The Survivor (14 page)

9:00 A.M. MONDAY

V
anessa Whitcom nursed a cup of coffee in an FBI interview room while Tigo and Ryan poured their own. Tigo studied the woman. She wasn’t a glamorous type, but she was attractive and personable. His mind zipped to other possible situations that could have occurred at her office. Had Jonathan taken notice of Vanessa? Perhaps because he and Joanna were having problems?

Tigo sat opposite her. This time he’d handle the interview. “Why weren’t you at the funeral? You’d stated that you and Joanna were close.”

“Flu,” she said. “Or some kind of bug. Couldn’t stop vomiting. Ended up going to the ER.” She sat the cup on the table.

“Drinking this is a bad idea.”

“Which ER?”

“Methodist downtown.” She reached inside her purse and pulled out the treatment plan and discharge papers. “I figured I’d be on your most-wanted list.”

He grinned. “The FBI’s website was calling your name.”

“I wanted to be at the funeral. But my stomach objected. Guess the stress threw my immune system out of whack.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Joanna and Alexia probably think I don’t care.”

“What about Jonathan?”

“I texted him from the ER about my illness.”

Tigo allowed a few moments to pass. “Were you and Jonathan involved?”

The crinkles around her eyes deepened. “Jonathan loved Joanna. Period.”

“What about you?”

“My feelings for him are of friendship and respect.”

Tigo wouldn’t explore her response unless she gave him reason to. She’d been at work the day of the bombing. “What can you tell me about Darena Willis?”

Vanessa shuddered. “She’s a b—witch. Lying and manipulating. Borrowed thousands of dollars from Joanna, and I know she never paid back a cent of it.”

“What did she spend it on?”

“Clothes, jewelry, credit card debt.”

“Joanna was a smart woman. Why would she give Darena money?”

Vanessa blinked. “Trying to buy her sister’s love.”

“How did Jonathan feel about the relationship?”

“They argued. He gave in.”

Tigo leaned in closer. “What else did they argue about?”

He waited.

Several seconds passed.

“Vanessa, what else did they argue about?”

She toyed with her cup. “I suppose you’ll find out about this during the investigation anyway. They argued about Ian. His behavior seemed to be getting worse.”

“Why did they disagree?”

Vanessa hesitated before speaking. “Joanna wanted to ship Ian off to a military school. Jonathan couldn’t handle the thought. I was caught in the middle.”

“Is Ian why she filed for divorce?”

Vanessa reached inside her purse for a tissue. “I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“Because Jonathan and Joanna were committed to their marriage and their children.” She swallowed. “They were working on their problem with Ian.”

So Tigo’s suspicions were true. Vanessa was in love with Jonathan. “Is he why you befriended Joanna?”

Vanessa’s gaze darted about the room before coming back to his. “In the beginning. But I enjoyed her company and admired her. She had a genuine desire to help others. We became good friends. God put Jonathan and Joanna together.” She leaned back in her chair.

“What else, Vanessa? We need to find out who bombed that car.”

“Jonathan didn’t know everything about her.”

“Most men spend a lifetime getting to know their women.”

Vanessa stared at her trembling hands. “A man from her college days wouldn’t leave her alone. She wouldn’t tell me what was going on, but it had to be horrible.” Vanessa tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “He’d been harassing her, and she was afraid. He wanted money. He said he’d go to the local papers with some news if he didn’t get it. Said he’d ruin Jonathan’s name. Joanna told me last Monday at lunch. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that’s why she filed for divorce—to save Jonathan’s reputation.”

Now a few things were starting to click.

9:35 A.M. MONDAY

When Amy didn’t answer her cell phone, Kariss phoned Freedom’s Way and learned that Amy planned to be in at ten o’clock. Kariss grabbed her keys. Although their friendship was in the embryonic stage, she wanted to be there for Amy. The car bombing had to have rattled some old fears, and if Kariss was right, Amy would need a listening ear.

Within fifteen minutes, she arrived at Freedom’s Way. The office building’s parking garage was full, leaving her no choice
but to park across the street. A steady rain, cold and unforgiving, beat against her windshield, characteristic of Houston winters. The dampness sent the cold into her bones, and she often thought the freezing temps of the north might be easier to handle. Shouldering her purse and balancing her umbrella, she entered Freedom’s Way.

A young woman greeted her. “I’m sorry, Miss Walker,” the woman said after hearing Kariss’s request, “but Dr. Garrett will be detained until midafternoon.”

After writing a quick note to Amy, she exited the building. Holding tight to her umbrella, she hurried across the street.

