Violence of the Father (A Trinity of Death Romantic Suspense Series Book 2) (10 page)

“So, what did you find out?” she asks.

“Julia Simpson is actually a journalist who was undercover, trying to figure out if Philip Herdon was stealing money from his boss. She’s also, apparently, still Christian and she’ll get mad if you try to say that she’s not.”

“How did you find all of this out?”

“I am a detective. I might not have your body language reading ability, but I can fare well enough on my own.”

Before Lauren can respond, Cameron Mattinson, our Captain, walks up to us.

“Hey, so, I know this is abrupt, but I thought you two should be some of the first people to know,” he says. “I’m going to be leaving the job as soon as we find the man who killed Erwin and Herdon. I’m moving to Texas and the rest of my family is leaving tonight.”

“That does seem abrupt,” Lauren says.

“My wife has a soap and lotion business,” he says. “And it’s been broken into three times in the last month. She wants to move back with her family. I don’t want to be away from my children for a long time, so I need you two to solve these murders.”

“It’s not like we’re not trying,” I say. “We want to catch them just as badly as you do.”

Mattinson puts his hand on my shoulder. “There is no way that you want this as badly as I do. You don’t have children. This killer hasn’t tracked down any kids yet, but I don’t trust psychopaths. Just find him and ensure that you have enough evidence that he can never get out of prison.”

“Of course, sir,” I say.

His hand drops back to his side and he walks away from us.

“He’s a mess,” Lauren says. “He threw a stapler at the wall earlier. I think he and his wife are heading toward divorce.”

“Well, the threat of a relationship ending and a serial killer on the loose could make anyone crazy,” I say. I open up the interrogation room’s door. “So, let’s solve this and let the pieces fall where they may.”

“
I
mean
, you didn’t actually think I killed those people, right?” Jack Hamlin asks me as he sits on the corner of my desk. “I didn’t get along with Herdon, but that doesn’t mean I’m a killer.”

“We were just checking every possible lead,” I say. “It’s nothing personal, Jack. You should have told us your connection to Herdon in the beginning.”

“I know, but I just didn’t want to drag myself into anything,” he says. “It was a natural, self-preserving reaction.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” I say. Suddenly, the interrogation door slams open and Tobias stomps over to my desk.

“For the love of God, can you go interrogate her?” he snarls. “I’ve been going at her for half an hour and the conversation is just going in circles. She refuses to admit anything and she’s just too good of a liar for me to be able to tell when she’s lying or telling the truth.”

“Sure,” I say, standing up. “But it’s barely been ten minutes since you went into the room with her.”

He glances up at the clock and groans.

“That woman has to be the devil. She told me that her watch said that it was three-thirty p.m.”

“I got it,” I say, patting his shoulder. I step into the interrogation room, closing the door behind me. Julia is sitting with her legs crossed and her cuffed hands folded in her lap. She might as well be drinking tea with a friend.

“Are you the one dating Detective Rodriguez?” she asks. “He seemed pretty eager to have the two of us in the same room. Maybe he wants to see a cat fight.”

“I’m not a cat, sweetheart,” I say, sitting across from her. “I would never be that low on the food chain.”

“Ooh, so you are his girlfriend,” she says. “So, how badly do you want kids?”

I clench my fists in my lap. “That’s really none of your business.”

“You should break up with him,” she says. “No man is worth changing your future plans for. They’re either compatible with your plans or they’re not.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Detective Rodriguez spilled everything to me,” she says. “He’s quite chatty once you get to know him.”

I lean back into my chair. “He told me quite a bit about you, too. You must be quite the journalist to be going undercover.”

“The best at my newspaper,” she says. “What about you? You’re a cop. Have you ever been undercover?”

“Never,” I say. “But you seem quite skilled at it. I mean, you fooled both Detective Rodriguez and me. I thought I was good at reading people, but you were flawless.”

She smirks. “Don’t take it too badly. I’ve always been an excellent liar, especially to authority figures.”

“But you’re still devout to God.”

Her nostrils flare. “Absolutely. As long as I worship God and put him above all things, the smaller things don’t matter as much.”

“Oh, I’m not doubting how faithful you are to God,” I say. “I actually find it quite admirable. Even when you’re pretending to be interested in a stranger, you’ve stayed devout. Did you have the job at the adoption agency before or after you were told to get close to Philip?”

“I had it before I went undercover,” she says. “I’ve known Patrick for a long time.”

