1st to Die (Women's Murder Club 1)

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to go through him,” I said, without conveying the basis of my interest.

I leaned forward. “How do I get my hands on a copy of that novel, without going to Jenks directly?”

“Joanna didn’t save it?” Marks rubbed a finger across his temple. “Jenks was always paranoid about people ripping him off. Maybe he had it copyrighted. Why don’t you check into that?”

I needed to run this by someone.

I needed to run it by the girls.

“Do you want to hear something really scary about Jenks?” the agent said then.

“Please, go ahead.”

“Here’s the idea for a book he always wanted to write. It’s about a novelist who is obsessed — the kind of thing Stephen King does so well. In order to write a better book, a great book, he actually murders people to see what it’s like. Welcome to the horrible mind of Nicholas Jenks.”

Chapter 81

THIS WAS WHY I had become a homicide detective. I rushed back to the office, my head whirling with how to get my hands on this lost book, when the next bombshell hit.

It was McBride.

“Are you sitting?” he asked, as if he were about to deliver the coup de grace. “Nicholas Jenks was here in Cleveland. The night of the Hall of Fame murders. The son of a bitch was here.”

Jenks had lied right to my face. He hadn’t even blinked.

It was now clear; the unidentifiable man at the Hall of Fame had been him after all. He had no alibi.

McBride explained how his men had scoured the local hotels. Finally, they uncovered that Jenks had been at the Westin, and amazingly, he had registered under his own name. A desk clerk working there that night remembered him. She knew it the minute she saw Jenks — she was a fan.

My mind raced with the ramifications. This was all McBride needed. They had a prior relationship with the victim, a possible sighting at the scene. Now Jenks was placed in his town. He had even lied under questioning.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to the district attorney for an indictment,” McBride announced. “As soon as we have it, I want you to pick Nicholas Jenks up.”

The truth hit me like a sledgehammer. We could lose him to Cleveland. All the evidence, all those right hunches, wouldn’t help us. Now we might only be able to tag on a concurrent life sentence at a second trial. The Brandts and the Weils, the DeGeorges and the Passeneaus would be crushed. Mercer would go ballistic.

I was left with an absolutely demoralizing choice: Either pick Jenks up and hold him for McBride, or make our move now with less than an airtight case.

I should run this up the ladder, the voice sounded in my head.

But the voice in my heart said run it by the girls.

Chapter 82

I GOT THEM TOGETHER on an hour’s notice. “Cleveland’s ready to indict,” I told them. Then I dropped the bombshell about the book Always a Bridesmaid.

“You’ve got to find it,” Jill declared. “It’s the one link we can tie in to all three crimes. Given that it was unpublished, it’s as good as exclusive knowledge of the killings. It might even parallel the actual crimes. You find that book, Lindsay, we put Jenks behind bars. Forever!”

“How? Joanna Wade mentioned a prior agent, and I went to see him. Nada. He said check out the office of copyrights. Where is that?”

Cindy shook her head. “Washington, I think.” “That’ll take days, or more. We don’t have days.” I turned to Jill. “Maybe it’s time for a search warrant. Blow in on Jenks. We need the gun and the book. And we need them now.”

“We do that,” Jill said nervously, “we might bungle this whole investigation.”

“Jill, you want to lose him?”

“Anyone know about this yet?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Just the first team — you guys. But when Mercer finds out, he’ll want to jump in with everything he has. Cameras, microphones, the FBI waiting in the wings.”