Chapter Twenty

 

Maria grimaced at the piles of literature her mother passed to her. Listening halfheartedly to her mother’s lecture, she nodded in absentminded agreement over the trauma of birth defects while she dumped a few packs of sugar into her soda.

“Maria!”

“What?”

“Sugar.”

“Huh?”

Mariah rolled her eyes. “You added sugar to sugared soda.”

“I need the energy boost.”

“Aren’t you listening to me? Think about your children. Think about the traumatic consequences of birth defects. You need to get it together and start worrying about your future. Michael is right. You’re getting too old to…”

“Mom, I’m twenty-eight! I still have a good twenty years. Please, I’m begging you…turn this spotlight on Michael. At the rate he’s going, we’re going to have to hire someone to marry him.” Maria leaned forward on the table. “And Mom, it’s going to cost a fortune.”

“Hmm...” Mariah sat back. She hadn’t thought about that.

“It’s tragic—really tragic. Do you see the type of women he draws?”

“Oh God!” Mariah bit her lip. “It’s not like he’s unattractive…”

“Of course he’s not! That just makes it worse. I mean,” Maria warmed on her subject, “a woman—a sensible one—would look at him, his history of limited relationships, and despite his attractiveness, financial situation, and everything, they’d ask—what’s wrong with him?”

“Oh God!”

“Uh-huh. It’s tragic. Thirty-four and not a single relationship spanning more than two or three dates.” Maria sighed heavily with added drama. “So sad.”

Mariah searched for her phone. Maria sat back sipping on her sugar laced soda. Yep, it was for the best. Her mom had her work cut out for her to get poor Michael whipped into shape. She snickered under her breath as Mariah left a long winded message on Michael’s answering machine. Sighing heavily, Mariah hung up looking at Maria.

“You know, he used to be engaged—well, sort of, or at least Brian thought he was heading towards an engagement.”

“No!”

“Yes. He was engaged to Martha’s daughter, Tammy Davies.”

“Tammy? Martha’s daughter from her first marriage?”

“Right. Martha had Tammy when she was married to Stephen Davies.”

“Did he die?”

“Deserted poor Martha, and about ten years later, she married Richard.”

Maria lifted a brow, a bit of gossip connect to Michael’s past was interesting. “So Michael and Tammy—they almost got engaged. Is that really engaged or engaged to be engaged?”

Mariah waffled. “Well I really don’t know—at least they were close for a while. He dated her, but she dumped him for his friend Lyle Steeling.”

Maria lifted a brow. “Oh, that makes it worse! The only serious relationship he had, dumped him for another man. Women will talk.”

Mariah nervously worked on her lip. “Maybe because it was years ago, when he was in his early twenties, they won’t find out.”

“Mom...,” said Maria sadly shaking her head.

“Damn.” Mariah sat back dejectedly. Of course they’d find out. Women were experts at ferreting out vital information. Maria swallowed a smile. Wow, a piece of Michael’s past she had missed, and damn if it wasn’t a nice juicy tidbit too! Speaking of Michael’s past, Maria cleared her throat. “Look, I don’t want to touch on anything too sensitive or anything, but do you know how Michael’s mom died?”

“Why?” Mariah’s voice went quiet.

“I don’t know. He was talking about her. He said she died when he was three, that he didn’t know too much about her, or even remember her much—just a feeling.” Maria scratched her brow, much like one of Michael’s mannerisms. “I don’t know—I thought she died of cancer when he was young, you know—something like that, but…”

“She didn’t die of cancer, Maria.” Mariah’s voice was unusually sober.

“Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to butt into anything painful, but Michael... I don’t know; I think he has issues.”

Mariah moved her plate to the side. “She was murdered.”

Maria put her fork down. “Murdered?”

Mariah twisted her napkin before tossing it on her plate. Clearing her throat, she tried to smile, but couldn’t.

“Brian told me. I guess Michael was two, almost three. It was the day before his birthday. Brian and Sharon stopped to pick up some things they ordered for Michael’s birthday party. Brian ran inside to pick up the order leaving Sharon outside in the car with Michael in a car seat in the back.”

