Karen Rose - I Can See You

“It’s okay. You stay here. I’m on my way out.”

“Noah?” She stood as he buttoned his coat. “They’re releasing David from the hospital this morning and I have to take him home. I can’t stay here forever.”

Yes, you can. The thought rose above the worry and he tucked it away. There would be time for that later. He looked at Abbott, who was waiting impatiently. “Bruce?”

Abbott looked irritated. “I’ll have someone drive her over later. Now let’s go.”

“Captain, wait.” Faye hurried up to them, a paper in one hand. “Donner’s LUDs. His last call went to 411 at 10:40, but the one before that went to his mother, around 6:00 p.m. Here’s her address. You want me to have the locals meet you there?”

Abbott grabbed the papers greedily. “Yeah, call ’em, but tell them to stay back until we get there. Thanks, Faye. Noah, let’s roll.”

Thursday, February 25, 8:30 a.m.

Olivia and Kane were preparing for another go at Dell Farmer when Olivia got a call from narcotics that left her smiling, albeit grimly.

“What?” Kane asked when she hung up.

She told him about the call from Tom Hunter in the middle of the night and the dealer Damon who might have license plate info. “Two SUVs could be a coincidence, but we can’t afford to assume. That was my old pal in narc. They have Damon in custody.”

“How much did he have on him?”

“Recreational. But that violates his parole, so we’re in business. I want to know if he saw the license plate on that Navigator.”

“He’s gonna want a deal,” Kane said glumly, in his way that reminded her of Eeyore.

“I know. Let’s go to the DA, see if he’ll give us wiggle room.”

Kane paused at the bullpen door. “What about her?”

Olivia turned back to look at Eve, who sat at Noah’s desk, hunched over her computer. “She’s digging in that game, hoping to find something we can use.”

“Wish I’d never heard of that damn game,” Kane said as they walked to the elevator.

Olivia punched the button so hard her finger buckled. “Don’t we all?”

Thursday, February 25, 8:45 a.m.

Liza screamed. She was running, couldn’t get away. Lindsay chased her, her face gray, gaunt. Dead. She’s dead, she’s dead . But the scream never made it out of Liza’s mouth, coming out as a muffled grunt. Her body wasn’t moving. She was tied, she realized. Her hands and feet were tied. She breathed through her nose.

Her mouth. It was taped shut. It came back in a rush. The man, his hand over her mouth, the sting of a needle on her neck. What did he give me? Where am I?

She opened her eyes a slit, relieved when her lids obeyed. It was dark, and they were moving. A car . She remembered his car. I’m in the trunk.

Do not lose it now , she commanded herself. She focused on the breaths she took. And as her pulse steadied, she knew she was not alone. She could smell… blood.

Oh my God. Lindsay . She clenched her eyes shut, refusing to look. Maybe he lied, to scare you, to make you obey. Maybe she’s alive, maybe she needs you. Open your eyes and look . Dammit, girl, look . Her heart pounding in her ears, she made her eyes open, blinking to see in the darkness. Then saw what she’d smelled.

She froze, the scream trapped in her throat. Eyes. Open eyes. Staring at me .

Lindsay was dead. I will be, too.

Thursday, February 25, 9:15 a.m.

Noah checked out the car in Adele Donner’s driveway, his gun drawn. “Covered in snow. Been here all night.” He and Abbott went up the front walk while two uniformed officers went to the back. They had the exits covered.

Abbott rapped on the door, hard. “Police,” he called. “Come out, Donner.”

The door opened, revealing two women, one about ninety and the other perhaps fifty. “We’re both Mrs. Donner,” the older woman said, her chin up. “What do you want?”

Donner’s mother and his wife. The wife’s eyes were red and swollen and she cried quietly. The old woman’s eyes, though, were clear and cold as ice.

Abbott looked over their heads. “Step aside, ladies. Please.”

“Do you have a warrant?” the ninety-year-old demanded.

“Yes,” Abbott started, but Noah held up his hand.

“Mrs. Donner, you know why we’re here. Please don’t make this any harder.”

Donner’s mother’s chin wobbled, her only sign of weakness. “He’s not here.”

Abbott’s jaw hardened. “What do you mean, he’s not here? His car is here. His wife is here. Where is your son, Mrs. Donner?”

Donner’s wife wiped her eyes. “He’s out back. At the pond.”

Noah started to run. A single set of footprints marred the snow and by the look of them, they weren’t fresh. From the snow that had filled them, they were hours old. No footprints came back to the house. Donner had left during the night and not returned.

Noah strode through the snow, motioning to the uniforms to spread out. But when he got to the pond he abruptly stopped. His breath hung in the air as he stared at the bench at the pond’s frozen edge. He lowered his pistol. No need for it now.

“Goddammit,” one of the uniforms cursed, barely managing to stop before stepping in what had been Donald Donner’s brains. “What the fuck is this?”

Noah pursed his lips, swallowing back the bile. Animals had done what animals do, but there was enough of Donner left to see the pistol in his ringless right hand.

He turned to find Abbott staring as well. Together they walked back to the house and knocked on the front door again. This time Donner’s mother let them in.

“We want this to be over,” she said with dignity, then placed their hats on a sideboard before leading them to the living room where Donner’s wife sat in a chair, sobbing. Adele Donner lowered herself to a sofa, looking every one of her ninety years.

“He had a brain tumor,” Adele said. “The doctors gave him less than a thirty percent chance. All my son wanted was to see his work published one more time.” She took a sealed envelope from the table beside her and gave it to Noah. “He wrote you a letter, Detective. He told me to give it to you.”

“He never would have hurt anyone,” Donner’s wife said. “He couldn’t live with knowing that his study… That all those women died.”

“When did he shoot himself?” Noah asked softly.

“About eight o’clock last night,” Adele answered. “That bench was his favorite spot.”

Eight o’clock, Noah thought . Before the last call from his home phone went to 411.

“You heard the shot?” Abbott asked.

Both women nodded. “And we knew it was over,” Adele said. “It was what Donald wanted. He’d suffered so much, I couldn’t tell him no.”

“Why didn’t you call 911?” Abbott asked, more gently.

Adele Donner cast a quick look at her daughter-in-law. “I don’t drive at night, and last night she… well, she just couldn’t drive. We decided that we’d drive into town this morning, to see the sheriff.”

Donner’s wife closed her eyes. “My mother-in-law wanted to call 911. But I didn’t want to be here when they took him away.”

Noah stood, his shoulders heavy. “We’ll get someone out here to take care of him.”

In the car Abbott was grim. “He still could have done all five murders, you know.”

“I know. But do you think he did?”

“No. What does the letter say?”

Noah scanned its contents. “What you’d expect. He does give his regards to Eve.”

Abbott started the car. “I’m sure you won’t mind passing that on.”

Noah’s jaw tightened. “Why are you being like this? We wouldn’t have a case if she hadn’t come forward.”