Cause to Kill (An Avery Black Mystery—Book 1) (15 page)

Embarrassed at her actions, she hopped into her car and drove.

The words of Howard Randall echoed in her mind:
Your killer is
an artist…not someone that would pick girls randomly off the street….

I followed your lead, she argued. I found a connection.

Randall’s last words turned into a whisper.

He has to find them from somewhere…

Where? she fought. Where does he find them? There has to be
another connection, something I missed.

There has to be something else, something I’m missing, another
link.

The office was her de facto destination, but something kept
telling her that any answers wouldn’t come from the office. They would come
from leads. She decided to assist Jones on the surveillance routes out of
Cambridge. Thompson had already followed up on Graves. The cocky senior’s alibi
was solid: three friends confirmed his location on Saturday night.

She stopped off for another cup of coffee and some breakfast.

Her phone rang.

“Black,” she said.

The voice on the other line sounded grim and unsatisfied.

“It’s Connelly.”

A shutter of worry passed through Avery. Did Wilson Kyle already
call? Did we finally get a break on the case?

“What’s up?” she said.

“You’ve having a real party out there, aren’t you?” Connelly
whispered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This is getting out of control, Black. We look like a bunch of
fucking idiots.
The cap is pissed
. And so am I, I
knew
you were
all wrong for the job.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked. “Did you just call to
harass me?”

“You don’t know?” he asked.

After a moment of silence, Connelly spoke again.

“Just got word from Belmont Police. They found a body over at the
Children’s Playground in Stony Brook Park. Sounds like our guy.”

Avery parked her car on the eastern edge of Stony Brook Park and
walked down Mill Street to the entrance.

The Stony Brook Children’s Playground was an expansive water park
for children, combined with three separate playgrounds and a huge wooden fort,
all nestled within a circle of trees and behind a fence near a gated community.

A number of Belmont police cruisers, along with news vans and
reporters and crowds, surrounded the area by the gate.

“
There she is!
” someone shouted.

Before Avery could even think, a number of reporters made their
way toward her. In her previous life, when she’d been fired from her law firm,
Avery had assumed the cameras and lights and microphones would eventually fade
away. Unfortunately, that had never been the case. She could always find
herself as the butt of jokes in one paper or another on slow news days.

A small reporter with bobbed black hair shoved a mic in her face.

“Ms. Black,” she said, “are you in a relationship with Howard
Randall?”

“
What
?” Avery demanded.

Someone else extended a mic.

“You went to visit him yesterday. What did you two talk about?”

“Where are you getting this information?” Avery asked.

A paper was held out in front of her, and as Avery scanned the
front page and turned to the news article inside, cameras were rolling, and
everyone waited for a response.

The headline read “Two girls dead and no leads.” The picture was
from the cemetery. A sub-headline on the bottom said: “A Cop and A Killer:
Romance Blooms.” Avery saw herself sobbing inside her car, right beyond the
prison walls.

The guards, she realized. They took pictures.

The actual news article was on the third page: “Who Runs The
Boston PD?” Words like “incompetent,” “mishandling,” and “negligence”
practically jumped off the page. One line: “Why would Boston PD allow a former
attorney with questionable ethics to handle another possible serial killer
case?”

Sick to her stomach, Avery handed the paper back.

“Can you give us a comment?” someone asked.

Avery pushed ahead in silence.

“Officer Black!? Officer Black!?”

A woman that couldn’t have been more than ninety pounds found her
way to Avery and punched her in the chest.

“You fucking piece of shit!” she cried. “My tax money pays for
you
?
No way! I’m going to have you fired—you murdering son of a bitch.”

The crowd moved in.

“
Why are you on this case?
” someone else shouted.

“Don’t let her near kids!”

At the gate, Avery flashed her badge and an officer pushed her
through.

“Who’s in charge here?” she said.

“Right over there,” the cop pointed. “Talbot Diggins. Lieutenant
Diggins.”

Normally, the abuse was easy for Avery to ignore, but today, after
her dismal interrogation of John Lang and another dead body, and no leads, and
the paper, and everything else, it took all of her energy just to stand tall
and walk forward.

Even separated from the mob beyond the gate, she could hear people
voicing their outrage as reporters pushed cameras through the bars.

Cops around the area turned and watched Avery pass. Some muttered
under their breath. Others just looked at her with scorn.

