The Trophy Exchange (24 page)

Twenty-Five

Not one light
–
not even the one
i
n the porch
–
welcomed Ted back home that night. As his headlights swung across the grass, they caught sight of formless lumps in the lawn. Curious, Ted grabbed his flashlight to check them out on
hi
s way inside.

The beam of light landed on a pair of boxer shorts, then a T-shirt, th
e
n a half dozen pairs of rolled
-
up socks. He scanned the beam in an arc across the whole yard. Items of his clothing were everywhere. No doubt about it, he thought, Ellen is pissed.

He gathered up an armload and figured the rest could wait until morning. He tried to slide his house key into the door lock but couldn
’
t get it to go in. He turned the key over and tried again. Still, it would not slide in. He set down the bundle of clothing in his arms and shone the flashlight on the ring of keys in his hand. He was certain he had the right key, but tried another one anyway. No luck. None with the third key either.

He heard a window slide up and turned toward it.
“
Hey, Dad,
”
Pete said.

“
Hey, Pete. Could you come to the door? I can
’
t get my key to work.
”

“
Mom told us not to, Dad.
”

“
What?
”

“
She changed the locks and said we weren
’
t allowed to let you in.
”

“
You
’
re kidding, right?
”

“
I wish, Dad. She threw your clothes out in the yard, too.
”

“
Yeah, I kinda noticed that.
”

“
I
’
m sorry, Dad.
”

“
That
’
s
okay
, son. Why don
’
t you go back to sleep?
”

“
Dad?
”

“
Yes, Pete.
”

“
She got those locks that lock both ways.
”

“
What do you mean Pete?
”

“
Like you need a key to unlock it from the inside, too. Or else I
’
d let you in.
”

“
You don
’
t want to disobey your mother, Pete.
”

“
I don
’
t care, Dad. This is your house, too. I
’
d let you in but I don
’
t have the key.
”

“
That
’
s
okay
, Pete. Don
’
t you worry about a thing. Go on back to bed. I
’
ll be fine. Don
’
t worry about me. O
kay
?
”

“
Sure, Dad. I love you.
”

“
Love you, too, son.
”

Ted scooped up the armload of clothing he
’d
dropped on the porch and carried them back to his car. He opened the trunk and set them inside. He grabbed the emergency blanket and, leaving the trunk open, tossed it into his back seat. He
’
d sleep there overnight.

He went back to the yard to gather more clothing. He transferred a second load to the trunk and was starting on the third when he spotted his black suit in a plastic dry-cleaning bag. He hated that suit. He
’
d only worn it one time
–
the day he went to his baby
’
s funeral. He fell to his knees beside it and sobbed. He collapsed forward and beat his fists on the grass.
“
Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Why did you take our baby? Why?
”
He raged against God and beat his fists until they were sore. He wanted to stop but he couldn
’
t. His anger, his sorrow, his grief over his baby
’
s death, his wife
’
s rejection and his life choices crashed down on him in the darkness of his front lawn. In the space of one day, he ceased being a resident and turned into a visitor
to
his own home.

A pair of headlights from a passing car hit his eyes and he rose. He climbed to the back seat of his car and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. He squirmed around seeking the least uncomfortable position in the cramped back
seat. Satisfied that he
had
found the highest level of comfort possible, he closed his eyes. Before he could fall asleep, his cellphone rang.

Twenty-Six

Lucinda stumbled into her apartment and faced the wrath of Chester. He was hungry and she was late. She opened a can of tuna with egg bits and set the whole thing beside his bowl. He eyeballed her with the look worthy of Miss Manners and then dug in.

Lucinda was hungry, too, but far too tired to fix anything to eat. She pulled a bottle of Pinot Grigio out of the refrigerator and poured a glass. As it filled, she slipped the shoes off her feet. She left them in the kitchen and padded back to the bedroom.

She sipped on the wine as she undressed and slid into an oversized T-shirt. She snuggled into bed. She was asleep before the glass was empty.

When her phone rang, she slammed her alarm clock twice before she realized it wasn
’
t the source of the obnoxious noise. With her eye still closed, she picked up the telephone receiver.
“
Yes. What is it?
”

It was Lieutenant Cummings, another
H
omicide detective from her department.
“
Pierce, I
’
ve got a situation here that looks something like your guy, but then it doesn
’
t. I thought you might want to come take a look.
”

It was as if someone
had
slammed a needle straight to the heart. A rush of adrenaline surged through every cell in her body
–
her wakefulness instantaneous.
“
What
’
s the same about it?
”
she asked.

“
One victim
–
strangled, smashed face, stretched out neatly on the floor.
”

Lucinda shot to her feet. She hit the speakerphone button and pulled the T-shirt over her head.

“
And didn
’
t someone spot your guy in a hooded sweatshirt?
”
Cummings asked.

“
Sure did,
”
Lucinda said buttoning her blouse.

