Garrison called the patrol car stationed at King’s to check on Eva. The officer had reported seeing her through the window of the pub waiting tables. He’d also ordered Rokov to do a complete background check on King.
For now Eva was safe and the patrol officer would keep tabs on her. But it bothered him that he wasn’t there looking out after her himself. In his core he believed only he could keep her alive. It was a foolish feeling rooted in the deaths of his sister and wife.
Tension snapped at him as he pulled up in front of the one-story rancher.
“I still don’t see why we’re here. We’ve talked to Dave Torres four or five times,” Malcolm said.
Dave Torres was the nephew of the first victim, Eliza Martinez. He’d been helpful and had answered all of Garrison’s questions. “We’ve missed something.”
“What? We went over Martinez’s past. She came up clean.”
“She’s Bobby’s grandmother and King brought the boy to live with him and Eva. Too many coincidences.” Garrison rang the bell.
Seconds later the door snapped open. A tall, willowy man with downturned eyes and a thick stubble of beard stared back at them through the screened door. “Mr. Torres.”
Torres threaded bony fingers through his hair. “Detective. Do you have word on my aunt’s killer?”
“No, sir, but I hoped we could talk again.”
Torres shrugged and pushed open the screen door. “Sure. If you think it will help.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The officers moved into the cramped living room filled with piles of old newspapers. Torres had admitted on their first visit that he had trouble parting with newspapers. All his spare rooms and most of his kitchen were filled with copies of the Post and Journal. Since their last visit, Torres had filled the extra chairs in the living room with paper, leaving no place to sit.
“I’m not sure what else I can add.”
Garrison pulled out his notebook. “What can you tell me about your aunt’s grandson?”
“Bobby?” Torres shrugged. “Quiet kid. I never saw him much. He lived with his mom.”
Garrison checked his notes. “Mrs. Martinez’s daughter died last year of cancer?”
“That’s right. Tough for someone so young to die like that.”
“What happened to the boy?”
“Foster care. Eliza didn’t have it in her to raise the kid. But she had him over for sleepovers often.”
“Did he have a sleepover with his grandmother the night she died?”
“No, thank God. He and I were at a concert in D.C. This rock band. My ears are still ringing. But the kid loved it. He spent the night with me. We found out about his grandmother the next day. ”
“He switched foster homes after his grandmother’s death.”
“The kid was hurt and angry when he found out Aunt Eliza was dead. His family didn’t want to deal with an angry kid. But his new foster dad didn’t mind that Bobby was a handful. Lucky for the kid.”
Garrison didn’t think luck played into the scenario at all. “Why didn’t you take the boy?”
He shifted, uncomfortable. “I’m good with the kid for a night here and there but not full-time.”
“And the boy’s father?”
“Never in the picture. In fact, I’m not sure if Rebecca ever told him about the kid. She said the guy frightened her. ”
“Did Rebecca go to Price?”
“No. She could never afford a private college. She went to a community college here in Alexandria. Dropped out her freshman year to have Bobby. Worked lots of jobs to keep food on the table. She did visit Price a couple of times. She’d help her mom cleaning up after those sorority girls had a party.”
“Rebecca say anything about her visits to Price?”
“The first couple of visits were a blast. She met a guy. But the last wasn’t so great. Something happened, but she’d never say.”
“That patrolman keeps watching the place,” King said. He set two hamburger orders on the bar for Eva to deliver.
Eva filled a mug with cold beer. “Garrison is keeping an eye on me. He’s worried.”
King grunted. “Good. He should be.” He wiped his hands on his apron. “Maybe I should take him some coffee.”
“I can do that,” Eva said.
“You, help a cop? ”
She shrugged. “Maybe they’re not all bad.”
King laughed. “You keep working. I’ll run the coffee out. And do me a favor and call Betty. She’s late.”
“Will do.”
Garrison slammed his phone down so hard the desk rattled.
Malcolm leaned forward in his chair. “Still no Kristen?”
“She never boarded her return flight to New York. “ He ran his hand through his hair. “I want every cop in the city looking for Kristen Hall. We need to find her.”
Garrison called the patrolman watching the pub. “You see Eva? ”
“I did a few minutes ago.”
“What about now?”
“At the moment, I don’t see her.”
“Go in and find her. And call me.” He hung up the phone.
Sinclair poked her head in the door. “We’ve got another body.”
Garrison’s heart stopped beating for a minute and he found himself bargaining with God it wasn’t Eva. “Who is it?”
“Cops on the scene don’t have an ID.”
Chapter 22
Wednesday, April 12, 1:30 P.M.
When Eva realized King had taken the phone off the hook, she nested the receiver back in the cradle. She’d risk dealing with a reporter on the off chance that Garrison was trying to reach her.
Minutes later when the phone did ring, she’d filled a bucket with warm soapy water and dug the mop out of the storage closet. She sprinted across the pub and snapped up the phone on the third ring. “King’s.”
“Eva.” Bobby’s frail voice echoed over the line.
“Bobby! What’s wrong?” Sudden tears welled in her eyes.
“People at school are being mean. I want to come home.”
“Where are you?”
“I left school.”
“Where are you?” Even as she spoke she tore off her apron and moved toward her purse.
“I’m hiding in the park behind the school.”
“Honey, your teacher must be terrified.”
“She doesn’t know I’ve gone yet. I left when we were switching from PE to Music.”
She thought about calling the school but feared an all-out search for Bobby would make him panic. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t move.” She glanced around for King and remembered he’d gone outside to check on the cop again. She’d be back before he knew she was gone.
Tears ran down her face as she thought about Bobby hiding in the wooded park, scared and alone. All this mess was because of her.
A fine cold mist left the air feeling wet and raw when Garrison and Malcolm arrived at the crime scene just after two. He and Malcolm got out of his car and crossed the parking lot of the high-rise apartment complex to the Dumpsters.
Already forensics had secured the area with yellow crime scene tape and uniforms held the crowd at bay. He scanned the crowd, wondering if the killer stood among the dozens of people, half hoping to see Eva as he had at the first crime scene. But a quick glance revealed no signs of Eva or anyone else that seemed overly interested.
“I don’t see Donovan,” Malcolm said. “This is his kind of chaos.”
Garrison frowned.
They ducked under the tape and moved toward a uniformed officer who had already covered the body and tented a tarp above it to keep the rain off.
The officer was a petite woman in her twenties, but moved with the efficiency of a drill sergeant. She extended her hand. “I’m Officer Brennan.”
Garrison accepted her hand, noting she had a strong grip. “What do you have?”
“A woman killed like the others.”
“Who is it?”
“Based on the picture you’ve been circulating, it’s Kristen Hall.” She moved under the tent, knelt by the blue tarp and lifted the edge.
Garrison stared down at Kristen’s face. “Damn.”
Brennan pulled back more tarp, exposing four knife wounds to her heart and then her flat naked belly, marked with four stars arranged in a circle.
“Shit.” Garrison planted his hands on his hips.
“She was hell-bent on getting out of town,” Malcolm said. He squatted by her body and studied the star burns on her belly. “What could have brought her back?”
“I want to see all her phone records,” Garrison said. “I want all surveillance tapes from her building. Check to see if her car had GPS and track it down. I want to know every damn step she took in the last thirty-six hours.”
Brennan carefully covered Kristen’s body.
“Three women with connections to Price University and Eva Rayburn,” Malcolm said.
Garrison’s phone rang. “Yeah.”
It was the patrolman stationed outside of King’s. “Eva Rayburn is gone.”