Out of the car, the two crossed the lot to the construction trailer, where they found two men. The one behind the desk was midthirties and wore a white shirt and dark pants that hung loose on his thin frame. The other was burly, midfifties, and sporting a gray crew cut and a dozen tattoos.
The men looked at the cops, and both stopped talking.
Novak pulled out his badge and introduced Julia and himself. “Looking for Brad Gallagher.”
The older man stiffened. “That’s me. What’s the problem?”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about your sister, Rita.”
“Rita? She took off a long time ago.”
“We found her body earlier this week,” Novak said.
The second man looked at Gallagher. “I’ll give you three privacy.”
“Thanks, boss.” When the trailer door closed behind him, Gallagher frowned. “What do you mean, earlier this week? Where was she?”
“Entombed in a basement. Appears she was murdered twenty-five years ago. When’s the last time you saw her?” Julia asked.
“Early ’92.”
“We’re trying to figure out who she might have been associated with,” Novak said.
“Rita wanted to be rich, loved, and famous. And she’d do anything for any man who promised her any of those.”
“Do you know who she was seeing?”
“She was running with a dangerous group. Russians. I told her to stay clear, but she just laughed.”
“Popov?” Novak asked.
“Maybe. I stayed as far away from those people as I could.” He rubbed his hand over his head. “One of the last times I saw her, she was excited. She’d been given an important job, she said.”
“What kind of job?” Novak asked.
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. But said she’d be set after it was done.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe she’s been dead all this time.”
“We also hear there was a guy named Jack.”
“I don’t remember him.” He drew in a breath, his frown deepening. “How did she die?”
“I can’t say right now,” Novak said. “Anybody you know who would want to hurt her?”
Gallagher shook his head. “It was a matter of time with Rita.”
“What do you mean?” Julia asked.
“She was hot-looking and fun. She wasn’t smart, but she was ambitious. Not a great combination. My guess is she finally crossed the wrong guy.”
The Hangman stood on the street corner watching Billy’s bar. The half-moon hung in the sky, and the stars were bright and sharp. The air had turned colder, and according to the weatherman it was supposed to drop into the low twenties in the next few days. He liked the cold, the promised stillness of the coming winter.
The first and second floors above Billy’s were dark, but a single light shone on the third floor. He knew that was Julia’s room. She was up late, working on her investigation. Tenacious. Dangerous. So much to admire. Even respect. But if he didn’t act soon, she’d ferret him out of the shadows and destroy him.
Something inside of him itched to go to her and drag her from her room. He’d dreamed for months of wrapping his ropes around her soft skin and tightening the knots until she thrashed in pain and despair.
The sooner he placed her on exhibit, the sooner he’d know his secrets were safe. But now was not the right time for her to die.
“Can’t rush this one,” he whispered.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Friday, November 3, 8:00 a.m.
Julia’s alarm ripped her from the grip of a nightmare. When she startled awake, her heart was racing and her hands trembled as she searched for the blood she expected to see dripping from her fingertips. When she found none, her mind cleared, and flexing her fingers, she took a deep breath to steady herself.
She grabbed her phone and shut off the alarm. She checked the time. Lana Ortega’s autopsy was scheduled for nine thirty. Good. She hadn’t overslept.
Julia looked to the other side of her bed. She was sorry Novak wasn’t there and also relieved he’d not witnessed the nightmare. It was one thing for him to suspect she might have issues; another to see it up close and personal.
Out of bed, she hurried into the bathroom and turned on the shower. When she stepped under the hot spray, she allowed the water to wash away the night sweats and the dream’s lingering hold. She’d had this dream too many times, but it still took its toll. She prayed that solving the Hangman case would end it. If not, she wasn’t sure what she’d do next.
Out of the shower, she dressed, fluffing her wet hair with her hands as she glanced in the mirror. Reflected back was a pale face with dark circles under her eyes. Extra concealer and blush covered both reasonably well, creating a refreshed look even if she didn’t feel it.
While bread and cheese toasted in the oven, she clipped on her badge and weapon. When the oven dinged, she dropped the toast onto a paper towel, grabbed her purse, and headed out the back door. She paused at the top of the staircase and stared out over the alley, searching for any trouble. The morning was quiet and cold. Only then did she climb down the stairs and into her SUV.
She’d worked too late again last night. When she’d finally turned off her light at 1:00 a.m., her mind refused to settle. Ripe ground for the dream.
As she hurried toward her day, thoughts of Lana and their first meeting chased her. Julia had been working her first shift as a bartender at Benny’s bar.
Lana was wearing tight silk pants, a black tank top, and high-heeled boots. Bangles jangling on her wrists and her perfume strong and spicy, she strutted into the bar. A few of the men tossed a look at her round backside, but no one did more than nod. She was Benny’s, and no man was fool enough to poach.
“You’re new here,” Lana said.
Julia wore extra eye makeup, a fitted muscle T-shirt, and snug jeans. “The name is Jules, and I fill in when they need me.”
Lana’s hard gaze traveled quickly as she assessed Julia. “How old are you, Jules?”
“Thirty-two.”
That softened her frown. “You’re old.”
Julia laughed. “One foot in the grave.” This close, she could see beyond the makeup to the face of a young woman who would get chewed up and spit out by this life like so many before her. “I keep my walker behind the bar.”
Lana laughed. “You’re funny.”
“It pays to have a sense of humor when you’re old.”
“Can you make a pink cosmo? The last bartender couldn’t.”
“I can.” Julia squeezed lime into a silver shaker along with cranberry juice, Cointreau, and vodka. She shook it up and poured it into a martini glass. She placed a napkin on the bar and set the glass on top of it.
Lana’s long fingers and red nails wrapped around the glass’s stem, and she slowly raised the drink to her lips. “Very good.”
“With age comes experience.”
“I have plenty of experience, and I’m young.”
“I can see you know what you’re doing.”
“By the time I’m your age, I’ll be rich and living on a beach.”
“A solid plan. How’re you going to do it?”
“Benny is going to see how smart I am, and he’s going to put me to work.”
“Sounds like he’s lucky to have you.”
“He is.”
Benny’s office door opened, and he searched the bar until he saw Lana. He snapped his fingers, and she immediately set down the drink. Her smile widened, and she hurried toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He squeezed her bottom as he closed the door. There were other men also in his office. Julia wondered if the kid would see twenty-one, let alone thirty-two.
Julia ate as she walked from her vehicle the couple of blocks to the medical examiner’s office. By the time she arrived, Novak was already gowned up and Dr. Kincaid and Tessa were standing at the head of the gurney in front of the sheet-clad body.
The trio looked over at her. “Age
nt Vargas,” Dr. Kincaid said. “Welcome.”
“Am I late?” she asked, glancing at the clock.
“No. We’re a little early.”
“Good.”
Dr. Kincaid smiled and made some small talk, but Novak remained silent. He studied Julia, making no attempt to hide his concern. He was picking up somehow that it had been a rough night for her.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t aware of him.
The sex between them had been surprisingly great. She didn’t flinch, push him, or scream in fear, all the reasons she’d avoided intimacy since what had happened in Virginia Beach. He could make her feel like her old self. And when he was in her bed, she always slept soundly with no nightmares, at least so far.
But a few great turns in the sack didn’t mean they were close. The detective thought she was a badass, and she wanted to keep it that way. Allowing him to see her vulnerable was unacceptable.