James Patterson - WMC - First to Die

HILLARY KNEW. I was almost sure of it. But why she would conceal such a thing related to her sister's death, I couldn't imagine. Old habits are hard to crack, she had said. I wanted another shot at her, and I reached her by phone at the family house in Shaker Heights. "I had a chance to speak to Merrill Shortley," I told her. "I just need a few details cleared up." "You realize this is a very stressful time for my family, Inspector," Hillary replied. "We told you what we knew." I didn't want to come on too strong. She had lost her sister in a horrible way. Her parents' home was filled with mourners and grief. And she was under no obligation to talk to me at all. "Merrill told me a few things about Kathy. Her lifestyle…" "We told you all that," she replied defensively. "But we also told you that after meeting James she had begun to settle down." "That's what I want to talk to you about. Merrill recalled there was someone she was seeing in San Francisco." "I thought we told you Kathy dated lots of men." "This one went on for a long time. He was older. Married. Some kind of big shot. Possibly famous." "I wasn't my sister's keeper," Hillary complained. "I need a name, Ms. Bloom. This man could be her killer." "I'm afraid I don't understand. I already told you what I know. My sister didn't exactly confide in me. We lived very different lives. I'm sure you've put two and two together already -there was a lot I didn't approve of." "You said something to me the first time we talked. Old habits are hard to crack. What sort of habits were you referring to?" "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. The Cleveland police are handling this, Inspector. Can't we just let them do their job?" "I'm trying to help you, Ms. Bloom. Why did Kathy move away from San Francisco? I think you know. Was someone abusing her? Was Kathy in trouble?" Hillary sounded frightened. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm going to hang up now, Inspector." "It's going to come out, Hillary. It always does. An address book. Her phone bill. It's not just Kathy. There are four others, back in California. They were just as hopeful about the rest of their lives as your sister. Just as deserving." There was a tiny sob in her voice. "I have no idea what you're talking about." I felt I had one last chance. "Here's the really ugly truth about murder. If I've learned one thing as a homicide detective, it's that the lines don't stay fixed. Yesterday you were an innocent victim, but now you're in this, too. This killer will strike again, and you will regret whatever you didn't tell me for the rest of your life." There was a heavy silence on the line. I knew what it meant. It was the struggle inside Hillary Bloom's conscience. I heard a click. She had hung up the phone.

OUR FLIGHT BACK to San Francisco left at 4:00 p.m. I hated, hated to leave without a name. Especially when I felt we were so close. Somebody famous. Kinky. Why were they protecting him? Anyway, we had accomplished a lot in just two days. It was clear to me that all three murders were committed by the same person. We had a strong lead tying him to San Francisco, a possible identity, a confirmed description. The trail was warm here, and would grow ever hotter when we got home. Both investigations would proceed locally. Cleveland would contact the Seattle police force to do a search of the bride's home. Maybe something in her personal effects, an address book, an e-mail in her computer, would divulge who her San Francisco lover was. Waiting to board our plane out of Cleveland, I called my voice mail for messages. One each from Cindy and Claire inquiring about my trip, our case. Reporters pushing for my comments on the Cleveland crime. Then I heard the throaty voice of Merrill Shortley. She had left her California number. I punched the number as fast as I could. A housekeeper answered, and I could hear the wail of a baby crying. When Merrill got on, I could tell that some of her cool veneer had cracked. "I was thinking," she began, "there was something I didn't mention yesterday." "Yes? That's good to hear." "This guy I told you about? The one Kathy was hooked up with in San Francisco? I was telling you the truth. I never knew his name." "Okay, I hear you." "But there were some things… I said he didn't treat her well. He was into intense sex games. Props, scenarios. Maybe even a little filming. Problem was, Kathy liked the games." There was a long pause before Merrill went on. "Well… I think he pushed her, forced her, to do more than she was comfortable with. I remember marks on her face, bruises on her legs. Mostly it was her spirit that was broken. None of us were exactly bringing home Tom Cruise then, but there was a time when Kathy was real scared. She was in his control." I began to see where this was heading. "It's why she moved away, isn't it?" I said. I could hear Merrill Shortley sigh on the other end. "Yes, it was." "Then why did she continue to see him from Seattle? You said she was involved with him right up to the end." "I never said," Merrill Shortley replied, "that Kathy knew what was good for her." Now I saw Kathy Kogut's life take on the shape of tragic inevitability. I was sure she had fled San Francisco, tried to break away from the grip of this man. But she couldn't break free. Was that true of the other murdered brides? "I need a name, Ms. Shortley. Whoever this was, he might've killed your friend. There are four others. The longer he's out there, the greater the chance he'll do it again." "I told you, I don't know his name, Inspector." I raised my voice above the din in the terminal. "Merrill, someone must know. You knew her for years, partied together." Merrill hesitated. "In her own way, Kathy was loyal. She said his name was well known. Some kind of celebrity. Someone I would know. She was protecting him. Or maybe protecting herself." My mind raced to the film and music businesses. She was into a bad scene. She was in over her head, and like many people who feel trapped, she ran. She just couldn't get far enough away. "She must've told you something," I pressed. "What he did? Where he lived? Where they would meet? You guys were like sisters." Wicked sisters? "I swear, Inspector. I've been racking my brain." "Then someone must know. Who? Tell me." I heard Merrill Shortley let out a mirthless laugh. "Ask her sister." Before we boarded, I beeped McBride and left a detailed message on his voice mail. Kathy's lover was probably someone famous. It was why she had moved away from San Francisco. The profile fit the pattern of our killer. Her sister, Hillary, might know the killer's name. On board, all I could think about was that we were getting close. Raleigh was there beside me. As the plane rose, I leaned into his arm, surrendering to total exhaustion. All my physical troubles seemed a million miles away. I remembered something I'd said to Claire. I had told her that finding this bastard gave me the resolve to go on. The red bearded man in my dream who had gotten away. "We're going to get him," I said to Raleigh. "We can't let him kill another bride and groom."

EIGHT THE NEXT MORNING, I was at my desk. There were several ways I could go with this investigation. Hillary Bloom was the most direct, assuming, as Merrill had implied, that she was able to give us a name. It was clear that in a twisted way she was trying to save her family the added pain of having Kathy publicly branded as some kind of pathetic sexual victim, cheating on her husband-to-be right up until their vows. Sooner or later a name would emerge. From her, or from Seattle. Before I did anything else, I called Medved's office and rescheduled the blood treatment I had canceled for five o'clock today. After a brief wait, the receptionist said the doctor would see me himself. Maybe it was good news. Truth was, I was feeling a little stronger. Maybe the treatments were beginning to do their work. It was hard picking up where I had left off in San Francisco. The best leads were now in Cleveland. I read some reports on the evidence Jacobi was tracking down, held a meeting of the task force at ten. Actually, the most promising leads- the hair and the Bridal Boutique at Saks- had come from my meetings with Claire and Cindy. I couldn't resist calling Claire a little before noon. "Bring me up to date," she said excitedly. "I thought we were partners." "I will," I replied. "Get Cindy. Meet me for lunch."