A Deeper Grave--A Thriller Page 14

  “Have you shared the code?” Bobbie doubted an amateur would have been able to crack such an elaborate system and surely a professional would have taken more than one dagger. Not to mention all the other marketable goods lying around this house. Not even an amateur would take only one knife unless it was for a specific purpose...like setting someone up.

  “I regret to say that I have shared it on occasion.” Hanover sighed as he folded his hands on top of his desk. “Most recently with my two latest lovers, both of whom assure me they told no one.”

  “What about your staff?” Bobbie asked. Certainly they had the access code. He’d just said they came on at eight and he wasn’t home on the dates in question.

  “They do,” Hanover allowed, “but I trust my staff with my life. If anyone shared the code it was one of my friends.”

  “Why haven’t you changed the code?” Devine asked, his tone returning to one of utter impatience.

  He and Bobbie really were going to have to talk.

  “I should have.” Hanover turned his hands up. “Rest assured, it was changed after the dagger went missing.”

  “We’ll need the names and contact information for your two friends.” Bobbie stood. “Also, have your technician download that clip for me.”

  Hanover smiled, strangely pleased with the idea. “I’ll have him do so today.”

  “Thank you.” Bobbie reached a hand across his desk. “We appreciate the call. You never know when a single detail might break a case.”

  Hanover shook her hand, held it a moment longer than necessary. “I almost forgot.” He released her then and reached into the middle drawer of his elegant desk.

  Bobbie looked to Devine who was staring at her curiously. She shrugged.

  “Remember I told you I knew your mother.” Hanover passed her a large envelope, the kind used to mail standard-size letters without folding them. “I found these photos and thought you might want them.”

  Bobbie accepted the envelope, her pulse racing at the mention of her mother’s name. She’d worked hard to dismiss his odd insistence that he knew her mother. It shouldn’t have bothered her. Her mother had been born and raised in Montgomery County. If she were still alive she would be around the same age as Hanover. It was far more likely that they knew each other than not.

  “Thank you.” She would not look at the photos or pursue the subject with Devine staring at her. She could feel his scrutiny, sensed the barrage of questions he would launch when they got in his car.

  Hanover showed them to the door, he kept a running monologue going but Bobbie hardly heard a word he said. The envelope held her full attention. She tried to rationalize her overreaction to the package...to the man. It wasn’t the concept that he had known her mother that got under her skin, it was the subtle insinuation in his tone when he spoke of her mother that bothered Bobbie.

  Once they reached the sidewalk, she set her personal feelings aside and asked her partner, “What was he talking about when he mentioned hounding his friends?” Better to keep the conversation on the investigation rather than give Devine the opportunity to dissect Hanover’s alleged relationship with her mother.

  “Bauer and I questioned a few of his close friends.” He paused at the driver’s side of his Porsche. “We may have been a little more aggressive than necessary with certain ones.”

  Bobbie exhaled a lungful of frustration as she settled into the passenger seat. Bauer knew better. Her partner should, as well. “That’s never a good idea, Devine.”

  He grunted what he apparently considered a response.

  To his credit, he held questions she knew would be coming until they had driven away. “Your mother knew Hanover? Have you met him before?”

  “He says he knew my mother.” She had no intention of discussing the subject with him. “I met him for the first time when we came to interview him about the Parker murders.”

  “Strange.”

  “Your aunt doesn’t know him?” she challenged. “If she grew up here, chances are they’ve met.”

  “She’s never mentioned him.” He stared straight ahead. “You said you hadn’t met him before and you grew up here.”

  Bobbie didn’t bother arguing that the man was far older than her and she wasn’t rich like his aunt and Hanover. Instead she stared straight ahead while he drove. The silence grew suffocating. No matter how hard she tried to move past the idea, she couldn’t. Finally she said, “Hanover clearly wants me to think he knows you. Why do you suppose that is?”

  “You think if I knew him I wouldn’t have mentioned it already?” He answered without answering at all and without so much as a glance in her direction. “You’ve asked three times already.”

  “I noticed the tension between the two of you yesterday, then again just now.”

  Devine tugged at his tie. “I try to be accepting,” he admitted, “but the truth is I’m a little more homophobic than I care to admit. The way that guy looks at me makes me want to get as far away from him as possible.”

  “He probably does it on purpose just to make you sweat.” A high-level businessman like Hanover would know how to make anyone he perceived as an adversary or a challenger uncomfortable.

  Devine scrubbed a hand over his face. “He did a hell of a job and all for nothing. That damned security clip was a joke. What kind of system is set up to capture the back of anyone leaving?”

  Bobbie agreed with him there. She thought of the dark clothes, the hat. Other than parts of his hands, nothing identifiable about the intruder was exposed on the video. Maybe Andy could blow up the image and find something. Andy Keller was a damned good evidence tech. If there was something to be found on the clip, he would find it.

  “What’s the next address?” Devine asked.

