Allison Brennan - Sudden Death

“Do you have the name of the home?” “Sunny Day Adult Living. It’s one of the nicer places in Orlando. If any of those places are nice.” “And their last name?” “Rubin. Bernard and Millie Rubin.” “Was that their daughter’s last name as well?” “I suppose so. I honestly don’t know.” “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Lyons.” “We’re here,” Officer Dodge said after Megan hung up. “Ready?”

“One minute. Let me make a quick call.” Megan dialed the number Mrs. Lyons gave her for Hannah, Ken Russo’s ex-girlfriend. Her head was abuzz with questions, namely did Hannah know if Russo had been threatened or seemed distracted prior to their breakup. Megan was shocked when Mrs. Lyons told her the community was a private, gated development. Only one major theft, with a murder attached, and the police weren’t suspicious of a more personal motive?

An automated voice mail system picked up and Megan debated leaving a message. When the beep sounded, she said, “Hello, my name is Megan Elliott and I’m with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I spoke with someone who said you used to date a Mr. Kenneth Russo in Orlando, Florida, who was murdered in a robbery last year. I’m following up on the case and have a couple questions, and would appreciate a call back.”

Next she called information for the Sunny Day Adult Living Center in Orlando and asked for the administrator. Unfortunately, being five in the afternoon on the East Coast, he had already left. “This is an FBI investigation that may relate to one of your residents,” Megan told the manager who answered the phone. “If you would please give me the administrator’s home or cell phone number, I would appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry, that’s against protocol, but I’ll be happy to contact him if you can tell me what this is regarding.”

“The daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bernard Rubin may have information that will help in a criminal investigation, and I’m looking for a current phone number and address.”

“I’ll have Dr. Boswell get back to you, Ms. Elliott.”

Megan gave her contact information and hung up, frustrated. Two potential leads-two good solid leads- on hold while she waited.

“Let’s go,” she said to Officer Dodge.

The two women exited the patrol car and walked up the short stone path to the quaint Victorian house in downtown SLO. Megan hoped Hans hadn’t sent her on a wild-goose chase.

The bartender at the hotel bar had been less than helpful, Jack thought. While they had a vague description of the woman, the bartender sat with a police artist for an hour and nothing came of it. If they needed a description of her breasts, no problem. The artist told a frustrated Hans that sometimes it took a few hours, but she wasn’t confident that the bartender would remember enough detail to render an accurate picture.

Still, the meeting confirmed one fact: General Hackett had gone to the bar as was his custom when he arrived on the third Thursday of the month, ordered a drink, and then bought a drink for the lady in the red dress. The bartender also confirmed that the lady had invited Hackett to her table, where they engaged in conversation and another round of drinks for forty-five minutes, before leaving together. Hackett had a habit of meeting with pretty, fortysomething blondes each month.

Approximately fifteen minutes later-about the length of time it would take for a leisurely stroll from the bar to the beachfront cabins, reports of gunshots came into the reservation desk and the police station. Security was dispatched, but no one was at the cabin for nearly five minutes after the reported gunshot, largely because the security guards had all been at the main hotel, and had been uncertain where the shots came from-whether on the resort grounds or the beach itself.

Five minutes had been more than enough time for Rosemont’s murderous partner to slip away.

“A woman,” Jack said almost to himself as he and Hans walked back to the small conference room that the hotel had set aside for law enforcement.

“Excuse me?”

“Rosemont’s partner is a woman.”

“Don’t leap to conclusions. She could have-” Jack raised his eyebrow and Hans stopped. “You’re right. There is no other explanation.”

“Someone led Hackett to that room. The bartender said it was a mutual flirtation.”

“But why the elaborate plan?” Hans asked. “They were practically in public. Though the cabins are more private, they couldn’t be sure that someone walking by wouldn’t have heard the shot. And they would also have had to know Hackett’s schedule.”

“Hackett had a routine,” Jack said. “The third Thursday of every month.”

Hans sat down and nodded. “They knew Duane Johnson’s schedule, Perry, Bartleton-” He glanced at Jack.

Jack nodded. “It’s a woman. What she was doing with Rosemont is anyone’s guess. But she’s just as dangerous-”

“She could have been a battered partner. Females account for less than ten percent of serial murderers. In many killing pairs, the female participant suffers from domestic violence. They are too scared to leave or not do what their partner demands. Perhaps she saw an opportunity and took it-domestic violence often ends in murder. Usually, the abused wife or girlfriend, but occasionally, the abused decides murder is her only way out.”

“Good in theory, but-”

Hans interrupted, “Which would support Father Francis’s visitation the other night. If that woman, and it’s not certain because it doesn’t fit the M.O., was Rose-mont’s partner, then perhaps seeking out the priest was her first attempt at getting away.”

Jack considered and dismissed the argument. “Let’s take this from the beginning. Can we agree that the woman in the red dress intentionally lured General Hackett to Ethan Rose’s room?”

Hans considered, then nodded. “Yes, because Hackett would have no other reason to go there. It’s across the resort from his room.”

“There were no prints found. If she was truly fighting for the gun and shot Rosemont out of self-defense, why aren’t her prints there?”

“She may have been scared and wiped them off.”

“Wiped them off, sure. But scared?” Jack shook his head. “She had four and a half minutes from the sound of the first gunshot, and just over two and a half minutes from the sound of the last gunshot, before security arrived. She wipes the gun, takes the knife, runs out the back, and disappears? She must have had blood on her, so that means she changed clothes somewhere.”

“Holden’s people canvassed the entire hotel. No one saw the woman except in the bar prior to the murders.”

“And what’s accessible from the beach?”

“Several hotels both up and down the coast, the pier, farther up there’s little commercial business, and the road access is limited. I suspect she went south.”

“I don’t see a panicked, abused woman killing two men in cold blood, even in self-defense, and then disappearing without a trace of evidence.”

Hans took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “So she’s an active and willing participant in Rosemont’s killing spree.”

Jack nodded. “We need Padre’s sketch.”

“And Megan may get something from her witnesses. I just- There’s something eluding me, and I can’t quite figure it out.” He picked up the phone. “I know exactly what we need.”

“What?”

“A fresh pair of eyes. Or rather ears. Your brother.”

“Dillon?” Jack wouldn’t have thought about contacting his brother, the forensic psychiatrist, but Dillon did have an uncanny way of getting to the heart of the matter, and psychopaths were his specialty.

Hans dialed the number from memory. “I hope we can track him down tonight.”