Allison Brennan - See No Evil

Dillon stared at a blank legal pad, pen in hand, a faraway expression on his face. He was entering his “killer mindset,” trying to go deep into the thoughts of someone capable of such a vicious crime.

At first, Connor just enjoyed his beer. Every few minutes, Dillon would write several sentences, draw arrows and lines, and then pause. After thirty minutes, Connor grew antsy. He hated sitting still. He wanted-needed-to be out doing something. He’d seen Emily earlier that evening, but she’d been sleeping.

If he could just see Will’s notes on the case, he might have another direction to go. Right now, he had to wait until morning to check out Emily’s school and talk to her friends. But he was no longer a cop. And it’s not like he could go down to the precinct and beg for his job back. Like that would happen. He didn’t take orders very well. And he didn’t like traitors.

Neither did his former colleagues. It’s just that they viewed him as the traitor, not his dead ex-partner. Don’t upset the apple cart. Crutcher is gone, we’ll just forget all this happened.

But how could he forget when Crutcher had left two dead girls behind and others in the department willingly looked the other way?

No, Connor couldn’t go back. If only he’d done things differently…but when you catch your mentor, the man who trained you to be a cop, taking bribes to turn the other cheek in the importation of sex slaves from Mexico, what do you do? Confront him and get a hole in the back of your head for the effort? Or go to the boss?

He’d done the latter, and he ended up without a badge.

But he was still breathing-that was some consolation.

“There had to be three people, one of whom was a female,” Dillon said, finally breaking the silence.

Connor started to peel off his beer label, leaving pieces of wet paper on Dillon’s table. “Makes sense. That’s what Julia said Hooper told her last night.”

“Three people,” Dillon mumbled to himself. “You need one person-a female-to sexually excite the victim-”

Connor interrupted. “But he wouldn’t have dropped his pants for just any woman who walked into his office. And a woman with a couple of guys? Do you think Judge Montgomery would get off with an audience?”

“Some do.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Okay, we have a female, on her knees, giving the judge a blow job. Maybe or maybe not two males watching.”

“But they’d have to be nearby. And if they were watching, it could mean the judge was participating in some fun and games.”

“After raping a kid, I suppose anything is possible.” Connor ripped the rest of the label off in one pull.

“If they weren’t watching, maybe he was having an affair and his mistress wanted him dead,” conjectured Dillon.

“Why?”

“You’re thinking too much like a cop, bro.”

“I am a cop,” Connor said, before correcting himself. “Was a cop.”

“You were a great cop, Connor.”

“Hmm.”

Dillon looked as if he was going to say something else, but then his brother changed the subject. “It takes a certain type of person to set up a man to be murdered. And a certain type of person to commit a particularly violent, premeditated crime.”

“It’s payback. Santos.”

Dillon thought about that for a long minute. “Emily denied anyone threatened her.”

“Maybe Santos’s men didn’t even realize she was home. Or maybe Montgomery was dead before Emily came in.”

Dillon pulled out a sheet of paper. “Julia said that Will told her the preliminary time of death was three-thirty to nine-thirty. The autopsy report would be more specific.”

“Emily could still have arrived after he was dead. Patrick said Montgomery had an unsent e-mail on his computer that he began writing at three-forty.”

“True, but it still puts the TOD about the same time she arrived home. Picture this: Emily comes home with friends. They walk in and Montgomery calls out for her like he always does. She goes in, gives him what he wants. Her friends quietly get into position and she severs his organ. They hold him down while she puts the penis in his mouth.”

Connor could picture the scenario all too well. “But she’d have a lot more blood on her, certainly more than a few drops on her hands and feet. Emily’s explanation also rings true.”

“I agree, but it could have happened either way. She had the motivation. And she bathed that night. She could have bathed after the murder.”

“You met Emily,” said Connor. “Do you really think she’s capable of a mutilation murder?”

“A lot of people are capable of terrible murders without showing any outward signs of depravity.”

“Dammit, Dillon, you’re not helping.”

“You’re the investigator, Connor. Look at the scene logically. You can’t come in with a faulty assumption that Emily is innocent.”

“She’s not guilty either. The man brutalized her. Raped and humiliated her-”

“And the prosecutor will probably offer a decent plea because of that.”

“ If she did it. What about this Wishlist group?”

“It throws a completely new dynamic into the mix. Premeditation. Group dynamics. I’m going to talk to Emily again tomorrow, ask her about the message and what, if anything, she did about it.”

“We need to find out whether the police have tracked down the group, the organizer, any other messages that may have been associated with a solved, or unsolved, murder. The Judson homicide is still open,” Connor said. “I think it’s not a coincidence that Billy wrote that Judson needed his eyes checked, and a couple months later the guy is killed by two bullets in the head. And then Emily’s message.”

“Patrick already went out on a limb by giving you access to those messages.” Dillon looked at the two messages Connor had taken. “These are relatively anonymous. Did any of the other messages you saw have identifying names?”

“Not that I could see, but I was speed reading.”

Dillon shook his head. “Doesn’t mean anything, really. If it’s a small group of people, they could all go to the same school. Were Emily and Billy at the same school?”

“No. Emily goes to a private school in La Jolla; Billy went to a public school in the heart of the city.”

“No connection there.”

“Bowen.”

“Excuse me?”

“Billy said that he’d been required to take anger management classes from Bowen after he was arrested for vandalism.”

Connor’s mind started connecting dots. “What if,” he continued slowly, “Bowen had group therapy sessions? Isn’t that something that’s done?”

“Yes.”

“So they meet in person in this group therapy, and then start this online group where they push the envelope. Someone in the group knew about Emily’s wish, and knew who she was and who she was talking about even if her identity wasn’t revealed online.”

“Are you suggesting a vigilante?”

Connor nodded as his theory took shape. “Exactly. It fits in with the case of Paul Judson, who was murdered and had his eyes shot out when another Wishlist member, who we know was Billy, said Judson needed his eyesight examined. The only connection between Billy and Emily is Dr. Garrett Bowen.”

A knock at the door interrupted what Dillon was about to say. He got up to answer, and came back in with Julia Chandler.

Connor tensed. Every time he saw her, he became angry and conflicted. With himself, with her. Five years was a long time to hold a grudge, but it was his career-his life -she had destroyed.

“Hi, Connor.” She nodded stiffly.

She was tired, dark circles beginning to emerge under her eyes. Julia’s makeup had worn off during the day, making her skin translucent, pale. She was still a beautiful woman, particularly now that she’d dumped her too-conservative Ms. Deputy DA suit and put on a long flowing skirt and simple peasant blouse. Connor had never seen her out of her professional attire. He liked it.