Chapter Seventeen

 

 

“You don’t look any the worse for wear, Agent West,” Chief Gervase greeted Jason. “Glad to see you back on the job.”

“That’s youth for you,” Kennedy said.

Gervase grinned. “That’s exactly what I used to think about you, Agent Kennedy.”

Kennedy snorted.

“It’s been an interesting twenty-four hours,” Gervase said, leading the way back to his office. “We’ve had some developments you’ll want to hear about.” He called toward the direction of the front desk, “Could we get coffee, Officer Courtney?”

“Coming, Chief!”

Boxner was already in Gervase’s office going through his file cabinet. He jumped guiltily at their arrival, and Gervase said, “How many times have I told you to ask before you start pawing through my files? This isn’t your office yet, Boyd.” He sounded more resigned than annoyed.

Boxner, face red, leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “I just wanted to double-check something.”

“What?”

“It’ll keep.”

Gervase sighed and shook his head. He took the chair behind his desk. “First things first. Tony McEnroe has no alibi for the night Candy Davies was abducted.” He directed a challenging look at Kennedy.

“McEnroe is not our unsub.” Kennedy was uncompromising as usual.

Gervase’s face tightened, his eyes hardened. Jason sighed inwardly. He agreed with Kennedy, but would it kill him to occasionally soften his delivery, at least pretend he didn’t think he had all the answers?

Gervase leaned back in his chair. “Then do enlighten us, Special Agent Kennedy.” He nodded in curt thanks to Officer Courtney who had appeared with a tray of steaming coffee mugs.

Kennedy said, “West has developed a promising lead on the artist who carved the original mermaid charms. It turns out he lives locally.”

Gervase took a cup from the tray and threw Jason a startled look. “Is that so?”

Jason said, “Yes. Dr. Jeremy Kyser is one of Pink’s two permitted outside contacts. He’s supposed to be working on a book about serial killers. But as it happens, he’s also a talented amateur artist. We—I believe—we’ve got verification that he carved the mermaid charms.”

“That’s what I call a big coincidence,” Gervase said.

“What are we waiting for?” Boxner stepped away from the wall. “I’ll go talk to him right now.”

Jason opened his mouth to object. He had uncovered this lead, and this was by rights his line of inquiry.

Except…the FBI was there at the invitation of Kingsfield PD. They couldn’t take over the investigation, couldn’t even insist on conducting interviews of suspects without the permission of local law enforcement. Technically, they were there to advise and assist.

“Okay, slow down,” Gervase said. “We need to understand what we’re dealing with. Kyser’s name never came up in the original investigation.”

“But that’s it; that’s what this is about,” Boxner said, and as much as Jason disliked Boxner, he couldn’t help sounding his agreement and approval.

“Now hold on, you two,” Gervase said. “If these charms had been produced by Acme Corporation, we wouldn’t be considering Acme Corporation a suspect. Let’s not confuse cause and effect. The Corrigan girl had that mermaid for months before her death. Pink didn’t plant it on her.”

“I don’t see what you’re getting at,” Boxner said, and once again Jason was in agreement. The charms were not mass produced. They were the work of a local artist. That personal connection could not be ignored.

Kennedy said, “The Corrigan girl was the first victim. Everything that happened in her case set the pattern for the subsequent killings. It’s very possible Pink bought the other charms to match Honey’s.”

“So what?” Boxner said. “We’ve got the man who made the charms. That’s a lead.”

“Yes, it is, and I think you and West should follow it up together,” Kennedy said. He ignored Jason’s startled look. “I’m not arguing with you. I agree that this is a line of inquiry that needs to be pursued. Before you pursue it, though, we need to keep in mind a couple of facts. The first one being, that as sinister as his emergence in this case might look, so far Kyser’s involvement is tangential. Assuming he is the artist—and we’ve yet to confirm that—” He shot Jason a cool look. “He may have become interested in Pink’s case partly because Pink used Kyser’s own creations in his crimes. That is certainly going to get someone’s attention.”

“Yes, but how would Kyser know that when it wasn’t publicized in the media?” Jason objected.

