HER LAST MISTAKE Page 6

  The sticky note contained a name, a woman’s name that he’d been looking at since before he’d even planned to visit Gloria Masterson.

  This woman needed his help, too. He smiled calmly as he thought about how he could cure her of her problems, of how he could offer her relief. Helping others was really the only thing he looked forward to anymore. The tricky part was that they didn’t even know they needed the help, and they never accepted it willingly.

  He had to go to them and convince them. And that was exactly what he was going to do to this next woman. He tucked the sticky note into his pocket and waited. There was a proper time to do these things and for her, he was going to have to wait. He’d wait until tonight because, as he knew all too well, it was easier to realize they had this problem when the sun was down and the world of sleep began to beckon them.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rachel had the same luck as Jack in their door-to-door efforts around Gloria’s neighborhood. She had enough people to support the stories of Gloria taking walks very late into the night. She also heard a few people tell her about how kind her husband had been—including one younger woman that said Gloria had seemed to sort of draw into herself and became something of a shut-in after he passed away.

  They met back at the car shortly after nine o’ clock. Jack started the engine but didn’t pull away from the curb. Instead, he looked over to Rachel and said: “So what do we know?”

  Rachel took a moment to answer as their eyes met. For a moment, she was standing back in the cemetery with him, his arms wrapped around her as she wept into his shoulder. She knew exactly what his question meant, but it felt like it was loaded with double entendre.

  “We know that Gloria Masterson’s husband died about two years ago and she seems to have become a lot less social afterwards. We know that she hired Talina as a cleaning lady and, based on how Talina spoke about her, they became something resembling friends over the years. We know that Gloria has a sister she doesn’t talk to and a father that died in a nursing home after a struggle with dementia. We know she walked around the neighborhood quite a bit, sometimes during the very early hours of the morning, specifically around one or two o’ clock.”

  Jack nodded and picked up the trail. “We know that the killer seemingly entered through her window and strangled her. We know there was no sexual attack and no struggle. And based on the bit of information we have, she was in good health. And we also know that another man that lives roughly nine miles away from here was murdered in the exact same way.”

  “So let’s start looking into him,” Rachel said. “I think we have more than enough detail on Gloria Masterson. If we can find tidbits that link up between both of them, it’ll give us a good place to start.”

  Jack nodded and reached for the gear shift. Before he pulled out, he glanced back over to her. “Sorry,” he said. “Gonna be nosy and ask. Do you want to check in at home? You and I…I think we can stop pretending there are barriers still up between us. I fully understand that it was hard for you to hop on this case…to leave Paige right now.”

  It had been on her mind. She’d started thinking of Paige as she’d gone from door to door, wondering how she and Grandma Tate were handling things. She nodded and pulled her phone out of her pocket. As she started pulling up the number for her landline at home, she noticed Jack reaching for the door handle.

  “It’s okay, Jack. You’ve seen me more vulnerable than anyone else ever has now. You don’t have to step out of the car when I make a personal call.”

  A smile touched his lips but he bit it back. She smiled back at him, though, appreciating the fact that he seemed almost honored. She placed the call home and it was answered on the second ring. When a man answered, she was both alarmed and puzzled at first, but then she recalled that Agent Carson was still running guard for her back at home.

  “Gift residence,” Carson said.

  “Hello, Carson. It’s Rachel. How are things going?”

  “Ah, hey, Agent Gift. Well, I do hate to tell you that things here are pretty tense. There’s a very important Geography test tomorrow and Paige is like, totally freaking out.”

  Paige spoke up loudly from somewhere in the background. “I am not!”

  “Speaking honestly, though, things here are good. Your grandmother treated us to her homemade chicken parm tonight, which was excellent. But in terms of other things, all is quiet. Would you like to speak to Paige?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He handed the phone off at about the same time Jack finally pulled away from Gloria Masterson’s house. She noticed that he was using his phone to guide them to the local police station.

  “Hey, Mommy. Agent Carson is teasing me!”

  “Over the test?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then I think I’m okay with it.”

  She and Paige giggled together as they went on to other things—other school topics, the final game of her soccer league, and why she wasn’t old enough to start streaming that new popular spooky show on Netflix. All the while, Jack made his way through the Fredericksburg traffic, headlights angling and passing in the night.

  Paige then put Grandma Tate on, and Rachel was delighted at just how relaxed and at ease she sounded. “You know, you really don’t need to worry about us here,” she said as they came to the end of their call. “With the men outside and Agent Carson here to protect us, we’re safer than you are. I just…I hope you’re not trying to move ahead too fast, Rachel. It hasn’t even been two weeks since Peter died.”

  “I know. And I think I needed this to make sure I could move on. That, and we’re hoping this will draw Lynch out.”

  Grandma Tate sighed on the other end of the phone. “Please be careful, Rachel.”

  “I will.”

  When they ended the call, Rachel was left feeling much more certain and secure of things back home, but slightly off-center about her own ambition. Had she not taken enough time to grieve Peter and make sure Paige would be okay? Was she that worried about her own ticking clock and the uncertainty of what was to come that she was overlooking the best interests of her family?

