The Hangman (The Forgotten Files 3)

“Well, I had a big party to celebrate a new job, and he came by. She had begged him to come and was thrilled when he walked in.”

“Do you have his last name?”

“No. That’s what always bothered me. He was just Jack.”

“Do you have any pictures of him?”

“I might from that party. I’m a scrapbooker, and I know I have stuff from then.”

“May I see it?”

She glanced at her watch. “Sure. Be right back.” She vanished through a set of double doors and was gone less than a couple of minutes when she returned with a bright-red leather-bound book. She laid it on the table and opened it, flipping through detailed pages until she reached the page decorated with balloons and marked “First Real Job.” She tapped on two images. “That’s Rita, and in the other picture is Rita with Jack.”

Novak studied the face of the woman who looked like the one in the driver’s license he’d found with her body. His attention shifted to the boyfriend. He was tall with thick blond hair that brushed his shoulders, but his face was turned partly away, ensuring the camera didn’t catch his face. “Mind if I snap a picture with my phone?”

“Go ahead. And I have the negatives.” After he took a picture she flipped to the back and tugged out a packet of negatives. She found the corresponding strip and handed it to him. “Keep it.”

“Thank you.” He thought about Andrews’s facial recognition scanner. If Jack was in the system, Andrews was the man to find him.

“How did she die?”

“She was struck in the head with a blunt object and perhaps suffocated.”

Unconsciously her fingers rose to her mouth. “That’s terrible.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“It was only a few days after my party. October 30. Funny I should remember that. The rent was due the next day, on Halloween, and she asked if I could cover her portion until the middle of the following week when she was paid. It took every penny I had to do it, but she swore she’d get me the money. She was a waitress in a bar then, and I knew she made good tips and was good for the money.”

“Did she need financial help often?”

“It was always close with her when it came to the rent, but she managed to make it.”

“What was Rita like?”

“Fun girl. When she was around, it was always a party. The guys loved her.”

“Anything else about her boyfriend, Jack?”

“He was nice enough. She catered to him. Did whatever he said. Do you think he killed her?”

“I don’t know. I’m chasing all the leads I can now.”

She frowned. “I did find drugs in the toilet tank after that party. It was the middle of the night. And the toilet wouldn’t stop running. I lifted the lid and found a white bag. I’d never seen the drugs before, but it didn’t take a chemistry degree to figure it out. I asked her about it, but she swore she didn’t know anything. Someone at my party must have stashed it there. When I told her I was calling the cops, she begged me not to. She said she had been arrested before and didn’t know how the cops would take this discovery or who would come after them.”

“What did you do with the drugs?”

“I flushed them down the toilet. I was terrified of having that in my apartment.”

“Did you know about her arrest record?”

“No. I didn’t. In fact, I was really upset about it. I don’t think I’d have roomed with her if I’d known.”

He found the picture of Jim Vargas with a young Julia on his phone and showed it to her. “Did you ever see this guy before?”

“No, but I’ve seen this picture. I remember finding it in her nightstand. It was a few days before she disappeared. It was on her nightstand.”

“Did she ever say who the picture was of?”

“Said it was another guy she was dating and his kid.”

“She was seeing someone else other than Jack?”

“Like I said, the guys liked her.”

“Can you think of anyone else who I can talk to about Rita?”

“She worked at a restaurant called Billy’s. I think it’s still in business.”

“I’ve spoken with the owner. Any other friends?”

“There was one woman named Rene. They went out a lot. But I never got a last name.”

She was the second person to confirm that Rene Tanner and Rita had been friends. He thanked Charlotte for her help, left his card, and slid behind the wheel of his SUV. As he turned the ignition, his phone rang. “Novak.”

“Natasha Warner. I have some forensic results for you.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Novak swung by Natasha’s office. He found her hunched over a shirt laid out on a light table.

“You got something?”

Natasha pushed away from the table. “Found DNA at the Lana Ortega crime scene.”

“And?”

“The DNA we found on the ropes binding Lana Ortega matches DNA on a similar set of ropes you and Julia Vargas brought in. I believe they were found near her residence.”

“Correct, it was a noose left as a calling card for Julia by the back door of Billy’s. Are you sure about the DNA match?”

“I was as surprised as anyone when the system came up with a hit, so I retested. After analyzing your sample and the ones from the Ortega crime scene, I’d say with 90 percent certainty they share the same touch DNA.”

“Does the DNA sample match any already in the CODIS?” CODIS was the FBI criminal justice DNA database.

“No. But I’m confident that the same person handled both sets of rope.”

“Do me a favor. Get these results to a fellow named Garrett Andrews. He works with Shield Security. He’s retesting the ropes from the Hangman cases.”

“That was twenty-five years ago, Novak. Good luck with that.”

“I know. It’s a long shot.” Novak pulled out his phone and texted Andrews’s contact information to Natasha. “Andrews found some hair samples on the clothes of two victims and is retesting.”

“Okay.”

“Have you gotten any hits on the Rita Gallagher crime scene?” Novak asked.

“I pulled several hair fibers from her clothing that don’t belong to her. I found a surprising match.”

“Who?”

“Jim Vargas.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Saturday, November 4, 4:00 p.m.

Julia had made her way back to her place, but was headed out the door again to revisit Ken after his nap when she saw Novak push through the front door of the bar. Oddly, she was glad to see him even though his jaw was clenched. Something was chewing on him.

“Out with it,” she said. “Or you’re going to grind all your teeth out of your head.”

A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Am I that obvious?”

“You are. What happened?”

“The DNA on the rope that you

found in the back alley behind Billy’s matches DNA found on the ropes binding Lana Ortega’s body.”

Any lightness was crushed under the weight of worry and anger. “I suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I’ve asked Natasha Warner to get with Andrews and compare DNA notes. I want to know if the same killer is at work on both ends of the timeline. If so, your father is innocent. If not, a copycat can kill you just as easily as the original killer.”

Acknowledging her fear would do her no good. “Of course.”

He moved to within a foot of her. He wore a subtle aftershave that she’d come to associate with him. He knew he’d put a lot on her plate, and yet she sensed there was more.

“Hit me with both barrels,” she said. “I know there’s another shoe to drop.”

“A thumbprint was pulled from the inside of Rita Gallagher’s pendant. It belongs to your father.”

She studied him without any hint of emotion. “And?”

“I also found Rita Gallagher’s roommate, Charlotte. I showed her the picture we found in Rita’s purse. The picture of you and your father.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

She looked around the bar that had once felt so familiar and safe to her. Now she felt exposed, vulnerable. “I’m fighting blind, and I know time is running out before he kills again.” She hated hearing her voice crack with emotion.

He nodded toward the door. “Get in my car.”

“Why?”

“A time-out.”

“A what?”

“A break.”

“We can take a break upstairs,” she said.

“Somewhere else,” he said. “Neutral territory.”

She didn’t have the reserves to argue. “Sure.”

In his car, she didn’t pay much attention to where they were going. He didn’t speak, and neither did she. They ended up in a suburban neighborhood populated by houses that weren’t large but looked solid and well kept. Novak parked in front of a two-story white colonial. The yard was neatly trimmed and the leaves raked. Nothing fancy about the gardens, but the beds were edged and mulched.

“Where are we?” she asked.