Cause to Kill

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Avery awoke in a hospital bed, groggy with a very dry and painful sore throat. Everything in her body ached, as if she’d had all of her blood flushed out and replaced with some kind of heavy, toxic fluid. An IV bag was hooked up to her arm. A heart monitor bleeped from somewhere outside of her view.

The room was filled with balloons and flowers.

On a chair beside her, slumped over in sleep, was Ramirez. He was just as relaxed and perfectly dressed as the first day they’d met. A shiny blue suit adorned his form; the white shirt was bright and highlighted his tan and his slicked-back dark hair.

A nurse walked in.

“You’re awake,” she noted in surprise.

Avery opened her mouth.

“Don’t try to speak just yet,” the nurse said. “I’ll call the doctor. You must be hungry. Let me see what I can rustle up.”

Ramirez roused himself from sleep and yawned.

“Black.” He smiled. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Avery whispered a very painful, scratchy question.

“How?”

“Three days,” he said. “You’ve been out for three days. Oh, man. That was some crazy shit, I can tell you that. You’re at Watertown General Hospital. You OK? You want to rest more? Or do you want me to talk?”

Avery never felt so vulnerable in her life. Not only was she laid up in a hospital bed practically unable to move, but she could barely speak.

She nodded and closed her eyes.

“Talk.”

“Well, you are one crazy loca, Avery Black. At least somebody gave you the good sense to call me, and to dial 911 when you were in the house. Now, if you’d waited, maybe you wouldn’t be here today. But that’s for another time.

“You got him,” he said.

The smile came again.

“Three shots, every one of them hit. One in the groin, one through the heart, and the last one in the face. He’s dead. No more girls for him.

“You’re lucky to be alive.” He whistled. “You know that? He pumped you full of some real nasty stuff. Paralyzes the body for about six hours and it slowly eats away at your insides until you die. Doctors had never seen anything like it, but they were able to concoct an antidote based off the syringe he used. Still, it was touch and go there for a while.”

She glanced at the flowers and balloons.

“You had a lot of visitors,” he said. “Cap came by, Connelly. Even Finley. Wasn’t a big deal for them, really. They all followed me to the house.”

She gave him a look.

He smirked.

“You might be crazy,” he said, “but I’m not. I called Connelly the second you got off the phone with me. I needed backup!”

Avery gave him a deep, curious look. His dark brown eyes, typically playful and inquisitive, reached out to her with a warmth and care, as if to offer more.

“You?” she asked.

A blush painted his face red.

“Well,” he mumbled and had a difficult time getting the rest out. “I’ve been here for a while, that’s true. Just wanted to make sure my partner was all right. Besides,” he shrugged, “I still have to rest up the wound, right? I just thought: why not just do it here? Gets a little lonely sometimes in my apartment, you know? Anyway, I’m glad you’re all right,” he said and had trouble meeting her gaze. “I’ll leave you alone. Doctor keeps saying you need rest.”

“No, ” she whispered.

Meekly, she reached out her hand.

Ramirez gripped her fingers and held them tight.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

When word got out that Avery was alive and well, the list of visitors increased. Finley came by in the afternoon, along with Captain O’Malley and Connelly, who waited by the door with his head low.

“Crazy bastard,” O’Malley said. “Had a whole garden in that basement of his, on the other side of that medical room. Guy was growing every kind of hallucinogenic plant you can imagine. Had a few contacts lying around too, so we’re going to put a stop to that trade route immediately. Great work, Avery.”

“Found out about the bodies, too,” Connelly chimed in. “He might have worshipped ‘The Three Graces’ from Roman myth. They were followers of the goddess Venus: three young girls that worshipped beauty. We think maybe that’s why he kept them so lifelike in death. Had a bunch of drawings around the house.”

Finley kept touching the gifts piled up on the windowsill.

“God damn,” he said, “the mayor sent you flowers? I never got nothing from the mayor. I bet if you’d have called me for backup, the mayor would have sent me flowers, too. Fuckin’ Ramirez,” he said. “I was your partner. Me.”

O’Malley scrunched his face at Avery.

“We’ll talk about your lack of protocol when you’re ready,” he said. “For now, rest up and get better.”

* * *

Randy Johnson came to visit Avery later that night. The spunky, short forensics analyst had her hair poofed out into a wild afro. She wore a red polka-dot dress and brought flowers and a newspaper. Avery had just finished her dinner and was already exhausted.

“Hey, girl!” Randy said. “Heard you were up.”

Avery attempted a smile.