  She was sure there was some truth to this, but the desire to nail Alex Lynch was stronger than any of it. She was not blinded by her hatred and contempt of the man but she was, at the very least, a little emotionally crippled, she supposed.

  They arrived at the police station five minutes later. It took a bit of unnecessary time and conversation, but they were finally able to secure a small workspace in a back office, tucked away down a hall and distanced from the other officers. Rachel actually preferred it this way, especially during the night when there were fewer people around.

  “Are you okay with staying the night in Fredericksburg?” Jack asked as they settled in and set about getting access to the criminal database on one of the desktop setups in the office.

  “Yes. Agent Carson and my grandmother made me feel much better about what’s going on back home. I’d rather just stay here and knock this case out.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be relieved or worried.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Honestly? I feel almost a little guilty for even recommending to Anderson that you’d be ready for this. I’m afraid you’re moving too fast because of me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. If anything is pressuring me to move fast, it’s this stupid tumor in my head.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, though he sounded doubtful.

  “I’m going to look for the file on Carl Jackson now, if that’s okay,” she said, trying to be playful about it. “Unless we want to continue digging into my personal and emotional state.”

  “Nope. By all means,” he said, gesturing toward the keyboard.

  Once they were able to get onto the network, they found the files easily enough. They only required help a single time, and it was given by a tired-looking and reluctant older gentleman. Once he realized they’d taken over Detective Riley’s case, he was able to show them
exactly what they needed.

  Riley had done a fantastic job of organizing everything. The digital file on Jackson contained the police reports (including crime scene photos), coroner’s reports, and small details on the phone calls that had already been made to family and friends. There was also a file containing brief notes detailing the interviews Riley had conducted in the day or so after the murder—namely from neighbors, co-workers, and friends.

  Rachel focused on the people that had been contacted and the information they’d given while Jack looked over the coroner’s report and crime scene details for anything that stood out. Rachel felt a bit guilty about assuming Riley was a lazy detective that was glad to wash his hands of the case now that the FBI was here. Based on his notes and the way he’d conducted things so far, he seemed like a real pro.

  As she dug through everything, she came to a small checklist of sorts. The formatting was odd and she was pretty sure it had been converted over from a notes app on Riley’s phone. On it, he had listed: phone records! Check the name ROGER L. Work buddy. But she saw no trace of phone records. She wondered if they’d even come through yet.

  “Roger L,” she muttered. She looked over at the folder they’d been carrying around that contained print-outs of documents pertaining to Gloria’s case and grabbed it. As she opened the folder, she checked the time and saw that it wasn’t quite eleven yet. Working on a hunch, she located Riley’s number in the staff directory and called him up.

  “Who’re you calling this late?” Jack asked.

  “Riley. I want to check out a name.” Seeing that she had Jack’s interest, she placed her phone on speaker and set it on the desk while rifling through the papers in Gloria’s file. There had been no phone records acquired yet but there was a list of Recently Called that they’d been able to take from her phone. One of the names was Roger Lenbrook.

  Detective Riley answered on the second ring. “Hello?” he asked, confusion in his voice.

  “It’s Agent Gift. Sorry to call so late, but I was wondering if you could answer a quick question about one of your notes.”

  “My notes? Sure. How’d you get access to my notes?”

  “We’re at the precinct and we had someone help us with the directory. Is there an issue with us looking at the case files?”

  “No, not at all. I’m glad you found them so easily. What was your question?”

  “Well, you have a note in Carl Jackson’s file about how you needed to check in with a quote-unquote work buddy by the name of Roger L. Were you ever able to get in touch with him?”

  “No. I made a call and it went to voicemail. But he was so low on my list of people of importance that I never called back.”

  “Do you happen to know his last name? What the L stands for?”

  “Um…I believe it’s Lenly or…no, Lenbrook. Roger Lenbrook.”

  “And were you able to ever get a look at Gloria’s phone?”

  “No. I was waiting on the records request to go through. From what I understand, though, another officer was able to unlock her phone with face recognition. That was pretty recent, though, and I didn’t get a look at that yet. Why? What’s on there?”

  “There’s a few calls to a Roger Lenbrook in her recent dialings.”

  The other line was quiet for a while before it was broken by Riley saying, “Shit.”

  “Do we know anything about this Lenbrook character other than that he worked with Carl Jackson?”

  “No. I spoke to the supervisor on the phone and he said Carl really only had one friend at work, a guy named Roger Lenbrook. Beyond that, not much. I’m sure you already know this, but Carl worked at a truck-loading warehouse in town. The name and address are all there in the notes.”

  “Yeah, we saw that,” Rachel said. “Being that it’s so late right now and we don’t have any just cause other than Lenbrook being guilty of simply knowing both victims, there’s no need to knock on his door now.”

  “Yeah, we’ll try to catch him before work in the morning,” Jack said.

  “Well, again, let me know if you need an assist.”

  “We will,” Jack said.

