Evil Never Dies (The Lizzy Gardner Series Book 6) (20 page)

Just as she thought—he’d brought home the young woman she’d seen him talking to at the club earlier. The girl’s words were slurred but clear enough to be heard. “This isn’t my apartment,” the girl said. “Where are we?”

“It’s all right, sweetheart. I thought we could have one last drink and watch a movie.”

“You said you would bring me home.”

“Come on, baby—don’t be a drag.”

“I want to go home. Now.”

A scuffle ensued. The sound of a chair toppling over and then a grunt before all went quiet. Hayley readied the TASER and sauntered out to the front room.

Yep. It was the same girl she’d seen at the club. Holmes was standing over her where she lay on the couch, her body twisted at a weird angle, her face a bloodied mess. She was out cold but clearly breathing.

Holmes turned her way. “What the fuck?”

Hayley smiled. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

He pointed a stubby finger her way. “You’re that chick. The one who was in here with that other girl. You bitches broke my damn nose. In my own damn house!”

“Terrible thing,” Hayley said, walking toward him. She ducked when he took a swing, then stung him with the TASER—once, then again. He fell to the floor with a thunk. She worked quickly after that while the girl from the club sawed logs on the couch. After driving his car into the garage, she dragged him out there and hauled his heavy ass into the trunk. She was breathing hard by the time she climbed in behind the wheel.

The girl on the couch had a strange awakening ahead of her
in the next hour or so, coming to bruised, bloodied, and memory-
free in a strange, empty house. But she was safe, and that’s all that mattered.

Nora Belle Castor, also known as the Ghost, paced the bathroom floor, back and forth, in front of the mirror. Ever since being chased by that dyke bitch at the mall, she’d been antsy to release some of her frustrations. She spent most of the night on the street, waiting and watching. And then she’d made her move, but she hadn’t seen it coming: one of the homeless assholes got a jab in after she jumped him. Got her right in the eye with his dirty, disgusting finger. Made her look as if she had fucking pinkeye.

She leaned over the sink and tried to open her infected eye as wide as she could, but it was no use. The dirty asshole had done some damage.

She looked down.

The fucker had also soiled her shoes.

The stupid goon she was living with didn’t have shit for a washer and dryer, but his crappy appliances would have to do. She took off her sneakers and headed into the main room. Asshole was asleep on the couch with a can of beer still in his grasp.

She wasn’t sure how long she would be able to live with the douche. His dick was long and thin, like a fucking wand but without the magic fairy dust. Fucking the man meant going through the motions without ever knowing if there was anything inside her. A waste of time. A shitty five-minute workout, at best.

She opened the closet in the hallway, swept all his dirty clothes to the floor, put her sneakers in the wash, added bleach and detergent, and turned on the machine. Before she could take more than a few steps back the way she came, she saw a little girl standing in the hallway watching her, a thumb shoved in her mouth.

“Who the fuck are you?” Nora Belle asked. And then she remembered Michael telling her he had a kid and that he swapped weekends with his ex every once in a while. She hadn’t paid much attention at the time because, hell, she didn’t give a shit about Michael. He was merely another idiot to take advantage of for a few weeks, maybe months, if she could stand him for that long.

“Take that thumb out of your mouth,” she told the kid. “It’s disgusting.”

The kid kept sucking away, looking at her with big round eyes as if she really were looking at a fucking ghost. She hated the nickname she’d been given, but it was better than any of those assholes using her real name. The funny thing was, the police didn’t seem to give a shit about what she did to those people. And they weren’t the only ones. A lot of people didn’t give a shit, which made all those homeless losers easy targets. She liked beating the crap out of those stupid people. Her mother was homeless, and God only knew where she’d ended up. Being raised among an endless string of deadbeats had made Nora Belle angry. Going after these people gave her something to do and helped release some frustrations. Mostly, it was just plain fun.

She walked up to the little girl and yanked her thumb out of her mouth. “What’s your name?”

“Leah.”

“How old are you?”

“Four.” She held up four fingers as if that fucking confirmed it.

“OK, Leah, what do you want? Why are you staring at me like that?”

Thumb went back in her mouth. Tiny shoulder came up in a half shrug.

And then Nora Belle got an idea. “Hey, want to play a game?”

Suck. Suck. Suck.

That’s all the kid knew how to do.

Fucking idiot, like her father.