I gaze at her. Her body has become more relaxed and there’s almost a smile on her face. She’s as vulnerable as she’s going to get in an interrogation room.

“So, why did Patrick’s son say that he saw you carrying Glenn Erwin’s body on the cross to the center of the baseball field across from the adoption agency?”

She jerks backward, her brow furrowed. “What? Patrick’s son? Which one? That’s impossible. They must have me confused with somebody else.”

“No, he was certain,” I say.

“It’s impossible,” she says. “I was working that whole day in the agency. I remember seeing all of the cop cars drive by to the station. It was the same day the news said Mary had been arrested for the two original murders. There has to be at least two couples that can confirm I was at my desk when that body had to be put up there. I mean, it had to be put there in the morning, right? If Patrick’s son saw somebody putting it there, it had to have been the same day, so the person had to put it there in the morning or afternoon? I was working at that time!”

“Patrick’s son said it happened in the early afternoon,” I say. “You’re certain you were working then? You didn’t take an early break or anything?”

“No, I was at the desk the whole time. The only reason I would have left is to go to the bathroom.”

I stand up. “Okay. I will check your alibi and I’ll be right back.”

I step out of the room, locking the door behind me, and walk over to Tobias, who is doodling on a piece of paper at my desk. I stop in front of him. He looks up.

“Are you drawing skyscrapers?” I ask.

“Maybe,” he says, covering the piece of paper with his hand. “Did you get anywhere with her?”

“She’s pretty damn adamant that she was working at the adoption agency at the time the body was left at the park.”

“But we have a witness that says it was her,” he says.

“Yes, a kid,” I say. “But I really don’t think she would be this persistent about the fact that she was working if she wasn’t. She’s clearly a lot smarter than we both originally thought she was. She could have told me that she left to go see a sick friend, she had a long smoke break, or one of the couples needed help from her…but she told me she never left her desk unless it was to go to the bathroom, so I don’t think she’s lying.”

“Well, we can always ask her bosses,” he says. “But you told me the kid wasn’t lying. So, how do you explain that?”

“It’s possible that he was confused,” I say. “Or somebody convinced him that it was true, so his facial expressions show that it’s true.”

“A person can just convince another person that something is true?” he asks. “How does that work?”

“Well, if you asked a child whether the Tooth Fairy is real, they’ll tell you she is,” I say. “In their mind, it’s true, even though it’s actually false. They believe it because someone else told them about it. Now, in order for Bobby to believe what he said—that he actually witnessed something he didn’t witness—somebody likely had to tell him the lie repeatedly.”

“Like his father?” he asks.

“Or his mother or his siblings,” I say. “But his father does seem like the most likely one. He was standing there the whole time I was interviewing Bobby.”

He nods. “It kind of makes sense. Patrick is a father of several children and he’s essentially the father of the adoption agency. He’s…The Father.”

“It’s a stretch, but we can go ask him some more questions,” I say. “And at the same time, we can ask him about Julia’s alibi.”

He looks at the clock. “Why don’t we just go to the adoption agency tomorrow? I noticed they closed early on Fridays and if we rush to talk to Patrick White now, he’s going to be suspicious. It’s better to talk to him while he’s working and pretend we’re just questioning him about Julia.”

“So, you just want to let Julia go now?” I ask.

“We can have an officer keep an eye on her,” he says.

“That’s interesting because I thought that’s what you were doing,” I say.

As I turn to walk away, he grabs my arm. I turn to face him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“It sounds like you two had chemistry,” I say. “That’s it.”

“I did what I had to in order to get her to confess to something,” he says. “I don’t know what she told you happened, but she tried to seduce me. I went along with it for a couple minutes to put her at ease.”

“She didn’t tell me anything,” I say. “But you just did.”

I jerk my arm out of his grasp. He grabs it again, his grip tighter now.

“Can we talk?” he asks, but it doesn’t come out so much as a question as a command.

“I’m really tired. I’m just going to go home and study the case from there—”

“Then, let me walk you home,” he says. “Please.”

There’s a knot of desperation in his voice that makes me stop struggling against him.

“Fine,” I say. He releases my arm. “Let’s go.”

A
s we walk through Detroit
, I’m reminded of the story of Hansel and Gretel. At their abusive stepmother’s order, their father takes them into the woods and they leave bread crumbs as they’re led in the forest because they know they’re going to be abandoned. Of course, birds ate the crumbs and they ended up being lost until they found the witch’s house. When the witch tries to eat the two of them, Gretel tricks the witch, shoving her in an oven, and burns her alive.

