The Dying Room (11 page)

Jess smiled. “I won’t argue with you, that’s for sure.”

Dan guided her to the bathroom and let her take care of essentials while he turned back the covers. When she had brushed her teeth, he helped her into bed, gave Bear a goodnight pat, and then massaged her feet for a few minutes.

By the time he slid between the sheets next to her, she was barely awake.

“I love you, Jess.”

“Love you, too.”

Maybe tonight she wouldn’t dream of murders and serial killers.

1314 Twentieth Street South, Birmingham

Thursday, April 2, 11:30 a.m.

Buddy had been parked on the street for a couple of hours now. The New Orleans style lofts he had his eye on were located atop the restaurants and shops along Cobb Lane. According to his source, a sweet little X-ray tech over at UAB, Addison Devers had rented a loft at this address when she first moved to Birmingham. Buddy had watched her drive away in that sporty little red BMW ten minutes ago. Since she wasn’t on shift until tonight, she’d either gone shopping or out with a friend. Either way, he intended to get a handle on her intentions.

Her lease on the loft extended another four months. Addison apparently intended to stay a while. What he didn’t understand is why she hadn’t attempted to make contact with Sylvia. She’d had more than enough time to get the lay of the land. By now, she was fully aware that her mother and grandparents were wealthy, prominent people in the community. He doubted her goal was money. She’d inherited a hefty sum from her parents before deciding to give most of it away.

His cell vibrated with an incoming text. He checked the screen.
Got her
.

Rosey Cunningham, Buddy’s most trusted colleague in the business. Rosey would tail Addison and keep an eye on her while Buddy did a little exploring. He sent a response to his colleague.
Don’t lose her
.

Buddy climbed out of his Charger and strolled up the block. He moved closer and closer to her door, but he didn’t go straight to it. Instead, he popped into one of the shops and bought a framed print. By the time he was moving toward the door once more Rosey reported that Addison had entered a restaurant downtown.

Buddy climbed the stairs leading to Addison’s apartment. Rosey would let him know if she left the restaurant. Between now and then, Buddy intended to cross a line he rarely stepped over these days. He eased his conscience with the assurance that the effort was for the greater good.

When he reached the door with her number on it, he set the print aside and removed a lock pick from his pocket as if it were a key. A little toggling and the tumblers cooperated. He opened the door, didn’t hear or see a warning that she’d bothered with a security system. Even better, there was no dog.

Inside, he closed and locked the door. For a rich girl, Addison’s taste ran along the lines of minimalistic. The loft was one large space with a single interior door that likely led to the bathroom. Nothing on the walls. She wasn’t exactly a neat freak. A tee he suspected she used for a nightshirt lay across the unmade bed. A bowl and spoon in the sink suggested she’d had cereal for breakfast. Plenty of wine and yogurt in the fridge along with a half empty quart of milk. A half-eaten cheese ball. The few cabinets were mostly empty except for a small set of stoneware, a few cans of soup, and a box of cereal.

A laptop and a stack of papers waited on the table in the center of the room. Buddy pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. He opened the laptop. No password. “Yes!”

The screen went directly to a Google search page. Buddy checked her history and saw where she’d been doing research on the Baron family. He tapped the necessary icon and went to her email account.

He shook his head. “Honey, you have got to stop assuming that your private life can be kept private behind nothing more than a single locked door.”

Addison had emailed back and forth with a couple of women who appeared to be friends from college. The thread of several conversations revolved around her move to Alabama. Addison had shared her quest with her friends. She was curious more than anything. Before their deaths, her aging adopted parents had urged her to find her birth mother and form a relationship. Addison had ignored their advice until after she graduated. Once school was no longer her focus, she’d had no choice but to make a decision one way or the other. Since her arrival in Birmingham she had discussed her biological mother with her friends.

“Hmmm.” Buddy was pleasantly surprised by her emails. Addison considered her mother beautiful and intelligent. She couldn’t decide how to approach her. Then, she’d met a guy and gotten a little distracted.

Buddy’s phone warned he had a new text. He read the update from Rosey.
Lunch with male friend
.

With a grunt Buddy composed a response.
Send me a pic of the guy
.

For the past five weeks, Addison’s emails had been more about Mr. Wonderful as she called her new beau. Buddy rolled his eyes and backed out of her email account. He closed the laptop and for a couple minutes moved around the room, checked drawers, rifled through the wardrobe rack. Nothing out of the ordinary. Another buzz of his cell and he checked the screen. A pic of Addison Devers giving a guy a hug expanded on his screen.