She clamped a hand around the kid’s shoulder and said, “Come on—we’ll get something to eat and then go in the other room and play some games. It’ll be fun. I have all night.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

It was the next afternoon, and Kitally had just had another door slammed in her face. Not exactly the friendliest neighborhood she’d ever visited. After heading back to the car, she climbed in behind the wheel and drove farther down the road looking for Hayley until she caught sight of her talking to a teenager playing basketball with a friend.

Hayley was still pissed off at Lizzy for doing a half-assed job with Bennett. Kitally, on the other hand, wasn’t angry with Lizzy at all. She was just relieved that she hadn’t stepped over the line. It was true that they would need to keep a vigilant eye on Bennett—make sure he didn’t know who his attackers were and keep him from doing any more harm before justice was served. But as far as Kitally was concerned, that didn’t include killing the man.

Right now, though, here they were, back in West Sac, looking for the Ghost. They had driven back to the neighborhood Salma said the Ghost used to haunt. They were going door-to-door, hoping someone would know something about her whereabouts.

Kitally was losing hope. But not Hayley. After being so close to nabbing the Ghost and then losing her in the mall, Hayley was more determined than ever to find her.

After Hayley finished talking to the teenager, she climbed into the car and said, “Let’s go.”

“Did you get a name?”

“Nope, but I have an idea.”

Kitally didn’t like the look in her eye. “What is it?”

“Me and you,” she said, “are going to be homeless for a while.”

“Seriously?”

“It’ll be fun,” Hayley said. “Like camping out.”

“It could take weeks to catch her. Maybe months.”

“I don’t think so. The Ghost seems to make an appearance at least twice a week. I don’t think she does what she does because she wants whatever these people have. I think she has a problem with homeless people. If we put ourselves in her path, she’ll find us.”

“How will you know where she’ll hit next?”

“I got another call from the shopkeeper who keeps me updated on what’s happening on the streets. Oftentimes, he mentions a homeless woman named Naomi Griffiths. I’ve talked to the woman before. She says the Ghost has it in for her. Our best bet will be to stick close to Naomi.”

Kitally scratched her head where a bullet had grazed her scalp during the shooting the day of Lizzy’s wedding. The wound had healed, but it still itched. “There’s got to be an easier way to catch this person.”

“Well, I’m moving out there tonight. You don’t have to come.”

“No, I’ll come. I’m not going to let you go out there by yourself.”

Hayley was searching through the garage at Kitally’s house for a sleeping bag and anything else she might find useful on the streets when Lizzy approached her.

“I know you’re pissed off at me,” she said, “but I need your help with something.”

“Why don’t you ask Kitally or Jessica?”

“This is something only you can do. I’ve seen how well you can draw. It has to be you.”

“How long will it take?”

“The woman lives in Newcastle. So I’ll need you for a couple of hours at least.”

“When do you plan to do this?”

“Right now.”

Forty-five minutes later, they were sitting at the kitchen table inside Kathryn Church’s house. Hayley had a sketch pad and pencil ready to go. The woman made everyone hot tea and then took a seat at the head of the table. Her hair was pinned high on her head. Dark circles framed her eyes. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week.

“Where should I start?” Kathryn asked.

“First of all,” Hayley said, “how old was Zachary the last time you saw him?”

“He was eighteen, a senior in high school. I was seventeen.”

“Great. It would be helpful for me to start off with the shape of his face.”

“Normal,” she offered.

“How about this,” Hayley said. “I’ll give you a few choices, and then you pick the closest thing to how you picture him in your mind’s eye.”

“OK.”

Lizzy was sitting at the table, too, but she appeared to be far, far away. Hayley found herself feeling bad for giving her shit, and yet she wasn’t sure why she should feel bad about it. Lizzy had needed to make a decision and stick to it for once in her life. She liked to ramble on about how they needed to be safe and not get caught, and yet they had all put themselves in danger of being exposed last night. And for what?

The clink of a teacup pulled Hayley back to the matter at hand. “OK,” Hayley said, “would you describe his face as round, square, thin, or heart shaped?”

“Heart shaped, I guess. Or maybe more like an egg. Yes, he had an egg-shaped face.”

“That’s great.” Hayley began to sketch. When she was done with that, she looked up at Kathryn again. “Do you remember anything about his eyes?”

“Oh, yes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and his certainly were. His eyes were gray-blue. Intense-looking eyes. When he looked at you, it was as if he were sucking you in. Pure seduction. When he looked at me, I couldn’t look away. Magnetic. That’s the word I would use to describe his eyes.”