The city is like that. You cannot enter it without becoming lost in its vastness and it will change you from an innocent person to someone who is capable of unspeakable acts. Before the incident with Mary Fitzgerald, I could never imagine using a nail gun as a weapon against someone, but now I know that survival sometimes requires more than pacifism.

Sometimes others have to be hurt in order for a person to live without substantial compromise.

I stop when we’re a few minutes away from my apartment. Tobias and I have barely talked—some conversation about the weather, some talk about the case, some comment about being safe with a serial killer on the loose—and I know I need to get this all out before we reach my apartment building.

Before I can open my mouth, Tobias turns to me.

“What is going on?” he asks.

“With what?” I ask, trying to stall.

“With our relationship,” he says. “Just spit it out. Whatever you want to say. I thought I wanted to hold onto you as long as possible—forever, if I could—but I don’t want you to stick around if you don’t want to. I don’t want to be the anchor that’s keeping you in a place you don’t want to be.”

“You’re not holding me back,” I answer, choosing my words carefully.

“Just say what you need to say,” he replies, enunciating every word

“Our views are very different,” I say. “And they’re views that aren’t going to be changed any time soon. I’m not going to stop being Christian, you’re not going to suddenly become Christian. I want children and you…you don’t think that you can handle trying to conceive a child or have a child in any way. These are two differences that aren’t going to go away.”

“We can work thorough it, though,” he says. “I don’t mind that you’re Christian—in fact, I think it makes you a better person. As for children, I just…I can think about it.”

“But you won’t change your mind and I don’t want you to change your mind just to make me happy,” I say. “I don’t want to have a child with you and wonder if you only care about the child because of me.”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” he says. “I would love any child I raised with you. I just…I don’t know if love is enough. I can’t worry about losing another child. I can’t risk it again.”

“I know,” I say. “And that’s why I think in our personal lives, we need to go our separate ways.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “We can work this out.”

“I thought you said you wanted to know what’s on my mind,” I say.

“I do. And I knew it was something like this but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. I just need another chance.”

“It’s not solely about you. It’s about both of us. We want two different things,” I say.

“I want you,” he states.

I take a deep breath, the warmth of tears threatening to spill over onto my cheeks.

“You should head back home.”

“I can’t. My apartment is still under investigation.”

I cover my face with my hands, trying to keep any weakness from slipping through. “Please. Just go. To a hotel, to a friend’s. I don’t care.”

I feel his hand squeeze my shoulder. A second later, it’s gone, leaving only a cold breeze, erasing the heat of his hand.

When I open my eyes, he’s already ten feet away from me. I turn and I continue walking to my apartment. I can’t be seen crying in the middle of this volatile city, so I wipe away every tear that escapes from my eyes. I keep my pace as fast as possible without running. I just need to lock myself in my apartment and sleep until tomorrow.

Somebody slams into me. My arms scrape against the sidewalk as I fall against it. I reach for my gun, but it’s gone. I must have left it at the station in my rush to leave. Stupid move.

As I push myself back onto my knees, someone grabs me around the neck. Their hands are so big that it has to be a man. His grip tightens as he tries to choke me.

I elbow him. He jerks back, but he keeps his grip on my throat. My chest feels like it’s about to explode and my vision is beginning to blur around the edges. I can feel my body giving into weakness. There’s only a few seconds left for me to react.

I throw my head back, bashing my head against my assailant’s face. He grips loosens. I push against him to propel myself forward. As I turn around to face him, I see he’s wearing a mask. He regains his footing and comes charging at me. I send a quick prayer, thanking God for the fact that I’ve been taking kickboxing for the last few years. I put all of my weight on my right leg and swing my left leg at his abdomen. I feel his body fold into my foot and he crashes back onto the sidewalk.

As I catch my breath, he stumbles back onto his feet. I prepare myself for another attack, but he takes off running in the opposite direction. I rub my neck. I want to go after him, but we’re too evenly matched and I don’t have my Glock. It would be foolish to pursue him.

I glance down the streets. There’s a few people standing at the corner across the street, but they seemed unfazed by what they saw. I’m sure they’ve seen lots of violence and denied seeing it as well. I should really move to a better place in the city.

I continue to walk to my apartment, albeit faster now.