“Don’t try to talk. Don’t try to talk,” Randy insisted. “I know you’ve had a busy day already. Just came by to make sure my girl was alive and kicking.” Her eyes went wide. “And gossip!”

She sat down beside her.

“First of all, I think Dylan Connelly definitely has a crush on you. No joke. He came by a few times to check on the case and twice he asked about you. First time was like ‘Hey, have you gone to visit Black yet?’ Real casual and all. And the second time was today. He was like ‘How’s Black doing?’ I don’t think that man has ever spoken to me outside of case-related questions. Seriously!? You got yourself a boy toy if you want it.”

A disapproving frown lined Avery’s face.

“Yeah, he’s not for you,” Randy said, “but Ramirez? Now he’s dreamy. You go and get that boy, girl. He saved your life!”

She smiled, then slowly her smile faded.

“Can we please talk about that lady killer?” she added. “Is it too soon?”

Avery gave her the thumbs-up.

“Thirty-six cats,” Randy huffed in disbelief. “Thirty-six! Who has thirty-six cats? And three dogs? And you want to know what was even crazier than that? They were all female. Not a single male among them. And all those pictures on his wall in the basement? I don’t know if you remember that but he had lots of sick pictures of all these cats and dogs and the girls he killed, and each picture showed a different stage of their conversion into stuffed animals, you know? All girls. Crazy white man had a little girls’ club all his own. Connelly said it had to do with Roman mythology and Aphrodite and all these women, but I just think the man was nuts.”

A sound escaped Avery’s lips.

She cleared her throat and focused on a single world.

“Family?”

“Did he have any relatives?” Randy asked to confirm. “Is that what you want to know? Oh, yeah. That guy that shot himself was his uncle. I thought you knew that. It’s all here in the paper,” she said. “Uncle hired the killer about a year ago. Killer met all those girls at a job fair. Got to know them when they came to the office.”

She placed the paper on Avery’s chest.

The headline read “College Killer Captured” with a picture of the crime scene. A smaller burst read “Disgraced Attorney Turned Cop in Critical Condition” with an article about how she left a viable crime scene to find the actual killer.

“You’re a hero!” Randy cheered.

It was hard for Avery to think of herself as a hero or anything else. Her mind was too groggy to focus on anything for very long, and her body remained in a post-paralysis shock that made movement difficult.

Hero. That was not what she wanted. That was never what she’d wanted. She’d just wanted to set wrongs right, to put these bastards away forever.

To make amends, she realized, for something for which she would never be able to make amends.

Her eyes grew heavy, and as sleep fell on her, it was hard for her to believe that she’d ever be able to walk again.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

On Thursday morning, surprisingly, Avery awoke, alert and physically capable. She could easily move her arms without the sluggish weight, sit up on her own, and think clearly. A short conversation with the morning nurse confirmed her throat muscles were stronger.

Events from the house were difficult to recall. She could see the dogs, all the cats, and the strange basement walls made of wood and picture frames. There was even a frightening image of Edwin Pesh like a spider with two glowing eyes, hopping from one side of a room to the other. How she’d gotten out alive? She only remembered a whisper and the face of Ramirez.

The door opened, and Avery looked up in shock. Her heart soared at the sight: Rose came running into the room.

“Mom!” she cried and hugged her tight. “I was so worried about you.”

Avery closed her eyes and gripped her daughter just as strongly. Tears fell down her face, as the tight hug warmed her heart.

Avery remembered pieces of their dismal lunch, the message she’d left her before she stupidly entered the house of a killer alone.

She’s back, she thought. My Rose came back to me.

Rose eventually let her go.

“I’ve been calling everyone,” she said. “I had no idea where you were. No one would give me any answers. Finally, your captain called me back and told me you were here and awake. I came as soon as I could.”

Avery smiled, hardly able to speak through her tears.

“Mom, I was sick about the way we left things. I’m so sorry. This whole week, all I could think about was: if Mom dies, you’ll have to live with the way you acted for the rest of your life. I’m so sorry. It’s just…”

Tears ran down Avery’s cheek.

“It’s my fault,” she said. “Don’t you take the blame, Rose. I’m the one to blame. I’m your mother, and I promise I’ll make this right.”

They cried and held hands and in that grip, Avery felt all the heaviness that had been draped around her neck all these years slowly lifting away. This, she realized, was what was restoring her. More than catching any killer could.

They talked and talked, as they had in old times, and didn’t release each other’s hands for hours. Finally, Avery felt, it was time to live again.

