The 3rd Victim (4 page)

6

T
here is a millisecond, just before you open your eyes, when your lashes resist the movement. It is like they cling together for comfort, holding tight to that world where light, and all the bad things illuminated by it, remain safely out of reach.

Sienna Walker's long, black lashes were matting at their tips, clinging to the darkness until the basic human instinct to check on her surroundings kicked in – and with it came the memory, the realisation of where she was, and the gravity of the loss she had suffered.

‘Eliza,’ she said, the most important word in her universe now catching in her throat. ‘My sweet little girl,’ this time louder, the panic exploding like an A-bomb in her chest. ‘Oh god …’ She arched her back before contracting into a curl, and then, in reflex, moving to wrap her arms tightly around her knees. But her hand jerked back. It was connected to a tube, the tube to a bag of clear, unidentified fluid.

She shuddered, her blue eyes stretching wide as every last detail gushed violently through her brain. She could see her – Eliza, her beautiful baby girl – the rise of her cheek, the extraordinary length of her eyelashes, the soft blonde wisps of her hair. But then her vision started to shrink, inwards, from the sides, as a thick sea of red oozed into the corners of her memory and obliterated her daughter from her mind's eye.

Eliza was gone, she knew, and she wondered at the finality of it all as the confusion gave way to grief and the grief to utter despair and the despair to resolve to keep the inevitable anger at bay.

Half of her wanted the fury to come, but the other half knew that the rage inside her would be her only weapon against what inevitably lay ahead. He would be here, she thought. Not here in this room, but close by, always close by.

Sienna shut her eyes again and allowed the fog to swallow her. Choose your battles, she told herself, repeating the advice her father had given her so many times in her youth. Accept the consequences of your actions, his mantra continued. She knew that no amount of grieving would bring her daughter back. What is done is done, the third of his quartet of truisms now slipping its way past the shadows, and finally: prepare in haste for what is to come, for clocks only move in one direction, once they have been set.

7

F
orty minutes had passed and David was on his third coffee by the time Joe had finished. He had checked on Lauren twice, the second time finding her curled up under a blanket on a bean bag in the room just beyond Mick's kitchen. Mick had her in eyeshot and was fawning over her like a muscle-bound mother hen, shooing David away every time he came to ask if watching her was any trouble.

‘Wow,’ said David as he sat back in his seat. ‘I can see why this whole thing feels strange, Joe. I mean, besides the coincidence of Daniel Hunt's involvement, there's the murder of the kid so close to the recent death of the father.’

‘That's exactly what I was thinking,’ said Joe, obviously relieved that his attorney friend didn't dismiss his concerns outright.

‘But on the other hand,’ continued David, sensing it was also his ‘job’ to help Joe find the logic in the happenstance, ‘when you think about it, all those coincidences can be explained. As big of an egotist as Daniel Hunt appears to be, what he says makes sense. He could well be feeling a sense of responsibility after the husband's death. And tragedies have been known to happen in sequence – thank god not often, but every now and again.’

Joe did not answer, perhaps pondering David's reasoning, and so David went on.

‘Did you look into the circumstances surrounding the husband's accident?’

‘Yeah – and they check out,’ conceded Joe. ‘Jim Walker was on the road. He had some meetings in New York and more in the morning somewhere further south. It was late, he was tired, so he fell asleep at the wheel. He swerved across to the other side of the road and crashed head on into an eighteen-wheeler.’

David shook his head. ‘It's sad, but it happens, Joe. You said you ran a background check on the Walkers and it came up clean.’

Joe nodded. ‘I'm still digging, but the initial story is just like Hunt told it – the Walkers are both only children and both of their parents are deceased. The husband got his law degree with a Masters in Business from Princeton and the wife was born in the UK, where she went to Oxford and got her graduate degree in the history of art and architecture. She met Walker while on a sabbatical to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum and they were married a few months later.’

The Isabella Stewart Gardner was one of Boston's and America's most respected art galleries. ‘Sounds like a whirlwind Ivy League match made in heaven,’ said David.