“Don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Kariss swung around to face Baxter Garrett, who was still dressed in the same dirty jeans and dark-blue pullover from Saturday afternoon. He smelled rank. Stepping closer, he invaded her personal space.

“Excuse me?”

He lifted his chin. “I don’t appreciate your turning my sister against me.”

“You accomplished that all by yourself.”

“We were fine until you contacted her about writing that book.”

“Get your facts straight. She contacted me.”

“I hate a liar. This is the last time I’m warning you to stay away from my sister.”

Kariss’s knees weakened. Where were the police when she needed them? “And if I don’t?”

He smiled from the corner of his mouth. “I’m not stupid enough to say what. But your pretty face might not look so good. Only a warped mind would use what Amy went through to make money.”

“Don’t you have a job?”

“Looking down on me with your so-called success won’t stop me.”

She moved her right hand toward the top of her purse. Her
9mm handgun lay just inside. “I told you last time what I’d do if you persisted with your threats. So now you can tell your pathetic tale to the police or the FBI.”

Baxter’s hand flashed out. He gripped her right arm and squeezed. “You need to learn a lesson, and I’m just the man to do it.”

Kariss dropped her umbrella. Keeping her right arm close to her body, she swung the heel of her left hand into his Adam’s apple. Baxter lost his grip on her arm and stumbled backward onto the pavement.

“Think about that before you decide to teach me a lesson.” With water dripping from every inch of her, Kariss picked up her umbrella. “Do you want more?”

Baxter attempted to stand.

“You’re pathetic.” She slid into her car and locked the doors. She wondered whether to contact the police or phone Tigo.

The latter won out. Tigo already knew the situation and had Baxter’s name. After all, bad guys were his area of expertise.

10:30 A.M. MONDAY

W
hat has the FIG turned up about Joanna’s college days?” Tigo stepped into Ryan’s cubicle, wishing the Yeat case was solved so he could move on.

Ryan’s brows were drawn tighter than stretched rubber bands. “I’ll get it when you do,” he snapped.

Tigo shook his head. “Sorry. My mind’s occupied with too many things.”

Ryan gave a half smile. “Didn’t mean to bite your head off. Cindy’s birthday is Friday, and I haven’t bought her anything. I’m thinking it should be more of a peace offering, what with the decision we need to make about her mother.” He rubbed a hand over his bald head. “Sit down and counsel me.”

Tigo slid into a chair. “Flowers, jewelry, and chocolate.”

Ryan frowned. “Which one?”

“All three. Can’t miss with that. Might even get you out of the doghouse.”

“It would be worth it, no matter the strain on my wallet. Okay, a dozen red roses, a garnet necklace, and Godiva chocolates.”

“She’ll be butter in your hands. Take her to dinner too.”

“Experience speaking?”

Tigo scowled and didn’t attempt to hide it. “Not lately. But it’s supposed to charm the ladies.”

Ryan sighed. “It’s been so hard to discuss the situation about her mom with the kids around. We’ve resorted to email,
which lacks that personal touch. And our night out didn’t happen because the babysitter canceled. So I’ve lined up things for Saturday—birthday and getting our marriage back on track.” Ryan jotted down a few things on a pad of paper. “But back to you. You’re distracted, and I know you saw Kariss this morning.”

“I did, but it’s the Yeat case that’s driving me nuts. We’ve hit one snag after another. But I think Vanessa gave us a good suspect.”

“Ian saw Joanna with a man, and she refused to discuss it. Then she tells Vanessa about a guy from her college days harassing her. She files for divorce on Tuesday and is killed the following day.”

“Could Jonathan have been the target?” Tigo said. “A way to keep Joanna in line?”

“Maybe. I think we have our man, especially if the artist’s sketch IDs him.”

“I told Kariss I’d work on the Garrett bombing case.” Tigo switched topics. “I already called Ric Montoya, so I won’t be stepping on HPD’s feet. We’re good there.”

“We? How did I get so lucky?” Ryan said. “And how did Kariss get involved?”

“The Garrett woman is a friend.” Tigo shoved aside his feelings for Kariss so he could focus on the case objectively. “The two are collaborating on a book. Cold case.”

“Sounds like déjà vu to me.”

“She’s too smart to knock on danger’s door again.” Tigo wished he believed it. But when it came to championing a victim, Kariss was the first to bat.

Ryan raised a brow. “So you believe in Santa Claus and the Easter bunny too?”

Tigo’s iPhone rang. Kariss. He figured she must want information about the bombing. He responded with his best professional voice—for Ryan’s benefit.

