Читать книгу Midnight Caller - Diane Burke - Страница 9

Friday, 3:30 p.m., Florida

His fingers tapped an angry rhythm against the handle of the scalpel hidden in his pocket. Where was she? He checked his wristwatch for the third time in as many minutes. Her shift had ended thirty minutes ago. She should be standing in that doorway by now.

Alone.

Vulnerable.

A boom of thunder, like cannon fire, shook the ground. A stinging stream of water hit his face, but still he didn’t move from beneath the tree. He simply raised his umbrella and continued to stare at the entrance to the hospital.

Finally!

A petite woman in her early thirties paused in the doorway of Florida Memorial and frowned at the weather.

What kept you, sweetheart? What’s the matter? Afraid a little rain might hurt you? He chuckled at the irony of his thoughts. He shoved his hand back into his pocket, grasping and releasing the weapon. His pulse quickened. His skin quivered in anticipation.

From a distance, he watched as she rummaged through her tote bag and pulled out a magazine. A grin twisted his lips. Like that’s going to protect you. Like anything could protect you now.

Eyeing the storm once more, the woman placed the magazine over her head and dashed to the parking lot.

He shadowed her at a discreet distance, not that it would have mattered. She was so busy trying to save herself from the storm, she was oblivious to her true danger.

She fumbled with her keys and dropped them. Seeming to realize the futility of trying to stay dry, she lowered the magazine, scooped up her keys and unlocked her car door. Her blond hair, wet and matted, hugged her skull.

He took out his own keys and slipped into the truck parked behind her blue minivan. Adjusting the rearview mirror, he watched her back out of her parking space. Her brake lights glowed at the stop sign before she signaled and turned into the late-afternoon traffic.

He turned the key in the ignition.

Hurry, little one, this way and that. None of it will matter because death is right behind you.

“I hate cops!” The kitchen door slammed shut behind Erin O’Malley. Seeing her aunt and son sitting at the table, she grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.” She deposited the groceries in her arms on the counter.

Aunt Tess chuckled. “Sounds like someone got another speeding ticket.”

“Yeah, going forty-five in a thirty-five zone. I’m a genuine NASCAR driver.”

“Mommy, it’s not nice to say you hate cops,” Erin’s five-year-old son, Jack, mumbled through a mouthful of cereal. “Cops are the good guys.”

Good guys? One of those good guys had raised her, teaching her all she needed to know about secrets, pain and loss. And Jack’s dad had been one of those “good guys,” too. But it didn’t stop him from hightailing it out of their lives when Jack was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. No, thank you very much. She’d had enough of those “good guys” to last a lifetime.

“You’ve packed so much cereal in your mouth that the pressure has clogged up your ears, little man. Mommy said she ran into some ‘great cops.’” She kissed her son’s forehead and ruffled his hair. “Besides, what did I tell you about talking with food in your mouth?”

“Oh-kay.” Jack gulped and swallowed his last bite. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Erin was daydreaming about a day off and almost didn’t hear her son. A day of rest. Puttering around in her garden. Reading a book from her growing to-be-read pile. Maybe even sneaking in a bubble bath. The temptation to indulge herself brought a smile to her lips.

“Now, Jack, I think your mother might be a bit tuckered out.” Tess patted his hand. “Why don’t you and I have a picnic in the backyard and let your mother get some rest.”

Jack turned to face her, his eyes wide. “But, Mommy, you promised.”

The urgency in his voice snagged her attention. She blinked and just looked at him while her brain scrambled to get out of daydream mode and process what he said. She remembered now. They’d been planning to attend the annual Wish for the Stars fundraiser and today was the big day.

This year it coincided with the upcoming Easter holiday. Carol Henderson, her best friend and member of the planning committee, told them the opening ceremony included a parade led by the Easter Bunny and more than five thousand eggs hidden away for the hunt. Later, there’d be music, hot dogs, hamburgers, soda and chips. All for a nominal price of admission.

Jack grew more excited as the day approached. His excitement must have stemmed from the thought of having a whole afternoon to play with Amy, Carol’s daughter. Best of friends just like their moms, they had fewer play dates due to crazy work schedules now that the hospital was transitioning to the new building.

Or maybe he was excited because he loved picnics.

Either way, Erin had to admit she was looking forward to the event herself. She’d been antsy lately. Feeling unsettled. Wary. And not sure why. Probably because winter had clung longer than normal to Florida this year.