* * *

Ramirez dropped by again around noon. He appeared more relaxed in designer jeans, a light pink button-down T-shirt, and white sneakers.

“Hey, Avery,” he said as if he belonged there. “I brought lunch,” and he held up a picnic basket. “Hope I’m not too much of a nuisance, but my mother always said the way to a woman’s heart is through food.”

“You trying to get to my heart?” Avery asked.

“You know, you know,” he said without meeting her gaze. “You saved my life. You’re my partner. I saved your life.”

He glanced up.

Dark brown eyes sought out her innermost feelings.

“If you don’t want me to stay,” he added and opened a basket full of fried chicken and cherries and soda, “I guess I could just go back home.”

Avery smiled.

During the difficult times in her life, she’d always sought the company of men like Ramirez. No, she realized. Not exactly like him. The other men were harder around the edges, players, more interested in one-night stands than an actual relationship. But Ramirez, she thought, he’s sweet. And cute. And he really does seem to care.

He’s your partner! her mind blared.

So what? she thought with abandon. This is the new you, and the new you can do whatever she wants.

“Stay,” she said with a mischievous grin. “I love lunch.”

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Avery was released on Friday.

Ramirez picked her up and drove to her car, which was parked a half block away from the killer’s house. As they passed, Avery gave it a long, solemn stare.

“You all right?” Ramirez said. “This doesn’t freak you out or anything?”

“I’m fine,” she replied.

She didn’t just feel fine. She felt better than fine.

Everything about her life now seemed different, better. She had plans to see Rose again soon. Ramirez had come by every day to keep her company. The cards she’d received in her hospital room had been humbling. So many people had sent her well wishes that she realized even when she’d felt alone in the past three years, she’d never been alone.

Avery hopped out and smiled at Ramirez over the hood.

“Well,” she said, “this is my stop. Thanks for everything.”

“You headed back to the office?”

“Yeah.”

“Want me to tag along?”

“Nah,” she said. “That’s OK. Enjoy your time off. I’m sure I’ll have to put you in another life-or-death situation soon.”

Ramirez flashed her a winning smile.

“I hope so.”

The ride back to the office was extremely emotional for Avery. Excitement and fear swirled through her thoughts. Despite solving the case, she’d stepped over some lines: she had ignored direct orders from her commanding officer and left a crime scene to purse her lead with Edwin Pesh.

It’ll be fine, she thought. You got him.

In the police garage, officers gave her purposeful stares and raised their thumbs and fists as she passed.

“Way to go, Black,” someone yelled out.

The elevator to the second floor was through the garage itself and inside the ground level of the A1 offices. At the sight of Avery, half the station clapped. Some officers ignored her to do their work, others had blank expressions as if they felt forced to comply with their enthusiastic co-workers, but for the most part, Avery reveled in the moment.

She raised a humble hand, lowered her gaze.

“Thanks.”

On the second floor, her reception was even more boisterous. For at least a minute, all work stopped in Homicide so people could stand and clap and nod their heads.

“Serial killers beware!” someone shouted.

“You got him, Black!”

“Good to have you back.”

Finley ran up to her, and while he was reluctant to touch or give her too much physical praise in front of the others, he patted her professionally on the back and pointed in her face.

“That’s my partner,” he said. “You see that? We solve crimes. Fuckin’ killers don’t stand a chance with the Black and the Finley at her back.”

“Back to work.” O’Malley clapped from his office door. “Black,” he called and waved her forward. “In my office.”

Connelly watched her from his desk; gave a curt, grimaced nod to Avery before he turned back to his desk. To Avery, it seemed like he was just shuffling papers around to try and look busy. She kept her eyes on him. After a few seconds – as suspected – he glanced back up. Pissed that he’d been caught, he growled and walked away.

“Close the door,” O’Malley said. “Sit down.”

Avery closed the door and sat.

“Good to have you back,” he said with averted eyes. “How you feeling?”

“I’m better. Thanks.”

“As I told you in the hospital, we have a few questions to tie everything up. Let me just go through those first.”

He read something off a piece of paper.

“Why did you abandon the crime scene at Villasco’s house?”

“He wasn’t our guy,” she said.

“How could you know that?” he asked and looked at her with curious intent. “The guy shot himself in the head. He worked at Devante. Case closed.”

Avery frowned.

“It didn’t feel right. He said something, something about family. I can’t remember it exactly, but it was like he was covering for someone. No minivan at the house, no room for taxidermy. He seemed lonely, lonely and afraid. It was bugging me, I couldn’t let it go, and on the list McGonagle gave me, I had one more lead to check.”