Wow
, Hayley thought. She wondered if Lizzy realized Kathryn had feelings for Zachary Tucker. “That’s really great,” Hayley told her, “but now I need some details. For instance, were his eyes set far apart or close together? Were they deeply set?”

She shook her head. “None of those things. All in all, he had a very symmetrical face. Nose where it should be. Eyes, too—not round or narrow, either, but normal,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m no help at all.”

“No, this is good. I won’t make his eyes too large or too small. Let’s talk about his nose. Was it crooked or straight—”

“Straight,” she blurted out before Hayley could finish. “And he had generous lips. And firm. A handsome face, overall; no doubt about it.”

“What about his ears?”

She tilted her head as she thought about it. “He had a good amount of thick dark-brown hair that covered his ears, but his hair wasn’t too long when I knew him. It touched low on his neck and had a slight curl to it. I never saw his ears peeking out, so I would guess normal-sized ears that were flat to his head.”

Hayley sketched as the woman talked. More details shook loose as she went—a wide jaw, a sharp chin. Bright, even teeth. The image that was appearing on paper would certainly be considered by most to be a good-looking man, but the guy in the picture could be just about anybody. At last she handed the drawing to Kathryn and said, “What do you think?”

The woman put a hand to her chest right over her heart. “My goodness. It looks like Zachary.”

Lizzy examined the picture. It clearly bummed her out that she didn’t recognize him. “He looks nothing like Jovan Massing,” she told Hayley.

“Who is Jovan Massing?” Kathryn asked.

“He’s the FBI’s number one suspect at the moment.” Lizzy handed the picture back to Kathryn and asked her to make sure there was nothing else that needed to be tweaked, and then she looked at Hayley and said, “Great work. This was no simple crush you had on Zachary,” Lizzy said to Kathryn. “You’re
still
in love with him, aren’t you?”

That took Hayley completely by surprise. She hadn’t thought Lizzy was paying any attention at all.

Kathryn’s eyes brimmed with tears. Unable to find her voice, she nodded instead.

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“Because if he did kill his sister,” she managed, “what would that make me? Over the years, I tried to convince myself that my
imagination had gotten the best of me. As I came to know Zach
ary, I chose to believe he could never harm anyone. He was good to his family pets, and he doted on his parents. He was good to me, too.”

“Did he know you were in love with him?”

“I don’t know. Probably. I think Zachary knew all the girls at school were in love with him. Like I said, he had magnetism. He could have had any woman he wanted.”

“Did he date anyone?”

“No. Not that I know of.”

“Do you think he preferred the same sex?”

“I don’t think so. It never once crossed my mind. I think he liked the girls to know he was single and yet they couldn’t have him. I don’t know for sure; it’s just the feeling I got back then.”

“Sorry to break things up,” Hayley said, “but if we’re done here, I need to get going.”

Lizzy thanked Kathryn, and they all walked to the door.

When Lizzy got to the car, she looked back at Kathryn with a flash of concern, hoping the woman would stay safe until they found Zachary.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Hayley and Kitally found Naomi Griffiths searching through a Dumpster outside a grocery store off Ahern.

“Naomi,” Hayley called out. “I brought you some food.”

The woman turned, and recognition lit up her face. “Thank you, Jesus. I’m starved.” She might’ve been in her forties or early fifties, but she looked much older.

As they watched her eat a hamburger from a fast-food chain, Hayley told Naomi their plan. They wanted her to do exactly what she always did each evening, but for the next few nights they were going to stay close by and keep an eye on her.

After Naomi finished eating, she spent most of the night talking, telling them her story. It was, no surprise, a sad one. It all started in 2009 when she was laid off from her job as an administrative assistant. She was working for the state, and she had all kinds of great ideas about retiring someday, putting her face to the sun and watching her grandkids a few times a week. But the state budget had become strained, and she was one of the first to be laid off. She hadn’t been worried, though. She’d saved some money and was confident she’d be able to find another job quickly. But it didn’t happen that way. A week became a month, and a month became years. She lost her apartment. Her daughters lived in other states and had problems of their own.

And yet Naomi still had hope that someday she would find a way to get out of this mess and find a job. Most of the women she knew on the streets had been abused and had nowhere to go.

At a little past eleven, Naomi had fallen asleep in a doorway down the alley from them. It was one in the morning now, and the sky was lit up with stars.

“I’m freezing,” Kitally said.

Hayley sat up in her sleeping bag, pulled her sweatshirt off over her head, and handed it to Kitally.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not cold. Take it.”