Or maybe she felt unsettled because she hadn’t been sleeping well lately because of prank calls throughout the night.

Erin’s gaze fell upon the small walker beside her son’s chair and her heart clenched. No matter how tired she was or how inviting a relaxing day at home might be she knew she couldn’t let her son down. After all, asking to go on an Easter egg hunt wasn’t unreasonable. She glanced at her watch. If they hurried, they’d be just in time for the parade.

“Finish your milk and we’ll go,” Erin said.

Jack reached for his glass and knocked it over.

Erin grabbed a dish towel and started to sop up the liquid.

“I’ll get Jack changed,” Tess said.

Erin nodded. “Thanks, Tess. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Never mind that,” she said, but blushed beneath the compliment. She shooed Jack toward the bedroom.

Erin glanced at the empty doorway and thought about how lucky she was that Tess had moved in to help after Erin’s father, Tess’s brother, had died. It had taken years for her father and Erin to reconcile but she had been devastated when he was killed. She didn’t think she would have made it through without Tess and her newfound faith to comfort her.

The phone rang.

Lost in thought, the trilling sound startled her. It rang a second time. She stood perfectly still, staring at the instrument like it was a dagger poised to strike. Please, God, not another one.

She hugged her arms to her body. Uneasiness crept up her spine. She was surprised she was letting a few anonymous telephone calls make her this jittery. It had to be that boy down the street. He had harassed the neighborhood for days last year until his father discovered what he was doing. He was probably up to his old tricks. She needed to get a hold of herself. And she needed to go have a chat with the boy’s dad.

Erin grabbed the phone on the fourth ring.

“Hello.”

Silence.

“Hello?”

No reply. She’d answered at least a dozen calls over the past three days, half of them waking her in the middle of the night.

“I know you’re there.” Erin pressed the phone tightly against her ear. Straining to hear something. Anything. The breathing grew heavier, but still, no one spoke.

“Quit calling here or I’m going to call the police.” She slammed the phone in the cradle. Yep, it had to be a bored teenager playing a prank. Absently rubbing her arms, she continued to stare at the instrument. But it didn’t feel like a prank. She didn’t hear muffled giggles on the end of the line. She heard—She didn’t know what she heard. She only knew that her instincts blared an inner warning that something was wrong and she had learned through the school of hard knocks to trust those instincts.

“Ready, Mom?” Jack rolled his walker across the room and grinned up at her, wearing his favorite green-striped shirt with the dinosaur logo and a pair of jeans.

Shaking off her anxiety as the result of lack of sleep, she leaned down and hugged him. “You bet. Let’s go.”

Less than an hour later, while they waited by the side of the parade route, Erin’s sense of uneasiness returned. Crazy as it was, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching them. Goose bumps shivered along her arms. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes roamed the crowd. Children and adults formed two lines up and down the parade route. Some of the parents had brought folding chairs. Others stood. Children sat cross-legged in the grass. A young couple chased a laughing toddler bent on escape.

Nothing sinister. Nothing ominous. Why couldn’t she shake this feeling?

Erin recognized many of her coworkers from the hospital. She couldn’t identify everyone by name, but she’d passed them in the halls or had ridden with them on an elevator. She waved to the ones she did know and nodded to others. It seemed like half the hospital staff came. Dr. Clark and his family. Shelley from the cafeteria crew. Mr. Peters from housekeeping. Even Lenny, the lab tech, had come. But that was no big surprise. The hospital cosponsored the event and all personnel had been encouraged to buy a ticket.

She turned her head and her eyes lit on her friend. She waved for Carol to join them. Erin banished her anxiety when Carol elbowed her way through the crowd and stood beside her.

“Can you believe this?” Carol asked. “I knew we’d have a crowd, but this is twice as many people as I expected. Times are tough. Money is tight, but it didn’t stop folks from reaching into their wallets to buy a ticket for a good cause, did it?”

Carol scooped Amy up into her arms. The child’s soft blond curls framed a little round face which held a smiling mouth and the slightly slanted eyes of a three-year-old Down syndrome child.

“You’ve done a great job, Carol.”

“Not just me. The committee worked hard and it looks like it paid off.” Music began playing and the excitement of the crowd became palpable. The sound of children’s laughter and yells of excitement tinkled in the air like wind chimes.

“The parade’s about to begin. Look,” Carol said, pointing to her right. “Here comes the Easter Bunny.”