When will it end? she wondered.

Talbot Diggins was an extremely large black man with a shaved
head. He wore sunglasses and was sweating hard in the early morning heat. He
was dressed in a slick gray suit and a T-shirt underneath, and the only items
that gave him away as a cop were the badge around his neck and gun peeking out
from the back of his jacket.

He noticed her and pointed.

“You Black?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Follow me.”

The actual park was ignored. Behind the wide pool that normally
sprayed water in countless directions, they passed a playground for toddlers
and headed directly toward a wooden castle, complete with bridges, a moat, and
a wooden city.

Lights from a police photographer flashed inside the wooden
structure.

“Kid found her this morning,” Talbot said. “Ten-year-old girl.
Said she was trying to play with her but the body wouldn’t move. So she touched
her. Cold as ice.”

The wooden structure had an opening at its front that served as a
castle entrance.

A dead girl sat in the entrance, positioned as if she’d simply
taken a break from play. She was eighteen or nineteen, Avery guessed. Blond
hair. Dressed in a tight-fitting shirt and skirt. A whimsical, humorous
expression lined her face. Hands were up and had been bound to a bar over her
head with very fine fiber, like fishing line. The eyes themselves, like the
others Avery had seen, appeared drugged and tortured.

“Do you know who she is?” Avery asked.

“Not yet.”

A quick look and Avery could tell the victim wore all her
undergarments. Maybe that last girl was a fluke? she wondered

Like the other girls, this one appeared to be looking at
something. Avery tracked the line of sight to the toddler playground.
Immediately, she knew what the victim had been meant to see: a painted mural of
children that lined one of the plastic borders. The children were boys and
girls, multicultured, and there were a lot of them, all holding hands.

Talbot eyed her suspiciously.

“Is it true?” he asked.

“Is what true?”

“You and Randall. Papers say you two are an item. Is it true?”

“That’s disgusting,” she said.

“Maybe,” he offered. “But is it
true
?”

“None of your business,” she said.

“Man, you really screwing up my day, you know that? First, I have
to deal with some serial killer fallout because you can’t do your job, and now
you won’t even answer a simple question. Come on, we’ve got a big office pool
riding on this.”

“You don’t have to worry about this,” Avery said. “My department
will—”

“
Nah, nah, nah,
” he complained, “that’s not going to
happen. This is
my
crime scene, you understand? I called your department
out of courtesy.
I can’t give you this
,” he declared and indicated the
dead body. “You already have two dead girls in under a week. Now we’ve got a
third in Belmont. You know what that spells? Team up.”

“We don’t need to—”

“Oh, we
do
need to,” he said with his eyes rolled back.
“Honestly. How close are you to cracking this case?”

“We have a lot of solid leads that—”

“
Beep!
Incorrect answer!”
he cried like an alarm and
pretended to be a robot. “I don’t believe that,” he calmly indicated. “Look at
you. You look as messed up as they say in the papers. And you won’t even give a
fellow cop a hint about your personal life. What’s
that
all about? So
you know what? We’re teammates now, and in Belmont, we solve cases quick.”

 “Oh yeah?” Avery said. “How many bodies have you ever seen like
this?”

“Pssss,” he sang.

“No, I’m serious.”

“
That don’t matter.
”

“I’ll tell you what matters,” she said. “I’ve been on the case for
under a week and I know the general area where the killer lives. I know his
height and a description of his body. I know he has a soft spot for pets and
what he drives, and from the looks of this third body?” she said and pointed to
the dead girl, “I know he’s not finished yet. Three used to be his magic
number. Now that’s changed. I know a lot of other things,” she spit. “But you
know what? You’re right. This is your jurisdiction.
Figure it out for
yourself
.”

She spun around to walk out.

“
Whoa, whoa, whoa,
” Talbot howled. “Hold on there, white
lion!”

Talbot had a completely different demeanor when Avery looked back.
His arms were open wide and he displayed a stunning smile with large white
teeth.

“Here I thought I was dealing with a kitty cat, but what I really
got is a white lion.”

He sidled up to Avery, who was about an inch shorter and smaller
in every way.

“I can’t come between a lead detective and possible serial killer
on a major case like this,” he said. “Shit is all over the news. I
gotta
help you, whether I like it or not. Take your time,” he said and waved around.
“Check things out.”

