Death Angel (19 page)

Carl hung up the phone and headed for
the bathroom. He turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, shuddering
at the blast of cool water that hit him. It was a fast shower, just enough to
wake him up. It was going to be a long day.

While he dressed, he considered the
possibility that this was the second in a series of murders. His premise had
been that the Warner murder was an isolated incident. On the surface, the
finding of another body in the forest preserve might suggest the possibility of
a series or spree killer. It was hard to believe there were two murderers
running around the Pickard woods.

He’d been convinced that Jennifer Warner
had been killed by her father. Bea had warned him about getting tunnel vision
early in the game. He got into his car, wondering how much he’d screwed up the
case by personally focusing on Richard Warner.
 

At the forest preserve a small crowd of
people had already gathered. They huddled together in the damp morning chill,
speculating and discussing each new arrival. They converged on Carl when he
opened the car door.

A grandfatherly figure grabbed his
sleeve. “We heard someone found a body. Is it another child, Chief Leidecker?”

Much as he was in a hurry, he stopped to
speak to the bystanders. “Yes, a body has been found here. I can positively
state that it is not the body of a child. I repeat, it is not a child. Beyond
that I don’t know a hellava lot more than you do. I urge you to go home because
neither I nor any of my officers will make another statement here. And the
sooner I get in there, the faster we’ll have answers to all your questions.”

With a wave of his hand, he tucked his
leather notebook under his arm and closed the car door. The crowd parted before
him. Carl lifted the luminous yellow tape that cut across the trail limiting
admission to the crime area. He nodded to the officer who pointed along the
trail.

The trees closed in behind Carl,
muffling the sounds at his back, but as he moved down the muddy path, he could
hear the activity ahead. It was 6:45. After the rain during the night, the air
was heavy with an earthy perfumed scent.

A group of figures was gathered on the
far side of the open field. With only nods of greeting, he took in the scene.

The body of the jogger was sprawled,
face down, in the middle of the path, arms and legs at odd angles that only the
dead could achieve. Carl leaned down, grimacing at the misshapen mound of bone
and tissue that had once been a human head. As far as he could see there were
no other injuries.

“Morning, Carl.” Bob Jackson was beside
him, impeccably dressed as always. “The M.E. thinks the man has been dead about
twelve hours. Massive head injuries. Seems to be it. No weapon so far. Either
the killer took it away or we haven’t identified it yet.”

“Clothes are intact,” Carl said. “Was
there any sexual interference?”

“Not as far as the M.E. could see.”

“That’s good. Maybe there’s no
connection between this and the Warner killing.”

“Don’t count on it,” Bob said.
 

He led Carl out of earshot of the
others.
 

“You probably noticed that all of the
blows were to the upper part of the head. The jaw had dropped and the mouth was
open. After the man was dead, the murderer put this inside the victim’s mouth.”

Reaching into his pocket, Bob brought
out a plastic evidence bag, holding it between his thumb and first finger.
Inside the bag, Carl could see a piece of candy wrapped in cellophane.
 

Clearly visible were the plaid letters:
ButterSkots
.

Fourteen

T
he ringing of the phone woke Kate
. For a
moment she thought the sound was part of the series of nightmares that plagued
her sleep.
 

It was morning. The bedroom was full of
light and the phone continued to ring. She lay on her back, blinking up at the
ceiling, letting the answering machine pick it up. A few minutes later it rang
again. The third time it happened she realized the caller was hanging up and
redialing. Someone was trying to get past the answering machine.

“Richard?” she called.

His side of the bed was empty and the
house was silent. It was 8:15. He’d just be getting into Chicago. It had been
close to three before she’d drifted off to sleep. She’d been so tired, she
hadn’t heard him get up. And besides he probably had been too embarrassed to
wake her.
 

It had been years since she’d seen him
so drunk. If the past were anything to go by, he’d have a vicious
hangover.
 

What if Richard was trying to reach her?
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. When the phone rang
again, she grabbed the receiver.

“It’s Marian, Kate. Is Richard with
you?”

“No. He’s gone to work. Is there a
problem?”

“You obviously haven’t looked outside.
The reporters are massed on the curb again. Grace Peterman called to find out
what was going on.”

Kate hugged the portable against her
shoulder, threw back the covers, and hurried across to the front windows. She
cracked the blinds and gasped at the chaotic scene below.

It was just like the first days after
Jenny died. Vans with antennae and dishes were parked all along the
street.
 

“Oh my God, Marian!” Kate was so
frightened her teeth began to chatter. “Do you know what it is? Has something
happened to Richard?”

“Kate!”

Marian’s sharp tone brought her back
from the brink of panic.

“Stay calm. I don’t know what’s going
on, but I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

“No. Just come over. Please, Marian. I
don’t want to be alone.”

“Ah, Kate dear. Of course I’ll come.
Give me ten minutes to do some checking, then I’ll come around the back.”

Kate hung up the phone. She washed,
dressed, and straightened the room by rote. All she was aware of was the sounds
of activity in front of the house. How could she have slept through such a
hubbub?

She was coming down the stairs when the
doorbell rang. From safety behind the living room windows, she could see the
reporter smoothing his suit jacket, microphone in hand, cameraman and
technicians at his back. She crossed the front hall, making sure the chain lock
was firmly in place. She did not open the door.