“Holy hell.”

The guy in the photo was Detective Chad Cook, Sylvia’s former boy toy.

Birmingham Police Department, 12:45 p.m.

Buddy waited until Cook hurried out of the department’s parking garage. As soon as the guy hit the sidewalk Buddy pushed away from the wall. “Running behind, Detective?”

Cook stalled. For a moment he look startled, and then he relaxed. “Hey, Mr. Corlew. Yeah.” He gestured to the building where the rest of his team no doubt waited for him to return from lunch. “I’m a little late getting back from lunch.”

“I need a few minutes of your time, Cook.”

He glanced at the BPD building. “Sure. Okay. What’s up?”

“You got a new girlfriend?”

He grinned before he could school the expression. “I do. She just moved here from southern California.”

“Let’s take a walk, Detective.”

“I should... ah... get to the office.”

“We’re headed in the same direction anyway. If I slow you down, you tell your boss I held you up.”

Cook shrugged. “Okay.”

“How’d you two meet?” Buddy watched the young cop’s gaze narrow. “I’m not trying to get all up in your business, it’s just that you know Jess and I are really good friends. With the baby coming I’m keeping an eye on anyone who gets close to Jess or any of her associates. After what happened with Spears you can see how she would be concerned about that kind of thing.”

Realization dawned on the young detective’s face. “Oh, man. I didn’t even think of that. I should apologize to the Chief for not telling her about Addi.”

“Actually,” Buddy dodged, “you don’t need to do anything like that. I’m taking care of the background checks quietly and without any fanfare.”

Cook laughed and pointed a finger at Buddy. “I see. Chief of Police Burnett hired you to do this and he doesn’t want the Chief to know. I gotcha. She’d probably be pissed.”

Buddy put his hands up in surrender. “You got me.” Then he dropped them back to his sides and laughed. “What we do to keep the women in our lives happy.”

“I know what you mean.” Cook grinned. “But Addi’s different. She’s thoughtful and confident. We don’t play games with each other’s feelings.”

Damn. Buddy hated to see the guy get hurt like this. The relationship sounded serious. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”

“About six weeks but we’ve officially been dating for one month today. That’s why I’m late. She has to work tonight, so we had lunch together to celebrate our anniversary.”

“How’d you say you met?” Buddy paused at the intersection.

“She came on staff with the surgeon who took care of my leg. I met her when I went back for my six-month follow up. We just hit it off.”

The length of time the two had been seeing each other gave Buddy pause. He couldn’t see it taking a month for Addison to get whatever she wanted from her mother’s former lover. Maybe their relationship was happenstance.

“So you got past the breakup with Dr. Baron?” The traffic light changed and the two crossed the street. Buddy didn’t miss the fact that Cook still had a bit of a limp. Guy almost lost his life to Eric Spears’s obsession with Jess.

“Yeah. She’s an amazing lady and all, but she...” He glanced around as they hit the sidewalk on the other side of the street. “Sylvia wasn’t interested in anything but sex. I kind of want to settle down and have a family.”

Buddy ignored his body’s foolish reaction to Sylvia’s name and the word sex in the same sentence—even one coming out of another man’s mouth. “Aren’t you a little young for a family?”

“I don’t think so. My mom and dad got married when they were younger than me.” He shrugged again. “I love kids. I’ve been saving for a house since I graduated high school. I don’t know, maybe I’m old-fashioned.”

Buddy clapped him on the back. “Old-fashioned can be a good thing, Cook. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“Thanks.” The guy ducked his head.

“So is this the one? Does she want to get married, too?”

Cook considered the question for a bit. “We have a lot of the same goals and ideas on what family means. I think she really feels something for me but nobody’s mentioned the L word yet.” He grinned. “I did take her to meet my parents last Sunday.”

“Wow. This sounds serious.” Buddy frowned. “So what brought your girl all the way to Alabama?”

“She lost her parents a couple years ago. She doesn’t have any family left. As soon as she finished her nursing program, she wanted to come here and find her roots.”

Buddy shot him a confused look. “I thought you said she doesn’t have any family left.”

“She was adopted. Her birth mother lives here.”

Buddy scratched his head. “You don’t say.”

Cook nodded. “She hasn’t worked up the nerve to talk to her yet, but she knows who she is.”

“Do you know who she is?” Buddy didn’t see how that was possible.