“But you just said—”

“
Nobody likes you
,” he emphasized in earnest. “My people
can’t think we’re buddies. Hard enough being a black man out here. How about
this: I’ll have my people take care of this crime scene. We’ll get the body to
our coroner, try to figure out who she is and have forensics sweep the area.
What’s your number? Whisper it to me. Whisper…”

Avery whispered her number and Talbot made a nasty face, like he
was taking down the digits of her supervisor so she could be reprimanded.

“I just called you,” he said. “There it is… Now you have my number
too. Once I hear back from everyone on my team. I’ll send you a detailed
report. Not happy? Talk to your captain, and have him call
my
captain,
but I can tell you this already: this shit happened in
my
town this
time, and that means Belmont police are involved. You wanna help me out? Share
what you got?”

“Sure,” she said, “we can do that. I’d also want my team to view
the body and consult with your coroner.”

“No problem.”

“And I want complete access to this crime scene.”

“You got it. We good?”

“Yeah,” she said and frowned, “I think.”

“
I don’t give a shit
what
you think!
” Talbot yelled
and backed up so everyone could hear. “
That’s just the way it is, Black!
”

Talbot walked away right after his trash-talk to consult with his
team. Most of the Belmont cops flashed nasty looks at Avery, or shook their
heads. One of them could be heard saying, “Why do we have to share shit? This
is a Belmont crime.”

Avery took her time to walk around the area.

She stared at the body from multiple perspectives. Everyone
ignored her, but every so often she could hear mothers screaming from beyond
the gates, or hear reporters calling out questions.

A sense of the killer had begun to inhabit Avery. It had started
in Lederman Park, and then at the cemetery, a feeling that she understood him
somehow. He’d chosen quiet places, respectful places for dead. This one was
different. Although the girl was placed in a park among trees and woods, it was
a children’s park, which had a more excitable energy than a cemetery or a bench
near the river.

Why here? she wondered.

The visual of the girl, too, was different: she viewed multiple
children, different genders and colors.

Something happened, she thought.

What changed?

Forensics and the coroner’s report would be able to tell her if
there were differences within the body or at the crime scene, but even if they
found nothing, Avery was certain about her instincts. After working on cases
involving killers for years—and
before
killers, on cases involving
sleazy people in general as an attorney—she’d become an expert on subtle
differences within people, and at crime scenes.

Alone, with no new leads, an abysmal morning and with protestors,
parents, and Belmont police glaring at her like she was an unwanted guest,
Avery put her head down and headed back to the car.

Her arrival at the A1 office was the perfect topping for a
terrible day. The moment the elevator doors opened and Avery was seen, the
entire office went silent. Sneers were on their faces. Jones shook his head and
looked away and Thompson turned his back on her. Not a single nasty joke or
laugh only made it worse.

Finley was at his desk. Slightly more empathetic than the rest of
his department, he offered a sympathetic glance and lowered his head.

The morning paper, with her scandalous article about the visit
with Howard Randall, was on a number of desks, and a few computer screens
showed a similar picture of Avery, crying in her car outside the prison.

“Black,” someone called, “get in here.”

O’Malley waved from his office.

Connelly stood up.

“No. No,” O’Malley pointed. “Not you. Just Black.”

“This is my case,” Connelly argued.

“If you want to keep it that way, you’ll sit down and shut up.”

Connelly stood defiantly and pushed out his chest.

“Am I in trouble?” Avery asked.

“Come on in.” O’Malley waved and closed the door behind him. “What
makes you think you’re in trouble, Black? You tell me.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I went to see Howard Randall for a
lead. He gave me one, well, not a good one, but a connection between those
girls. He knew something.”

A deep sigh came from O’Malley.

“What could Howard Randall possibly know about your case?” he
said. “The guy’s in jail. All he knows is what he reads in the paper.”

“He has the mind of a killer,” Avery insisted. “He
thinks
like our guy.”

O’Malley frowned.

“Stop,” he said, “stop, please. Listen to me, Avery. I like you. I
saw you do some amazing things on the beat: fearless, dedicated, honest, and
most of all, smart. Other people saw it too. They might give you shit but
that’s because they’re jealous and afraid. People are afraid of what they don’t
understand, and I’m beginning to feel that fear.”