Maria put a hand over her mouth already painting the picture in her mind. God, did she really want to hear this?

“When Brian came out five minutes later, Sharon ’s window was down, and she had been shot execution-style in back of the head. Michael was in the back seat crying.”

“Oh god.” Maria swallowed hard, staring down at her plate her eyes filling with tears.

“He was just a baby, but he was old enough to miss her.”

Maria cleared her throat. “Does he know?”

Mariah laughed almost bitterly, which surprised Maria. “Hard not to. It’s the one case Brian could never solve, the one case he never closed. He has the bullet on file. The gun was never used again, not in the last thirty-one years.”

Maria stared at her mother, not used to this level of seriousness, her eyes searching Mariah’s face. “You’re not happy with this.”

Mariah laughed. “No honey, I’m not upset with Brian and his ongoing cold case. Actually, I understand and admire it. If, God forbid,” Maria and her mother both crossed themselves, “something horrible happened to me, I’d like to think he wouldn’t rest until he knew.”

“Mom, that—that is just too gruesome for me.”

“Says the woman who cuts dead people up for a living.”

Maria waved off that comment. “I don’t like to think of you as dead.”

“Good. Neither do I.” Mariah snatched the dessert menu away from Maria before she could order something.

“So what’s bothering you?”

Mariah shrugged nonchalantly, but Maria knew better.

“Mom?”

“It’s Michael. He has a hard time understanding his father’s obsession. It’s been a source of dissention between them. He was just a baby, and in a space of five minutes, his life changed. He lost his mother and his father the same day. That third year birthday party? It never happened, and he’s never had another birthday party since.”

Maria digested that information. Of course he didn’t. How can you celebrate your own birth when it was practically the same day your mother died? “You feel for him.”

“Of course I do! Brian said that when Michael was a little boy, he was quiet, neat, always ready for school, making his own breakfast and lunch. He raised himself.” Mariah laughed. “I guess if it weren’t for Michael’s friend, Jed, Michael would’ve never had a rebellious youth.”

“I met Jed.” Maria wasn’t surprised. That Jed Stuart, he looked like a real pistol.

“Really?” Mariah stared at her child in surprise. “I hadn’t realized that you and Michael had spent so much time together.”

“Not really, but more and more recently. I guess crisis gave us a reason to actually talk to each other instead of at each other.”

“Well Jed and Michael became fascinated with the movie “Easy Rider” and for a short period of time they talked about riding bikes across America all decked out in tattoos and leather.”

“Michael?” Maria laughed, not believing it. “Which one was he? Dennis Hopper or Peter Fonda?”

“Who do you think?”

Maria laughed. “I think Jed and Michael would both decide to be Peter Fonda.”

Mariah smiled, a dimple deepening on her cheek. “Well, according to Brian, Michael started going to parties with Jed, they got drunk, and after being arrested for underage drinking, the two sort of straightened out.”

“That was it? That was the extent of his wild youth?”

Mariah laughed at the disbelief on Maria’s face as she rolled her eyes. Oh sure it was! Her own wild youth went on for twelve years—damn, she was still in it. Figures Michael would make it something on a “to do” list and check it off before moving on.

“During that time, Jed got a young girl pregnant while he was only sixteen, and it was an eye opening experience. Personally, I think Michael didn’t appreciate the feeling of being out of control.” Mariah offered astutely.

Maria made a sound under her breath. “No, I suppose he didn’t.”

There wasn’t a man alive that needed to control his life the way Michael did. Maybe losing his mother at such an early age left scars that never healed. A child of three watching his own mother murdered—the impression of helplessness wouldn’t be something easy to overcome. It was hard to say what defined him, but there was a lifetime of environment that created the man he was today. It was a shame. Michael might benefit from a bit of out of control living.

Life wasn’t something you could order, and more than not, it often dealt a person an unexpected blow. For someone like Michael, those blows could be devastating. He spent so much time making his life ‘perfect’ and ordered, but nature had a way of rising up, when a person least expected it, and smiting a person.

* * *

 

“Maria.”

“Mr. Abbott.”

“Richard, please, or Dick, as Brian calls me.”

