Rules of Crime (23 page)

“What’s our next step?” Agent Fouts asked.

“Hit the streets and talk to CIs and the Westside Kings. Somebody out there knows something. I’ll question Tremel’s direct associates, and Quince, who’s investigated local gangs, will join me.” She looked at Jackson. “Can you do anything to expedite the warrant for Renaldi’s property?”

“I’ll try.” Jackson was itching to search Dakota’s apartment, but finding Renee had to be the priority. “The media has known about the kidnapping since Dakota’s broadcast last night. When do we ask for the public’s help in finding Renee?”

“We give the kidnapper—or Renee—another hour to contact us. If not, we’ll get her photo on the late news tonight.”

“I’d like to get it into tomorrow morning’s paper as well, if it’s not too late.” Jackson thought of Sophie.

“I’ll let you handle that.”

“Should we release the news of Dakota’s death?”

“Yes, but not how she died. We have to keep something back for now.”

“Of course.”

When it was time, Jackson would contact Sophie Speranza, a reporter for the
Willamette News
. She’d left him two messages today, and knowing her, she’d leave him two more again tomorrow. She’d once nearly ruined his career with an ill-timed front-page photo, and he’d resented her for it. But since then she’d given him critical pieces of information that led to breakthroughs in his cases. He’d come to respect her tenacity and investigative skills, but she was still a pesky reporter.

River was still talking. “You need to stay focused on Dakota’s death. It could lead us to Renee.”

Jackson knew what he needed to do, he just didn’t have legal permission yet. He’d always been a by-the-book officer, but waiting for paperwork while his family was at stake didn’t seem right.

CHAPTER 28

Tuesday, January 10, 2:47 p.m.

Evans finally found a place to park in front of McArthur Court, a century-old auditorium that was no longer used for university basketball. Directly across the street was the Pioneer Cemetery, which took up about four square blocks and in places was thick with trees. The cemetery had been there first, and the university had tried and failed several times to condemn the property and build on the land. But unearthing the dead was not politically popular, so the graveyard remained.

She looked around for Officer Drummond’s vehicle and didn’t see it.
Damn.
She hoped the dog handler wouldn’t be too late. Her date with Ben Stricklyn, an Internal Affairs detective, was at six and she wanted time to go home and shower first. If things went well, they’d end up at her place for a sexual romp, so she wanted to freshen up. Afterward, Ben would go home to his teenage sons and she would probably go back to work, then
out for a run. Their relationship, which was usually confined to weekends, was fun and satisfying but neither felt any pressure to push it along. She’d only met his boys once and they had been polite but not overly warm. They were also old enough to be on their own. She’d left her parents—and Alaska—right after graduating from high school and didn’t understand why young people stayed so long at home now. Didn’t they value privacy and independence?

Evans trotted up the old stone steps to the cemetery and looked around. Rick Drummond was coming toward her with his dog, a scent-trained black Lab. The rest of the canines in the department were German shepherds, which were better for adrenaline-based search and apprehension.

“Hey, Drummond. Thanks for making time for this.”

“No problem. This is what we do.” He reached down and touched the dog’s head. “This is Trigger.”

“Hey, Trigger.” Evans didn’t know what else to say. She glanced at Drummond. “Lyla lived on Seventeenth, so she probably entered the cemetery from the southwest corner. I think if we start there, it will narrow the search.”

“Sounds good.”

They walked along the perimeter trail to the far corner, and Drummond said, “I heard the victim was badly beaten. Is she going to survive?”

“The doctors are optimistic but she’s still in a medically induced coma.”

“Barbaric.” He shook his head. “We’ll find the spot. What have you got for scent?”

“The victim’s T-shirt.” Evans reached for the evidence bag and handed him the green material. The lab hadn’t checked it for evidence and it felt wrong to expose it to contamination. What else could she do? She needed to examine and photograph the crime
scene, especially if Lyla didn’t recover. The jury would need to see the site.

Drummond held the shirt under the dog’s nose. “Zuke.”

Evan arched her brows, and Drummond said, “It’s Dutch. He was trained in the Netherlands.”

Trigger took off, nose near the ground, zigzagging until he picked up the scent. Once he had the trail, his ears pointed and his tail stiffened, wagging back and forth in rapid motion. The dog trotted down the perimeter path on the back side of the cemetery and then, midway, veered toward the middle. For a few minutes, he weaved through the headstones and across the scraggly grass. As Evans spotted a small building to the left, Trigger stopped, then circled back. He seemed excited, making little whimpering noises, as he tried different directions but kept coming back. Evans stood still, hoping this would be the crime scene.

Finally, Trigger stopped and lay down next to a large statue of a soldier, surrounded by small headstones.

“Good boy.” Drummond offered the dog a treat. “This is where the scent is strongest and the trail ends.”

“Thank you. And you, Trigger.” She didn’t know if it was appropriate to pet the working animal. “You guys don’t have to stay. I can search on my own.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’s a small area and I need to take photos too.”

“Then we’ll clear out. Good luck with your case.”

“Thanks.”

Evans took photos of the base of the statue, then photographed the surrounding area. Nothing popped for her through the lens. No dropped items, no fresh blood. If Lyla had bled openly here, the dog would have picked it up and followed the scent of dripping blood to wherever she’d been loaded into a car.