  Bobbie set the envelope aside and pulled out her notepad to check her list. They had a lot of second interviews to do. No matter that they’d narrowed down the list considerably, there were still a hell of a lot of names. Business associates of the Parkers were listed first, friends and family next. If Weller had set these murders in motion, every step they had taken so far was irrelevant.

  A person never knew what or who would be the end of him.

  She wondered how many times Weller had considered that his own son had been his downfall. Bobbie could imagine how many times Nick had wished he’d killed the son of a bitch.

  There were some sins that couldn’t be forgiven.

  Fifteen

  Capitol Heights

  10:00 a.m.

  “You’re sure he isn’t home?” Asher asked. He had no desire to piss the guy off. The bastard would only take it out on his wife and then Asher would have to kick his ass.

  “Tricia saw him leave for work,” Holt said. “Let’s go.”

  They had enough on their plate already. Taking on the situation with Holt’s neighbors was something they really didn’t have the authority or the time to do right now. But Asher couldn’t say no when Holt asked. He climbed out of his Mustang and met Holt in front of the vehicle. Since she’d been at home when she called, he’d driven by and picked her up. The Sheltons lived a couple houses down from her. Holt and her wife heard them arguing all the time.

  “So—” Asher walked up the sidewalk next to his sergeant “—since Tricia had the baby I guess that makes you the husband. Does that mean you’re usually the one on top when you have sex?”

  Holt shot him a look. “Fuck you, Bauer.”

  “No, really.” He kept time with her movements as they climbed the steps to the porch. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around the relationship.” He’d been giving Holt a hard time about her being gay since she and Tricia married. She had to know he was kidding around. Hell, he’d attended their wedding and bought their baby a hell of a gift card from Babies “R” Us.

  Holt ignored his
question and knocked on the door. While they waited for the lady of the house to answer, she glanced at him and muttered, “Asshole.”

  Asher grinned. “But you love me anyway.”

  Holt grunted a noncommittal response.

  They both came to attention when the double dead bolts on the door snapped. The rattle of the security chain was next. All that to keep the bad guys out, when the real bad guy lived inside. Asher shook his head.

  The door opened a narrow crack. “What do you want?”

  The wife, Olivia. She sounded as small and afraid as she did each time they came to visit her. This time was different, though. None of the neighbors had called the police after hearing her scream or the asshole she’d married shouting profanities at her. This was the first time the baby who lived here wasn’t crying at the top of her lungs. This time was off the record.

  “We know he left for work,” Holt said. “We’d like to talk to you for a few minutes.”

  “The baby’s sleeping,” Olivia Shelton said, her voice shaking. “We’re fine. I don’t know who called you, but we’re fine. Y’all need to stop bothering us.”

  “Let us come in and see for ourselves, Olivia, and we’ll be on our way,” Holt said, taking another tactic.

  Shelton hesitated for a long moment, and then she relented. “Just don’t wake the baby.” She pulled the door open wider, staying in the shadows behind it.

  Inside was dark. The blinds on the windows were drawn tight. The only light was in the hall that led to the three bedrooms. The smell of sausage and biscuits lingered in the air. Shelton had probably been up since dawn cooking and cleaning for the piece of shit grease monkey she’d married.

  “What do you want?”

  “We need you to turn on a light,” Holt insisted. “We can’t do this in the dark.”

  It wasn’t completely dark, but damned close. Asher could make out the woman’s outline as she moved across the room and turned on a lamp. The dim glow did little to light up the room but it gave a clear picture of Shelton’s face before she could move away. Both eyes were swollen practically shut. Her lip was busted and turned inside out. Cheek was bruised.

  Fury rushed through him. He wanted to kick her no-good husband’s ass. “When did he do this to you?”

  She jumped. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out in a growl.

  Holt held out a hand. “We’re here to help, Olivia. You’re not helping yourself or your child by protecting him.”

  The damned woman refused to file charges against the bastard or to get a restraining order. She swore her blacked eyes and bruised face were her fault. She fell or walked into a door. Asher bit his lips together and kept his fists balled at his sides when he wanted to rail at her for being such a fool.

  “He’s not a bad person.”

  Asher rolled his eyes. What the fuck? “Will he be a bad person when you’re lying dead on the floor?”

  She flinched.

  Holt shot him a look.

  He ignored her. “Listen to me,” he said to Shelton. “He’s going to kill you. That’s what guys like him do. You might not die today or tomorrow, but he will kill you. Could be as sudden as him slamming your head into something or could be as slow as breaking your nose and a few ribs, smashing your face over and over while you die a little bit more on the inside every day. Is that what you want for your daughter?” Asher nodded when she only stood there staring at him, her skinny bruised arms hugged around her body. “She’ll grow up seeing this and believe it’s normal. The next thing you know she’ll marry some guy who’ll do the same thing to her. Is that really what you want?”

  Silence swelled in the room, growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. When another ten seconds elapsed and she didn’t say a word he shook his head. It was bad enough for the woman to live in this nightmare, but it was just plain fucking sickening for her to wish it on her kid.

  “How can I stop him?”

  Asher’s head came up. He and Holt shared a look.