Maria smiled, allowing him to escort her into his office.

“I must admit, I’m intrigued as to why you asked to see me.”

Maria took the offered seat, quickly refusing any refreshments. “Actually, I had to get permission, but given your connections to the Department, it wasn’t hard.”

Richard stared at Maria, his face closed, but completely intent on her face.

“Permission?”

Maria nodded  handing him a folder. “I need a profiler.”

Richard started to reach for the folder, but hesitated. “I’m retired. The department has some very good criminal psychologists.”

“I know that, but this is a special case or rather, set of cases.” Maria smiled charmingly, but her eyes never wavered. “You’re still on the staff list, with full security and access, and all the profilers at the department were trained by you.”

Richard took the folder at that point. Maria didn’t say it, but implied that she wanted the best.

“This is no ordinary case, or profile. I’ve got a set of cases that appear in no way related except for the degree of violence in the murders. At first glance, even under intense scrutiny, there is no connection between the victims.”

Richard paused. “That’s impossible.” He scanned the list of cases. “There has to be a connection. The amount of cases you have listed puts this into the serial killer category. A serial always has a purpose, a method, and he hunts in a specific class.”

“I know, but these cases...they don’t fit a classical serial MO.”

“Maria—may I call you Maria?” Richard politely asked, glancing up from the file.

“Of course.”

“Maria, if these cases are related, there has to be a connecting point between the victims. Bundy hunted young college women; DeSalvo and Burkowitz were equally specific. A serial killer is a beast of form. He targets a special type of person, usually his own racial group.”

“I know the classical signs, but this killer doesn’t apply. The only connection I can find is the killing blow. Obscured exquisitely by butchery, the killing blow was lost in most cases.”

“How can you be sure these cases are connected if you lost the killing blow?”

“Instinct or just a feeling. I can see one to two horrific butchery cases in a six month time period, and more if this was a larger city, such as LA or New York City , but this is San Antonio . This degree of violence is almost too telling.”

“I agree.” Richard continued to read. “Serial killers as a rule are predominant in the north.”

“Call it lack of sunshine or whatever, but I think more and more today serials are created out of hype. Mass media, film industry, and even pure sensationalism over known killers are building artificial serials trying to top or rise above the ‘greats’.”

“I agree.” Richard read the file; browsing quickly, his eyes occasionally darting to Maria. “You did a good job pulling out the cases that stood out. There is a fine mix of races, ages, and they run the spectrum from single killings to an actual family invasion. The time is different for each, the place, and even the method is different.” Richard paused on one.

“What?”

“Roland Garza is included in this.”

“Yes. He was my first. There were more, before I started. I think Roland found the killer, but it was something he didn’t want to be true, so he asked a graduate student, Charles Barrows to double check his findings. He didn’t survive to tell anyone, and Charles Barrows came to the same conclusion. He soon died once he decided to contact Brian.”

Richard Abbott stood and went to look out his office window. He clasped his hands behind his back.

“Roland Garza was one of my best friends,” he said softly. “He and Brian, they were inseparable to me. For the longest time in my life, I couldn’t move without one of them being there. In some of the worst times of my life, they were there for me, as I was for them.”

Maria watched the older man’s back. He bent his head.

“Maria, leave the file. I’ll read through your findings, and call you when I have something close to a profile.”

Maria stood and went to leave the room quietly, but she stopped at the door, looking back at the man.

“Mr. Abbott—Richard...in my opinion this killer is not only smart and cunning, but he understands the law, how investigations happen, and even the process. I think he’s close to the Department, because he walked into the building without a problem.”

“What are you saying, Maria?”

“I don’t think he’s a serial killer. I think he’s opportunistic. He kills when the opportunity arises, but he made a mistake.”

Richard turned to look at Maria, his interest piqued. “Which was?”

“He purposely picked both Roland and Charles. They broke his MO of anonymity—he left a connection to his victim, and that’s where we’ll find him.”

“You think his other victims were strangers, that he saw the opportunity and took it?”

“Yes. I think it sheltered him from exposure, but he tripped up when he had to kill Roland, and he obviously tripped up before when Roland put it together.” Maria licked her dry lips. “He’s playing with me.”