Time to get on eye level. Evans was glad she’d worn black slacks. But then she always wore black slacks to work, with pastel jackets over matching sleeveless blouses. Today she had on a black overcoat as well and didn’t relish making contact with the cold wet grass and dirt. She squatted and duckwalked around for as long as she could stand it, then dropped to her knees. She could have asked for a technician, but the victim wasn’t even dead and she’d already used resources on the search dog.

Crawling around the twelve-foot-square area, she picked up a hairpin that looked as old as the graves, a faded blue button, and an old roach from a marijuana joint. The joint looked freshest but she bagged them all. At one point, two college guys wandered by and stopped to ask if she was okay. She flashed her badge and asked what they knew about graveyard hazings. They shook their heads and moved on.

After an hour, daylight was fading fast and her knees felt frozen. Finally, she stood and decided she’d done enough. The fastest way to her car was to cut across the cemetery. As she hustled along, Evans kept her eyes on the ground. The attackers could have come this way with Lyla.

Just as she reached the perimeter path, she spotted a white scrap of paper on a tuft of long grass. Even though it was damp and blurred, close scrutiny revealed it was a receipt from the Gap in the amount of $34.95. The last four digits of a credit card number showed too. Had Taylor dropped it out of her purse or pocket as she and her partner carried Lyla to the car? Evans bagged it, then kept moving. She had just enough time to race home, shower, and throw on a dress—something she rarely did—and make it to the restaurant by six.

That evening, as Evans watched Ben take off his jacket and weapon in her bedroom, the gritty day disappeared and excitement pulsed
through her. Ben was six-three with a gorgeous face and a shaved head she found unexpectedly sexy.

“Are you going to remove that dress or do I have to peel it off you?” His deep voice added to her fire.

“Peel it, please.” She put her arms around his waist and they kissed deeply. For a second, her mind flashed to a moment when she and Jackson had almost kissed. Evans wondered what that would be like.

Later, as she watched him get dressed, Evans knew it was time. “Ben, I have to tell you something. I may regret this, but it seems only fair.”

“It sounds serious.” He sat on the edge of the bed and met her eyes.

“Yes and no.” She pulled the sheet over her nakedness, suddenly self-conscious. “I like you very much and I want this relationship to continue, but I have unresolved feelings for Jackson. I’m trying to get past them, and you’re helping.” She gave him her most charming smile.

“I knew that.” He leaned in and kissed her deeply. “That mama’s boy doesn’t stand a chance.”

CHAPTER 29

Tuesday, January 10, 5:40 p.m.

As Jackson climbed from his car, Katie came running out of her aunt’s house. He hugged his daughter tightly, inhaling her special scent, a fragrance he could never describe with words but that he’d know if he were blind and she were only one of twenty people in a room. It had filled him with joy since she was a baby in his arms. He loved this girl more than everyone else in the world together and all he could think was,
Thank god they didn’t take her instead of Renee.

Katie hugged him just as tightly. After a long moment, he finally pulled back. “How are you holding up?”

“Not good. Aunt Jan and I have been watching movies to distract ourselves but it’s not helping. Have you heard anything?” Her voice had a new control and she sounded more like an adult and less like a panicked teenager.

Jackson realized the last of her innocence was gone and it broke his heart to give her more bad news. “Ivan paid another
ransom this afternoon, but the courier got away with the cash. We’re hoping he’ll let your mom go now. And we know she’s alive because Ivan talked to her this morning.”

Her lower lip trembled. “How long has it been since he got the money?”

A smart question. “Only a few hours. No need to worry yet.” Jackson turned her toward the car. “Let’s grab some dinner. I have to get back to work soon.”

“Let me tell Aunt Jan the news. She’s worried too.”

Jackson knew he should go in and deal with Renee’s sister in person but the day had already pushed him to his limit. Seeing Dakota’s mauled body this morning, then learning that Renee was still out there, possibly suffering a similar death, had put him on emotional overload. It was all he could do to keep it together for his daughter. “Give her a hug for me. I need to make a call.”

He climbed into the car and called the department’s spokeswoman. Matthews didn’t answer so Jackson left her a message: “It’s time to send photos of Renee to the media and ask the public for help locating her. Give no details except that she disappeared Saturday afternoon and is being held against her will. Ask people to call our tip line.” He held back on releasing information about Dakota’s death. He would give that info to Sophie first. She had earned it on previous cases. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Sophie knew Dakota. They were both journalists and a similar age.

Katie climbed in, buckled up, and glanced at her cell phone. “I’ve looked at my phone a hundred times today, hoping I’d see a text or a missed call from Mom.”

“We’ll hear from her soon. Why don’t you call in our order?”

Jackson drove to Tasty Thai, one of their favorite nearby restaurants. It was nearly full, but they found a small table and took a seat. Coming here had always been fun for them and it had
seemed like a good way to cheer Katie up. Now it felt wrong. He was glad they’d ordered in advance.

Their favorite waiter, a middle-aged guy who practiced his comedy routine at work, stepped up to the table. “You both look so serious. Did somebody die?”

Katie burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll leave now.” The waiter took off, but came back in a few minutes with a black coffee and a Diet Sprite. He set them down without a word.

“Do you want to leave?” Jackson asked his daughter. “We can take our food to the car. Or skip this altogether.” He felt stupid for trying to have a normal dinner.