‘By all accounts it was. Things got a little rocky when the firm Walker was working for became a casualty of the GFC, but Hunt bought the company, revamped it and sacked close to everyone bar Walker. Walker's salary doubled about the time his then fiancée nabbed a full-time job as one of the museum's curators so, with two prestigious positions like that … well, yeah, they were going okay.’

‘Hunt and Co. is that hot?’ asked David, the notion annoying him for some reason.

‘According to what I am hearing Hunt has a cupboard full of hopeful CVs from some of the brightest young legal minds in the city.’

‘Can't be that many – he offered
me
a job last night.’

‘That was probably just polite chitchat – he knows you'd never work for him.’

David knew Joe was right.

‘Anyway, when Sienna Walker's father passed, he left her enough to buy their Back Bay brownstone outright,’ Joe went on, getting them back on topic. ‘And Jim Walker's salary was being saved for the couple to undertake a complete overhaul of the building over the next few years.’

‘Remind me to ask Arthur for a raise,’ offered David. But Joe merely sipped his coffee, his dark eyes downcast. ‘Look, Joe,’ said David then, ‘you know all this stuff can be explained, which means something else is bothering you? I understand the crime itself is enough to make this one …’ David searched for the right word, ‘… difficult. Hell, if anything close to that happened to Lauren, Sara and I, we would …’ David stopped short, not even wanting to consider it. ‘The thing is,’ he went on after a time, ‘I know you, Joe, and there is something that you're not telling me, a detail that's got under your skin.’

‘It's nothing,’ said Joe. ‘Just some details that don't quite fit together.’

‘Like what?’ asked David.

‘Like Dr Dick's determination to sedate the mom before we had a chance to talk to her. The way they were protecting her was downright creepy, David – they were like lionesses hovering over their cub.’

‘So Hunt and his friend felt protective – maybe even guilty about the fact that Jim Walker was out of town on business when that semi-trailer ended his life.’

Joe shook his head. ‘It was more than that.’

‘How so?’

‘I got the feeling they didn't want her to talk because they were afraid of what she'd say.’

‘You think they were concerned she might incriminate them? For starters Hunt has an alibi – an alibi that includes us.’

‘Not them.’

‘Not them?’

‘No. Her.’

‘Her?’ David took a breath as he saw where this was going. ‘Jesus, Joe, you suspect Sienna Walker of slaughtering her own child?’

‘Not officially, David, this only went down last night. I haven't even spoken to Svenson,’ said Joe, referring to Boston's chief ME, ‘or to the Kat.’

‘Katz hasn't called you yet?’ asked David, expecting the Suffolk County ADA to be all over a high-profile case such as this.

‘Oh, he's called – eleven times to be exact, but I turned my cell off over an hour ago.’

David nodded. ‘But I still don't understand. What makes you think a mother would do such a thing?’

‘I know. It's unthinkable. But it's happened before. Having a baby is tough for any woman, but with the husband's death, the lack of family support … She's a long way from home, David. She's probably sleep-deprived, grieving.’

‘You think she's suffering from post-partum depression?’

Joe stirred his coffee. ‘Like I said, it's happened before.’

‘Even so, the nature of the murder, that's a mighty big call.’

‘Maybe not so much a big call, but a very tragic story. Maybe she's ill, maybe she needs help.’

‘But you have evidence suggesting someone cut the wires to kill the lights. That the perp came up and down the fire escape, unscrewed the window screen.’

‘The screen unscrews from the inside, David.’

And there it was, the detail that had been bothering Joe from the outset.

David placed his mug back on the table. ‘The screen was unscrewed from inside the bedroom?’

‘No other way to do it. The crime guys even found some dust under the window, from when the screen got pulled in before being pushed out.’

‘You think the mother made it look like a break-in?’

‘The screen was forced outwards to make it look like someone had pulled it back from the outside.’

‘But you said there was blood on the fire escape.’

‘Maybe she was savvy enough to realise that taking the body down the fire escape was smarter than traipsing blood through the house.’

David shook his head. ‘You're giving this woman a lot of credit, Joe.’

‘I'm just interpreting the evidence.’

