy smile. The smile prodded her memory again. She could feel it coming into focus. Wait…it was there…teasing her mind…

The funeral.

He looked like the man who’d walked in with her at the funeral. He’d tried to help her when she made her embarrassingly hurried exit, but Ethan had cut him off.

She studied him. He was wearing jeans and a V-necked pullover but in a suit…?

“You look really familiar to me,” she said, then felt a small burn in her cheeks. She was sure he got it from all his single female clients. She didn’t want him to think she was just like all the others.

His eyes crinkled at the corners. They were blue-green. Nice eyes. “Hmmm…you look familiar, too.”

Did he mean it or was he just playing along? She made her tone businesslike. “Were you at Lisa MacAdam’s funeral on Saturday?”

He started. “Yeah. Were you?”

“Yes.”

“It was really awful what happened to her.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Lisa was a nice kid,” he added softly.

It was her turn to be surprised. “You knew her?”

“One of my clients lived on the same floor as she did. She used to come over and visit the dog. She loved dogs.” A light flush tinged his tanned face.

Kate noted it, puzzled. Then she realized why he’d reacted the way he did. It wasn’t just dogs that the fifteen-year-old girl had loved. She’d had a crush on the dog walker. It was only natural, given his rugged blond looks, his way with animals. Probably happened to Finn all the time.

“Did you spend a lot of time with her?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “We were friends. She was a nice kid underneath it all.”

“Underneath what?” She suddenly needed to know what this dead girl had been like. What had driven her to that street corner.

He seemed to understand that. “Underneath the tough skin. You know, the dyed hair, the makeup.” His eyes were haunted. “She tried so hard to be like the other girls, you know, flirting and stuff, but really she was still a kid. She had this tattoo…”

“A tattoo?” That didn’t sound very kidlike.

“It was a dog. One she’d met when she was eight, she told me. She’d loved this dog, wanted one so badly. But her mother wouldn’t let her get one.” He looked away. “It was cruel. I would have taken it for walks for free…” His gaze swung back to Kate. “She was just a kid, you know?”

“I know,” Kate said softly. A kid who never had a chance to be a kid.

Sadness settled between them, drawing them together with the unnatural intimacy of the grief stricken.

“You know what really gets me,” he said suddenly, “was seeing her grandmother put her stuffed dog in the coffin. I’ll never forget that.”

That ragged, dingy dog with one ear. Kate had tried to block the memory. The toy dog had somehow settled itself into the hollow of the dead girl’s neck. Her protector.

Kate blinked away tears. What was happening to her? She was about to fall apart in front of a man she had just met. She flashed him a quick glance. He didn’t look in such great shape himself.

She cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you, you know, for stepping out to help me at the end of the
service…” She trailed off. There was no mistaking the bafflement in Finn’s eyes. “It wasn’t you?”

“No.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

Kate’s mind raced. He looked so familiar. Then again, if you lived in Halifax long enough, half the faces you saw were familiar.

Finn turned to the door. The strange mood was broken. He said with forced briskness, “I’ll pick up Alaska at ten a.m. tomorrow and then again at three-thirty.”

“Great. I wish I could be home by five, but with my job…”

He smiled, a slow, reassuring smile that eased Kate’s guilt. “Don’t feel bad. The dogs enjoy the companionship.”

“Oh. I almost forgot.” She picked up a spare key that she’d left on the hall table and gave it to him. “The lock is very old, so you need to jiggle it a bit…”

“No problem.” He put the key on a ring with about ten others. Kate noticed he had a leather thong wrapped twice around his wrist. It was worn and rugged, sexy against his strong forearm. “Most of my clients live in the south end, and most have old locks. I’m used to them.” He gave Alaska one final scratch. “See you tomorrow, boy.”

“If you have any problems, here’s my work number.” She handed him her card. The embossed letters glimmered in the hall light. “And I’ll leave a check for you under the plant.” She gestured to a geranium that sat on the hall table. It was wilting and needed to be deadheaded. He must think she was incapable of caring for any living thing. And then she wondered why she cared what he thought of her.

He tucked her card in his pocket. “I doubt Alaska will give me any trouble.” He held out his hand. “It was nice meeting you.”

She shook his hand. His fingers were warm and strong around hers. Before her imagination could taunt her with
any more images of a man’s hard body comforting hers, she pulled her hand away and held open the door.

She watched him walk toward his truck. He had a cute butt. He had a cute everything. And he loved dogs.

She closed the door.
You are so screwed up. Wasn’t it bad enough that you almost threw yourself at your boss? That you almost let Ethan kiss you? Wasn’t that humiliating enough? Now you’re eyeing the dog walker?

But Finn was different. He wasn’t dangerous in the way that Ethan or Randall were. He didn’t threaten the fragile sutures of her lacerated heart.

She leaned against the door. It didn’t matter that Finn was too young for her. Or that she hired him to look after her dog. He had made her feel like she was a woman who was desirable. Physically and emotionally.

She hadn’t felt that way in months.

She fed Alaska and boiled an egg for herself. Half an hour later, she emptied her briefcase onto her kitchen table and got to work. It was time to do what she’d been hired to do.

At 12:08 a.m. she pushed her chair back and stood, stretching. Satisfaction spread through her as she tidied the papers littered on the table. The cases looked promising. Good enough to give TransTissue a solid defense.

Alaska watched her from his vantage point by the kitchen door. His tail thumped encouragingly. He wanted to go to bed and was waiting for her to say the word.

“Okay, boy, time for bed.” He pushed himself to his feet and lumbered down the hall.

She followed him, switching off lights. She had lived in the house for more than three months and still wasn’t used to the noises. Late at night was the worst. Long shadows cloaked the corners of the hall. As she walked
toward her bedroom, floorboards creaked, their moans sounding strangely human to her ears.

Ever since the intruder had been in her garden ten days ago, the noises had bothered her. Even Alaska seemed on edge, getting up at night to prowl the house. No wonder she was always tired.

She switched on the overhead light in her room. The light didn’t break through the shadow in the corners, despite the pale blue walls and white trim. Kate had thought the blue would look fresh and modern. Now she regretted her color choice. The room was so cavernous, the cool shade made it look even colder and barren. Her wicker bedroom furniture appeared meager and sticklike under the ten-foot ceilings. Only when she’d snuggled down under the covers did she feel warm.

It was going to be difficult to get out of her bed at 6:00 a.m. for her run. She had stayed up too late and tomorrow she would pay the price.

Alaska was performing his nightly circles on his bed when she crawled under the sheets. Within seconds, she fell asleep.

The howl cut through her dream.