Daddy's Home (2 page)

Chad bent down and took Holly’s magnifier from her. “We’re gonna get DNA off this. Let’s hope he has a prior.”

Holly knew that was slim. Serial killers were usually very careful.
You fought him, didn’t you?
“You did good. We’ll get him, I promise you. I’m gonna find him for you,” she said in a barely audible whisper. She glanced back over at the body of the child. “Carpenter!” she hollered up to Robb. “Get down here. What the hell are you doing? We might have some fibers. Bring your kit, and let’s get some measurements and sketches drawn up. This scene isn’t going to stay preserved forever.”

“You okay?” Chad asked.

“I can’t stand that asshole. And you know he can’t stand me, especially if I’m running the scene. He’s still bent that he didn’t get promoted to my position.”

“You earned it. Ignore him. That really gets under his skin.” He winked at her.

Holly was fully aware of her title as Ice Princess around the department. She’d even caught a whiff of rumor about bets being placed as to who could get her in the sack.

She looked at her watch. It was almost lunch hour, and she had a forty-minute drive to make it to Chloe’s school. Her daughter’s second-grade class had plans for their Thanksgiving festivities.
Damn.
She had promised her that she would be there. She had already missed one dance recital and a school play this year. “Can you handle this from here? I promised Chloe I’d make it to her school assembly and Thanksgiving feast. Make sure Carpenter and the boys stay in line. I don’t want any mistakes. Our perp is good and careful, but he’ll screw up somewhere along the line. When he does, I want him behind bars until they’ve got him strapped to that gurney. I don’t want him out on a technicality because of something we got careless about.”

“Count on me.”

“Thanks. I know I can. I’d stay and hold the fort, but Chloe . . .”

“Go, for God’s sake. I can handle this.”

“Call me if you get anything new. I planned to take the rest of the afternoon off and spend it with her. This morning she sent a big guilty arrow through my heart about how I’m always working. I know I shouldn’t take off, and Greenfield would skin me alive if he knew, but that might hurt less than my seven-year-old’s therapy payments down the line.”

“No problem. Family first. You do what you need to, and I’ll plan to meet you at the medical examiner’s office in the morning.”

Robb Carpenter passed her. “What’s the matter, Holly? Your thong up your ass today?”

She kept walking. She heard Chad tell Robb to go fuck himself. Good friend. Behind the wheel of her Jeep, she pulled down the mirror and applied her tawny-colored lipstick, hoping to look more like a mother than a cop. She also put on some mascara, bringing her hazel eyes to life, and quickly brushed her short auburn hair back behind her ears.
A little better.

Holly quickly got onto the freeway and sped down the I-8, heading west, noticing the whites of her knuckles as she gripped the wheel tightly. She hated admitting that she had wanted to leave the scene. It wasn’t something she would typically do, although today she did have a good excuse.
That poor woman, what she must have suffered . . . Her breasts. My God!
She put a hand up to her breasts. He studies his victims, knows them or at least
of
them and their situation. What’s his motive? Why is he doing this?

He wasn’t some recluse, killing randomly. He had specific reasons for the women he chose. He carved up women just like her—young, single, and with a child. It was now up to Holly to track him down before he savagely butchered another family.

CHAPTER TWO

The little girl with dark hair braided into two pigtails and eyes the color of Tiffany blue scanned the faces of the parents in the audience. Holly raised her arm and waved it wildly. She scrunched in between a couple of other parents in the far back of the auditorium, as there was standing room only for the stragglers—most of them dads.

Holly saw a smile spread across Chloe’s face as she brought her pointer finger up out in front of her chest and wiggled it. Yes, she’d definitely seen her. Holly made the same gesture back—their special wave.

Wow, did the kid look cute. For once, Holly felt a little like Martha Stewart. She had stayed up into the wee hours putting the finishing touches on the Indian squaw getup that Chloe was wearing, and she looked absolutely adorable in it. It was necessary for her and Chloe to maintain some semblance of normalcy, and sewing a costume for her daughter was one way that Holly could do this. Having your mom as a crime scene investigator was far from normal.

She would like to be home more often and envied the mothers who could be. But in reality, Holly knew that staying at home would also stifle her. She was a cop by nature—three generations. Her folks had four children—all girls. Her dad, Ben, had kept hoping for that one boy to follow in his footsteps. He’d been FBI himself, and had helped design the profiling system years ago.

Holly, the youngest, was surely supposed to be that boy. But he was probably just as proud or even prouder of her than if Holly had been a boy, because he appreciated how hard she had worked to get to where she was. Her dad also understood the politicking she dealt with on a daily basis.

Holly reached into her bag and pulled out her compact video camera. She would have to send a copy of this to her parents, as it looked as though they wouldn’t have a chance to be together over the rapidly-approaching holiday. Her folks had decided to fly to Hawaii for Thanksgiving to visit her oldest sister Beth. They had begged for her and Chloe to come along, but Holly knew that she couldn’t take off the time from work. She also really, really hated to fly. The thought of it made her squeamish.

So, this year it would just be her and Chloe. Then, of course, there was Brendan. Holly knew that he would ask Chloe where the two of them were going for the holidays.