“Excuse me?”

Maria cleared her throat. “More than ninety percent of the cases have hit my table, and it’s as if he knows what I’ll look for. He removed the one thing that would stand out among all cases, clouding the field. I think he escalated to challenge me—to see if I’m as smart as Roland always believed me to be.”

“Testing the master by testing the student?”

“Yes.”

Richard picked up the folder.

“I’ll have this done for you by tomorrow—this evening if I can.” Richard glanced at the young woman. “Be very careful, Maria. If you’re right, he is close to you—he is ever watching, and he will come for you.”

Maria nodded, leaving the office as Richard sat down to read what she had pulled together on her own. It was brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

* * *

 

Michael rode the elevator alone to the parking ramp. It was late. The normal dayshift had ended a few hours ago, and except for a few late working staff, the building was closing for the day. If he hurried, he might get a jog in before the sun went down.

Rubbing the back of his tired neck, mentally he considered a haircut. Leaning back against the elevator wall, he watched the door, his reflection making him wince. Damn, he was getting old.

Maria had to have met with Richard Abbott by now, and he had struggled all day with the desire to call her demanding to know what her meeting was about. Surely she wouldn’t offer Abbott her shares? Richard Abbott’s bid for the CEO position was once again denied, but that wouldn’t stop the man, and Maria’s shares were a tasty treat, as was Maria.

No. She wouldn’t. Maria would never do that.

Michael made a face at his reflection. He should’ve gone to lunch with her and Mariah, just so he could quiz her, but the Board Meeting had run over and he had things he needed done.

Actually, more important than anything else, he should’ve gone to lunch just to keep an eye on her. He was low on trust, and obviously Maria wasn’t beyond instigating a new campaign against him with her mother. Michael smiled to himself, imaging the worst.

Sure, he probably had Mariah on his doorstep with the Women’s Auxiliary picketing his home, insisting he spread his seed in viable grandchildren.

Michael’s smile faded. Worse, Mariah would start parading eligible women of childbearing years for him to inspect. Oh damn.

Michael reached for his phone to call Maria and demand to know what hell she got him into.

The door opened to the garage, and Michael took a few steps from the elevator as the door closed behind him. His Porsche was only a few stalls away, the first stall of reserved parking.

Before he could dial Maria’s number, his hand paused as he lifted his head. Glancing around, his feet faltered. Staring at his Porsche, he stopped walking as his breath caught in his throat.

The garage was deathly quiet.

The stillness hit the pit of his stomach as a sweat broke out on his upper lip. Putting his arm down to his side, his cell phone forgotten as he took a step backwards, he reached out and hit the elevator call button.

The door opened immediately, it having not left the floor. Stepping into the elevator, he stared out at the garage as the door closed.

Breathing deeply, his eyes closed as he swore he heard the spending of ordnance. The gunshot rang in his ears as the elevator took him back to the safety of his offices.

Chapter Twenty-one

 

Michael was drinking coffee when Nick and Deuce entered his offices. The executive suites were for the most part empty except for police officers and a few members of the staff.

“Michael.”

Michael nodded in acknowledgement to Nick. “Would the two of you like some coffee?”

“Love some.”

Deuce went to pour himself and Nick a cup as Nick took a seat on the edge of a chair in the main reception room.

“We checked the parking garage. The building security already did a walk-through before we got here, but you were right... someone was there.”

Well damn, he hadn’t needed Nick’s confirmation for that. He knew someone had been waiting for him.

“Your killer?”

“The MO is different. You said there was a gunshot.”

“Right. I heard it as the elevator door shut.”

“The Evidence Unit is checking the area right now. We requested Jenny and Lee just in case this is related.” Nick sighed heavily, not wanting to offend the man. “You don’t know anyone that would want you dead, do you?”

“I could make a list.” Michael frowned at the detective. Nick was searching his clothes. “Do you need a cigarette?”

“No, I quit.”

“Uh-huh.” Michael scratched his brow. “You realize that a certain blonde Medical Examiner could grace the top of my list.”

