alive right now is that the killer doesn’t know she exists. If you place that little girl in state custody, you’ll leave a bureaucratic trail behind her-a paper trail that can be followed or a computer trail that can be hacked. People who want that kind of information know it’s there to be had for a price.
“Whoever killed those four people at Komelik tonight did so in cold blood and without a moment’s hesitation. That means they won’t think twice about coming back to take out an eyewitness, either, even a four-year-old eyewitness, and they’ll do whatever it takes to find her.”
“You think so?” Delia asked.
“Absolutely,” Brian said.
Delia thought about that for a while. Finally she sighed. “All right then, Detective Fellows,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do, and I appreciate your help.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And I hope you catch whoever did this,” she said. “The People need you to catch him.”
Brian Fellows nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I understand.”
And he did.
Ten
San Diego, California
Saturday, June 6, 2009, 10:00 p.m.
58? Fahrenheit
Once Corrine Lapin had placed the 911 call, she felt as though she had done everything she could do. She watched TV for a while, but then she went to bed, leaving her cell phone on the bedside table next to her just in case someone did call her back. Sometime after one in the morning, when she was deep in sleep, the musical ring tone roused her.
“Ms. Lapin, please,” an officious woman’s voice said.
“This is she,” Corrine answered. “Who is this? Are you calling about my sister?”
There was a momentary pause before the woman replied. “Yes, I am. My name is Detective Mumford,” she said. “Detective Alexandra Mumford with the Thousand Oaks PD. I’m afraid I have some very bad news.”
Corrine’s heart began to hammer wildly in her chest. “Don’t tell me something’s happened to them!” she breathed.
“After your 911 call was forwarded to our department, we dispatched a patrol car to do a welfare check,” Detective Mumford continued. “No one came to the door, but when officers went around to the side of the house, they were able to see what appeared to be signs of foul play.”
“Foul play,” Corrine echoed. “Are you saying…?”
“I’m afraid the people we found inside the residence are all deceased, Ms. Lapin.” Alex Mumford’s voice was sympathetic but firm. “They have been for several days.”
“Deceased?” It was only by repeating the words that Corrine was able to make sense of what was being said. “You’re telling me they’re dead? That can’t be true. All of them-all four of them?”
“So far we’ve located only three victims,” Detective Mumford said. “Four if you count the dog. An adult female and two children, a boy and a girl, and a dog.”
That was astounding. The people were all dead, and Major, too? He was Esther’s beloved beagle. Until Esther had real kids, Major had been like a child to her. She loved that dog to distraction, and he loved her. Naturally Jonathan had despised the dog.
Thinking those thoughts, Corrine started to cry, but then she realized Detective Mumford was still speaking to her, asking a question. “… where he might be?”
“Where who might be?” Corrine asked raggedly, pulling herself together.
“Mr. Southard,” Detective Mumford said. “Your brother-in-law. It’s possible that he’s a victim of foul play, too, but…”
Corrine stopped crying, her tears transformed into a flood of fury and anger. “He did this, didn’t he!” she declared.
She threw off the sheet, scrambled out of bed, and groped for the light switch. She punched the speakerphone button so she could still hear the detective’s voice as she began pulling on clothes.
“That no-good son of a bitch did this to them! He killed them all and left them to rot. How did they die?”
“There’s evidence of gunshot wounds. A single wound to the head of each of the human victims. The dog was shot twice. He was found next to the adult female. There was blood on his muzzle. My guess is the dog was trying to protect her, and he may even have succeeded in biting the assailant before he was killed. We’ll be running tests on him as well, hoping to find DNA evidence that will help identify the assailant.”
Corrine’s hands shook as she pulled a T-shirt on over her head-a Disneyland T-shirt. She had bought matching shirts for all of them when she and Esther had taken the kids there for spring break. But that was another time and place, forever banished to the past. She was no longer crying. She would not cry. She wouldn’t give Jonathan Southard the satisfaction.
“We’ll need some information from you,” Detective Mumford said. “And if you can handle it, a positive ID would also be helpful. That’s going to be tough, though. As I said, they’ve been dead for a while. So there’s some decomposition.”
Corrine threw her purse strap over her shoulder and grabbed the car keys off the counter.
“How long have they been dead?” she said. Her voice cracked as she asked the question.
“The M.E. will have to make a final determination on time of death,” the detective said. “I’d say they’d been there for a day or two, maybe even several. The air-conditioning is turned up to the max, so it’s hard to tell.”
The idea that Esther and Timmy and Suzy had been lying there dead for days was utterly unthinkable! Yes, there had been problems in the marriage. With an arrogant jerk like Jonathan Southard, that was a given. And yes, Esther had talked to Corrine about divorcing him. That was something she and Esther had discussed in the hotel room at Disneyland late at night when the kids were safely asleep. What kind of animal would kill his family instead of giving his wife a divorce?
No, Corrine thought, correcting herself. Jonathan Southard isn’t good enough to be called an animal. That was unfair to Major.
“I’m on my way,” Corrine said. “I’m driving up from San Diego. I don’t know how long it will take at this time of night.”
“Excuse me, Ms. Lapin, but under the circumstances, are you certain you should make that trip by yourself?” Detective Mumford asked. “It might be a good idea to have someone else come along to do the driving.”
“No,” Corrine said. “It’s the middle of the night. I’m not going to wake up someone else. I’ll be fine.”
And Corrine Lapin was fine-fine but furious. As she drove, she thought about calling their parents. They were on a Baltic cruise right then. She could probably reach them on a ship-to- shore call, but she couldn’t remember how many hours ahead they were. Besides, she didn’t want to throw them into turmoil until she knew for sure, until there had been a positive identification. There would be time enough then to call them then to deliver the devastating news.
Corrine drove like a bat out of hell in almost zero traffic and with no enforcement. She arrived at Esther’s house at five o’clock in the morning to find a collection of police vehicles and medical examiner vans still blocking the street. The porch light was on, and lights shone in every window.
Corrine bounded out of her car and started forward at a run as two attendants wheeled a loaded gurney-a gurney with an adult-size body bag-down the sidewalk toward a waiting van. Half a block from the house a uniformed police officer barred the way.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, holding up his hand. “You can’t come any closer. Police business.”
“I’ve got to get through,” she said frantically. “That’s my sister’s house. Call Detective Mumford. She knows I’m coming. I’m here to do the ID.”
The cop spoke into a police radio as another attendant carrying a small wrapped bundle emerged from the house. Moments later a woman walked out the front door and strode purposefully across the front yard.