He steadied the camera and clicked a picture. Then, he took another. He cursed when people moved in front of him and obstructed his view of her. Move. All of you. Get out of my way. He elbowed his way through the crowd until her image filled the camera lens again. Click. She threw her head back and laughed. Click. She shaded her eyes against the sun while she talked. Click. Click. Click.

Her son waited for his mother’s attention. The child leaned heavily on the walker, shifting his weight from one leg to another. But his mother was too busy flapping her gums to pay any attention to him. The boy tugged on her shirt. She glanced down, signaled for the child to wait a minute and returned to her conversation. He knew it. He knew he was right about her. She was self-centered and selfish. A rotten excuse for a mother.

He wasn’t at all surprised when the boy wandered away. The woman didn’t even notice he had gone. A deep hatred flowed through his veins like molten lava. She was like all the other women. Soon he would make her pay. Click. First he had to finish the job he started last night. Click. She’d pay, all right. Click. Click. She deserved to die.

The sun beat down without mercy as Tony Marino looked out over the crowd from his vantage point on top of the picnic table. Not even a hint of a breeze. This kind of weather you expected in August in Florida not April. Remember spring, Lord? Supposed to be warm and balmy, not hot and sticky. But it was hot. Miserably hot. And he wasn’t any closer to finding a lead on this case.

He wanted to curse so badly his lips twitched. Five years ago when Tony had found the Lord and decided to mend his ways, cursing seemed the easiest vice to attack first. He was wrong. As a detective for the Volusia County sheriff’s office cursing had been a natural part of his daily conversation. No different than any other word. He started out promising himself to say a prayer and put a dollar in a jar each time he uttered a curse word. When his prayers took hours and his jar collected enough money to buy a small car, he knew it was going to be more difficult than he first believed.

But he succeeded.

Not one errant word in five years.

Until today.

Sweat rolled down the back of his neck and beaded on his forehead. All he could think about was the case. He wanted to call his partner. See if there were any new leads. He wanted to get back to the files on his desk. Maybe he’d missed something. He wanted to be anywhere but here. What a colossal waste of his time, babysitting a stupid rabbit.

He glanced at the cage resting beside him. The rabbit didn’t look hot or uncomfortable despite the crazy multicolored cape tied to its body. It just chomped away on a carrot totally oblivious to the world. Lucky rabbit.

He couldn’t believe he’d been roped into this job in the first place. Carrying the “Easter Bunny” at the head of the parade and officiating at the opening of the Easter egg hunt. He knew the captain liked his men to volunteer in the community. Winters had played Santa for the kids in the hospital. Garcia, dressed as a super hero, had toured the schools and talked about the danger of drugs. But when his number had come up on the volunteer list, what did Sarge assign him? Easter Bunny duty at the fundraiser for the Wish for the Stars Foundation. Great foundation. Fulfilled dreams for sick children. Good for the kids. The pits for him.

Tony had agreed to do it not just because it was his turn. Or because it was for a charity he deeply believed in. But last night another woman had gone missing. He planned to mingle with the crowd. Keep his ears open to idle conversations. Keep his eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. Because something was very much out of the ordinary. A monster had invaded their peaceful community. They’d already discovered two bodies and now a third woman was missing.

Tony scanned the crowd for the hundredth time. It looked like a Norman Rockwell painting and he smiled in spite of himself. Children of all ages, shapes and sizes covered the grounds like ants at a picnic. The organizers had done a good job of dividing the kids not just by age group, but also by disability. Children in wheelchairs were accompanied by volunteers to help them hunt and many of them picked up their own eggs using long-handled reachers.

His eyes slid over the adults. Mothers helped their children. Fathers snapped pictures. Was one of them a murderer? Experience had taught him that the most frightening serial killers were the ones who could blend easily into the normal thread of life. The neighbor waving hello as he mowed the grass. The guy delivering the morning paper. The man walking his dog. Now a killer was here in his community, kidnapping and brutally killing women. Tony was determined to find him.

The smell of charcoaled hamburgers wafted across the lawn. His stomach growled in response. He hadn’t had more than a doughnut and coffee for breakfast. He was more than ready to relinquish his furry charge. The rabbit could go back to doing whatever rabbits do and he could grab a burger and head back to the department.

In his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of movement. He turned his head. A boy, five maybe six years old, approached. Tony groaned. Just what he needed. A kid coming to see the rabbit. He watched the child push the walker with the speed and determination of a little man on a mission. Tony grinned. The boy reminded him of himself when he’d been that age. Full of curiosity and excess energy. He’d been a real handful for his single mom. To this day he never knew how she managed to raise him all on her own.