“It’s possible Pink contacted him after the fact with that information. Actually, for all we know, Pink may have chosen those charms for that very reason: he wanted Kyser’s attention. We don’t yet know the extent of, or his history with, Kyser.”

“Wait a minute,” Jason said. “So you’re suggesting that Pink may have hit on the mermaid theme because Kyser carved some mermaid charms? And if Kyser had carved rabbit charms or leprechaun charms, Pink would have gone with that?”

Kennedy sighed. “I’m suggesting that we don’t know. I’m suggesting that we don’t assume. Let’s keep an open mind.”

“We do know that the mermaid theme is central to this case. Aside from the fact that mermaid charms were found at nearly all the crime scenes—in the victims’ mouths—the victims themselves could be viewed as mermaids. They were all taken from aquatic venues, most of them were in bathing suits, and they were all females of a certain physical type and age. So I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

Gervase answered before Kennedy could respond. “If the suggestion is that Kyser is still providing someone with mermaid charms, that’s not going to work. There was no charm found with Candy.”

“Yes, there was,” Jason said. “I picked it up and put it in my pocket, but I guess it fell out when the floor gave way. Anyway, somehow I lost it.”

“You lost it?” Kennedy, Gervase, and Boxner all repeated at the same time.

Jason said with asperity, “Yes. I lost it. While I was plunging fifty feet to the flooded room below.”

“Maybe twenty,” Kennedy said. “Still. Fair enough.”

Gervase sighed. “That’s too damn bad. We’ll never find it now. That place is a deathtrap. I guess one mermaid more or less doesn’t really make a difference.”

Jason grimaced. He already felt bad enough about dropping the charm without them trying to be understanding.

Abruptly he remembered that sense of recognition when he’d picked up the charm. The certainty that he knew it.

Well, that he recognized a copy of an original he knew well.

Except…no. For one strange moment, he had believed he was holding the original.

Yes. That was it. He’d felt the shock of recognition. Then the next instant, Candy had opened her eyes, and he’d forgotten all about the charm until he’d searched his pockets for it when he was receiving medical attention some hours later. That had been a sickening moment.

The phone on Gervase’s desk suddenly rang, buzzing loudly in the small office, and Jason jumped.

Kennedy threw him a curious look.

Gervase’s face changed as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. “Is she?” he said. “Well, thank God for that. When can we talk to her?”

More silent listening from the chief. More frowning.

Kennedy continued to study Jason. Jason met his gaze. Kennedy smiled faintly. Was something funny? Jason didn’t get the joke.

He glanced at Boxner who was watching him and Kennedy with narrow-eyed suspicion.

Great.

“We’re not going to interrogate her,” Gervase said into the phone. “We just want to ask her a few questions. We’ll be just as quick and careful as we can. It might end up saving someone else’s life.”

Buzzing on the other end.

“Well—”

“But—”

The chief’s eyes lightened. He looked at Kennedy and nodded. “So you think today for sure?”

A few more words were exchanged, and Gervase hung up the phone.

“Candy Davies regained consciousness about half an hour ago. She’s pretty groggy, but the doctor thinks she might be able to give her statement as early as this afternoon.”

“That’s good,” Kennedy said. “That’s very good news.”

Gervase nodded in grim agreement. “What do you think about heading out to Boston now? I don’t want to waste any time. That girl won’t be really safe until she gives her statement.”

“I agree,” Kennedy said. “And I’m all for driving to Boston immediately.”

Gervase rose. “Boyd, you take West with you and interview this Dr. Kyser. But go easy, for God’s sake. We don’t need someone else threatening us with a lawsuit.”

“Who else is threatening legal action?” Kennedy asked.

“The Madigans. They believe releasing McEnroe was an act of criminal stupidity. They think we’re deliberately dragging our feet bringing their daughter’s killer to justice.”

Kennedy shrugged. “It takes how long it takes.”

“It’s nice you can get some emotional distance,” Gervase said sourly. “Boyd and I don’t have that luxury. We have to live with these folks. They’re frightened and angry, and they want answers.”

“Maybe after we talk to the Davies girl we’ll have some for them.”

