Dead Ringer (16 page)

"Cancer."
He liked Nicole's directness. He'd grown tired
of dancing around other people's discomfort over Julie's death.

The
familiar lump formed in his gut, but the sharp pain of loss was finally
starting to ease. "I do the best I can to keep her memory alive for the boys.
But it's getting harder and harder for them to remember."

She
nodded,
her expression serious. "If I look at pictures
of my mother I remember her. Otherwise, it's hard."

"How
long has she been gone?"

"Eight
years.
Car accident."
She straightened as if the baby
kicked.

It
was none of his business how she was doing, but he wanted to know. He'd worked
with the Richmond and San Francisco police who'd unraveled her late husband's
murder sprees. They'd all been violent, vicious crimes.

"I
gotta say," Ayden said, "you appear to be doing real well."

She
nodded, understanding his meaning. "I'm just putting one foot in front of the
other. I figure as long as I keep moving I can hold it together."

"That's
exactly how I felt when Julie died."

She
sipped her tea. "But I didn't love my husband.
Not at the end
anyway."

"But
you did at one time."

"Sure.
In the beginning."

"It's
logical to mourn that loss."

"I
mourned that loss a long time ago. The real struggle has just been learning to
live again.
To think for myself.
I wanted to buy shoes
the other day and for a split second wondered if Richard would approve. Moments
like that make me angry."

She
had a fighter's spirit. "You buy the shoes?"

A
wicked grin curved the edge of her lips.
"In brown and in black."

The
front doors of the shop opened. A blast of cold air rolled in with a gangly boy
who had the same color of eyes as Ayden. The kid's gaze scanned the shop and
landed almost immediately on him. The boy grinned.

Ayden
was glad to see his son but sorry his visit with Nicole would have to end.
"Number one son has arrived."

Nicole
twisted and looked up at the boy. She smiled.

Ayden
rose. "Caleb, I'd like you to meet Nicole Piper."

Caleb
shook her hand. "Hey.
Nice to meet you."

"How'd
the test go?" Ayden asked.

"Good."

"Any problems?"

"No."

He
wondered if the boy would ever speak in complete sentences again.

Nicole
grinned. "I remember my S.A.T. I think I got a two on the math."

Caleb
nodded. "Math was a bear but I aced the English part."

"When
I took my test, the proctor opened the windows. Outside, the university was
hosting a charity carnival. The noise was a big distraction."

"Yeah,
some kid in our classroom kept tapping his foot. It was a real pain."

Ayden
watched the exchange, thinking he'd just witnessed a minor miracle. Caleb had
completed sentences and was engaging in a conversation.

"Hey,
Dad, can we head out? I've got a paper to finish for science."

Ayden
glanced at Nicole's half cup of tea and uneaten cookie. "I hate to leave you
like this."

Nicole's
eyes twinkled with amusement. "I'm never alone when I have a cookie."

"Right."
Still, it bothered him that he was leaving
behind a very pregnant woman to fend for herself. He reminded himself that she
was none of his concern. But the argument fell on deaf ears. He dug five
dollars out of his pocket. "Caleb, grab
yourself
a cup
of coffee for the road and then we'll head out."

Caleb
took the money without question. "Cool."

Ayden
sat back down. "Don't let me hold you up. Eat."

Nicole
started to eat her cookie. "He's a good kid."

"Yeah.
I credit his mother. I've always worked insane
hours."

"Don't
sell yourself short."

For
the next few minutes they sat and talked while Caleb flirted with the girl
behind the counter. They talked about Nicole's photography and she told him an
amusing story about an uptight bride. The exchange was, well, nice.

As
luck would have it, Caleb came back to the table just as Nicole was finishing
off her cookie and tea.

Ayden
rose. "We can walk you to your car?"

Nicole
lumbered to her feet. "Oh, don't worry. I'm just a few blocks from here."

"A
few blocks. We'll walk you."

Caleb
glanced at him. His expression was a mixture of amusement and surprise, but
thankfully the kid didn't blurt out whatever thoughts pummeled his mind.

Nicole
picked up her purse off the floor. "It's twenty degrees outside. Save
yourself."

"I'm
parked out front. I'll drive you." The more he thought about her walking down
city blocks alone, the more the idea bothered him.

She
seemed grateful for the favor and allowed him to guide her out of the shop.
Caleb lumbered behind.

Ayden
opened the front passenger seat of an unmarked white Crown Vic and waited as
she lowered herself into the seat. When she was settled, he closed the door.

"You
gonna open my door?" Caleb muttered.

Ayden
glared at the glint in the kid's eye. "Get in the car."

Caleb
climbed in the back while Ayden slid behind the wheel. He fired up the engine
and pulled into traffic.

Nicole
directed him to the parking lot where she'd left her car. Her skin looked a
little pale now and he guessed she was exhausted.

"Thanks
for the ride," she said.

"Take
care."

"Will do."
She climbed out and moved to her car. Once
inside, she fired up the engine and then waved an all clear to him.

Caleb
got out of his seat and into the front. Ayden waited until Nicole pulled out
and waved her thanks.

"Jeeze,
Dad, she's like a hundred months pregnant and you're giving her 'the look.'"

Annoyed,
Ayden pulled onto Cary Street. "I wasn't giving her a 'look.'"

Caleb
clicked his seat belt and leaned back in his seat, pleased with himself. "Oh,
it was a look all right."