“She’s keeping that to herself for now. Addi really wants to break the ice with her before she brings anyone else into the picture. I can understand. She’s not ready to share such a tender spot just yet. You know what I mean? She’s just getting used to the idea of having a different mother from the one who raised her. She needs space to deal with this on her own. If she told me about her mother and I knew the woman, I might say or do something that would influence how this goes down. Neither of us wants to make the next step any more complicated than it’s already going to be.”

The guy had no idea just how complicated the next step was going to be for both of them. “She sounds like a nice girl.”

“She really is, Mr. Corlew. She cares about people. The people who raised her taught her to be kind and giving. She’s amazing.”

Buddy gave him another clap on the back. “I’ve held you up long enough. Thanks for giving me the lowdown on your lady.”

“Sure thing.”

Buddy watched Cook hurry away. Damn but this guy was about to get his heart broken. No matter how nice Miss Addison Devers was, she would not want to continue a relationship with a man who’d made love to her mother.

This was not going to end well.

Birmingham Police Department

SPU Office, 1:00 p.m.

“The senator is doing an outstanding job of dodging me,” Jess complained as she ended the call that had gone to voicemail.

Sylvia frowned. “I told you he’s hiding something.” She shook her head and turned back to the case board. “Whatever it is, I’ll bet my inheritance it has something to do with these men.”

Jess moved around her desk and studied the list they had spent the morning narrowing down. “Two are dead by the same MO, making them a given. We just need to figure out how the tall thin man is connected to them.”

Pratt’s computer had revealed nothing useful. His cell phone records, on the other hand, had proven most helpful. Since those records were already a part of the ongoing case against him, getting an update from his carrier hadn’t been a problem. During the past week, Pratt had spoken to the same people on several occasions: Senator Robert Baron, Samuel Baker, Isaiah Taylor, and Congressman Craig Moore. All the digging Jess, Lori, and Sylvia had done this morning had connected Rutledge’s name to the group as well as the names Wilson Hilliard and Alexander Carson—the movers and shakers consistently in the headlines and who had frequently associated over the past four or so decades.

“Congressman Moore is in Puerto Vallarta on spring break with his wife and daughter,” Lori pointed out. “That leaves Senator Baron, former Mayor Wilson Hilliard, former Alabama Attorney General Samuel Fitzgerald Baker, former Alabama Supreme Court Justice Isaiah Aaron Taylor, and steel magnate Alexander Carson.”

Sylvia moved closer to the board to study the photo of Moore. “Who has spring break this early? At Brighton our breaks were scheduled with Mountain Brook Schools’ calendar.”

Lori grinned. “One of the other hoity-toity private schools in the city.”

“I guess I walked right into that one,” Sylvia mused. She moved on to the photo of the tall thin man taken from his visit to the prison. “So this may be our guy.”

“He’s the only suspect we have just now,” Jess admitted. She considered the seven men whose names they feared were on the man’s list. “Since Mr. Carson doesn’t have the eagle tattoo, “ Jess said, “let’s take him out of the group for the moment.”

Alexander Carson was the father of Elliott Carson, a victim in a series of murders Jess and her team had worked last summer. He remembered Jess and was happy to be interviewed. He agreed without hesitation to Sylvia’s examination of his scalp. The same went for Isaiah Taylor. His son had been a victim of the same killing spree. He had agreed to an appointment with Jess for two this afternoon. Hilliard hadn’t been found as of yet and Baker was dodging Jess as the senator was. Baker didn’t like Jess. He’d taken offense at her investigative tactics when his son was murdered and hadn’t forgiven her even though she’d brought the killer to justice.

The door opened, drawing their collective attention in that direction. Chad Cook entered the room.

He grinned. “Afternoon, ladies.” He nodded toward Jess. “Chief.”

Jess raised her brows at him. “I’m not a lady?”

His face turned beet red. “Sorry, Chief. Course you’re a lady.” He shuffled over to his desk as if in hopes of dodging anymore embarrassing moments.

Sylvia strutted right up to him. “Chad Wade Cook, I know that look you’re wearing.”

His face brightened to a more crimson shade of red. “Excuse me?”

Sylvia’s gaze narrowed. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Jess exchanged a look with Lori. And here she’d been so happy that Sylvia and Cook didn’t seem to hold any grudges after their breakup nearly five months ago.

Jess opened her mouth to intervene but Cook spoke up. “I do.” He grinned. “She’s almost as pretty as you.”

“That’s wonderful!” Sylvia gave him with a quick hug. “I am so thrilled. Please tell me she’s your age.”