“How did Edwin Pesh become a suspect?”

“He lived in Watertown. It made sense that the killer lived in either Watertown or Belmont given the direction of his car from Lederman Park and Cambridge.”

“So on a hunch, you abandoned a crime scene, and your partner, and you headed over to Watertown on your own.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Hold on,” he said. “Not now. First answer the question.”

“Correct,” she replied.

“What made you call Ramirez? He’s out of commission. And 911?”

“As soon as I saw the minivan, I called Dan. I realized I might need help. The 911 call was made in the house. I was getting creeped out by all the animals.”

“Why not call Connelly? Or Thompson? Or even Finley. All of them were on your team.”

Avery looked up.

“Honestly? I wasn’t sure I could trust them.”

“So you decided to trust a guy that was recovering from a stab wound? Not a smart move, Avery. It worked out. Ramirez was smart enough to call for backup, but I expect more from someone I just promoted to lead detective. They’re your new teammates and you’ve got to learn how to play well on a team.”

When Avery was an attorney, it was every man for himself. Even when she’d been assigned to other lawyers in a research group, everyone was always trying to outdo the other so they could look good in front of the boss. It had been a cutthroat, soulless existence, and that existence had followed her into the A1.

“I can do better,” she said.

“Yeah, well, no one’s been very welcoming to you since you came upstairs, I get that. And until you personally handled those West Side Killers, you were pretty much persona non gratis downstairs too, right? Things are different now, Avery. You just solved a really big public case.”

“Am I back on Homicide?” She asked.

O’Malley raised his brows.

“‘Am I back on Homicide?’ Seriously? You defied my orders to stay away from the case. You left a crime scene. You ignored your partners and nearly got yourself killed. Do you think you deserve to be back on Homicide?”

“Yeah,” she said with a determined glint in her eyes. “I do.”

O’Malley smiled.

“How can I say no to a hero?”

He grinned wider.

“Of course you’re back!” he said. “Now get out of here. Take the rest of the day off. Come back Monday and start the week fresh. And while you’re basking in your current glory, do me a favor?” He ruffled around for a few pieces of paper. “Call the mayor. Here’s his personal line. And Miles Standish, too, the owner of Devante. I noticed both of them sent you flowers and a card.”

He stood and saluted her, and she was touched by the gesture.

“Great work, Avery.”

CHAPTER FORTY

On Saturday morning, Avery purged her apartment.

Boxes of photos were sifted through, along with newspaper articles from the time when she’d defended Howard Randall; clothing she’d worn as an attorney, everything from her past life – a life that no longer defined her. She kept photos of Rose, clothing that had special meaning, but most of it went into the trash.

Lights were turned on – all of them, which she’d never done before – and when she viewed the painted walls and the carpet and kitchen, she thought: you bought this place after Randall and right before you became a cop; it still reeks of your misery from that time. Just like you, this place needs to change.

It’s time, she realized, to sell it. To move on. To buy a new place in town, maybe somewhere closer to Rose – if she’d let her.

Avery stood out on her porch and stared at the sky and realized there was still something she had to do, something that would really put an end to the past.

She grabbed her car keys and headed out.

The ride to the South Bay House of Corrections was easy for her now; she’d made the trip so many times. She made a call on the way to reserve an appointment with Howard Randall.

“You can’t make appointments on the day of,” the woman said.

“This is a big step for me,” Avery replied. “I’m making an appointment.”

“I’m sorry, but we…”

Avery hung up.

At the prison, the guards were quick to congratulate her on finding – and stopping – what had become known as the College Girl Killer. Once again, the female officer inside her green booth was annoyed that Avery hadn’t made an appointment, but she recognized her from previous pictures, and now, from the papers.

“You stopped that killer, right?”

“Yeah,” Avery said with pride, “I did.”

“OK, no appointment needed for you today. Nice work.”

Howard Randall had a smile on his face when Avery was led into the conference room in the basement. Hands were cuffed and steepled on the table.

“Congratulations,” he said.

“Thanks,” Avery replied.

He seemed older than she remembered, and not as powerful. The power he’d had over her life was now, surprisingly, almost gone.

She took a seat.

“I’ve wanted to say something for a while now,” she said. “I’ve never told this to anyone but, I knew.” Her blue eyes gazed deeply into his. “I knew you were guilty when I took your case. Not completely. I mean, you put on a good show but, I had this feeling that everything was about to fall apart because of you.”

Randall leaned forward.

Genuine tears glossed his eyes.

“I know,” he whispered.

