A Raging Dawn (33 page)

“You were the initial caseworker?”

“Yes. Met them in the hospital. Both parents doted on their children, seemed to truly want to do right by them, but as often happens, good intentions simply aren’t enough. I removed the children for neglect several times, only to have the court return them to the home. Until Edward died.”

The little brother. “He was only seven, right?”

Her sigh bore the weight of the world. “Yes. Home alone with the others. Parents had been gone for days on a meth binge, leaving the children to fend for themselves.”

Ryder perked up. This was a different twist than he’d read in the case summary. “I thought the fire was begun by the father cooking meth?”

“No. Although there was plenty of evidence that he had been cooking meth in the home, and certainly all the volatile chemicals turned what may have started as a small fire into a deadly blaze.”

“Then what did start the fire?”

“No one could ever prove it for certain. The consensus was that one of the children turned on the gas stove in an attempt to heat the trailer.”

“You sound like you don’t buy that theory.”

She pursed her lips, the lines around her mouth digging deep. “This is solely my opinion, but it’s one based on decades of experience. I think one of the twins started the fire. On purpose.”

“Wait. Twins? Littleton has a twin brother?” That would explain so much. Brotherhood—true brothers in every sense of the word.

“No. A sister.”

Ryder blinked. “That’s not in the case notes I saw.”

“She was a pretty little thing, blond curls, the brightest blue eyes you ever saw. Was adopted as soon as the courts allowed, her records sealed. The adoptive parents didn’t want to risk her natural parents tracking her down. But poor Eugene, he was a sullen, moody child. Poor social graces. There’s just not much call for eleven-year-old boys suspected of arson when it comes to adoption. He stayed in the system until he was emancipated at eighteen.”

“You suspect Eugene started the fire?” He could see that. Fire-starting was classic psychopath behavior. Although, Littleton seemed more anxious than psychopaths he’d dealt with before. Narcissistic would have been his bet—a follower, dependent on others to shape his identity, not a leader.

Mrs. Worth shook her head. “Not Eugene. Although he never said a word in his defense. I’m ninety percent certain it was his sister. She’s a cold-hearted psychopath—lies tripped off her tongue with the prettiest, most innocent smile you could imagine. And Eugene, he would do anything she asked, totally devoted to her. Unlike Eddie. Poor baby, he had a stubborn streak, was always fighting with his sister and always paying the price.”

“You think she started the fire to kill Eddie? What could a seven-year-old boy do to deserve that?”

“Once she tried to cut his eye out with a paring knife because he’d dropped one of her dolls in the mud. That girl…” Her voice trailed off, lost in the past. “I wonder what became of her.”

“I don’t suppose you remember the adoptive family’s name?” he asked, keeping his tone nonchalant. It was a violation of confidentiality, but not like he was going to rat her out.

She stared at him appraisingly. “You think she’s back in Eugene’s life? Behind these crimes he’s been accused of?”

“He spoke of having a partner. A boss. And until now his record has been fairly clean. Not sure what else could have escalated things so violently.”

“They came from a suburb outside Philadelphia. Kravitz. That was the family name.”

He sat up, startled. “The sister, her name was Gena?” Of course it was. Eugene and Gena…twins.

“That’s right. Gena, with an e.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Worth. I can’t tell you how helpful you’ve been.” He popped onto his feet, energized now that he had a direction. Who would have guessed the new, flamboyant rising star of Cambria City’s roster of defense attorneys was a murderous psychopath?

He stopped one cubicle row away and turned back. “Can I ask? What happened to the adoptive parents? Are they still around?”

She glanced up from her computer and gave him a sad smile. “I’m afraid not. Both killed. In a fire.”

Okay. He had his man—make that, woman. Sister to their main suspect. Involved with Manny Cruz. Attorney of record for their other main victim: Sylvie Wysycki.

As he headed out the door, he wondered what poor Sylvie had done to piss off Gena enough to warrant the torture and killing of all those people at the NA meeting.