“
We
’
ve got a witness
–
a woman who looked out from the house next door. She saw a man wearing a hooded sweatshirt climb out of the bedroom window on the side of the house.
”

Lucinda
’
s fingers froze on the bottom button.
“
Did she see his face?
”

“
Yep, we got her working with the forensic artist right now.
”

The racing of Lucinda
’
s heart kicked up another notch.
“
Incredible. That
’
s the best news I
’
ve heard in days.
”

“
Don
’
t get too excited, Pierce. I
’
m not convinced this was your guy.
”

“
Why not?
”
Lucinda asked as she wiggled into a skirt.

“
It
’
s a triple homicide.
”

“
Three people killed?
”

“
Yes. And one of them is a little girl.
”

“
Damn. All the same MO?
”

“
No. It doesn
’
t look like it. Want to come on down?
”

“
Where are you?
”

“
1204 Linden St.
”

“
I
’
m on my way.
”
Lucinda slid on her holster, gun and suit jacket. She looked around for her shoes for a few seconds before she remembered she
’d
left them in the kitchen. She grabbed her cellphone, retrieved her shoes and speed
-
dialed Ted on her way to the car.
“
We
’
ve got a triple homicide that looks like our guy. You want to meet me there?
”

“
A triple?
”

“
Yeah.
”

“
Holy crap.
”

“
See you there?
”
she asked.

“
On my way.
”

Lucinda pulled into a neighborhood dominated by ranch houses built in the 60s. She didn
’
t need to look for the correct street number. The house in question was obvious
–
the unearthly glow of artificial light illuminated just one home
.
making it stand out from the rest. It was the middle of the night but the commotion at the crime scene stirred up the whole block. Clusters of neighbors scattered throughout nearby yards outside the perimeter of the yellow tape. She parked behind the crime
-
scene RV.

She peered over to the side of the house where lights on poles lit up a small army of Tyvek-suited bodies busy at work. She slid out of her car. She
’
d taken only two steps from her vehicle when she heard,
“
Lieutenant Pierce.
”

She turned toward the voice and noticed a TV camera pointed in her direction. She turned away and scurried under the tape into the yard where Ted awaited her arrival.

More media voices hollered her name
,
their intensity and repetition turned into a hum that sounded like a medieval incantation in Lucinda
’
s ears. She gave no sign that she heard them as she walked up the steps, donned a pair of gloves and pulled Tyvek booties over her shoes.

Two men in coroner
’
s office overalls waited in the living room beside a stretcher.
“
I
’
ll be as quick as I can, guys,
”
Lucinda said as she walked past them.

“
Thanks, Lieutenant,
”
they responded in unison.

She took great care as she stepped around the two bodies in the hall with Ted on her heels. The sight of the little girl churned up the wine in her stomach like a vat of boiling acid. She swallowed hard to keep from losing it.

In the bedroom, she crouched down by the woman
’
s body. She saw it right away.
“
Ted, look,
”
she said pointing at the woman
’
s head. A gold and lapis lazuli earring adorned one ear lobe.
“
It
’
s him.
”

She looked up and hollered to the lieutenant who
’d
called her to the scene.
“
Cummings?
”

“
Yep, Pierce?
”

“
Did you find another earring like this one anywhere?
”

“
No. Come into the bathroom and look at this.
”

Lucinda maneuvered around the bodies and went across the hallway and to Lieutenant Cummings
’
side.

“
It looks like she
’
d just taken a shower,
”
Cummings said.
“
The walls are still wet in the shower area and there
’
s a damp towel on the floor.
”
He pointed to the pair of earrings, watch and bracelet sitting on a shelf.
“
It looks like she took those pieces off before she got in the shower. So why would she be wearing one earring that doesn
’
t match this other stuff at all?
”

“
It
’
s our guy, Cummings.
”

“
That earring
’
s missing from the last scene?
”

“
Yeah. But what did he take from here? Did she have a necklace or something else that matched these pieces?
”

“
Don
’
t have a clue, Pierce. But let me show you something the coroner pointed out.
”

They crowded into the hallway by the two bodies. The sight of the little girl drove bile into Lucinda
’
s throat again.

“
See the white band of skin on his wrist,
”
Cummings said as he pointed.
“
Coroner thinks he might have been wearing a watch.
”

“
Interesting,
”
Lucinda said.
“
What did he say about the means of death?
”

“
He thinks the woman was strangled before her face was smashed in. The man had blunt force trauma to his head before death, but his death was caused by ligature strangulation from behind. The little girl, though, was not strangled. She died from blunt force trauma to the head. That
’
s what he thinks here. Said he can confirm that at autopsy.
”

“
Why did he kill these two?
”
Lucinda thought but didn
’
t realize she
’
d spoken out loud until Cummings answered her.

“
I think they surprised him. There
’
s a set of keys under the male victim
’
s body as if he
’
d just used them to unlock the front door.
”