“How could you have known?”

“I was caught,” Randall said. “There was no denying the connections: they were both students. We’d had lunches and dinners together many times. The murders were presented on campus. One of them had kept a journal. However,” he said with a sly smile, “I was certain I could convince a jury of my innocence, a lie detector test, a lawyer, anyone, because you see, Avery, I don’t believe in your concepts of right and wrong. The murder of those two students was right in my mind. It would ultimately help them, and the world. Therefore, I was innocent of any wrongdoing, any crime. I was prepared to be set free and to continue my work, only smarter. That is, until I met you.”

A sigh escaped him.

“What did I see?” he wondered. “A beautiful woman, lost and in desperate need of salvation. You believed you were doing right. You believed you were doing good, and that belief – that false belief – was eating you alive. You couldn’t see it, but I could. The only way I knew how…was to show you. To tear down the lie and force you to face the rubble of your life.”

“Why?” Avery whispered. “Why me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Howard said. “I love you, Avery.”

The declaration was too much for Avery to handle. She turned away and shook her head.

Love? He destroyed you. Did he? she wondered. Or did he free you from that path you were on? No, she assured herself. He’s a killer, a manipulator; no good can come from someone like him. And yet, she was happier now than she’d ever been. The dark gloom that had followed her during her rookie years as a cop had lifted. Her past life as an attorney was now understood for what it had been: a desperate move to escape her former life and be someone she’d never truly enjoyed being in the first place.

Avery stood up to leave.

“Don’t go,” Howard begged. “Please. Not yet.”

“What else do you want?”

“You never finished your story,” Howard whispered, and a twisted smile formed on his lips, and his eyes were shiny beads.

“My father?” she asked. “You want to know what happened?”

Silently, Howard watched her.

Avery turned away. This part of the story she had never relayed to anyone, not Jack or Rose or the reporters that had interviewed her as a young girl. She remembered her mother’s legs in the grass, and the blood on her dress, and her father, standing overhead with the shotgun in his hand.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and prepared to face her deepest demons. She wasn’t sure if she was ready.

“I heard them yelling,” she began, her voice tremulous.

Then she paused for a good minute before continuing.

“Before the shots,” she added. “He was calling her a whore, a worthless, drunken whore, and she was saying vile things to him,” she whispered and glanced at Howard for only a moment. “Vile things. Then I heard the shot and saw him there. He laughed, he actually laughed at me, like it was some joke that I’d shown up. He said: ‘Go get me a shovel. You have to bury your mother.’”

Avery faced him with tears in her eyes.

“And he made me do it,” she said. “I was there until nightfall. I dug that hole all by myself. My arms were shaking, my legs were black with dirt. I honestly thought that whole time that he was going to shoot me and throw me in there with her. I was so scared. Every second felt like an eternity. It was very dark when I was done. No lights anywhere except for the stars. He watched me the entire time. ‘Good job,’ he said when I was done, and he touched me, he touched me like he’d done before, only this time he was harder, more forceful. I guess now that he’d taken care of my mother, he thought he could finally have his way with me.”

She looked up and sucked in a deep breath.

“That’s when I left,” she said. “That very night I ran away from home. Police found me and tried to take me back. I told them, I told them everything. A few months later, I was a ward of the state and assigned to a family. You don’t want to know about that time,” she said. “In some ways, it was worse than with my father.”

“I do want to know, Avery,” he whispered like a craving alcoholic that only wanted one more drink, “I do.”

In that moment, Avery saw him for what he truly was: the ugliness, his shriveled features and demonic stare. He reminded her of the story of the butterfly and the cocoon. He was more like the caterpillar in the story, she realized, a slimy, odd creature that was capable of transforming into a beautiful butterfly, but never had.

“You’ve helped me,” she said, with true affection. “In my life, and on the case. I won’t be coming back. I don’t need to anymore.”

Howard leaned back and slowly, demonically, he broke into a grin. But unlike the other times, it was a weak grin, one that showed a crack in his confidence, that showed that he was no longer so sure.

“Oh, you will,” he said. “You will.”

* * *

Outside the prison the sky was overcast, the first cloudy day in over a week. Since the first day of the case, Avery had longed for rain, longed for clouds to match her mood. Now, she didn’t even care.

As Avery walked across the vast parking lot toward her car, she felt lighter than she’d ever had. For the first time in a long time, nothing seemed to matter. In fact, the cooler air and dark clouds felt good: the start of something new.

She stopped and took in the cool breeze, and for the first time in the longest time she felt she had a life ahead of her.