Ayden
shot his kid a good-natured glare. "Stow it, kid."

Then
Ayden's cell phone rang. He glanced down at the number displayed.

Zack
Kier.

A
call on his day off couldn't be good.

Standing
in her spare room, Kendall wore jeans, a faded T-shirt, and paint-spattered
sneakers when the cell in her pocket rang. She glanced at the yellow paint can she'd
been preparing to open and flipped open the phone. "Kendall Shaw."

"There's
been another murder," Brett fired off. "How soon can you be ready to cover it?"

Kendall's
heart raced. "Give me fifteen minutes."

"Good."
He gave her the address. "I'll have a cameraman meet you there."

Adrenaline
rushed her system. "I'll be there in a half hour."

The
paint job forgotten, Kendall showered quickly, pulled her hair into a neat
French twist, and donned a chocolate cashmere sweater, dark suede paints, and
boots. Good to her word, she was mobile in fifteen minutes.

On
the way to the crime scene, she mentally ran through the questions she wanted
to ask. She prided herself on not only looking her best but also having the
sharpest questions.

A woman should be more than a pretty face.
Henry Shaw, her father had said that a lot. He
had never let Kendall trade on her looks. He'd expected her to work hard in
school and prove she could succeed in spite of her looks.

Her
dad had provided ballast for his type-A wife, Irene, and his daughter. The
women's personalities were so much alike and her dad had often said they were
"two peas in a pod." Kendall had always liked it when he said that because it
made it easy to pretend that Irene had given birth to her and that there wasn't
another woman out there who'd given her away.

"What
made me think of that?" Kendall muttered as she slowed for a red light. She
forced her mind back to the story and the victim. Minutes later, she turned
right on Laburnum and quickly spotted the flashing blue lights of the police
cars. The Channel 10 van was waiting in a Chinese restaurant parking lot across
a side street. The other television crews had arrived. This was going to be
chaos.

She
parked behind the van and got out. The cameraman on the scene was new and she'd
only worked with him a couple of times.
"Hey, Lin.
Where's Mike?"

Lin
was tall and lean. He couldn't be more than thirty but his shoulders stooped
like those of an old man. "Don't know."

It
wasn't like Mike to miss a story like this. "Follow me. Let's cross to the
crime scene and see what we can see."

He
nodded, reached in the van, and hoisted a camera onto his shoulder. "Will do,
boss."

The
wind cut into her skin as she crossed the intersection toward the crime scene.
She made it as far as a sidewalk before she reached yellow tape and a patrolman
stopped her.

Kendall
tossed the officer her trademark smile.

But
before she could ask her first question, he said, "No one's getting close to
the scene.
Especially you."

Her
smile held, though annoyance rose in her. "Can you tell me anything about the
victim?"

"No."

"Is
Detective Warwick here?" This was a long shot. "He'll talk to me."

That made the man laugh
. "He's busy."

Frustrated,
she glanced at the store. There'd be no getting in now. She turned and started
back across the street toward the van. The corner was lined with other stores
and a growing number of onlookers. Someone had to have seen something.

Lin's
long legs kept pace easily.
"So what now?"

"There's
more than one way to skin a cat."

Jacob
had been waiting for Kendall since her station's news van had arrived. He'd
seen to it that she didn't get close to this story.

A
flutter of movement caught his attention and he watched as Tess turned the body
on its side. She pushed up the victim's shirt. Pale blue speckles covered the
dead woman's lower back.

Tess
looked up at him. "She died sitting in a chair. But she didn't sit as long as
the last one. Whoever did this didn't keep her as long."

"Almost as if he was in a rush."

"Right."

The
similarity between the two victims and Kendall had to be addressed. The
likeness could have been dismissed as coincidence with one victim, but not two.
Jacob needed to talk to Kendall.

Over
the last year, he'd managed to collect an odd assortment of facts about
Kendall. He'd never gone out of his way to dig up information on her, but when
she was mentioned, he paid attention.

Both
her parents were dead. No siblings.
Model.
Loved Paris.
Won several awards.
He
didn't want to talk to her here. A conversation between them would not go
unnoticed and he didn't want to draw the attention. He'd wait.
Until he could find her alone.

Kendall
spent the better part of the morning talking to bystanders, store owners, and
anyone who might have seen something. People were happy to talk to her, but all
rambled on about details that couldn't be built into a story. At four she and
the other members of the media had gotten a briefing from the police
department's public information officer. But the details had been scant.
Female.
Caucasian.
Manner of death yet to be determined.

She'd
called Phil White a couple of times to get his reaction, but he'd not answered
his phone.

So
when she returned to the station at about five, she was frustrated, tired, and
hungry. It would be a long night piecing together the bits into a story.

Kendall
passed reception and headed down the hallway toward her office. She stopped
short at the threshold. Detective Jacob Warwick stood in her office.

Warwick
stared at the pictures on her wall, the paperweight from her desk in his hand.

He
studied her space. She did the same thing when she entered someone's office.
Furnishings and styles revealed a lot about a person.
Neat
freak.
Slob.
Pack rat.
Hobbies.
She'd been careful to choose furnishings that
telegraphed cool and sophisticated. All part of the Kendall Shaw persona that
she'd nurtured for the last few years. She wasn't sure why she now felt like a
fraud.