He pulled up short. Sylvie had never named her abuser when she’d been seen at the Advocacy Center for domestic violence. Rossi had said it was an attorney, though. Could her romantic partner have been Gena Kravitz? Was that why Sylvie had been targeted? Because she’d dared reject Kravitz? Just like Tymara had rejected Littleton seven months ago.

It made sense, the level of violence, even the lack of any male DNA from Tymara’s sexual assault except for Littleton’s. Not multiple rapists; one man who had raped Tymara multiple times. And the other injuries—Tymara’s beating, the assaults with foreign objects, the stab wounds—those could have been either Littleton or Kravitz.

He’d thought these crimes too intimate to be perpetrated by some anonymous “Brotherhood.” He just hadn’t realized how personal they truly were.

Twin brother and sister killing together. Killing
for
each other. What could be more personal than that?

DEVON SPRINTED DOWN
the stairs, hoping to catch his quarry before the man exited the hospital. He got to the ground floor just in time to see the door swing shut. More footsteps sounded from the steps below leading to the parking garage. Taking a chance, he kept going down. At the very least, he might get a license plate, which would be easier for Flynn to track than a number programmed into a prepaid cell phone.

Luck wasn’t with him. He chased the footsteps down to the garage, plowing through the steel door and almost toppling over a middle-aged man who was about a hundred pounds overweight. Definitely not the slim, athletic build of the man he’d glimpsed exiting the women’s room.

By the time he retraced his steps to the ground floor and main lobby, there was no sign of the man in black. Eugene Littleton’s partner was more elusive than Eugene had been. No surprise, Eugene obviously wasn’t the brains of the operation. He pulled his phone out, debating returning to Angela. Eugene’s partner could be targeting her for revenge, blaming her for Eugene’s death.

But then, why hadn’t he simply killed her in the women’s room? Not as flashy as Tymara’s murder or the killing of the folks at the school. If Eugene’s partner wanted Angela here, in the ICU at Jacob’s bedside, then was he planning something bigger, even more horrific than the school massacre?

He called Flynn. “I need you to track the location of a phone number.”

“Hang on,” she said in a whisper. “Esme finally fell asleep.” A few moments later, she was back. “Okay, I’m at the computer.” Daniel had trained Flynn in the ways of industrial espionage, including illegal hacking and computer surveillance. “What’s the number?”

There was only one number programmed into the disposable cell the man had given Angela. Devon repeated it for Flynn and explained about the man in black. “It might be untraceable. This is a prepaid burner cell.”

“Nothing’s untraceable,” she muttered, the click of computer keys punctuating her words. “Just give me a sec. Is Dr. Rossi okay? Need me to come over, keep an eye on her?” He knew she was reluctant to leave Esme, but the nursing staff was there.

“Good idea. She’s in the ICU with Jacob, but these guys seem to be fixated on her. Who knows what they have planned next?”

“I’ll leave as soon as we’re done here.” A mechanical chime interrupted her. “Gotcha. They thought they could hide behind a proxy, but I found them.”

“You know where the owner of this number is?”

“It’s not a phone number. It’s a Voice Over Internet Protocol.”

“Those are untraceable.”

“That’s what they’d like you to believe. But the DOD contracted with a subsidiary of Kingston Enterprises to create software that can trace them. Daniel, of course, sold the government a buggy beta version that was obsolete by the time they got it installed, but I have the real thing to play with.” It wasn’t that Flynn was any kind of computer genius. Her genius lay elsewhere, mainly in her ability for social engineering, to mold any situation to her advantage. But Daniel had provided her with cutting-edge tech and made certain she knew how to use it.

Devon stared at the burner phone. They were probably tracking its location to keep tabs on Rossi. He tucked it under the cushion of a nearby chair. Now Rossi was free to move without their knowing.

“Got them!” Flynn came back onto the line. “Supposedly condemned building. One whose neighbor is pulling about twice the electricity it should.”