“Tigo, I need your help.” Her voice sounded shaky. “I’m in
over my head. Can’t figure out how to handle this mess on my own.” She paused briefly. “If you’re busy, I’d appreciate a call back later.”

But his attention had zeroed in immediately. “What happened?”

“I went to Amy’s office to see if I could do anything to help. When I left, Baxter Garrett came breathing down my neck. He threatened me and grabbed my arm. Said I needed to learn a lesson. I defended myself. Anyway, I’m ready to file charges and get that menace off the streets.”

“HPD wants to bring him in for questioning anyway. Where are you now?”

“Home. I wanted time to think before calling you.”

“I’ll be there after work. By then I’ll have more information.”

“Would you rather I contact HPD? I know this is out of your jurisdiction.”

“You did the right thing. Stay put today. I mean it. No detective work. Don’t answer the door or the phone unless it’s someone you know.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Tigo dropped his phone back into his pocket. “Amy Garrett’s brother just stepped over the line. He assaulted Kariss.”

“Is she okay?”

“Says she is.”

“Sure you don’t want me to handle it?”

Tigo grinned. “And ruin my chances to get back together with her?” He clenched his fist, realizing his anger could affect his judgment. “Baxter Garrett has no idea how tough I can be.”

Their Blackberrys sounded with an incoming message from the FIG. The message informed them that Joanna Yeat had worked for an escort service while in college. She’d also done some modeling for the same company. The photographer was David Smith. An alias. No known address. No social security number. Possibly linked to other crimes.

“Blackmail,” Tigo said. “I want to talk to this guy as soon as we can find him.”

11:30 A.M. MONDAY

Kariss poured a glass of blackberry-sage iced tea and walked into her office. Depression hung over her like a shroud. The idea of staying home while her mind raced faster than the Indy 500 had no appeal, but her other choice fell off the deep end of common sense. She’d tried to call Amy again, but there’d been no answer. Baxter’s unexpected presence at Amy’s office building had shaken Kariss, but she did know how to take care of herself. Still, chasing down trouble usually meant trouble ended up chasing her—with deadly intent.

Could Baxter have been the driver of the pickup on Saturday morning? That meant he’d been waiting for her to leave her gated community. Eerie thought. Premeditated aggravation … if there was such a thing. But Amy had assured her that Baxter’s truck didn’t have custom rims, so it couldn’t be the same one that had landed Vicki in the ER. What about the funeral flowers and card? And the emails? Kariss was fishing for answers but not getting any bites.

The thought of Baxter harming his sister made little sense, unless his disturbed mind believed this was the only way to convince her she needed protection.

Kariss shuddered. Weird people were capable of bizarre behavior. The media reported on tons of them. The FBI had files filled with information about them.

Okay, so what could she do to occupy her mind before Tigo arrived later this afternoon? Her editor wanted her to brainstorm a stand-alone novel involving the Border Patrol in Texas. And she wanted to explore an ending to Amy’s story.
But she couldn’t concentrate on either one. Vicki planned to take Rose to a late-afternoon doctor’s appointment … which meant Kariss and Tigo would be alone.

She had to stay focused on anything but giving in to how she felt about Tigo.

What if his explanation for his deceit made sense?

What if he’d made the decision to follow Jesus?

Kariss wished her writer’s mind would stop exploding with what-ifs.

After updating her Facebook status and re-tweeting a mention on Twitter, Kariss typed up a blog post about eccentric behavior in characters. Once she was done with that, she decided that making a batch of oatmeal-raisin cookies would keep her mind off Baxter and Tigo. She could smell the cookies now, made with real butter and extra cinnamon. Her cooking attempts were a disaster, but baking she could do.

First she’d check email.

Her agent had received a contract offer for Amy’s story. Wonderful news. The novel had potential to help other victims of violent crime and give Amy some closure. Ultimately, though, Kariss knew Amy’s nightmare wouldn’t end until the case was solved and the assailant was brought to justice. Amy wanted her story told to help other women, but Kariss hoped the novel might somehow lead to a break in the case.

Kariss scrolled through her in-box and spotted a message from sender J. T. Ripper. It had been sent at 11:43 a.m.

Baxter had just made another huge mistake. Kariss’s fingers pounded the keyboard.

She pressed Send, but the message was instantly returned with a delivery-failure notice. Another email sailed into her in-box from J. T. Ripper.

Rubbing her arms, Kariss walked to the window and closed the drapes. Baxter Garrett had more than a few issues. Tigo would want to know about these emails too. He’d trace them and end Baxter’s little tirade.