The Bitter Season (Kovac and Liska, #5)(54)

“Have you spoken with Thomas Duffy yet?” she asked.

Nikki smiled inwardly as Grider turned toward them. Let him sweat, the f*cker. “I have a call in to him. He hasn’t called me back.”

“I just got off the phone with the news director from KTWN. They’re going to shoot a news segment with Duffy at the Big D flagship store off 494 around noon today. They would like you to be a part of it.”

“Great,” Nikki said. “I have lots of questions for Mr. Duffy.”

Mascherino gave her the eye. “Try not to rub anyone the wrong way.”

“Who? Me?” Nikki said, feigning innocence.

“Unless there’s something in it for us,” the lieutenant added dryly as she turned to leave. “Sergeant Grider?”

Grider gave her the blank face.

“You have egg on your necktie. Please rectify that situation before you leave the office. I won’t have people thinking my detectives are slobs.”

She was gone before he could say, “Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s okay, Grider,” Nikki said. “Not everyone has what it takes to make it in television.”





17


“They’ll show you one at a time,” Taylor said quietly. “Look at the monitor, answer yes or no. That’s it. Be prepared. They both have facial damage from the attack. It’s not going to be easy to look at.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Charles Chamberlain asked his sister. “I can take care of it.”

“They were our parents,” she whispered.

They stood in the viewing room of the county morgue, the Chamberlain children facing each other, holding hands, like little kids making a pact. Kovac studied them from a few feet away, the brother looking like Harry Potter grown up, the sister towering over him like an Amazon.

Kovac hadn’t expected the sister when they stopped to pick up Charles Chamberlain, but there she was, wandering around his apartment at eight thirty in the morning in a man’s shirt, hot-pink panties, and wool socks, her hair rumpled and half in her face as she pressed a coffee cup to her lips. She had insisted on coming, but they had to wait nearly half an hour for her to make herself presentable.

She had emerged from the bedroom looking like a naughty librarian character from a porno—hair pulled back, a pair of large plastic-rimmed glasses, the white shirt buttoned up to the throat, and a pair of black leggings painted on her long, long legs. Deep red lipstick and lots of black mascara.

Who put on come-f*ck-me lipstick to identify dead family members first thing in the morning? Diana Chamberlain.

She had preened and pouted and batted her lashes at her little brother in a way that made Kovac’s skin crawl. Taylor watched the show with a serious frown, even when the girl cast him a few come-hither glances. The brother seemed immune to it. Charles Chamberlain treated his sister like a child, even though she was a couple of years older, and physically larger.

He sighed now and nodded to Taylor. “Let’s get it over with.”

Kovac kept his gaze on their faces, barely blinking. He knew the second the monitor came on. The young man flinched and turned away almost immediately, swallowing hard and mumbling “That’s him.” Diana Chamberlain stared at the screen, transfixed, unblinking, her face stark white except for the red mouth.

Taylor spoke into the intercom. “Next.”

When the image of Mrs. Chamberlain came on the screen, the son turned away, went to the far side of the room, and retched into a wastebasket. Diana continued to stare at the screen, then slowly began to tremble, then shake harder, and harder, like she was having a seizure. Screams tore up from the depths of her soul. Shrieking, she flung herself at the curtained window that separated them from the room where her parents’ corpses lay. Pounding her fists on the glass, she screamed and screamed.

“Mommy! No! No! No!” she cried, dissolving into racking sobs.

Taylor leapt toward her, catching her by the arm before she could fall to the floor. Her brother hurried to her, and she draped herself over him, pressing her face into his shoulder as she cried. They sank down on the small sofa, holding each other.

Kovac glanced at Taylor to see him watching the pair like a hawk, studying their behavior and their body language. There were times to look away and let survivors grieve. This was not one of those times.

After a few minutes the Chamberlain siblings separated and began to collect themselves. Charles took his glasses off and cleaned them with his handkerchief, his hands trembling. Diana dried her eyes delicately with tissues from a box on a side table. She had had the foresight to use waterproof mascara, Kovac noticed.

She sniffed and looked up at Taylor from under her lashes. “My mother had a diamond-and-pearl bracelet she would have given to me,” she said softly, her voice fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. “Do you know if that was taken? I would really like to have it.”

Taylor’s jaw dropped a little, but he recovered well. “Ah, I’ll have to check on that. We won’t be able to release any personal effects for some time, though.”

“Would you be able to look at your mother’s things and tell us what might be missing?” Kovac asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Charles frowned. “There’s a detailed inventory of everything in the house, for insurance purposes. I helped make the DVD. That’s going to be the most accurate way to do it.”