CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Friday, March 23, 2018; 6:00 a.m.
Margie’s Maids was located on Midlothian Turnpike and housed in a small industrial-style building. Parked out front was a collection of cars and trucks, each bearing a magnetic sign with the company’s name on the side.
Adler strode toward the front door, opened it, and paused as two women dressed in pink Margie’s Maids shirts hurried past him. He crossed the room to the front desk, where a stocky redheaded woman wearing one of the company’s pink shirts checked off what looked like the morning’s assignments.
Adler pulled out his badge. “I’d like to speak to the owner,” he said.
The woman peered up over pink reading glasses. “That’s me. I’m Margie Smith.”
“Ms. Smith, your company cleans for the Crowleys, and you did a job for Jennifer Ralston a few weeks ago.”
“That’s right.” She pulled off her glasses. “I heard about Ms. Ralston. She was a nice lady, and I was sorry to hear about it.”
Adler pulled a notebook from his breast pocket. “You have keys and security system codes for all your clients, correct?”
She frowned. “We do. But we’re very careful with alarm codes and keys around here. I insist that my cleaning professionals log out and log in all keys each day. I check them in myself.”
He flipped a page in his book. “I ran a check on your business in our police database. Did you report a break-in four weeks ago?”
“Yes, my assistant manager opened that day, and she thought we’d been robbed. She called the cops before I could stop her.”
“Why stop her?”
“Like I told the officer, nothing was taken.”
“Are you certain?”
“I accounted for all the cash in the safe, and every client key was on its hook. Nothing was missing.”
“Was anything disturbed?”
“Only thing my manager noticed was her mug.”
“Her mug?”
“She always keeps it on the right side of her desk, and she found it on the left. In my book, that wasn’t worth calling the cops.”
“Did you alert your clients?”
Her shoulders stiffened. “No. I didn’t see cause. We service over one hundred homes. That’s a lot of locks to be rekeyed and security codes changed.”
“A key can be made using a molding compound. Where do you keep the security codes?”
She drew in a breath. “In my assistant manager’s desk.”
“And she noticed her desk had been disturbed.”
“Just a mug,” the woman said. “It was just a mug.”
“What kind of security do you have here?”
“Locks. A security system.”
“Your alarm didn’t go off during the night of the alleged breaking and entering?”
“We had a power outage that night, so no, it didn’t go off.”
“I want a list of all your clients. And I suggest you alert each one about the break-in.”
When the apartment doorbell buzzed, Kaitlin rose off the couch, moving with careful precision toward the call box. She pressed the red button. “Yes.”
“It’s Detective Adler.”
She glanced toward the security camera screen now projecting his tall, wide shoulders and short dark hair. She admired his strong jaw and angled features before she caught herself and pressed the door release button.
She collected a plate of leftover pizza and an empty coffee cup from last night and took them to the kitchen. She quickly rinsed off both and placed them in the drying rack as the doorbell rang.
Anxious and nervous, she dried her hands and then ran fingers through her hair. She opened the door. “Good morning, Detective.”
Sharp eyes studied her. “Have you been resting, Kaitlin?”
“I feel great. I’ve turned a corner.” Well, maybe not a full corner, but close enough to get through this day.
“Ready?”
“Yes. Let me just grab my backpack.”
He stepped into the foyer and scanned her apartment as he must have when he’d dropped her off.
“I could lie and say the place isn’t normally this messy, but it is,” she said.
“It’s eclectic. That bed is an antique. Queen Anne, right?”
“I suppose. My aunt left it to me. It’s been in our family for three generations.”
His gaze dropped to the heart pendant around her neck. “Did your aunt also leave you that?”
Automatically her fingertips brushed over it. “Yes, this was Gina’s.”
“It’s nice.”
Kaitlin hefted her backpack without too much of a wince or pull. “Ready.”
“You look a little stiff.”
“I worked too hard yesterday grading my students’ projects. I figured with all that was going on, I better get the grades in now.”
“Are you sure you’re really up to the trip today?”
“Yes.”
He studied her closely. “There’s going to be no filming or recording today. This is an open murder investigation.”
“Understood.”
He opened her front door and waited as she passed. It locked automatically, but he checked to make sure it was secure before the two made their way to his waiting SUV. She clicked on her seat belt and settled into the seat as he slid behind the wheel.
He backed out of the spot in one swift, smooth move. “I was able to get the video footage from several Crowley neighbors.”
“What did you find?”
“You approached the front door, just as you said, hesitated a beat or two, and then entered the residence. The camera caught a shadow moving through the house just before you arrived.”
“It was a trap.”
“Yes.” Adler tightened his fingers on the wheel.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“There’s a farm about twenty miles outside of the city. That’s where Hayward and the uniforms are meeting us.” He flashed his police lights, and slower-moving vehicles parted, allowing him to glide past.
He took a westbound exit, drove past a mile’s worth of strip malls, and headed toward open country. They drove for ten minutes before he slowed. Automatically she unzipped her backpack and pulled out her phone.
“No recordings.”
“Just a description of the area for later.”
“Until the case is closed, no recordings.” When she readied a rebuttal he said, “Do you always press the boundaries?”
