21st Birthday (Women's Murder Club #21)(62)

I asked, “What happened this morning?”

“I was on fire, but Gardner brought a bomb to the firefight.”

“Say a few more words, please.”

She sighed, “Okay. Gardner made a strong case that Evan did it, killed them all. Lucas broke down. Judge called the game on account of crying. Reconvening after a long lunch break.”

“I’ll call you later,” I said. “Buy you a drink.”

“Or two,” she said.

“Chin up, girlfriend,” I said.

I hung up, left my desk, tapped Cappy and Chi, Alvarez and Conklin, and we went down the hall to our task force office in the corner. We’d gone on to other homicides once the Lucas Burke trial had been scheduled.

As the five of us dragged chairs up to the table, I told the team we had to go over everything again with fresh eyes.

“Look for one unturned stone. Don’t worry if it’s not the holy grail. We need a lead.”

Evan Burke’s ID photo from his military days was centered on the whiteboard. He’d been a kid when the photo was taken, and while Lucas resembled him, Evan was better looking. If he was the killer, I could see how he could put a spell on young females and kill them before they had a hint of the danger.

We had piles of data in both hard copies and digits, and since Paul Chi was super organized, he knew all of it.

He took charge now, calling up files, slapping maps on the whiteboard. There were now cold cases across the West Coast that had fallen into geographical patterns of five to seven victims centering on but not exclusive to California. Oregon, Nevada had a few clusters as well.

The victimology was vague and at the same time told a lot about the killer. Bodies had turned up both fresh killed and long buried. They were all women under thirty, and they’d all been killed by a sharp blade across the throat.

Chi said, “He sticks to the coastline and interior waterways when he can. If you draw lines from the victim locations, you can see that the nexus is San Francisco.”

We looked at the compiled data on the possible victims and found only one case of a woman who had stab marks on her chest like those we’d found on Misty and Wendy Franks. Possibly the killer was only now trying on a style.

Alvarez had told us her theory that Luke had been attached to his father when he was young, but that his father was never there, which caused him to have a longing for his father and to hate him at the same time.

Where was Daddy? On a killing spree out of town before he brought it back home to murder his own wife and daughter.

Alvarez said, “I did some research on this sick on-and-off parental disconnect,” she said. “In France and Switzerland in particular, they refer to hardly home dads as ‘eclipse fathers.’

If that was true of Evan, then Lucas longed for his attention. And then his mother and sister disappeared. Their bodies were never found. Maybe Luke knew. Maybe he had a bad feeling he didn’t bring out into the sunshine. Or. Maybe he did the killings to get his father’s love.”

I asked if anyone else had a theory. No one did. If dozens of Homicide divisions hadn’t landed him, how could we do it in this dreary room with the clock ticking toward the afternoon court session?

I went outside to the noise of Bryant Street and called Joe.

“Can you reach out to Berney? Please. Couldn’t be a more important time than now.”





CHAPTER 82





JOE PHONED ME BACK before I reached the squad room.

“I reached Berney,” he said. “He’s tracking Evan Burke toward Nevada. Burke’s haunted Vegas in the past.”

And then Joe said, “Berney added the kicker: Tell Lindsay to meet me at the Bellagio Hotel this evening.”

“That’s all he said?”

“He’s a man of few words. Sometimes no words. Linds, I suggest you bring backup.”

I was pretty sure the bosses were going to spike this request, but hell. I had to try. Clapper was making a rare visit to the squad room and was meeting with Brady. I rapped on the glass and barged in. Both men looked up at me, said nothing until I finished my short, sharp presentation.

“Yuki needs to depose Evan Burke. A confidential contact of Joe’s is tailing Burke and has advised me to go to Vegas ASAP. If you agree, I want to bring Alvarez. She knows Vegas, knows cops and security at the casinos. I’m going to need clearance from LVPD.”

Brady said, “Fine with me. Chief?”

Clapper said, “Good choice of Alvarez.”

He snatched up Brady’s phone and called LVPD’s Chief Alexander Belinky, saying that Alvarez and I were “dogging a witness” and that we had a subpoena.

“We do?” I said, after he hung up.

“You will.”

An hour and a half later, Alvarez and I were at SFO in Terminal 3.

Our flight was scheduled to depart in forty-five minutes. Alvarez brought Cinnabons and coffee to our seating area, where I was FaceTiming with Joe and Julie.

I showed Julie the herd of metallic sculptures hanging from the ceiling above our seats. They were shiny bronze lights reflecting our surroundings from twenty feet up, showing curvy views of the concourse, the moving crowds of people, and storefronts. Mood music was playing and the temperature was optimal.

I tried to sound like I was having fun, but of course I was faking it. I said good-bye to my family and said I’d call from Vegas.