When Kennedy and Jason were alone in their office, Kennedy said, “Watch yourself.” His eyes were grave.

“I plan on it.” Jason checked his weapon. He popped the magazine, reaffirmed he had plenty of ammo. Which…since he had not fired a single shot since his last session on the target range should not be a surprise. He replaced the magazine.

When he looked at Kennedy, Kennedy was still regarding him intently. There was something odd about his expression. As though he wanted to say more but couldn’t decide whether to speak.

“Do you think the unsub is going to go after Candy?” Jason asked.

Kennedy said. “Desperate people are dangerous.”

Jason’s shoulder twinged at the reminder. “No kidding,” he said.

 

* * * * *

 

“So,” Boxner said. “I guess you and Kennedy are partners in more ways than one.”

Jason had been staring out the passenger side window at the green tangle of woodland flashing past. He turned to study Boxner’s profile.

Boxner was gazing at the road ahead, smiling faintly. His body was relaxed, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel. The epitome of confident masculinity. It was partly façade, but a lot of it was genuine. Boxner was very pleased with the man he’d become. He probably didn’t have a self-doubting cell in his body.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

Great. Just Great. Was there any possibility that SAC Manning would ever have reason to speak to Officer Boyd Boxner?

Boxner said, “You and Kennedy are partners on and off the screen.”

“Nope. This is a temporary assignment,” Jason said.

Boxner laughed. “Is that so? He was sure clucking over you like a hen with one chick yesterday.”

Insulting on so many levels. Also totally stupid. And it would be equally stupid to respond. And yet there had been a moment yesterday when Jason had looked away from the paramedic’s checking-for-concussion routine and caught sight of Kennedy talking to Chief Gervase. Kennedy had glanced over at Jason, and his eyes had blazed electric-blue in his wet and dripping face. There had definitely been emotion there.

Kennedy would take losing—or nearly losing—a partner, even a temporary partner, as a major failure.

Well, who wouldn’t?

Jason drawled, “Yeah, that sure sounds like Kennedy.”

“Oh, he’d have crawled down into that hole after you,” Boxner said. “No question. He doesn’t realize you’re one of the lucky ones.”

“The lucky ones?” Jason asked warily.

“One of those people who always land on their feet. Like a cat. Doesn’t matter how far you drop ’em. They always land upright.”

“What do you know about what I am?” Jason said. “You knew one thing about me and used it to justify—” He stopped. This was a conversation he did not want to have. Not least because it wouldn’t solve anything. He had figured that much out a long time ago.

Boxner tilted his head, considering. Astonishingly, he acknowledged, “Maybe.”

He met Jason’s eyes. “I probably did bully you. So what? That’s what kids do. It made you tougher. It made you tough enough for the FBI.”

Jason said dryly, “Remind me to thank you.”

“I don’t want you to thank me. I don’t like you. I wouldn’t have liked you even if you hadn’t been queer. People always say it’s not personal. But it is, believe me.”

“Likewise.”

“But,” Boxner said, “since you are still queer, I realize now you didn’t kill Honey.”

Jason said scornfully, “You know damn well I didn’t kill her.”

Boxner grinned. “Because you think I did? Prove it.”

“I plan to.”

Boxner laughed. “My money’s on good old George Simpson. Chief won’t even consider it because he and Simpson go way back, but I think we’re going to find the connection we need when we talk to this Kyser character.” He glanced at Jason. “Which is going to be very disappointing for you, I know. Since you’re hoping Kyser will lead straight to me.”

Jason’s curiosity got the better of him. “How did Simpson come under suspicion in the first place? Wasn’t he a cop?”

“Ex-cop. Ex-state trooper. He was hunting buddies with Pink. His wife was a distant cousin to Pink.”

“Simpson’s wife was related to Pink?”

“A third cousin or something.”

“And how was it that Simpson was cleared of suspicion?”

“He had an alibi for all the murders.”

“All of them? That’s suspicious right there.”

Boxner nodded grimly. “Yep.”

“What was Simpson’s alibi?” Jason groaned as the realization struck him. “Are you kidding me? His wife alibied him?”

Boxner’s smile was dour. “The light goes on,” he said.