She shrugged and put her phone back in her backpack. “Every chance I get.”
“Not here. Especially not today.”
She would play nice because she needed to see this to the end. “Fine. No recording.”
His gaze traveled over her. “What’re your plans after you finish this podcast?” he asked.
“Good question. I have lots of contacts in Dallas, so I can return and find work fairly easily.”
“Is that what you want? To go back?”
“I don’t think so. I have about six months’ worth of savings, and if I’m careful, I won’t have to rush the decision.” She looked out the window toward the rolling land. “I’ve been here before.”
“When?”
“About a month before Gina vanished. There was a party here.”
The road grew bumpier, and he slowed down the car so the ruts weren’t as jarring. “Who owns the property?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask a lot of questions back then.”
Looking out of the car, she stared at the yellow crime scene tape rippling in the wind. The sky above was dark, and the plump clouds were heavy with rain. The wind skimmed over the top of the sprouting new green grass, and her skin tingled with unease. She wrapped her arms around her midsection. She edged closer to Adler.
“Gina loved her country parties,” Kaitlin said. “My aunt wasn’t crazy about us going.”
“She had cause to worry. Out here if something went wrong, no one could get in or out quickly.”
“I only came once on the Fourth of July. Randy and Derek shot off fireworks. There were a dozen kegs and fifty kids here.”
“Where was Gina?”
“She and her ex-boyfriend spent most of the night together. They looked like they were having intense conversations.”
“Were they fighting?”
“No. They still had feelings for each other, and breaking up was harder than Gina imagined.”
“Were Erika and Jennifer here?”
“They were. Jennifer had a date with Larry Jenkins.”
“I didn’t realize they were romantic.”
“It was just the one date.” Being here and talking about the past released a flood of emotions. “We might be on the verge of finding Gina, and I’m terrified.”
“That’s natural.”
“I’ve made so many mistakes,” she said, more to herself.
“When I visited with Hayward, he talked about the night Gina vanished,” Adler said.
“Did he admit he took Gina?”
“No.”
“Did he say if someone else was on the road that night?” she asked.
“No.”
She breathed in deeply. “He had to have had help that night.”
“He’s not giving us any details beyond Gina’s location.”
“I wish I could have saved her.”
“You were intoxicated and a confused, scared kid. You were no match for this guy.” He stopped and leaned in. “You could have stayed hiding in Dallas. Instead, you sobered up and came back here. We wouldn’t be this close to finding Gina now if not for you.”
“Was it worth the cost if Jennifer and Erika had their lives taken?”
He touched her arm. “You’re not to blame. You were the only one who gave a shit to reopen this case.”
A gust of wind cut through the tree branches heavy with spring buds. They followed a narrow path through the woods into a clearing. There were a dozen cop cars from city, county, and state, the medical examiner’s state forensics vans, and a shiny black Lexus.
“Everyone’s here,” Adler said, parking.
She scanned the crowd for Hayward. “I don’t see him.”
Adler came around the car and joined her. “He’s in the police car. Blackstone is standing by Hayward’s city police car.”
Blackstone wore a charcoal-gray suit, a dark fitted overcoat, and a stoic expression. The age difference between him and Gina had kept him on the periphery of her crowd, but he’d been at that Fourth of July party. Several times that night she’d caught him staring at her. His expression had left her unsettled.
Another well-dressed man got out of an unmarked state car and strode toward Blackstone. They shook hands, but it was clear that tension simmered between the two.
“Who’s that?” Kaitlin asked.
“Trey Ricker. He’s with the Commonwealth Attorney’s office,” Adler said. “He negotiated the plea agreement.”
Adler kept their pace slow as they moved through the grass toward the line of cops. Several officers and sheriff’s deputies shook his hand, welcoming him back to the job. The line finally parted and allowed them access to Hayward’s car.
When they reached the patrol car, Quinn got out and tossed a look of disgust toward the backseat.
“How long have you been here?” Adler said.
“About twenty minutes,” Quinn asked.
“Did Hayward have any trouble finding the place?”
“Nope. He knew exactly where he was going. But he said he wouldn’t say a word about Gina until Kaitlin arrived.” Quinn eyed Adler. “Randy and I did have a chance to chat a bit in the car.”
“That so?” Adler said.
“Of course, we didn’t talk about the Mason case. But I let it slip I had a dog once when I was a kid. You remember me talking about Charlie, right, Adler?”
Adler nodded. “I do.”
“Turns out Randy had a teddy bear named Charlie,” Quinn said.
“Did he?” Adler said.
Quinn shrugged. “Small world.”
Blackstone regarded Quinn closely, then shifted his attention to Kaitlin. “Now that Ms. Roe is here, let’s get this started.”
When Kaitlin was younger, she hadn’t known what to make of Blackstone’s intense looks. Now, she recognized him for the dangerous predator he was.
“I’m ready when you are,” she said.
“Ms. Roe,” Blackstone said. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to make it after your mishap.”
“Nothing would keep me away,” she said.
“You don’t look well,” Blackstone said.
She smiled and locked on his gaze. “Don’t worry yourself about me.”