Before turning on the camera and raising it to her eye, she took a sly look around to see if she saw Brendan, something she could do quickly and without being noticed. Yep, there he was in the opposite corner, doing exactly what she was—scoping it out—and their eyes caught.
Shit.
His arms were crossed, and he wiggled his pointer finger in a greeting to her. He had obviously been watching her for the last few minutes, enough time to get the special wave down. She laughed.

The children started singing, catching her attention. There was Chloe, all braids and smiles, dancing around with the gusto that would make any Indian tribal council proud, or at least this mother anyway. That kid did have her dad’s enthusiasm for life, and, God, she also had his enigmatic smile. The thought of Jack gave her the same feeling in the pit of her stomach it always did, as if she’d been sucker-punched. But she would not think about him, or that fateful day almost eight years ago. She would not think about Jack. Not today. As if that could be remotely possible.

There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think of Jack.

She would definitely not look back over at Brendan O’Neil. Damn him. The bastard had to have not only sinfully green eyes and tousled blonde hair that always looked as if he’d stepped in from a windy day, but he also had that Irish lilt in his voice. And if Holly didn’t watch it, she was pretty sure he could talk her into just about anything.
Nuh-uh, no way.
She had a daughter, and she had cases to solve, and right now there was a serial killer on the loose to catch.

A few more chants and a song about a turkey-gobble-gobble led into a poem written by her Chloe. Her beautiful child stood tall, as tall as she could get at seven, and recited her Thanksgiving poem.
I am an Indian brave and tall. I shared with the pilgrims one and all. We danced and sang on that first Thanksgiving as we ate corn and turkey and mashed potatoes, too. It was really good. And the pilgrims were my friends. I am an Indian brave and tall.
Chloe bowed as applause rang out through the crowd. Filming it, Holly bumped the camera as she lifted her hand to wipe away a tear. That was her kid!
Brave and tall. Yep.
She wanted to run up to the stage and twirl that angel around, but thought better of it and waited the five more minutes until a few more children had read their poems. Chloe’s was by far the best.

After the presentation, parents milled around in the classrooms finding their assigned seats for the feast the children had prepared. That was where Brendan found her and Chloe.

“Amazing. That was some poem, Miss Chloe. If I didn’t think you were going to grow up to be a beauty queen, I’d say you’ve got a mighty good chance at being a poet.”

Ah, that accent.

“Thank you, Mr. O’Neil,” Chloe said, her face turning a faint tinge of pink. Brendan’s daughter, Madeline, tapped Chloe on the shoulder and whispered something in her friend’s ear. The girls laughed.

“Mommy, I’m going to get you a plate now, okay?”

Holly tried to hold up her hand to stop her, but the girls were off heading toward the cafeteria where the feast was being served. The school was not in its usual organized form. There was a lot of chaos going on today along with the seasonal smells of turkey and cranberry in the air.

“Ah, let them go, Holly. They like doing this. Gives them a chance to take care of us for a change. And we must take advantage of that, now don’t you think?”

Holly heard her nervous laughter and stifled the embarrassment she felt. She knew she wasn’t exactly in glamour mode at the moment. “I suppose we should.”

“Good. It’ll give us a chance to chat. It’s been a while. I’ve tried calling, but you haven’t called back, and you’ve all but disappeared from yoga class.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m on a case, and I’m extremely busy.” His woodsy-smelling cologne wafted her way. Interesting, the way a scent like that could remind a woman of just how long it had been since she’d been with a man. Part of her wanted to smack him and run away for being that reminder. The other part, well, it had ideas, too.

“You need to take care of yourself, Holly. At least, if you don’t want to call me back you should get in and do that yoga. I know what it’s like to raise children alone and hold a job, remember? The yoga keeps you grounded.”

Yes, she did remember. They had this talk over pizza with the kids, which was simply a by chance thing, and again over lunch one weekend while cutting out construction paper states that the children in the class would use to do their own personal puzzles of the United States the following week. Holly had wondered how truly random it was that Brendan also volunteered for the same job. She had to admit they’d laughed quite a bit and had a good time, even agreeing to have a glass of wine together when they were finished, which they did. But Holly left after the wine and an appetizer feeling confused, a little high, and yes, unfaithful, which she knew was absolutely silly. Would she ever get Jack out of her system?

Brendan had two daughters he was raising alone and was a veterinarian with his own practice. He was a hard man not to like.

“Listen, Holly, when we had wine a few weeks ago, did I offend you in some way?”

“No, no, I had a great time.”

“Then what is it? I can’t understand, because I had a great time, too. I was hoping we could get together again,” he said.

A paper plate of food came crashing onto her lap at that very moment, and she looked up and saw her wide-eyed daughter looking desperate. “Oh no, Mommy.”

“Ah, geez,” Brendan said grabbing a napkin and beginning to wipe the mess off her legs.

Holly grabbed the napkin from his hands, and rather than cleaning it, she wound up smearing canned cranberries into her slacks, along with marshmallows mixed with sweet potatoes. Chloe burst into tears, and Holly muttered, “Shit.” Then glanced around at the eyes of other parents staring at her. “Sorry.” She looked back at Brendan who was wearing a smile of amusement, and she couldn’t help but start giggling. “Okay, I’ll see you at yoga tomorrow night, deal?”