“Two years younger,” he confirmed. “She’s a nurse over at UAB. I met her when I went to see my doc the last time. She’s new in town and has her first job.”

Sylvia turned to Jess and Lori. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this?”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Lori said, hands up stop sign fashion.

“That makes two of us,” Jess piped up.

Chad was the one holding his hands up now. “Okay, you guys don’t go ganging up on me just because I’m the only male in the room.”

After a good laugh, they got back down to business. Hayes was keeping surveillance on Senator Baron, and Harper was at the morgue following up on Pratt’s autopsy.

“The only one we haven’t been able to track down,” Jess returned to the case board, “is Wilson Hilliard.”

“Former mayor, investment banker,” Lori said. She went to her desk and sat down at her computer. “I may have something from some of the feelers I put out before lunch.” She tapped a few keys. “Yep. Let’s see,” she leaned closer to the screen as she read, “Wilson Hilliard. Seventy-nine. He had a stroke and was in a state operated institution for the mentally ill until six months ago.”

“He was in a mental institution?” Jess indicated the line-up of photos. “What happened to him after he left the institution? He was among the richest men in Birmingham in his day. Where’s his family?”

“I can tell you a little about Wilson Hilliard,” Sylvia propped a hip on the edge of Jess’s desk.

“We’re all ears.” Jess took the extra chair that sat in front of her desk.

“Wilson’s father and grandfather were the ones who helped launch the development of iron ore in Birmingham. The Hilliard family had money. Big money and major influence. They invested heavily in the production of iron ore as well as in railroads, and, as you both know, the Magic City was born.”

“How did he end up in a state facility?” Most with means preferred a private facility.

“I’m getting there,” Sylvia explained. “For decades, the Hilliard family grew richer and richer. Then the crash happened. More and more steel production went overseas and the bottom fell out of things here. Hilliard and his father lost everything their forefathers had built. His father committed suicide. Wilson managed to get by for a few more decades with his investment banking. He even survived a couple of crashes there, but then he had a stroke and dropped out of society all together. Until today, I hadn’t heard his name in years.” She shrugged. “I thought he was dead.”

“What about a wife and children?” Surely there was someone Jess could track down to find the man.

“His wife died when I was in high school,” Sylvia said. “They never had any children.”

Jess glanced at her watch. “We should head to the appointment with Mr. Taylor.” She stood and turned to Lori. “Lori, you and Cook locate Mr. Baker and keep an eye on him until—”

“Until,” Sylvia cut in, “Jess and I finish with Taylor. I’ll make sure Baker sees us then.” She smiled at Jess. “There isn’t a Baker in this county who would dare turn down a request from Senator Baron’s daughter.”

“Looks like having you on the team is going to be more advantageous than I realized,” Jess said hopefully.

“I have my skills.” Sylvia grabbed her bag as well as Jess’s. She made a face. “Christ, what do you carry in here?”

“Don’t go there,” Lori suggested as she and Cook headed for the door. “She might tell you.”

Canterbury Road, Mountain Brook, 2:10 p.m.

Isaiah Taylor resided in a stately home near Jemison Park. Though the entry hall and great room were quite opulent, the home had a comfortable, lived in feel about it. Maybe it was the owner more so than the home. Seventy-six, tall and fit, Taylor’s dark hair was heavily streaked with gray but it didn’t detract from his good looks one little bit. Like the son he’d lost last summer, he was a very handsome man.

Once the pleasantries were out of the way, Jess turned to business. “Mr. Taylor, we appreciate your time this afternoon.”

He gave a nod. “As I told you on the phone, my son’s murder might still be unsolved if not for your hard work, Chief. I am more than happy to help.” He shook his gray head. “Frankly, I’m stunned by the news of Joe and Harmon’s murders. They both made their share of enemies, who hasn’t, but to be murdered?” He moved his head from side to side again. “It’s difficult to believe.”

“Sir, beyond their successful careers, Mayor Pratt and Judge Rutledge shared a distinct mark.” Jess hoped he would be as amenable about having his scalp examined. “We believe this has something to do with the reason they were selected as victims.”

Taylor looked confused. “What’re you saying, Chief?”

Before Jess could respond, Sylvia blurted, “She’s saying they both had a small eagle tattoo. We need to know if you have one.”

Jess sent Sylvia a look she hoped reminded her who was in charge here. The fact that Taylor at first looked startled and then stared silently at the two of them was answer enough to the question.

“I take it you have the same tattoo?” Jess ventured. No use beating around the bush.