“Oh,” Nick laughed. “I doubt Maria wants you dead. Not really.”

“True. She wants me married and making babies to take the pressure off her.”

“Aw, the Mom factor.”

“You got it.”

“I know it well. My Mom’s always checking my apartment just in case I ran away and got married and forgot to tell her.” Nick shook his head in chagrin.

Michael had to agree. There isn’t a stranger breed than mothers. He never had one before, and Mariah was proving to be an interesting education late in life.

Deuce went to talk to Lee who came out of the elevator. They talked for a few moments before returning to Nick and Michael.

“They find anything in the parking ramp?” Nick asked. A break, that was all they needed.

“No, the security guard in the monitor room was murdered. We took the security tapes, but it doesn’t look good. There was a magnet placed on the recorders.” Deuce shook his head. “Security was a wash, and they are checking the body. It doesn’t look good, Nick. Cursory inspection suggests that it’s our killer. He used the killing stick on the security guard.”

Nick checked Michael out in speculation. “What made you step back into the elevator and call for security?”

“A feeling.” Michael’s face fused with a bit of color. “I can’t explain it, but it was the same feeling that I had when Maria and I entered my parent’s house that night. I remember it, and Maria’s reaction. I guess you can say she educated me to caution.”

“Consider yourself lucky. They pulled a slug out of your tire and car, and there was a long gouge the entire side of the car. It could have been made from Maria’s killing stick.”

Michael paled. “Did you say there's a gouge on my car?!”

Nick winced but nodded the confirmation as Michael swore a blue streak.

Gouging a Porsche was criminal! Someone needed to pay for this affront! Before Michael could move to go survey the damage to his property, the elevator arrived, literally dumping a frantic Maria out into the lobby of Guerin, Steeling and Cooper.

“Michael!” she hurried to his side.

“Maria, what…”

He swallowed his words as Maria literally assaulted his body, her hands moving over him in a frantic haste.

“Maria?”

Nick lifted a brow as he watched silently.

“Tell me you weren’t hurt.”

Michael stopped her hands, framing her face with his. He was touched. She actually seemed to care.

“Maria, I wasn’t hurt. I backed out of there and called Security.”

“Oh God,” she said dramatically, dropping her head on his chest as his hand came to cradle the back of her neck. Maria looked up at Michael. Taken aback, Michael and Nick watched as tears filled Maria’s eyes.

“I swear, Michael, if I did anything—ever did anything to make you a target, to get you involved in a case that could get you killed…”

“Maria, I’m fine,” he tried to reassure her.

“I never thought, not even for a moment that he would see you with me and turn his attentions to you. I expected him to come after me only.” Maria wiped her nose, her agitation increasing. “I’m stupid. I’m letting this make me slow witted and stupid.”

Michael started to reassure her again, but what she was saying trickled through. “You thought he would come after you?”

Nick glanced between the two of them, his eyebrow lifting even further.

“Bait—you’re using yourself as bait!” Michael turned to Nick in anger. “What the hell is going on? I thought you cared about her!”

Nick didn’t take the criticism or Michael’s tone well, his own voice rising. “I do! This isn’t a classical bait situation. We already know that Maria’s a target, that she’s somehow involved. We didn’t set her up to attract a killer. She was already in his crosshairs, probably for the same reason Roland Garza and Charles Barrows were.”

“And they’re dead,” Michael pointed out. He looked at Maria. She seemed so much smaller, too diminutive for a killer to target. It was obscene.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “When I set up protection for Dad and Mariah, I could’ve set it up for you too.” Michael reached for his phone. “I’ll call Jed.”

“Wait, you set up protection for your parents?”

“Stuart Security Systems.”

“SSS, I know them.” Nick frowned. “Last I heard they only do security for firms, mostly protection and white collar theft protection.”

“The owner is a personal friend. He put a security team on my parents’ house. They follow them to work, and watch the house at night.”

“It was my idea,” Maria confessed.

Nick’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t make a comment. People had a right to protect themselves.