  “First,” Holt said, “we need you to take out a restraining order so he has to stay away from you and the baby. You should also press charges. Our hands are tied unless you take action.”

  “They won’t try to take my baby from me?”

  Asher wouldn’t touch that one.

  “The truth is, Olivia,” Holt explained, “if you don’t do something they’re more likely to take your baby to protect her.”

  “What do you mean?” Shelton drew back a step, her entire body trembling now.

  “Police officers have an obligation to report these incidents to Child Services,” Holt said. “How many times has someone from Child Services been here already? It’s only a matter of time before they decide your decision to continue living in a home with an abusive man is a danger to your child.”

  Tears spilled down her pale, bruised cheeks. “I told ’em I would never let him touch her.”

  Asher restrained his frustration and went for the gentlest tone he could summon. “You won’t be able to stop him from hurting her any more than you can stop him from hurting you.”

  “If I get a restraining order or press charges he’ll kill me,” she whispered, her voice desperate.

  The three of them stood there in the crushing quiet once more. The woman wasn’t going to do the right thing. She was too afraid.

  “Let us take you and the baby to a family shelter,” Holt offered. “Pack a few things and we’ll take you there right now. Then you can get a restraining order and go from there.”

  Shelton looked from one to the other. “I...I can’t.”

  The finality in her words reverberated in the silence that followed. There was nothing else they could do. Not legally, anyway.

  “I need to see the baby,” Holt said, resignation settling in her tone. “You know the routine. I have to confirm she’s unharmed.”

  Asher waited in the living room while Holt followed Shelton down the hall. Guys like Wesley Shelton should be dragged into the street and publicly beaten to death. How could a guy treat any woman—especially the woman he supposedly loved—like this? Sick bastard. One of these days he would get his. Asher just hoped he was around to see it.

  Once Holt confirmed the baby was okay, she tried one last time to talk Shelton into going to a family shelter. She refused.

  As they exited the dark house, the sun made Asher squint. The need for a drink nudged him but he pushed it away. He wasn’t going to fuck up his life with alcohol anymore. If he stayed on that doomed path he would be just as hopeless as Olivia Shelton.

  “I was impressed by what you said to her,” Holt said as she settled into the passenger seat of his Mustang. “I’ve told her that before, but she didn’t listen. I’m hoping this time will be different.”

  “She just needs to kill the son of a bitch and be done with it.”

  Holt fired him a look. “I’m glad you didn’t say that kind of shit in there.”

  Asher shrugged. “It’s the truth. You know he won’t stop until one or the other is dead. Have you ever seen one of these cases end any other way?”

  Holt didn’t answer. Instead, she put through the call to Child Services for a follow-up visit to the Shelton home. Didn’t matter if she answered him or not. She knew he was right. You take a man that obsessed with a woman and that filled with violence, he wasn’t going to change.

  Asher hoped Olivia Shelton realized that sad fact before it was too late.

  Sixteen

  St. Charles Avenue

  Noon

  Chief of Police Ted Peterson parked in front of the house that had been his home for more than half his life. He’d brought his young bride here forty years ago—they’d share life’s joys and tears in this home. After her illness began he’d taken care of her here...until he was no longer capable of adequ
ately providing for her needs.

  This grand old historic house had been Sarah’s dream home. She’d worked for years to restore it to its former glory. Though they hadn’t been blessed with children of their own, that sad fact never stopped Sarah from hosting graduation parties, wedding showers, baby showers and too many other events to recall in this big old house. Now she was gone. He’d laid her to rest in the place she’d chosen before the Alzheimer’s stole her from him completely. He’d ensured she was dressed in the pale pink two-piece suit she’d picked out when they were first married. Money had been so damned tight but she’d fallen in love with the suit that was reminiscent of her favorite first lady’s style and he would have sold his soul to buy it for her. The matching gloves and shoes completed the ensemble that had been her favorite. She’d worn that dainty hat and those elegant wrist-length gloves to church once a year, to celebrate their anniversary, every single year of their life together. The pink suit she’d worn only on very special occasions, like to Bobbie’s wedding.

  His sigh filled the emptiness in the car. Now it was time to sell the house to a new family. To others who would love and cherish the memories they built here as he and Sarah had. It was time, as his wife had told him on one of her rare lucid days, for him to move on and start making new memories.

  Yesterday, Joanne, his Realtor and Sarah’s sister, had posted the for sale sign. Ted’s heart still felt heavy. It was the right thing to do. He was almost sixty-three. He no longer had the time or the desire to take care of this big old house and the three-quarter-acre yard.

  It was time to let go.

  Dorey’s car pulled up behind his and Ted smiled. He watched as she exited her vehicle and strode toward his. His pulse sped up. She was so beautiful. They had worked together for years. As the commander of the Major Crimes Bureau, Lieutenant Eudora Owens was as tough as she was beautiful. Their affair had started from afar but many months passed before they became lovers. Those stolen moments had deepened into the kind of relationship he’d thought he would never again have.