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“What did it say?”
“He confessed to being the Hangman.”
Andrews sat still; his breathing slowed. He didn’t blink. “He said that in the note?”
“Yes. But the note made no sense to me. The handwriting was shaky.”
“Did you save it?”
“No. I shoved it in my pocket as the paramedics arrived. As soon as I got home, I burned it. I know that was a mistake. I should have saved it. But I couldn’t let the world think that my partner killed all those women.”
Andrews subdued frustration. “Do you recall exactly what it said?”
“I do. It said: I’m the Hangman.”
“That’s precise. Are you sure that’s what it said?”
“It’s burned in my memory. And not a day goes by that I wish I could forget it. Of all the memories that are slipping away, that one has its hooks in me.”
“You never told Julia.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit. I never told anyone until this moment.”
“Why now?”
“I can’t tell Julia. I can’t put this burden on her.”
“I’m going to have to tell her,” Andrews said.
“She won’t believe you. She’ll need hard forensic data to ever be convinced that Jim was the Hangman.”
Andrews mentally shifted. “What did the note look like?”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell me about the note. You said shaky handwriting. What type of paper did he use? What was the color of the ink that he used? Were there stains on the page?”
“It was written on the back of a Chinese take-out menu. Dark ink. Uneven handwriting scribbled across the menu. There was a dark stain in the upper-right corner. Looked like food or coffee.”
“Had he ordered Chinese that day?”
“I saw later in the refrigerator that there was beef and mixed vegetables in there.”
“Where was the note?”
“On the kitchen table, stuck in the bowl of apples.”
“Was there a back door to the kitchen?”
“Yes. And it was open when I arrived. I asked Amy about it, but she said she freaked out and might have opened it when she ran outside.”
“Did you look out the back door?”
“Sure.”
Andrews sensed someone behind him and turned to see Wendy standing in the door. She was staring at her husband as if seeing him for the first time.
“Ken,” she said. “Is this true?”
He nodded. “It’s all true.”
“Jim left a note?”
“Yes.”
“What about the back door?” Andrews pressed. Staying focused on the facts was more important than Wendy’s reaction.
“I shoved the note in my pocket. Their backyard was bordered by woods, and I briefly searched, hoping to see someone, something, or anything to help explain what had happened. I didn’t want to leave the girls alone too long. When the paramedics arrived, it all rolled on from there.”
Wendy went to Ken, knelt by his chair, and wrapped her arm around him. “Honey, why didn’t you say something?”
“I wanted to protect Jim and Julia,” he said. “I couldn’t believe he’d killed those women.”
“When you were partnered with Jim, did you ever wonder if he was connected to the Hangman murders?” Andrews asked.
“Jim knew all the women from his undercover work, and he knew the murders weren’t random. But he never once made me think he’d killed them.”
“He never made a note of his relationship with them in his files.”
“Like I told Julia, he hated writing down his thoughts. He didn’t trust that the information wouldn’t be compromised.” Ken clenched his fists as his gaze sharpened. “But I never once had any gut feeling about him wanting to hurt those women. They had helped him, trusted him, and he wanted to repay that trust by helping them straighten out their lives.”
“Stay here,” Andrews said. He moved into the living room and dialed Tobias Novak’s number. Though Julia was his contact on the case, this suicide fell within the jurisdiction of the city police, and that meant Novak.
On the second ring, he heard a crisp “Detective Novak.”
“Garrett Andrews with Shield Security.”
A pause. “What can I do for you?”
He recapped what he’d learned.
More silence. “Are you certain he’s not confused?”
“He appears lucid. Actually, he appears quite in control.”
“Does he know about the Ortega murder?” Novak asked.
“It didn’t come up. And Ortega’s death doesn’t mean Jim didn’t commit the original three.”
“I’ll get Julia, and we’ll be right over. Can you stand firm?”
Julia. Not Agent Vargas. Interesting. “Of course.”
“I don’t want to believe Jim was the Hangman,” Julia said.
Novak studied her solemn expression. “We haven’t ruled out a copycat.”
She shrugged her shoulders, chasing away the tension that’d been building since he’d told her about his conversation with Andrews. “I don’t buy it. Ken is confused.”
“Let’s take it one step at a time.”
“I said I’d follow the case until the end, and I meant it.”
Julia and Novak arrived at the Thompson house twenty minutes after Andrews called. Inside, they found Ken, Wendy, and Andrews. Wendy sat next to Ken on the arm of his easy chair. Andrews stood a few steps back, making some notes on a small pad.
When Julia entered the room, Ken looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and fear. “Honey, I’m so sorry,” he said.
She knelt beside him and took his hand in hers. She had only one shot at this and couldn’t badger him into recanting his story. “Ken, don’t worry. Don’t get upset. Tell me what you told Andrews.”
“Your father left a note.” He dropped his voice
to a whisper. “He confessed to killing those women.”
“Why did he kill them?”
“I don’t know. The guy worked side by side with me every day trying to solve the case. None of it made sense.”
“So you think my father really wrote that note and then killed himself?”
“The scene looked like a classic suicide. There was no sign of struggle or that anyone else had been there.”
“Maybe it was someone he knew,” she said. “Maybe it was someone who could get close to him. My mother and he had been separated for a couple of months. Maybe there was someone else.”
“He never told me about seeing anyone.”
“You destroyed the note,” she confirmed.
“I didn’t want anyone finding it. I was afraid for you and your mother. She’d have lost her widow’s benefits if it could be proved he was the Hangman.” His wrinkled brow knotted into a frown. “I wanted to protect him, you, and your mother. I wanted to do right by everyone.”
“Why let me go to Shield if you found the note?” Julia asked.
“Because I need the truth before I die.” He slowly shook his head. “The suicide never made sense to me.”
“Was he depressed or sad in the days leading up?” Novak asked.
“No. Not at all. That’s why I hid the note.”
“You didn’t think to send it in for analysis?” Novak followed up.
“The media and the brass were still hungry for a close.” He met Julia’s gaze. “It would have made it all so easy to pin it on him. And you and your mother’s life would have been devastated. You have to believe me. I did what I thought was best for you.”
“What if he was murdered?” Julia asked. “What if that note had been a clue to the killer?”
Ken shook his head, his watery gaze lost. “I thought about that later. I wished I’d saved the note. But I didn’t.”
Wendy stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. “This is enough for today. It’s time for his medicines, and he’s tired. It gets worse when he’s tired.”
Julia rose, keeping her frustrations in check. “I want to talk to you again, Ken.”
“Sure, honey. Sure,” he said.
She kissed him on the cheek and stepped outside. The morning sun warmed her face, but she didn’t feel it. She was numb.
Novak came up behind her. She resisted the urge to lean into him, ask him to wrap his arms around her, and hold her tight. Andrews walked up.