“Hey,” said Deuce as he rejoined them after getting a wave from Lee. “Jenny and Lee have the garage processed and they want to take the Porsche into the EU garage to process it for prints. Jenny wants to pull latent prints with a tent. It will save the interior from being covered in fingerprinting powder.”

“Oh God,” said Michael under his breath.

“Keys would help,” suggested Deuce.

Michael reluctantly relinquished his keys, but he wasn’t letting them go alone. Following the keys and detectives, Michael went to survey his car. Maria went with him, strangely quiet. On the ride down to the parking level where his car was, he kept glancing at her bent head, her blonde hair hiding her face.

Michael didn’t pause. He walked to his car, despite the presence of police staff.

Maria must have followed him, because her voice at his elbow shocked him.

“Oh, Michael!” Maria’s hand came to hold his arm tightly. “Your mid-life crisis!”

Michael’s face paled in trauma as he surveyed the huge gouge along the entire panel of his Porsche. God, he loved that car.

* * *

 

Michael sat in his dark apartment drinking his third beer. He was alone. Maria had offered to come with him or call Jed, but he refused. It was hard to ignore that she was determined to go watch the processing of his car and the evidence collected, including the ballistics of the bullets removed from his tires, and the one embedded in his Porsche. She wasn’t doing the autopsy on the guard, but he suspected she would assist.

The doorbell rang.

Michael calmly sipped his beer, ignoring the chime.

The doorbell rang again.

Jed. It had to be Jed. Maria called him anyway, damn meddling sugar junkie...

Michael’s heart stopped for a moment when his front door opened, but quickly resumed working when his father and Mariah let themselves in.

“When someone doesn’t answer their door that generally means they wish to be left alone.”

“I’m your father. Don’t take that tone with me.”

Michael raised a brow. What tone? His voice had been monotone, lacking inflection or even emotion. Hell, he could be the damn voice of Hal from the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Robotic. Unemotional. Uncaring. Automaton. Obstinate.

Piss.

Michael tossed his beer bottle against the far wall watching the fascinating pattern the liquid made on the wall as it trickled downward.

“I get that you are upset.”

“Really?” Michael stood up, reaching over to turn on a lamp. “What was your first clue, Pop?”

“Maria said…”

“Ah yes, Maria. Of course it was Maria.”

“She was worried about you—we all are.” Mariah crossed over to her stepson and reached up, kissing his cheek. “If anything happens to you…”

“I’m fine.”

Mariah stepped back as his voice hit her. Nodding, she went to go find something to clean the beer before it soaked into the carpet.

“She didn’t deserve that.”

“Sorry.” Michael ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up. It had been years since he spiked his hair, but that young boy was never far away, ever living under the surface, and every once in a while when he slipped out of the firm control the older Michael exerted.

“The car?”

“Don’t be an ass, Dad. The Porsche—sure it breaks my heart, but a man died in my building tonight. An employee of Guerin, Steeling and Cooper lost his life; all so some psychopath could get to me.”

Brian sighed heavily; very aware of how Michael beat himself up at times. “Michael, you didn’t ask for this.”

“And that makes it better?” Michael threw himself back into the chair, his head bowing as he gave a self deprecating laugh. “I should’ve stayed. I could’ve seen the bastard—stopped him or the very least—I might have identified him. That man deserves that much justice, and if this was Maria’s killer, then all the more so.”

Disgusted, Michael stood to take the wet cloth that Mariah brought back into the living room, along with the bottle of carpet cleaner.

“I’ll do it. I’ve always cleaned up after myself.”

Mariah pushed him away, taking back her cleaning materials. “Don’t be silly, dear boy. What are moms for?” She smiled at him before going to the spot where he tossed the bottle, carefully collecting the glass in a pile. “Plus, you have to blot, not rub, and use copious amounts of Resolve, or it will not only stain, but smell. Did you want your apartment to smell like a Frat House?”

“Not particularly, but how do you know what a Frat House smells like?”

Mariah laughed self consciously and then blushed as she went to work. “Oh, you silly.”

Brian had been quietly staring at his son. “Did you honestly think that you were being a coward?”

“Dad…”

“This killer took out an entire family! He killed a man, two women, and numerous others. He killed Roland in his own morgue, and you’re upset that you did the most reasonable, rational thing possible?”