An unruly mass of red hair sprouted from the kid’s head. He looked like a cartoon character who had stuck his finger into an electric socket. In the distance, a woman with bouncing auburn curls was in hot pursuit. Must be the mother.

The child pushed the walker up to the table and stared into the cage.

The boy’s serious expression intrigued Tony. “Why aren’t you hunting eggs with the other kids?”

“He’s not real, is he?” The boy’s frown deepened.

Tony glanced at the rabbit and shrugged. “Looks real to me.”

“There’s no such thing as an Easter Bunny. It’s all pretend.” The boy’s shoulders slumped and his lower lip jutted out.

“Jack, don’t bother the man.” The mother had caught up. Winded from her race to catch up with her son, her words came in short gasps. Her eyes held the remnants of fear probably from realizing he had wandered away. “Why did you leave without telling me?” She lowered her voice to a whisper meant for her son. “You know the rule about talking to strangers.”

A blond-haired woman, her arms wrapped around a child with Down syndrome, appeared behind them. “Don’t be too hard on him, Erin. We were talking. It was probably hard to resist coming to see the Easter Bunny. Right, Jack?”

Jack looked at Tony. “Do kids really get wishes? Or is that pretend, too?”

“Why? Do you have a wish?” Tony asked.

The boy nodded. “I’ve been wishing and praying every night and I didn’t know how God was going to help me. But I heard Mom and Aunt Carol talking. She said that kids get to make a wish and sometimes that wish comes true. Since you’re in charge of the Easter Bunny, I figure God wants me to ask you.”

“Jack.” The mom placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What are you talking about? What wish?”

“Yes, Jack,” Tony said with a grin. “What is this wish that’s so big you’ve been praying about it?”

“I need a dad.”

“Jack!” The mother coughed and sputtered. Her friend gasped and then burst into laughter.

“Not a real dad,” Jack spoke faster. “A pretend dad would be fine. But I need him by eight o’clock next Saturday.”

“Eight o’clock?” Tony, just as surprised as the mother, could only echo the boy’s words.

Jack’s head bobbed up and down. “Mrs. Meltzer at Kidz Club says it doesn’t have to be a real dad. It can be a stepdad or an uncle or a grandfather or even a big brother. That’s what you need to ride the boys’ bus to Disney World. But I don’t have any of those things. It’s just me, my mom and Aunt Tess. I really want to go on that bus.”

The mother’s face and throat flushed with color. She was an attractive woman. Slender. Medium height. Auburn hair. Green eyes. An appealing package. The woman seemed to be struggling to find something appropriate to say. “Jack,” was the only word she managed to whisper.

“Moms get to go. And sisters, too,” the boy continued. “But they have to ride on the second bus. Only the guys get to ride the first bus. Mom’s going with me. But if I don’t get a pretend dad, I won’t be able to ride the first bus with the rest of the guys. I don’t want to ride the girls’ bus.”

“Jack Patrick O’Malley, you stop it right this minute.”

A smile tugged at the edges of Tony’s mouth. Obviously, the mother had overcome her embarrassment and slid right on into mad-as-all-get-out.

“I don’t want to be different from the other kids,” Jack said, ignoring his mother’s outburst. “My legs don’t work right. I can’t play with the other kids at recess. I have to use this stupid walker all the time. I want to go on the boys’ bus. I want to be just like everybody else even if it’s only for one day. Can you do it? Can you get me a pretend dad for Saturday?”

Tony drew in a deep breath.

Lord, how am I supposed to handle this? Couldn’t he have wished for a train set or an action figure? No, he had to hit me in the gut with this. Please, Father, give me the right words.

“That’s a pretty big order.” He looked into the expectant, freckled face staring up at him and, again, saw himself as a boy. Although too young to have any real memories of his police officer father who had been killed in the line of duty, he remembered only too well the pain of growing up without a dad.

Tony’s chest constricted when he saw the trust and hope reflected in the boy’s eyes. “Some things are tough, Jack, even for me,” he said gently. “But I’ll see what the Easter bunny and I can do. Why don’t you go with your aunt?” He pointed toward the refreshments. “I need to talk with your mom.”

Carol, still chuckling, led Jack and Amy away.

Erin watched the man get down from the table and stretch to his full six-foot-two height. He was tall, dark and lethally handsome. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “When he said he had a wish, I thought he would ask for a new toy or a video game. I don’t know what to say.”