David realised how much the parent in him wanted Joe to be proved wrong. ‘It's not enough, Joe. Maybe the perp, after cutting the electricals, broke into the house elsewhere, crept up the stairs, killed the baby, climbed out the window and took the baby's body out and down the escape.’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘There were no prints on the light switch.’

‘What?’

‘The bedroom light switch. Our tech guys dusted it. It had been wiped clean, so it was completely print-free.’

‘That doesn't mean squat, Joe. First up, the perp probably didn't flick the switch in any case because he'd already cut the wires and knew the lights didn't work. Secondly, you said the Walkers had a cleaner at the house that day. If she is anything like Sara, she wipes over light switches and door handles as part of her routine.’

‘She could well have,’ said Joe, ‘but that's my problem. The housekeeper left at four. The kid was killed at eleven. The mom got up to check on her and –’

And then the penny dropped on the detail that proved David wrong. ‘She didn't try to turn on the light,’ he said. ‘I can understand her not switching it on when she first walked in, for fear of waking the kid up. But even after she felt around for her kid's body, even when she was covered in her own kid's blood, she still didn't turn on the light.’

Joe nodded. And there was silence as the pair of them took it all in.

‘What are you going to do?’ asked David at last.

‘See Gus,’ replied Joe, referring to ME Svenson. ‘Talk to the mom who, according to what the doctors said last night, should be waking as we speak.’

‘You keeping Hunt and his pack at bay? That might be tough if they are determined to protect her.’

‘I have a uniform on her door and he'll stop anyone from entering for the first day or two, but I'm walking a fine line here, David. The woman is not under arrest, the hospital won't keep her indefinitely and Hunt is not stupid so …’

David nodded. ‘Are you going to arrest her?’

‘Not without more proof.’

‘Then you need to work fast, Joe, before you talk to the Kat.’

‘I know – this day is shaping up to be a winner all round.’

8

T
he following morning David and Sara walked to the office early, leaving Lauren safely in the care of her nanny, a bright young girl named Stacey Gilmore. The air was cold but the sun was out, Sara making them cross the busy streets to dodge the shadows cast by the multitude of Downtown Crossing high-rises that towered like concrete oaks above them.

‘God, I long for a little respite from the city,’ she said. ‘We live in it, we work in it …’

‘You going all suburban on me, Mrs Cavanaugh?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she said as she took his hand and they turned a right onto the narrow Hawley Street. ‘You know I love being in the thick of it, David, but the apartment – well, it
is
kind of small and eventually Lauren is going to need a yard.’

It was the first time Sara had mentioned a need for a house with some space around it. But when he thought about it, this really shouldn't have surprised him. Lauren was growing up so fast, and he supposed a home in some tree-lined street was the next logical step in their family's future. Maybe Sara was also thinking about having another child, he thought. It was certainly something he'd be up for, given fatherhood was everything and more than he'd expected.

‘Can we do lunch?’ she asked as they hit the appropriately named Summer Street where they warmed their faces once again. It was crazy that they had to schedule lunch with one another given they were only an office apart, but their diaries were tight and often one of them was leaving for court while the other was just returning.

‘I have a deposition at one,’ said David.

‘Then we'll miss each other. I have that meeting with the insurance company at eleven which will probably run for an hour or two.’

‘Have to be dinner then,’ he said.

‘Wouldn't miss it for the world.’ She squeezed his hand as they entered the front glass doors of their small but functional Congress Street offices.

Nora had gotten in early to jack up the not-so-cooperative heat. ‘Morning,’ she said from the kitchen. The coffee was on and David was grateful.

‘Hey, Nora – you been here all night anticipating my arrival?’ he joked – part of their usual morning banter.

‘Most of the weekend actually, lad,’ replied Nora. ‘That's all I do, David – spend my time anticipating the next opportunity for me to bask in the glory of your wit and intelligence.’

‘Well, I'm here until just before one, so you've got me for at least half the day.’

‘Thank you, lad, but considering I am not the selfish type, I suggest you share yourself around a little, starting by calling your sister.’