“This could be over.”

“Son, you could be over.”

Brian swore, his eyes moving over his son. All these years, and at times, all he ever saw was Michael as he was as a baby, crying for his mother in the backseat of a car. Brian’s eyes darkened as he pushed his jacket back so his hands could rest on his hips. Michael always called that Brian’s ‘don’t jerk with me’ stance.

“Swear to me, if ever in this situation again, you will do exactly what you did today.”

Michael was silent. He couldn’t promise that. Maybe he was more like his father than he realized, but there would be this need to know. Brian saw the look, and the same stubborn resolve took over the older man’s face. The two Guerins shared a look, as they both took firm postures ready to have it out.

“By God, Son, you are not too old for me to…”

“I am not a child!”

“You’re my child!”

“Brian, please.” Mariah breathed easier when the doorbell rang, interrupting the two. They hardly ever fought about anything, but when they did, it was damn impossible to find a compromise between them.

Maria entered the apartment as Mariah quickly answered the door. She walked in, and then stopped short as the tension in the room hit her. Her eyes darted from one man to the other.

“Hi?” she said tenuously, not exactly sure of the situation she just walked into.

“Oh great,” Michael breathed out harshly. “A family reunion.”

Maria ignored him, her eyes only for Brian. “When you weren’t home, I figured you’d be here.”

“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock, since you sent them.”

Maria glanced at Michael. “What? Someone piss in your Wheaties? You’re suddenly nastier than usual.”

“I need a beer.” Michael took off, leaving the family intervention gang without offering them anything. Sure, he was being rude, but then again, he didn’t remember inviting anyone to his pity party.

“What’s his deal?” Maria asked, her eyes following Michael’s back.

“He’s upset.” Mariah offered, going back to her cleaning.

“The car?”

Brian shook his head. “No, that would be hard, but losing an employee would be harder. It’s difficult to value a thing above a man’s life.”

“Oh, yes, I can see that.” Maria rubbed her eyes. They itched.

“Are they sure the tool used to gouge Michael’s car was the killing stick?” Brian asked, holding his jaw firm. He needed it not to be true. “I mean using a gun is a change in MO for this killer.”

“It was definitely the same tool, Dad. We ran scratch test, and the killing stick we used left identical marks. The murdered guard had a direct puncture in his lung, in the same killing manner. The killer didn’t even bother to try to hide it this time. He knows I’ve discovered the method, so now he’s leaving a trail.”

“That’s stupid, and this man isn’t stupid! Why would he do that?”

Maria took a seat on the edge of the leather sofa. “I can’t be sure, but maybe Richard Abbott could shed some light on it.”

“Dick? What does he have to do with this?”

“He’s profiling the case. I’ll send him the latest development in the morning. I doubt it’ll alter his profile much, but maybe he can narrow down the killer’s motives.”

“You have a theory?”

“I do.”

“So let’s hear it, Maria,” said Michael coming back, his obvious bad humor lifting as he brought a beer for everyone, except a glass of wine for Mariah.

Maria cast a worried glance at Michael, before saying softly to Brian, “I think I need to talk to you alone.”

“What? Doesn’t this involve me too?” Michael’s voice rose in anger. “What am I, like three or something?”

“You’re acting it,” Maria said.

“Stop it, both of you.” Brian sighed looking at his wife who just shrugged. “Just tell all of us, Maria.”

Maria looked uncertain, but no one was moving. “Fine. You’re not going to like it.” She nervously drank some of her beer, going to sit on the sofa properly. Leaning forward, she placed the beer on the table.

“I think the reason the killer was going to shoot Michael was a message, Brian—a message aimed at you.”

“I don’t understand.” Brian came to sit on the coffee table facing Maria. “Why me?”

“Ballistics identified the bullet as coming from the same gun,” Maria quickly glanced at a quiet Michael, “that killed Sharon Guerin over thirty-one years ago.”

Brian went pale. Standing, he seemed unable to find a place for his hands. “I want—I want to see the bullet.”

Brian glanced at his wife who nodded to him.

