“She said no. And I believed her. But she’s lied before. Are you here to tell me she’s been seeing that monster?”
“He patronized the bar where she worked. I don’t know if she knew that or not.” He glanced at the kid. The boy’s eyes had drifted to half-mast. “Were you surprised when Lulu didn’t show in court?”
She sat back on the couch. “I had hoped she’d make it. I really want my girl to get her act together. David needs a mother.”
“You’ve not heard from your daughter in the last couple of days?”
“Not a word. Each time the phone rings I think it’s her. That’s her pattern. Mess up and then call and apologize. Not hearing from her has me wondering if she really has screwed up this time.”
“She mention anyone that she hung out with much lately?”
“No. We don’t talk a lot.”
He hesitated. Mrs. Sweet knew Lulu better than anyone. “What do you think has happened to her?”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “She has finally overdosed.”
David had completely relaxed back in Malcolm’s arms, and his eyes had drifted shut. It pained him to know the kid was in for a rough life thanks to circumstances.
“Do you think she’s dead?” He hated to ask the question.
She lifted her chin. “No. I don’t feel that. But I fear it’s a matter of time.”
“I’ve checked her apartment and spoken to neighbors. No one has seen her.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He studied the woman’s pale features. “Do you mind me asking you about your health issues?”
She hesitated and then released a sigh. “I’ve got congestive heart failure. I’ve had it for several years. Medication and rest keep it in check pretty well. But the stress of the last year has made it steadily worse.”
“What do you plan to do with the baby?”
“I’d half hoped Lulu would come through, and I could get back to taking care of myself.”
“Do you want me to call social services? Do you want help?”
“No. No social services. I can take care of my own. Don’t you worry about David. I love him, and I’ll see that he’s tended to. You can do me a favor and just find my daughter so we can get this mess sorted out.”
He glanced at the boy. David had drained his bottle and fallen asleep. Malcolm rose slowly and laid the boy in his grandmother’s arms. Shit. The kid didn’t belong in a sick house with a fragile woman. He deserved parks and games and swing sets. “I’ll let you know when I find your daughter.”
“Can you find her?”
He looked at David. “One way or the other, I’ll find her.”
The four detectives gathered in the meeting room around an old wooden conference table that looked as if it had seen its best days in the seventies. Its matched chairs and credenza also showed thirty years of wear. Gray industrial carpet made the windowless room’s white walls look dingy.
Malcolm had a thing against windowless rooms. He understood they were practical for cops. No one could shoot into the room. But his body craved the sunshine almost from the minute he closed the door behind him.
Steam rose from the hot cup of coffee warming Malcolm’s hand as he took his seat. When Garrison, Sinclair, and Rokov took a seat, he said, “We’re four days into the murder investigation of Sierra Day. Forensics has given us little so far. Sommers is processing dozens of footprints found at the scene, as well as fingerprints pulled from Sierra’s room and car. That’ll keep him digging for a good while. Do we have anything on Sierra Day’s financials or cell phone records?”
Sinclair opened a manila folder. “We’ve back traced most of her cell phone calls, and all lead to her ex-husband, ex-lover, lawyers, or the theater. She did make calls to Dixon’s office, but the time and duration match with a schedule change to an appointment.”
“We heard rumors of another boyfriend,” Malcolm said.
“If she had a secret guy, she didn’t call him from her cell phone,” Sinclair said.
“Okay. Financials?” Malcolm said.
“No expenditures that seemed out of the ordinary,” Rokov said. “Day carried nearly sixteen thousand in credit card debt. And almost all her expenses were related to clothing, drinking at Duke Street Café, gas, and publicity pictures. No out-of-town trips or hidden hideaways where she might have gone with this mystery lover we’ve heard about.” He tapped his finger on the table. “Sinclair and I also spoke to her neighbors and colleagues, and no one noticed anything out of the ordinary.”
“Carlson told us that Sierra’s mystery boyfriend liked to buy her lingerie. And that he flew her down to Florida.”
Sinclair shook her head. “We found lingerie in her room. One piece still had the tags on it. It was purchased from an exclusive store in the District. The clerk did not have sales records and promised to have the store owner check when she got back into town tomorrow.”
“Did you show the clerk a picture of Dixon?” Malcolm asked.
“I did. He’s not been in the store.” Sinclair frowned. “We’ve all been so focused on Dixon, who I might add has an airtight alibi for the days Sierra went missing. I think we need to cast our net farther afield. Our tunnel vision could very well be allowing another killer to go free.”
Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck. The muscles had tightened like bowstrings. He’d begun to worry about that as well. “You could be right, but I’m just not ready to cut Dixon loose.”
Sinclair shook her head. “Sierra’s lover Marty Gold had assault charges filed against him last year. Maybe we need to squeeze him a little bit.”
“Sure, follow up on that.” It felt like the wrong path, but Malcolm just couldn’t prove it yet. “We also are exploring another angle. Garrison and I spent the better part of the morning looking for Lulu Sweet.” He quickly reviewed her connection to Dixon and Angie.
Garrison, who sat to the right of Malcolm, added, “We’ve found no trace of her.”
“Lulu’s purse vanished from the bar, and a Maureen White who works at ZZ’s found Lulu’s shoe in the alley behind the bar. According to Maureen, Lulu went to the alley to hook up with a drug dealer named Tony.”
“Maybe it’s as simple as her overdosing,” Sinclair said.
Malcolm nodded. “I visited with her mother. She’s not seen Lulu.”
“Or maybe someone’s going after Carlson’s clients?” Rokov said. “She’s made her share of enemies in the courtroom. I can’t say I’m her number-one fan.”
Sinclair flipped pages in her file. “Carlson is good at what she does. And I do respect that. But that could have made enemies.”
Malcolm too had gained a begrudging admiration for Carlson. Love her or hate her, she was smart and dedicated. And the idea that she’d been targeted did not sit well with him. “Sierra’s roommate mentioned she’d received notes. What about them?”
“Forensics found them in a magazine in her room,” Rokov said. “They were handwritten on plain paper. The writing is distinctive
and does not match samples we have of Dixon’s. And without something to compare it to, we don’t have much of a lead. Paulie did say something about having it analyzed by an expert, but that will take time.”
“Okay,” Malcolm said.
Sinclair cleared her throat. “I had a ViCAP hit about an hour ago. It’s a stretch, but the case has similar characteristics.” ViCAP wasn’t a perfect system, but from time to time it did match current violent crimes in other jurisdictions.
Malcolm shifted his attention to her and waited. “Let’s hear it.”
Sinclair pulled an old police file out from under her notepad. “Seems like a fairly remote link.”
“If remote equates to a lead then I am all for it,” Malcolm said.
“I haven’t had much time to read the file,” she said. “I just got it from archives a few minutes before the meeting.”
“Let’s have it.”
She flipped over a page and read the investigating detectives’ notes. “Thirty years ago, bones were found deposited at a construction site. These bones should have ended up buried under a ton of concrete, but a scheduling conflict with a cement contractor delayed the job. A couple of kids poking around the site found clean bones that had been dumped in a hole.”
Malcolm leaned forward. “How were the bones stripped?”
“Investigating cops didn’t know.”
“Did they identify the victim?”
“Yes.” She flipped over a page and read. “Just like us, they dug into their missing persons file. Long story short, they determined that their victim was Fay Willow. She was thirty-one and employed as a secretary.”
“What about the notes?”
“The lead detective interviewed her roommate, who commented she’d received notes at home and work before she vanished. I love you. Always together. Endearing if you like the sender, creepy if you don’t know the sender.”
“Where did she work?” Malcolm asked.
Sinclair scanned the page. “The Talbot Museum.”