Her discomfort deepened when with an athletic grace he covered the distance between them in seconds. His T-shirt strained against his muscular arms and chest. A pleasant masculine scent teased her nostrils and Erin squelched a sudden, irrational urge to move closer for a deeper whiff. But it was his eyes that moved her. Deep, dark, chocolate eyes lit with amusement and a hint of something else. Empathy?

Empathy she appreciated. Sympathy she didn’t need from anyone.

“Relax,” he said. “Don’t you know? I hang out with the Easter Bunny. Who knows better than me the surprising things that slip out of the mouths of kids?” He offered his hand. “I’m Tony Marino.”

His grip was firm and strong.

“Erin O’Malley.”

He released her hand and gestured for her to wait. He pulled a wallet from his back pocket, withdrew a business card and handed it to her.

“I work for the Sheriff’s Department.”

“You’re a cop?” What else could go wrong today?

Tony nodded. “A detective.” His eyes held a warmth and compassion that made his next words easier to hear. “I’d like to volunteer to accompany Jack on the boys’ bus.”

This tall, muscular man with a giving heart and a voice like hot, southern honey made Erin stand up and take notice despite his bad taste in permanent employment.

He nodded toward the business card. “You can verify my credentials before Saturday, ma’am.”

She refrained from answering and tried to make sense of her ridiculous, and completely unexpected, attraction to him. Just the word cop usually worked like a bucket of ice-cold water. And the fact that he was a member of the untrustworthy male species normally cinched the deal.

“Why would you want to ride the bus with my son?” she asked.

“That’s what today is all about, isn’t it? Granting wishes to kids?” He leaned close. His breath fanned her cheek and he whispered in her ear as if they shared a secret all their own. “I know from personal experience what it feels like to grow up without a dad. I know what it would mean to your son to ride the bus with the other boys.”

“I…I…” A multitude of emotions bombarded Erin. Surprise. Embarrassment. Curiosity. Goose bumps danced along her arms when those chocolate eyes locked with hers. She glanced at the card in her hand and, for once, was speechless.

“Don’t answer now,” Tony said. “Just think about it and let me know.” With a wink and a wave, he picked up the rabbit cage and left.

Erin was touched by the man’s kindness. Helping out for the Wish for the Stars fundraiser. Volunteering to ride the bus with her son. But she had promised herself not to get involved again with any man, especially a cop. Men lie and men leave.

After church, Tony entered the station. He had prayed hard at the service that morning that the Lord would provide a lead, a direction, something to help them find the missing woman before she became the next victim. He walked past the bull pen and headed toward the lockers. His senses heightened. Something wasn’t right. Knowing how he hated Easter duty, the guys had been ribbing him all week. Now that he had actually done the deed not a sound came from the peanut gallery.

He nodded to Richard Spence and Brad Winters as he passed their desks. They looked up, nodded and returned to work. Thank You, Lord. It’s about time they moved on to something else. They’re good detectives, but sometimes they act like jerks.

Tony crossed the break room and opened his locker. A flood of rocks…no, not rocks…eggs…plastic eggs bounced off his head, his shoulders and rolled over his feet. Loud, raucous laughter sounded behind him. Tony saw Spence, Winters and a half-dozen other guys squeezed into the doorway, straining to get a bird’s-eye view.

“Funny, guys. Real funny.” Tony had to admit it was a pretty good prank. He chuckled, kicked a path through the eggs, and elbowed his way past the gawking men to his desk. His backside barely hit his chair when a loud, commanding voice caught his attention.

“Marino, don’t get comfortable. Spence. Winters. In my office.” Sergeant Greene hollered from his office doorway. Expecting to be chastised for the egg incident, they filed into the room like guilty schoolchildren and flopped into the chairs in front of the desk.

The sergeant slid a manila folder across the desk. “Here’s the latest information on our missing woman. Now we have a face to go with the name.”

Tony picked up the folder, flipped it open and looked at the picture inside. She was an average, pleasant-looking woman. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Her smile warm and generous.

“Cynthia Mayors is thirty-one, married and has two children under the age of eight,” Greene said. “Her husband was notified this morning and is making arrangements to fly home from Iraq as soon as possible. Meantime, Child Protective Services has been called in to care for the kids.”

Frick and Frack, otherwise known as Spence and Winters, respectively, leaned sideways stealing a glance at the picture. Spence squinted his eyes and looked closer. “She probably ran off with her boyfriend.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Winters asked. “He said she’s married, stupid.”