‘Lisa rang?’ asked David, taking a coffee from Nora and making his way toward his light-filled corner office – one of three that circled the main reception area. ‘Damn it. I was meant to see her yesterday,’ he added. David had a habit of forgetting his loosely made plans to hook up with his energy-packed little sister. ‘She call from home or work?’ he asked, not sure what shift she was working this week.

‘Work,’ said Nora, raising her voice as she moved to Sara's office to hand her a strong flat white.

‘You should ring her, David,’ called a now out-of-sight Sara. ‘We haven't seen her for over a week.’

It was true, David's sister was the fourth member of their Boston-based family – the recent high frequency of her visits explained by the free time she had inherited when her latest poor-choice-in-boyfriend dumped her for a registrar in anaesthesiology. And so David called Lisa's cell, hoping to catch her in between emergencies.

‘Hey,’ said David when Lisa picked up on the second ring.

‘Hey my ass,’ replied Lisa, always one to speak her mind. ‘You were supposed to call.’

‘I'm sorry. I got held up with Joe at Mick's.’

‘I like Joe and Mick.’

‘And they like you too, but the visit was impromptu and in the end Joe and I talked shop. Why don't you come around for dinner this week?’

‘I can't. I'm working every night bar Friday, and Friday I have a date.’

‘Not the prick from anesthesiology?’

‘He wasn't from anesthesiology, DC,’ said Lisa, using the nickname David had had since he was a kid. ‘Brian ran off with a registrar from anesthesiology. And the answer to your question is no – I met this guy at the supermarket. He was wearing a suit.’

‘Then he's sure to be a winner, Lis,’ said David, knowing from experience that there was no point in arguing.

‘Speaking of winners,’ said Lisa, ‘I met someone who knows you today. He came to the ER and asked for me personally.’

‘Who?’

‘Another suit, but a notch up from the guy I met in the organic aisle at Shaw's. He was here to see that poor woman who came in on Saturday night. Said you told him that I worked here.’

David felt a niggle in his stomach – a small one, but a niggle nonetheless. ‘What was this guy's name, Lisa?’

‘Hunt, Daniel Hunt. He said you two met at some black tie thing on Saturday night and I told him he had to be lying considering these days my brother hardly ever went out – let alone in a tux, for god's sakes.’ Lisa took a breath. ‘Anyway, the guy was very polite, very concerned about the welfare of his friend. He said he met Joe as well, at which point I told him he
had
to be lying considering the only time I saw Joe in a suit was at your wedding.’

‘He was asking about Joe?’

‘Not really asking … well, I guess he did ask how long you two had known each other and I told him you and Joe were tight and go way back. He wanted to see his friend, you know, the mom whose kid was abducted, but the woman had been sedated and there was a police guard on her door so … I told him he'd have to wait.’

‘Did he say he was coming back?’

‘No, but he left this bag of personal stuff for the woman, and he asked me if I'd call him with an update on her status which is when I told him that would only be possible if he was her next of kin. What he did say, however, was that he'd like to catch up with you, and he asked me for your numbers. So I gave him your office and cell numbers, which I hope was okay because …’

Silence.

‘DC, you there? Because if you and this Hunt guy hit it off, I was going to say, you know, if the supermarket guy doesn't work out, this guy could be …’

‘No,’ bit David, raising his voice just a little. ‘He's not your type, Lis.’

‘Jeez, no need to bite my head off. Besides, you're the one who's always telling me the guys I date are –’

‘I'm sorry.’ David took a breath, not wanting to overreact but wondering why the hell Daniel Hunt would be seeking out his little sister. ‘You owe it to the supermarket guy to give him a chance, right?’

‘Well, he does shop organic.’

‘There you go. Listen,’ he added, now feeling the need to ring and check in with Joe. Not that he had anything specific to tell him, but this Hunt seemed to be cropping up in both of their lives of late, and David could not help but think Hunt's interest was more than coincidental. ‘I gotta run. I'll call you later okay?’

‘I've heard that before, big bro,’ said Lisa.

But David did not hear her, instead he saw Nora Kelly stop at his doorway, her hand holding an invisible telephone and lifting it to her ear.