“Send me the address and any info you have.”

“Done. Something else popped up. Interesting deliveries—from Kingston Enterprises. Seems you’ve outfitted these guys with pharmaceutical and lab equipment, two state-of-the-art sensory deprivation chambers, a dozen wireless EEG transmitters—those are for measuring brain waves, right? Oh, and a shitload of PXA, the good stuff, pharmaceutical grade.”

Damn. He should have thought to track shipments of PXA sooner.

“Are these guys part of Kingston Enterprises? Something Daniel set up before his stroke?” Could Eugene Littleton and his partners be connected with Daniel? He doubted it. But Daniel had his fingers in a lot of pots—not all of them legal or documented.

“Nothing I ever heard of, and I’m not finding any files on them. Just invoices billed to the Almanac Care Institute. Which, other than a dummy website and some bank accounts, doesn’t seem to exist.”

“Okay. Get over here. Protect Angela. I’ll handle the rest.”

“On my way.”

Feeling better, knowing Angela was protected, Devon headed back to the stairs, taking them down to the hospital’s basement where there was an entrance to the tunnel system. The address Flynn sent him was a warehouse near the wharf, conveniently located near an exit from the tunnels.

Getting into the building wouldn’t be a problem. He was more worried about what he was going to find once he got there. So far the Brotherhood hadn’t shied away from using brute force. What he couldn’t understand was the combination of violence with what sounded like a well-organized medical research facility.

Maybe the heartless violence was meant to be a smoke screen for something even more sinister. Like exposing dozens of children to a form of fatal insomnia?

<<<>>>

RYDER CALLED THE
Major Case lead detective, a guy named Holden, to let him know about Kravitz’s relationship with Littleton. “We’re at her place now with a search warrant,” he was surprised to hear. “Your hunch that Wysycki’s lover was involved was right. It was Kravitz. How’s that for a kick in the pants?”

“Is she there with you?” He had a few questions for Kravitz. Starting with, did she send her brother dearest to Rossi’s place two nights ago? All in all, he’d feel better if she was off the streets and safely locked up.

“Nope, gone AWOL. We’re thinking she might be good for Manny Cruz as well. She has a forty-five registered in her name—same caliber that killed him.”

“It’s a long shot, but now that we know she’s Littleton’s sister, maybe she went to his place. Want me to check it out?”

Nice thing about Holden, he’d been in this job long enough not to get territorial when a fellow detective offered a helping hand. “Not like this is how we want to be spending Christmas Eve. You see her, give a shout, and maybe we can all go home.”

Easier said than done, but worth a shot. Ryder drove over to Littleton’s address. Definitely the last place anyone would look for a high-powered attorney like Kravitz. He made a note to ask Devon Price how exactly he’d chosen her for Littleton’s defense. Dollars to doughnuts, Kravitz had inserted herself into the case, protesting in public while she secretly worked to get her brother cleared of all charges.

Quite the pair. Brother rapes a woman, calls his twin to help clean it up. And, instead of defending him in a court of law, she covers it up with a second, brutal attack. Probably told Littleton to silence Tymara for good, and when he didn’t finish the job, she punished him by letting him stew in jail until his trial. But, good sister that she was, she killed Tymara while he had the perfect alibi, then got him out in time for them both to thumb their noses at the cops while they took care of her former lover, Wysycki.

He found a parking spot. The streets were already slushy from the falling snow, but luckily, most people were snugged inside their homes for the holiday. As he trudged up the unshoveled and icy steps to Littleton’s apartment building, he thought about the attack on Jacob. No way could Littleton have been involved, and he was certain Kravitz had been inside the school at the time, torturing her former lover before killing her. Plus, there’d been four men in the alley with Jacob.

Friends of Littleton? Didn’t seem like he actually had any. Former clients of Kravitz, hired for the night? Didn’t fit, given the degree of degradation both Tymara and Wysycki had suffered, Kravitz would want to witness Jacob’s downfall firsthand.