“Thanks.” Kitally slipped it on over the rest of her clothes. Then she rubbed warmth into her arms and snuggled deep into her sleeping bag, trying to get comfortable.

Hayley hunkered down. It wouldn’t do any good if the Ghost came by and saw them chatting.

“Any sign of her?” Kitally asked.

“Nope.”

“Any sign of life at all out there?”

“Just the stars and the moon.”

Kitally peeked out. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Hmm,” Hayley said with a nod.

“Are you still mad at Lizzy?”

“Yeah, a little. She put us all in danger without any thought to what she was doing. Her actions were shortsighted and she acted on emotion. Big mistake.”

They were quiet after that, lost in their own thoughts until they both drifted off to sleep.

It was after ten the next morning when Lizzy made her way downstairs to the office. Nobody was around.

She opened the blinds to let the sunlight in, then took a seat at the desk. It wasn’t the thought of being pregnant that was at the forefront of her mind, although she figured the notion certainly should top her list of concerns. Instead, it was the name Jake Polly that kept repeating itself over and over inside her head. There was something right there within her reach, something that could tie everything together.

But what was it?

Jake Polly was an artist.

He had scratches on his hands.

She found the picture Hayley had drawn and took a closer look. Kathryn was certain Zachary Tucker matched the image to a tee. Other than the nose and longish curly hair, Lizzy guessed Jake Polly did look a little like the man in the drawing. Maybe more than a little. Noses could break and hairstyles could definitely change over the course of twenty years.

Could Zachary Tucker be Jake Polly?

Lizzy doodled on her notepad while she stared at the picture. She wrote the name
Zachary Tucker
and then
Jake Polly
. She then scribbled
jp
and
zt
. She repeated the process using capital letters.

Nothing.

There was nothing particularly “magnetic” about either the man in the picture or Jake Polly in person, but Kathryn had been or still was in love with him, so of course she would think he was magnetic. Hell, the woman hadn’t seen Zachary in twenty years, so how would she know any longer?

Lizzy’s instincts hollered at her to drive to Kathryn’s house
and take a closer look at the note and the rest of the letters Zach
ary Tucker had given Kathryn. She should have asked for the shoe box full of goodies the last time she was there, but she’d really had no reason to do so at the time.

Before Lizzy could decide whether or not to make the drive to Newcastle, Jessica entered the office. A stream of sunlight sliced through the window and made a line across the floor between them. “Good morning,” Jessica said. “Or should I say good afternoon?”

“Either one works,” Lizzy said. “The house was so quiet I thought you had left. What have you been up to? Did you just get up?”

“I spent most of the morning helping Salma with the baby, but then her boyfriend showed up. Joey’s helping her now. I can’t believe she hasn’t named the baby yet. I tossed out a few suggestions, all of which were nixed. After that, I called in for an update on Jovan Massing, left a message for my brother, and then I talked to Magnus.”

“How is Magnus?”

“The same. Stubborn as hell. He thinks he’s holding me back, ruining my life because I chose to live with him and be with him. He calls himself a cripple.” She sighed, shaking her head. “He’s way too hard on himself. It’s difficult to watch at times. He told me he couldn’t do anything on the list I left him, which isn’t true.”

“You left him a list?”

“I do it all the time. The doctors want him to keep active and busy. They want Magnus to challenge himself. And it’s not like the lists are that daunting. Things like getting the mail, watering a few plants, feeding the hamster.”

“You have a hamster?”

“Squeaky wheel and all. It’s supposed to be therapeutic, keep his mind off the pain, but I think the little rodent is mostly just annoying.”

Lizzy did her best to give Jessica her undivided attention, but wasn’t succeeding since she was unable to stop picking at the idea of Jake Polly and Zachary Tucker being one and the same.

“I wonder how Hayley and Kitally are doing out on the streets?” Jessica asked.

“Kitally has her machete and Hayley has her badass attitude. They’ll be fine.”

“Why is Hayley so angry with you?”

“We don’t always see every situation eye to eye, that’s all.”

“What was that list of names I saw, the one you snatched away before I could get a good look at it?”

“Why do I feel as if I’m being interrogated?”

“Maybe because the questions are making you feel uncomfortable.”

“I don’t remember any list.”

Jessica shook her head. “You’re lying.”

Lizzy said nothing.

“Your eye twitches when you lie. It’s the craziest thing, but it happens every time.”

Lizzy shrugged.

