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“Let me talk to her first,” Julia said. “Psychologically, a woman alone crossing a parking lot night or day responds better to another female.”
“Agreed.”
As they approached, Julia pulled her badge, holding it high. “Mrs. Smith.”
The woman turned her head and halted, gripping her purse. “Yes?”
“I’m Agent Julia Vargas with the Virginia State Police.”
The introduction did little to ease the woman’s trepidation. “What do you want with me?”
“I’d like to talk to you about Tamara’s death.”
“Tamara?” she stammered. “She’s been dead twenty-five years. Why would you want to know about her?”
Novak approached and introduced himself. “We’re reopening the Hangman case.”
A car pulled out of the crowded parking lot, and another quickly took its place. “Is there somewhere we can talk and maybe grab a cup of coffee?” Julia asked.
“It’s been a long ten hours, and I have to be back here by six tonight for another shift,” Mrs. Smith said.
“We won’t take much of your time.” Julia forced a slight smile. “I’ll treat.”
The woman sighed. “There’s a diner right on the other side of the gas station. We can walk there. The lunch crowd has left by now.”
“Good,” Julia said.
The woman studied Julia. “What did you say your name was?”
“Julia Vargas.”
Dark eyes narrowed. “Jim Vargas’s kin?”
“He was my father.”
“Why would you want to open that case up?” she asked.
“I want to know who killed Tamara and the two other women.”
“You sure you want to dig into this?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
The woman shook her head. “Let’s get that coffee.”
Within ten minutes the trio was settled in a booth with their coffees.
“When was the last time you saw your sister?” Julia asked.
“Lord, I don’t know. Even twenty-five years ago when the cops talked to me, I never could recall the exact date for them. Tamara was a troubled soul. She moved out of our parents’ house when she was sixteen and took to the streets. We did what we could to get her to see reason, but she said she could take care of herself.”
“You learned about her death from the police?” Novak asked.
“I did. It wasn’t Vargas but his partner who paid me a visit. His name was Thompson, I think.” She stirred her coffee absently. “Funny after all these years that I’d remember his name. But he was nice. Respectful. And I appreciated it.”
“Was there anyone in her life who you knew might have been a threat to her?” Novak asked.
“I would say everyone. She ran with a rough crowd. She was hell-bent for trouble.”
“She had several arrests,” Julia said.
“She did. Drugs. Prostitution. I don’t know what got into her. I tried to save her, but she thought I was jealous of her.”
“What do you remember about Detective Vargas?” Novak asked.
“He wasn’t as easy to deal with as his partner. And I knew him from before, of course.”
“Before?” Julia asked.
“I saw him with Tamara at one of those bars a couple of years before she died. They were sitting in a booth talking to each other real close and quiet. His hair was longer, and he looked rougher, but I knew it was the same guy.” She set her cup down as if the weight of the memory overwhelmed her.
“Are you sure it was the same officer?” Julia asked.
“I am. I made a huge scene. I was so sure I could save Tamara from herself. I went charging into the bar full of fire and brimstone. I marched right up to her table and told her it was time she came home with me.”
Mrs. Smith paused, her expression pained, and Julia asked, “What did your sister say?”
Mrs. Smith choked up. “She said I was dead to her. She looked at that Jim fellow and acted like she was embarrassed to be seen with me. He told me to leave in that deep gruff voice that I’ll remember longer than his face. He said he had it all under control. He scared me, but I stood my ground.”
Julia had seen pictures of her father during his narcotic task force days. He’d grown his hair long and had a thick mustache. He looked like he belonged on the streets.
“I told him to mind his own business. I told him she was my sister. And then he was up out of that booth and grabbed me by the arm. He told me to stay away. Tamara would be fine with him.” She shook her head. “I looked up into his eyes, and there was something I couldn’t put my finger on. I was so tired of chasing after Tamara. I was so tired of waiting up for her. I looked back at her and asked her one last time to leave with me. She said no, and I left.”
The woman picked up her coffee and stared into it. Her brow knotted as she shook her head.
“The last time was at the morgue when Ken Thompson called me to identify her.”
“My father was working undercover when you saw him in that bar.” Julia didn’t question the need to defend her father. “I believe Tamara was working with him as a confidential informant.”
“That’s what he told me later. I suppose it was meant to make me feel better, but it didn’t. I always wondered how different life would be if I’d dragged her out of that bar that day.”
“Do you know what case she was working on with Vargas?” Novak asked.
“I asked her. She was too afraid to tell me. Said it was the kind of information that could get her killed.”
The three spent the next half hour discussing Tamara. Mrs. Smith wanted to talk about the girl she’d been before she left home. She wanted to share the hopes and dreams their parents had had for them both.
When the check came, Novak intercepted it before Julia could and paid the tab.
Julia cleared her throat. “Tamara’s autopsy report said she had a baby about eight months before she died.”
A ghost of a smile warmed Mrs. Smith’s round face. “Alicia. She’s twenty-six. The county called and told me she had been born, and I went straight to the hospital. The baby was there, but Tamara was gone. So I wrapped her up and took her home. Raised her as my own. She’s getting her master’s in nursing at VCU. Smart girl.”
“So you know who the baby’s father was?”
“Tamara never told. I figured she didn’t know.”
Julia thanked Mrs. Smith, and they walked her back to her car.
Novak waited until she drove off before he started his car.
“Your father knew Tamara, Rene, Rita, and maybe Vicky. He and Ken did a good job of hiding that in the homicide files.”
She rubbed the back of her neck, fearing what else she might find out about her father if she kept digging. “That wasn’t lost on me.”
As they hit Broad Street, his phone rang. “Novak.” While he was listening, the lines in his face deepened.
When he hung up, his gaze took on an untamed edge that surprised her. The call wasn’t good.
“What’s happened?”
Novak jammed the phone in his breast pocket as he hit the lights, which flashed through the car’s grill. He punched the accelerator, raced toward the intersection, and did a sharp U-turn. “The body of a young woman was found in the Manchester district.”
She’d heard rumblings that Novak could be a hard-ass. The night they’d met, he’d received some kind of award at the dinner. The people at her table talked about the case Novak had broken that no one else could. But she’d been so wrapped up in her own issues, she couldn’t remember what it was for. “If you can’t drop me off anywhere, I’ll grab a cab.”
Novak shook his head. “The victim was bound multiple times and strung up from the beams of an old warehouse.”
His steady, deep voice triggered an eerie stillness. She conjured a horrific image of the victim. “Oh Christ, he’s back.”
“Or a copycat.” He glanced at her, his expression grim. “Either way, it’s
bad for everyone.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wednesday, November 1, 4:00 p.m.
A ring of flashing cop cars greeted them when they arrived at the warehouse just across the James River from Shockoe Bottom. The sun hung low on the horizon and spattered the sky with bright oranges and reds.
Julia pulled back her hair and secured it into a tight ponytail before she and Novak approached the uniformed officer with their badges.
“Detective Novak. I’m with Richmond homicide.” He nodded his head toward Julia. “Agent Vargas, Virginia State Police.”
The uniformed officer nodded and raised the yellow tape for them both. They ducked under and moved across the rutted parking lot until they reached the entrance to the warehouse, now being prepped with floodlights and a generator that would be needed shortly.