He drew in a deep breath. “I do.”

“May I—” Jess and Sylvia started at the same time.

At Jess’s sharp look, Sylvia snapped her mouth shut. “May we have a look, sir? Just to confirm we’re talking about the same mark.”

“Why not?” The resignation on his face told Jess he’d hoped to avoid this moment.

Sylvia reached into her bag and withdrew a pair of gloves.

“Will you tell me how you came to share this mark with the victims?”

While Sylvia fingered through his hair, Mr. Taylor held very still. As soon as she gave Jess a nod, he began to tell his story.

“It was a very long time ago. I’d graduated from law school, I had a wife and a new son, and my career hadn’t taken off as I’d expected.”

Jess pressed a hand to her belly. “Having a child changes everything.”

“Indeed.” He gave a somber nod. “My family was one of some means, but not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. I suppose the worst part was that I graduated at the top of my class. I knew I had the intellect and the skill, I only needed the opportunity.”

Jess remembered those days. She’d worked extra hard to ensure she made her way into the FBI’s intern program. She’d spent nearly two decades there before returning home to the man she’d always loved and joining the BPD. Some things were just meant to be and Jess was absolutely certain this was where she was supposed to be.

“Wilson Hilliard was at the top of his game in investment banking at the time,” Taylor went on. “He asked for a meeting with me late one night after a long day at the law office where I had yet to make partner.” He smiled, the expression faint. “Wilson said he recognized the fire and determination in me. He wanted to help me become what he knew I could be. He said the exact words I’d been harboring in my heart:
All you need is an opportunity. You’re going to be the power in this city
.”

He fell silent for a moment before continuing. Thankfully Sylvia kept her lips sealed as did Jess.

“You see, Wilson had the influence and the power. The man had connections like no one else. Knowing what I know now, I suspect he built those connections the same way ours came about. Every man has a price, Chief. If not in dollars, in desire for something else he doesn’t possess. Wilson made sure the right doors opened for me. He put in a word for me where needed and, eventually, I became a Supreme Court Justice of Alabama. It was the proudest day of my life next to my son’s birth. I was so very thankful my father lived to see that day.”

“So this tattoo,” Jess offered, “it was Hilliard’s way of marking you somehow?” Hilliard certainly wouldn’t be the first power hungry man to mark his followers.

Taylor nodded. “Oh yes. The eagle represents power, influence, and greatness. He wanted to make sure we remembered where our success came from. The location for the tattoo was his way of ensuring we never tried to distort or remove it.”

“What did Mr. Hilliard ask in return for his help?” Jess held her breath.

“There’s always that,” Taylor said sadly. “At one time I would have ignored that question—the whole concept for that matter. Who cared what it cost? It was worth it, wasn’t it?”

Jess understood the question was a rhetorical one.

“Occasionally, he would make it a point to meet with me and discuss a vote coming before the Court. He never asked, but I knew what he wanted. Frankly, what he seemed to want was what I felt compelled to support. It all seemed perfectly right and just for many years. But then, when his financial world started to crumble, he asked for favors with which I didn’t agree.”

When he remained silent a little longer than the last time, Jess prompted, “What did you do?”

“At first, I thought about doing as he asked. But, eventually, I refused him. When he threatened to expose me, I tendered my resignation citing health reasons. I would not taint the office.”

“How did Mr. Hilliard react?”

“I don’t know what he might have been capable of doing, but a debilitating stroke prevented him from taking any measures against me.”

“When was this?” Jess asked.

“Ten years ago. His finances were in tatters by then. The last I heard he was institutionalized. I believe Judge Rutledge made sure that order was signed.”

Well, well. The pieces of the puzzle started to come together. “Were you aware that others had this same tattoo? That Pratt and Rutledge, for example, had likely received the same sort of support from Hilliard?” Jess was reaching, but it was the only logical conclusion.

“Not at first.” He braced his elbows on the arms of his chairs and clasped his hands together as if in prayer. “Who would want to share such a thing? Each of us prefers to believe we arrived at our career pinnacles on our own merit.”

“But eventually you did,” Sylvia nudged, speaking for the first time since Taylor began.

Taylor looked at her. “Have you spoken to your father?”

“Yes. He wouldn’t tell me how the tattoo came about or who else might be involved.”

“We had decided to attempt to take care of this ourselves, but,” Taylor smiled sadly, “as soon as he called and told me the police would be asking questions, I made the decision to cooperate if approached. As much as I’d like to believe we could handle this ourselves, I’m not so sure now.”