“I know you’re all up to something, but I have yet to figure out what it is. I hope you and Hayley haven’t gone and done something irreversible.”

“You worry too much.”

“No, I don’t. You’ve been acting strange, and before I went back to Virginia, you blurted out ‘she’s not a killer.’ Who were you talking about?”

“I don’t remember that particular conversation.”

“I think you’re holding back.”

Lizzy sighed. “There’s nothing going on, Jessica. You have a lot on your plate right now, so don’t try to sniff out trouble where there isn’t any.”

Before she could say another word, Jessica’s phone rang. She snatched it from her waistband and picked up the call. She paced the floor near the door while she listened. The minute she hung up, she said, “I need to borrow your car.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“They found the Massing fellow, and they’re bringing him in for questioning.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lizzy said. “I want to talk to Jimmy.”

“OK, grab what you need, and meet me at the car.”

When Lizzy went to find her purse and coat from the other room, she saw Joey and Salma sitting on the couch playing with their baby girl. They made a cute couple. “Hope,” Lizzy said. “You should name your baby Hope.”

They both looked up at her, but she didn’t have time to stick around. She fished out her keys as she ran through the kitchen. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the note Kitally had left her in case she went to the store for groceries.

And it hit her like a brick to the side of the head.

The note. The note Kathryn had shown her had drawings of his pets in the margins. Next to each drawing were the names of the pets scribbled in hard-to-read writing. The name next to the bird, though, had looked a lot like Polly.

Lizzy pulled out her cell phone and punched in Kathryn’s number as she headed back for her office.

Kathryn answered on the third ring.

“Kathryn, it’s me, Lizzy. I have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

“What were the names of Zachary’s pets? The ones he asked you to care for while he and his parents were away?”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t remember off the top of my head. Let me get the note from my office.”

As Lizzy waited she glanced at the scribblings she’d made on her notepad. Jessica was already in the car, probably antsy as all hell.

“Here it is,” Kathryn said. “Polly, Peter, and Jake.”

“Polly,” Lizzy said. “Jake Polly.”

“What?”

“I think Zachary might have changed his name to Jake Polly.” Lizzy’s gaze fell on the
ZT
and how the letters, when overlapped, looked a lot like the symbol left on many of the Sacramento Strangler’s victims. “You said that you saved every letter and note he ever gave you.”

“I did.”

“Did he ever sign his name with his initials? With the
Z
and the
T
overlapping?”

“Almost always. How did you know?”

“I’ll explain later. Stay safe, Kathryn. Lock your doors, and do not leave your house.”

“I won’t.”

Lizzy hung up the phone and then called her sister.

“Hi, Lizzy. I’m so glad you called. I was just thinking about you, and I thought it would be great if you, Brittany, and I went out and—”

“I’m sorry I have to cut you off,” Lizzy told her sister, “but is Brittany there? I really need to talk to her.”

“No. Remember the art class I told you about? What am I saying? Brittany probably told you all about the class herself when the two of you spent time together the other day.”

“She did,” Lizzy said, trying to remain calm, determined not to let on that something might be wrong. “Where is the class held? I know she told me, but I forgot.”

“Although she’ll be attending Sacramento State, the classes are held at Folsom Lake College. I have the paper right here. You know how I like to know exactly where she is at every minute.”

“I was thinking of stopping by when class ends and surprising her. Jessica is here, and I thought it would be nice for the two of them to get a chance to see each other.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. It’s in the Harris Center for the Arts building. Room 154. The class runs from twelve to three.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know who the instructor is today, would you?”

“No. Sorry. Why would you want to know that?”

“No reason, just being nosy. Jessica has been waiting in the car. I have to go, but I’ll call you later and we’ll set up a date to get together, OK?”

“Sounds good. Say hello to Jessica for me.”

“Will do.”

Lizzy grabbed the notepad and then ran out the door to the car. She jumped in, handed the piece of paper to Jessica, started the engine, and took off before Jessica could bitch about how long she’d taken.

“Whoa. Slow down.”

“No. No. No. Not again.”

“What is it?” Jessica asked.

“You guys have the wrong man. Jake Polly is the killer.”

“Jake Polly?”

“Also known as Zachary Tucker. He paints and he teaches art.”

Jessica didn’t need for Lizzy to spell it out. “Shit,” was all she said. “I hope you’re wrong about this.”

“I’m not. Look at that paper. That’s not some crazy symbol the killer leaves on his victims. It’s a
Z
and a
T
. His initials. That’s all it is.”