Keeping well away from the other
windows, she hurried through the dining room to the sliding glass doors. Even
though she’d been expecting Marian, she jumped when she saw her. She opened the
door and let her friend slip through.

Marian’s face looked gray in the bright
morning light. Without asking, Kate put on a kettle of water for tea. She was
reminded of a similar scene a week earlier when she had gotten the call from
the Witness. Then it was Marian who had taken care of her.

“What’s going on?”

Marian nodded. “They found another body
in the woods.”

“Oh, God!”
 

For a moment Kate thought she might pass
out. Marian must have thought so too because she jumped to her feet and hurried
across to her.
 

“It’s not another child,” Marian said,
reading her thoughts.

Hand at her throat, Kate shuddered in
relief, then was appalled by her response. Marian squeezed her shoulder.

“That was exactly my reaction,” she said.
“I ducked over to Grace Peterman’s house. I swear, Kate, I never see her
talking to anyone and yet she always knows what’s going on. She must use a ham
radio to pick up the gossip.”

“Richard says she gets alien messages.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Marian poured
some tea. “According to her, a man walking his dog found a body in the forest
preserve. It was an adult male who’d been hit on the head. It happened sometime
yesterday.”

“Was the man local?”

Marian shook her head. “No name’s been
released, but Grace thought he was from Pickard.”

“But why are the reporters out front?”

Marian sighed. “They’re convinced that
it’s somehow connected to Jenny’s death. They’re hoping to interview you or
Richard.”

“Richard. I better call him.”

She caught him getting off the train in
Union Station. She told him the little that she knew. There was silence on his
end when she finished.
 

Finally he said, “I’m coming home. It’ll
be faster if I take a cab. I know this sounds heartless, Kate, but it just
might take the heat off me. God, it would be great if it’s long enough for the
police to come up with a real suspect.”

“I don’t think it sounds heartless. I’ve
been thinking along the same lines.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he
said. “Stay inside. I don’t want you near those media vultures unless I’m
beside you.”

After Marian left, Kate was too restless
to sit down. She puttered around the kitchen until she heard Richard’s taxi.
The reporters swarmed him as he got out of the cab, but he waved them away as
he hurried up the front walk.

“How are you holding up?” Richard asked
as he came into the kitchen.

One look at her face gave him his
answer. He opened his arms and she stepped into the comforting circle. Arms
around his waist, she rested her head on his chest. She didn’t cry; she just
held him while she drew strength from his presence.
    
 

“Could you make some coffee, honey? I
didn’t have much for breakfast.”

It was strange how they were avoiding
any discussion of the horrible event that had brought Richard home. Kate poured
water into the coffee pot, listening as he talked about work. A new campaign
for a breakfast cereal was just getting started.
 

He moved around the kitchen while he
talked, straightening pictures on the wall, lining up the canisters on the counter,
and moving the African violets on the windowsill. Although she was used to his
rearranging her space to suit his own sense of order, it annoyed her. Every day
she seemed to be filled with a greater need to control her own life. She tried
to suppress it, but each time it was harder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you this
morning.” Richard massaged his forehead with one hand, looking sheepish. “I had
an absolutely brutal hangover this morning. And yes, it serves me right. God,
it’s been ages since I’ve been stinking drunk.”

“Where were you?”

“The bar at the train station. I stopped
there after work. Then when I got home and you were out, I had a couple more
drinks.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I left a
little before five and when I got home at seven you were already in bed.”

“What can I say? I was really tanked.
Pressure’s been building up, and I guess I just needed a release. Despite a
massive case of the thumps, I felt less stressed when I woke up. Incidentally,”
he said, “I had a phone call from Chris on the train this morning. He wants me
to consider taking a leave of absence.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“I have to admit, Kate, that no matter
how reasonably he made the suggestion, it came as a blow. He suggested
finishing up this week and then taking a couple weeks off. He wouldn’t let me
argue my case or anything. He just said to think it over and we’d talk about it
tomorrow.”

“And did you think it over?”

“The shock was just wearing off when you
called to tell me about this latest murder. I always thought some psycho killed
Jenny. This just proves it.”

“How?”
 

“It’s pretty hard to believe that two
killers are running around Pickard. Two deaths in the forest preserve, sure
sounds like a psycho to me. I’m sure the police are rethinking the case now.
Once the pressure is off me, I’ll be able to work again, and there won’t be any
need for a leave of absence.”

Kate understood Richard’s euphoric mood
even if she couldn’t see any real justification for it. As far as she could
see, nothing had changed except that someone else was dead.

The phone rang. Richard snatched up the
receiver. The coffee was ready. She brought the pot to the table as Richard
hung up the phone.

“That was Leidecker. He’s coming over to
talk to us.”

Kate had the sensation of free falling
in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know whether Leidecker’s visit could be
viewed as a good sign or a bad one. All she knew was that she was frightened.

“Did you call the lawyer?”

“Yes. On the way home,” he said, taking
a sip of coffee. “Stacie said Leidecker would likely call us. She said to be
cooperative, but not talkative. If either of us feels uncomfortable, we’re to
call her. She gave me her pager number. I told her I’d call her as soon as we
heard any details. Did you find out anything more since I talked to you?”