  Rachel ended the call, looking back at the screen shot of Gloria’s recent calls. They’d managed to find a link rather quickly, a single name that connected both victims. In a smaller town it might not be so unlikely, but it seemed to stand out in this case as much more than a simple coincidence.

  “Sounds like we’re going to have an early morning,” Jack said. “Want to go find somewhere to sleep?”

  “Might as well.”

  They wrapped up things in their temporary office and made their way back out to the parking lot. As they got into the car, Rachel realized that this would be the first time she’d be alone since getting the call about Peter. Paige had slept with her on a few nights and even when she hadn’t, the house had been busy with the movements of Paige, Grandma Tate, and on occasion, Agent Carson.

  Was she ready to be alone, in a dark and unfamiliar room? Was she ready to handle the tidal wave of thoughts, doubts, and fears that she’d been pushing away ever since Peter had been killed?

  And more than that, was Alex Lynch somehow watching her? Would he know that she was alone and, deep down, still vulnerable?

  She did her best to get rid of that thought as Jack drove through the night, uneasy with the darkness and all it might be hiding.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Kari Blaine was getting tired of this restless night crap. She looked over at her husband, sound asleep and dead to the world. She was too annoyed that he was resting peacefully to even consider waking him up in a unique and dirty fashion. Yes, she’d even gone to those lengths, hoping to exhaust herself and fall asleep satisfied. But that hadn’t worked, either.

  She was young and healthy, never had a bad doctor’s report or anything more serious than a stomach bug. But now, all of a sudden, she was unable to sleep. It had started about four months ago, something she’d assumed had been stress-related or basic insomnia. First, she’d found it hard to fall asleep, laying down at her usual time of about 10:45 and not able to get under until around two or three in the morning—not ideal when her job had her waking up at six every morning.

  She’d gone to the doctor when over the counter sleep aids proved ineffective. The prescription she’d gotten seemed to help at first but after a few days those did nothing but screw up her already screwed schedule. She’d had no issues falling asleep, but she’d been unable to remain asleep. For about three weeks straight, she’d fall off with no problem, dead to the world just like her husband by 11:00. But then she’d wake up between 1:30 – 2:00 and would not be able to go back to sleep. Sometimes, her body would be so ravaged and tired that she’d manage to catch another hour between five and six, but that was all.

  And now that she’d ditched the meds and had started trying natural alternatives, like changing up her diet and experimenting with valerian root and certain teas, she never knew what to expect when it was time to go to bed. All she knew was that she’d not managed to get more than six hours of sleep in a single night for over three months. She’d tried support groups, online forums, even trolled around Reddit for solutions, but nothing had worked.

  And now here she was, again unable to fall asleep and doing the sleep-math in her head. It was 1:15 right now; so if she could fall asleep by 1:30, she’d manage four and a half hours before she had to wake up and get to work. And four hours in a solid chunk was a blessing these days. The problem was that she was pretty much wide awake. She knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep anytime soon. The best she could hope for was that one unpredictable hour between five and six. And if she wanted that, she did know of one thing that had helped a few times in the course of the past few weeks.

  With a sigh, she got out of bed. Her husband shifted the slightest bit at the disturbance but remained fast asleep. Quickly and quietly, Kari left the bedroom and walked downstairs. She made her way through the kitchen, past the mudroom, and then walked out into the
two-car garage.

  She didn’t bother putting the light on. There was a little security light plugged into the front wall that gave her plenty of illumination to make her way to the small water-heater closet. She opened the door and looked down at the floor where she kept her workout stuff. There was an exercise mat, a stretch band, and three kettlebells. She grabbed the ten pound kettlebell and the mat and closed the door.

  She’d been going this route for the last six weeks or so. It was something she’d read online, about how a quick bout of exercise can wear out your already-tired brain and remind it hey, dumbass, it’s time for sleep. We’re tired. She did it in the living room, between the back of the couch and the built in bookshelf along the far wall and it had worked almost every time she’d tried it, making her just tired enough to find that magical hour of sleep between five and six—and that was better than nothing.

  She made her way back over to the door and was shocked to find a man standing there. “Chris?” she said, her husband’s name coming out of her mouth in a way that sounded tired—which was hilarious, seeing as how she didn’t actually feel tired.

  And even as she spoke his name, the glow of the little security light in the wall showed her that she was wrong. The man standing there was not her husband. As if to prove this, the man shook his head. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, the hood pulled up but still revealing the lower half of his face.

  “Who are you?” she asked, panic rising up in her voice.

  She realized what a stupid question it was, like he would answer it. What she should be doing was calling out for Chris. And in thinking this, she grabbed the kettlebell. Let him come at her if he wanted. She’d brain him with it. It made her wish she’d taken the twenty-pounder instead.

  She drew in a breath to call for Chris but then the man was coming at her. He rushed along the space between the front of their CRV and the wall with the security light. She formed the hard C in her husband’s name, but that’s as far as she got. Even by the time she’d raised the kettlebell in an arched motion, he was on her.