“Wait!” Michael stopped his father before he could leave. “This again! It always comes back to this damn obsession!”

“This isn’t an obsession, Michael. It’s the real thing. Don’t you understand? The killer, the one they’re looking for, the one that was in the house, they killed your mother.”

“It is an obsession! All my life, you ran from one case to another, always with that damn bullet they took out of my mother’s head in your pocket. I never understood it. She’s dead. She would’ve never wanted this to be our lives. She wouldn’t understand this quest!”

“You don’t know that!” Brian told his son angrily. “You didn’t know her. She would’ve understood.”

Michael’s face lost all color, as if his father had slapped him. “No, you’re right. I didn’t know her. I never knew her.” Maria turned away, her eyes filling with tears, as Michael’s voice softened almost to a whisper, “But, I don’t think she would’ve wanted me to be alone. I don’t think she would’ve wanted me to lose both of my parents that day.”

“Son,” Brian rubbed his eyes. “I’ve got to do this.”

“Then go.” Michael picked up Maria’s beer, taking a drink. Turning his back on his father, he stared outside his apartment window. “What would Ahab be without his whale?”

Brian stared at the strong lines of his son’s back, before squeezing his wife’s hand on his way out.

“Michael...”

“It’s okay, Mariah. I’m okay.” Michael glanced down at the now empty beer bottle. “I’m always okay.”

“No, no you’re not, but then neither is he.” Mariah came up behind him, putting her hands on her stepson’s strong shoulders, easing the tension running down the lines of his back. “He can only be who he is. That day, he came out of the store, and you were there, crying for your dead mother. He could’ve lost everything that day, both of you. It’s haunted him. He was always worried that the monster that took Sharon would come back for you, and today—today that almost happened.”

The tension in Michael’s shoulders seemed to release, and he turned and hugged Mariah tight. “Thank you,” he whispered. His eyes met Maria’s. “I need to talk to you.”

Mariah sniffed, looking between the two. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I should go home so I’m there when your Dad comes.”

“Mariah, we can’t let you go home alone.”

“I’ll take you, Mom. Michael is without a car right now.”

“Don’t be silly, Maria. I’m not going to let myself be seen in your bright yellow VW Bug. What will people say?”

“That it’s a nice color on you? That it’s a shame that they didn’t have it in pink?”

Mariah laughed, grabbing her purse as she pressed a hand to Michael’s cheek, bending to kiss Maria. “I’ll get that nice man who follows me around all the time to take me home. I’m sure your father told him to stay with me since he was going to the PD.”

Michael scratched his brow. “You know about the protection I arranged?”

“Hard to miss. I do suggest that you contact Jed and tell him that his men are terrible at being inconspicuous. I spotted them immediately, and a very nice one, Pete, helped me carry my bags the other day.”

“They don’t have you under surveillance, Mariah. They are there to protect you.”

“Phish. I gave one a scare the other day when I met your father at a motel.”

“Mom!” Maria’s mouth flew open, and a slight pink stained her cheeks.

“Oh, stop it. You shock me all the time. Michael just mortifies me. The last woman he brought to dinner had a plastic face. I’m not so sure about that Botox stuff.” Mariah left Michael’s apartment laughing, leaving Michael and Maria speechless.

Michael cleared his throat. “I want to see my mother’s case file.”

“Michael.”

“Now.”

Maria nodded. “C’mon.”

* * *

 

Maria watched him as he read. Biting her lip, her eyes studied his quiet form as he flipped pages.

“It was execution style, one round through the cranium, shattering the midbrain and stem. She died instantaneously. The loud noise of the round exploding must have frightened you.”

Michael stared at a picture of him, barely three, that was in the file. There were scene pictures, pictures of the location, and pictures of his father holding him as he cried his father’s face older than a man of his age should’ve been.

Michael paused on the crime scene photos of his dead mother. Maria stood and reached over, shutting the file.

“Michael, some things are best left alone. Remember your mother as the woman in the photo beside your bed. She wouldn’t want you to think of her this way.”

Reaching a hand to him, she tilted her head toward the door, “C’mon, I’ll buy you dinner.”