The Killing Game(107)
“Well, there’s the connection,” Gretchen said. “Same name as Finch’s boyfriend.” She smiled faintly. “My kind of weird.”
George relaxed a bit. “Yeah, it is,” he admitted. “I made some calls to Meadowlark’s coworkers and friends. No one ever met Rob. Consensus is that she made him up.”
“Be a lot better if she had,” September said. “Did you check to see if he was on the same ferry?”
“Yes, ma’am. He was. Didn’t even try to hide his name.”
They all looked at one another, thinking. “He’s playing with us,” September finally said. “He’s a serial killer who targets women with the last name of birds and he’s daring us to find him.”
“Most serial killers use the same method,” Gretchen pointed out. “Plays into their fantasy.”
“I know,” she agreed. “Water’s involved in Meadowlark’s death . . . possibly Tern’s.”
“I’ll find out if the victim is truly Christine Tern,” Gretchen said, heading for her desk.
George frowned. “What victim?”
“The one pulled out of the Columbia,” Gretchen threw over her shoulder.
“But Finch’s death was entirely different,” September said, reaching for her cell phone.
“Who’re you calling?” George asked.
“Luke Denton. He’s the one who postulated our doer is targeting victims by their ‘bird’ names.”
*
Luke signaled Andi to walk back into the hall with him, away from Ben and the still unconscious Emma. “I gotta call Peg Bellows back. Let her know what’s happened to Emma. Impress upon her that the Carreras are dangerous.”
“You really think they pushed her?”
“It’s more their style than obscure, threatening notes. What I want is for Peg to remember they killed her husband. To be cautious. I might leave and go see her, if that’s what it takes.”
She nodded. “I’ll stay here with Emma. If I need a ride, I’ll Uber it, or maybe catch one with Ben.”
“Don’t go back to the cabin without me.” He thought a moment and then pulled out his keys, taking one off the ring. “This is my apartment. If you go anywhere, go there. You know the address?”
“Yep, but I’m sticking around here for a while.”
“I’ll come back to the hospital. This is just a precaution.”
Luke’s cell rang. He pulled it out and looked at the screen, wasn’t sure of the caller. “Denton,” he answered.
“This is September Rafferty. I have some information for you.”
“Christine Tern?”
“Working on that information now. But I thought you should know we’ve discovered another woman with the last name of a bird, Belinda Meadowlark, who died last summer after falling overboard from a Washington State ferry. She told people she had a boyfriend named Rob Fisher. Robert Fisher is also the name of a man in Trinidad Finch’s Pilates class, one she became romantically involved with.”
Luke stood stock-still. It was his theory, his and Andi’s, but hearing it from the detective’s lips brought it to reality.
“What is it?” Andi asked him.
“I’d like to talk to Ms. Wren,” Detective Rafferty said into his ear.
“She’s right here, standing beside me.”
“I’d like us to all meet in person. Possibly tonight, or tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s probably better, but I’ll let Andi decide.”
Luke handed her his cell phone and Andi answered cautiously. He listened with half an ear to her side of the conversation, his mind running ahead, as Rafferty told Andi much the same information, and then Andi explained the next day would be better as she was at the hospital with her sister-in-law, who’d had a fall. They set a time and exchanged cell numbers before Andi clicked off and handed Luke back his phone.
“Oh my God,” Andi said, looking stunned. “He’s really out there. Killing women with last names that are birds.”
“I know.”
“Bobby killed Trini.”
Luke nodded slowly. “Bobby, Rob, Robert . . . all the names he uses are derivatives of Robert. And his chosen last name of Fisher.” Luke shook his head. “It’s gotta be a fake name. An alternate identity. He wouldn’t use his own.”
“But why? What’s he after?” Andi asked, her eyes huge as they looked up at him.
He gathered her face in his hands and kissed her on the lips. “I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out.”
*
Gretchen slammed down the receiver on her desk phone. “Yep. It was Christine Tern’s body they fished out of the Columbia.”
George said, “Where the hell’s Wes?”
“He’s with his mother,” September said.
“I know that. But he should be here.” George grabbed up his own cell and put through a call.
Gretchen said, “We’re here to help, George. Mr. Bones isn’t going anywhere.”
She was at her computer. “There are a lot of Robert Fishers around the area.”
“It’s probably an alias.” September was on her computer as well. She’d wanted to meet with Denton and Andrea Wren tonight, but there really was no need. They were all up to speed, and as George kept saying over and over again, it was his case. She was already stepping on his toes.