“Captain, what are you—”

A palm stopped her.

“Please,” he said, very calm, almost torn, “let me finish. This
case, it’s a big one. Bigger than I thought. We’ve got bodies spread out over
three counties so far, three dead girls, no further leads, and a lot of pissed
off people. You’re an animal, Avery. I see it. I see it even now. You’re
consumed
by this case. You really want to find this guy, so bad that you’ve been making
some really stupid rookie mistakes.”

He held up a finger.

“One,” he said, “you harassed a civilian this morning in
Cambridge.”

“I had reason to believe—”

“I don’t care what you believed,” he yelled. “You accosted a man
in an art shop, a very well-connected man, I might add, a man that’s already
been through the wringer a hundred times because of his past. Guy had a
breakdown after you left. Tried to commit suicide in the bathroom. His boss had
to tear down the door. Ambulance was called. Then he called me, and he called
the chief, and he called the mayor. And do you know what he said? He said we
allowed a psycho to lead this case. Luckily, he hasn’t pressed charges, yet.”

“Suicide?”

Avery lowered her head. The burning stare of Wilson Kyle came into
her mind, and she remembered his passionate speech about Lang’s history.

“That was a mistake,” she said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Two,” O’Malley said and held up two fingers. “You got yourself in
the papers. Now, I know that’s not your fault. You walk around like you’re the
only person in the universe half the time. Makes me wonder how you can possibly
see
anything, but you do. What you
didn’t
see were all these
paparazzi scumbags having a feeding frenzy at your expense. The photo from the
park I can handle. What I can’t handle is that picture from the prison. You
went to see the most famous serial killer in Boston’s history, a man
you
got off, a man that then killed again in
your
name, and you didn’t think
to ask? Or watch for cameras? Or to at least give me the heads-up so I could
tell you you were nuts?”

“I needed the perspective.”

“Then you call me, or Connelly, or anyone else connected to this
case. You don’t go to a federal prison to hunt down an old flame. I mean, Jesus.
Don’t you even
read
the papers? They made it look like this entire
department is a bunch of morons, and that the only leads we could get had to
come from a former flame. It’s bad, Avery, real bad.”

“Captain, I’m—”

“Three,” he said and held up three fingers, “you’ve got dissention
in your ranks. Thompson and Jones are complaining about the surveillance gig.”

“They wasted an entire day yesterday!”

O’Malley held up a hand.

“Connelly won’t even talk to you—”

“That’s not my fault!”

“I don’t know what you did to Finley,” he said, shocked, “but he’s
actually been working his ass off and he’s genuinely upset about all this.”

Suddenly, Avery began to realize where the conversation was
headed.

“Upset about all
what
?” she said.

“Maybe I promoted you too soon,” O’Malley mumbled to himself.

“Captain, wait.”

He shook his head and made a face.

“No more, Avery, please. No more. OK? I’ve got the chief barking
up my ass. The mayor is pissed. I’ve got complaints coming in from
who-the-fuck-knows, and they’re all about you. But the worst of it all, seriously,”
he said with true sorrow in his eyes. “The worst thing is, this isn’t about you
at all, or any of this petty bullshit. We’ve got three dead girls in under a
week. Three dead, Avery. And no leads. And a dead trail. Am I right?”

Avery flashed on the killer’s twirl and bow in the parking lot
camera.

“I’m going to find him,” she said, “I swear it.”

“Not on my watch,” O’Malley replied. “You’re off the case. Effective
immediately. Connelly is taking over.”

“Captain—”

“Not a word, Black. Not a word because I’m calm right now, right?
I’m calm because this is upsetting to me too, but if you push me I’m going to
get really angry because of all the pressure I’m under over this case. You’re
off. I want all your research on Connelly’s desk in the next hour. Any
information from the latest crime scene in Belmont. Where are we on that?
Where’s the body? No, I don’t want you to tell me now. I want it all written
down, along with any leads you’re pursuing, anything. Leave nothing out.
Understood? Then you’re free to go. Take the rest of the day off. Come back on
Monday and we’ll talk about what happens next. I need the weekend to think it
over.”

“I’m off the case,” she said.

“You’re off.”

“For good?”

“For good.” He nodded.

“Am I still on homicide?”

O’Malley wouldn’t answer.