Ricker extended his hand to her. “We owe this moment to you.”
“Let’s hope we find Gina,” she said.
Ricker’s frown deepened. “Let’s get started.”
“Remember,” Blackstone said. “My client has complete immunity regarding any and all of the Gina Mason abduction and/or death.”
“Understood,” Ricker said.
Quinn opened the back door of the squad car and hauled out Hayward, who drew in a deep breath, tipping his face toward the cloudy sky.
“Too bad the sun isn’t shining,” Quinn quipped.
Hayward winked. “Baby, it’s always shining when you’re around.”
Quinn gripped his arm even tighter and smiled.
Hayward shifted his attention to Kaitlin and slowly looked her over. “You smell good. And your skin looks so soft. Maybe when this is over we could meet again, and I can give you another interview.”
She didn’t draw back. “Let’s see how today goes.”
“I loved to come out here. I’d sit in my tree stand over there and just enjoy the view.” He looked toward a stand of trees and then back at Kaitlin. “Remember when we all used to come out here?” Hayward teased.
Blackstone shook his head. “No chitchat, Mr. Hayward. This isn’t a social call.”
Kaitlin couldn’t help but prod him. “The Fourth of July bonfire.”
He winked. “Remember the barn? We had a good time in there.”
The barn. That, she did remember. She couldn’t even blame booze for the stupid choices of that night. She’d made them all stone-cold sober. “I’m also remembering now that Brad, Derek, and you got into a fight. Brad looked like he wanted to take your head off. What did you say to him that made him so mad?”
“Don’t answer that,” Blackstone said.
Hayward chuckled. “You know how it goes—boys will be boys.”
“Looked pretty intense,” she pressed.
Blackstone stepped between them. “Show us what you promised to show us.”
“We just got here,” Hayward said. “I’m trying to catch up with my girl.”
Ricker’s face darkened. “We’re waiting.”
“Kaitlin’s coming, right? I want her to see this. This could have been her,” Hayward teased.
She tipped her chin up a notch. “Let’s do this.”
“Can I have a cigarette?” Hayward asked. “I think better when I smoke.”
Quinn mimicked a pout. “Sorry, fresh out.”
“Come on,” Hayward coaxed. “There’s got to be a cop here who’s got smokes.”
Blackstone shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”
Ricker shrugged, held up empty hands.
Adler strode back to the cops and after a quick survey returned with a crumpled pack of Marlboros. He fished out a cigarette and a lighter from the pack and lit the tip. Hayward’s cuffs rattled as he accepted it. When he raised it to his lips, his hands trembled slightly.
“Nervous?” Kaitlin asked.
He took another pull. “Being around you always makes me weak in the knees, girl.” He took two more drags and then threw it down and ground his foot into it. “You’ve got more in that packet, Detective?” Hayward asked.
Adler tucked the packet in his pocket. “I do.”
Hayward seemed to understand he’d danced up to the line. Another minute and Adler would transport him back to jail. “Sure. Why not?”
“Where to?” Adler snapped.
Hayward nodded toward the graveled road ahead. “About a quarter mile up that way on the other side of the barn.”
“Let’s go.” Adler took him by the arm and hauled him forward.
Hayward started walking. “Showtime!”
Even with the cool breeze, Kaitlin quickly started sweating as she struggled to keep pace. If Adler had slowed up for her before, he didn’t this time. And she was glad. She didn’t want to slow him down. The priority was finding Gina.
“How you doing, girl?” Hayward glanced back over his shoulder at her.
“What’s taking you so long?” Kaitlin refused to show Hayward any weakness.
Hayward laughed. “Don’t pass out on me.”
The dirt road doglegged to the right, but Hayward turned left down a well-worn dirt path made by hunters, farmers, and most likely, moonshiners.
“When’s the last time you were here, Hayward?” Adler asked.
“I’ve been here a few times in between stints in prison. Last time was in mid-January.”
“Why return?” Adler asked.
“To see if Gina was still here. I always liked her. That hasn’t changed. No one else knew where she was, but I did. And that made it special between us.”
Kaitlin sympathized with the officers’ feelings of anger and frustration. This was a joke to Hayward. A parlor game.
Hayward ducked under a branch and pushed through the thicket of trees. “Good thing it’s early in the year. The bugs will eat you alive in the summer. One time I was here I got a terrible case of chiggers.”
Kaitlin pressed her hand to her side, keeping a sharp eye on the ground. As “fast” as she moved, Adler, Quinn, Ricker, Blackstone, and Hayward were putting distance between them. She wasn’t sure how much farther she could walk when Hayward pushed through to a small clearing.
In the center was the barn. Once it had been painted red, but in the last decade, sun, wind, and rain had stripped most of its color.
Hayward’s smile turned electric. He counted off fifty paces from the north corner and stopped at a patch of ground under a collection of young oak trees.
The untrained eye wouldn’t notice the sparse patch of vegetation or the slight dip in the land. A small part of her had hoped Gina had somehow survived, but Adler’s and Quinn’s deepening frowns telegraphed what she’d known in her heart for fourteen years.
Gina was really dead. And they were looking at a shallow grave.