“Since when does that mean anything? Just because she’s married doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a boyfriend,” insisted Spence. “Matter of fact, I’m sure of it. Look at that picture. She’s grinning from ear to ear. You only see grins like that when everything is new, exciting, and reality hasn’t hit you over the head with a cast iron pot. Don’t see married folk grinning like that as the years add up.”

“Speak for yourself. You wouldn’t know a good marriage if you fell over it. The ink’s not even dry on your divorce papers yet. What divorce is it, anyway? Three? Four?” Winters brushed a piece of lint from his impeccably ironed trousers. “I’m married fifteen years this May and if you took a photo of me today, I’d be grinning up a storm.”

“Really? You’re sitting there grinning? Then I’m thinking I need glasses ’cause the only thing I see when I look at you is the same old sourpuss who walks around here all day like his shoes are too tight.” Spence looked pleased with himself for the comeback.

“Enough,” the sergeant yelled. “Can we get back to the matter at hand and leave the school yard antics outside?”

Spence and Winters glared at each other.

Bringing the conversation back to business, Tony said, “I didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary at the picnic yesterday, Sarge. I’d bet no one even knows she’s missing. When was she last seen?”

“Friday. A couple of the nurses report she left right after the three o’clock shift change. She never arrived home. The babysitter called it in late Friday night.”

“Has anyone mentioned anything that might help us out?” Winters asked. “Trouble at home? Trouble on the job? Anybody hanging around or bothering her?”

“As you know, we’ve just begun the investigation,” Sarge said. “So far we know her husband’s in Iraq. She talks about her family a lot, especially her kids. Carried umpteen photos in her purse and took the time to show them every chance she had. Other than her husband being away, everything seemed good on the home front. From what I’ve heard, she’s well-liked by her peers. As far as a stalker, no one noticed anyone suspicious hanging around.”

Sergeant Greene leaned back in his chair. A scowl twisted his features. “The particulars of her disappearance match those of the other two women we’ve lost.”

Winters said, “How do you figure, Sarge? Both our prior victims were single. This one’s married.”

“And both our other ladies are dead,” Spence said.

“That’s why we’ve got to move on this pronto, gentlemen,” Sarge replied. “All three women seem to have disappeared into thin air. No witnesses. No signs of struggle. Two of the women left their jobs and never arrived home. The third woman left her home for an appointment and never arrived. That’s enough to tie them together for me.”

The sergeant tossed his chewed yellow pencil on the table. “It’s worth a hard look. If there’s a connection between Cynthia Mayors and the other two victims, I want to know it before she becomes victim number three. This isn’t New York or Chicago. If a woman’s body shows up here, we’re probably looking at a domestic dispute, a drug overdose or a bar pickup gone bad. Two women disappear in this community and then turn up dead? That raises the hair on the back of my neck. A third woman vanishes? I gotta tell you I’m wondering if Ted Bundy’s younger brother just moved to town.”

“We hear you, Sarge. We’ll get on it right away,” said Winters.

Tony picked up the folder and carried it back to his desk. Yesterday’s picnic had been a waste of his time. He should have been out with the other men canvassing the neighborhood, conducting interviews.

The image of a freckle-faced boy and a mom with auburn hair popped into his mind. He had to admit it hadn’t been a total waste of time. He might have the chance to do something special for a handicapped kid. That made him feel good.

He loved kids but decided never to have a family of his own. Choosing to be a cop was a twenty-four-hour, seven-day-a-week, dangerous job. He didn’t want to subject a child to the possibility of growing up without a father. Been there, knew that pain. So he fed the occasional paternal urge with his sister’s kids or helped out with the church youth group.

Besides, what kind of father would he be? He’d never had a role model. Just like that kid he’d met today. No uncles. Not even an older brother. His mom didn’t bring dates home to meet him ’til his late teens. It had been just him, his mom and his sister. What if he didn’t measure up? He saw the results of bad parenting every day on his job. Nope. No kids for him.

Tony dragged his hand over his face. He needed to buckle down and work. But on what? They didn’t have one lead that hadn’t been investigated. As much as it sickened him, he had to acknowledge they’d hit a brick wall and couldn’t do another thing but retrace their steps until the killer made another move.

He flipped open the folder and studied the picture. This woman was somebody’s wife, somebody’s mother, somebody’s friend. Experience told him she was probably already dead. Sarge was right. Three was a very unsettling number.