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“Julia Vargas. She’s the prize.”
“Killing a cop . . . you’re overplaying your hand.”
A grin tipped the edge of his lips as he looked at the ropes in his hands. “I’m not always logical, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Why her?”
“Partly because it’s a job. Partly because she thought she could catch me, like her old man. She needs to know she can’t. Like you need to know you can’t control me.”
He wrapped the rope around her neck, and she closed her eyes. Tendons tightened and bulged. He secured the rope at the base of her neck, then began to wind it around and around until it formed a high collar that brushed the underside of her chin.
“It might not feel tight now, but once I suspend you, your good lung won’t be able to take in air as well. The angle combined with the rope is going to take its toll. You would suffocate in a matter of hours. The best you can do is relax into your bindings and allow death to release you. Struggling brings only more pain and worry.”
He moved to the rope looped around a large hook and began to pull. She rose up on tiptoes, and her little pink-painted toes fluttered above the ground. A sound gurgled in her throat. He watched as her feet kicked. When her eyes rolled back in her head, he slackened the rope and allowed her body to crumple to the floor.
“Don’t. Please,” she gasped. “I can pay.”
He crouched beside her, watching the color return to her pale face. “I have no doubt you could pay me more. But you must know that this stopped being about money a long time ago.” He stared up at the rafters. “I’m running out of places to display my work, so I guess this is going to have to be a private collection.”
She moistened her lips; her gaze steadied on him. “I’ll get you whatever you want.”
He pulled the rope taut, forcing her to rise up on her knees, her feet, and then her tiptoes. “Nothing you have that I want—well, except for your life.”
“Please,” she rasped.
He jerked hard on the rope. It tightened around her neck, cutting into the flawless white flesh, and she gagged as her feet rose up off the ground again. She was now suspended several feet above the ground. He tied off the rope and stepped back, savoring the twitching and jerking of her muscles as they begged for oxygen.
Such a rush!
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sunday, November 5, 7:00 p.m.
“Found a few videotapes that might be of interest,” Cindy said to Julia as she came down the back stairs to the bar.
“What tapes?”
“Found them in storage at my house. They were taken of your parents and you. Looks like your birthday party.”
Julia eyed the three dusty tapes sitting on the edge of the bar. “I haven’t seen these before, have I?”
“I don’t think you have. When your mom showed up with you after your father died, she had lots of boxes that I shoved anywhere I could find. I found these tapes in the back top closet under a stack of blankets. Like I said, I have stuff squirreled all around there.”
Julia set her purse beside the tapes and carefully picked one up. One was marked “Julia’s 7th Birthday.” The others were not labeled. “Do you have a player?”
“I do. It’s in the back in the cabinet next to the pool table.”
“Great. I’ll grab it and move it upstairs.”
“Don’t know what you’re going to find. I hope they’re still intact.”
Julia heard the hesitancy in her aunt’s voice. “It’s okay. And thank you for these.”
“I can sit with you while you watch.”
“No, I’m fine.”
Cindy rested her hands on her hips. “I’ve been worried about you since you started all this.”
“Why? I’ve investigated cases before.”
“Not involving your father. I know it’s been hard to hear people talk about him.”
“Actually, it’s been therapeutic. Even if some of it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. For so long it was like he didn’t exist. Now he seems more real.”
Cindy’s expression turned wistful. “I never realized you wanted to talk about him. You never asked.”
“Whenever I brought up his name, it always led to someone being sad or hurt. So I stopped.”
Cindy reached out and took Julia’s hand. “You can ask me anything you want about your father.”
Julia patted her hand. “I’ve discovered he was one hell of a cop, but a complicated man. I can understand now why you might not have liked him.”
“It was hard not to like Jim. He was a charmer with a devil’s smile. And your mother loved him with all her heart. And every time he told her he was sorry, I think he really meant it. He couldn’t stay put anywhere for long.”
“What was it like when he was working undercover?”
“Lonely for your mom. You were so young then. He’d be gone for weeks at a time. I think part of the reason he gave that life up was you. He hated seeing you cry when he left. He gave up undercover to work homicide, and they were happy for a time, but then he started staying out late. He said it was the Hangman case, but Amy had her suspicions.”
“Cases like that can eat up a lot of a cop’s life. He could have been telling the truth.”
“I think it was true at first. He was working long hours with his partner. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. And I know he missed his old job. Once his ex-partner came by the bar, and they must have talked a couple of hours. I thought he was coping with the new life, but one night your mom brought you by the bar and asked if I’d watch you for a few hours. Said she was going for a drive. When she came back, she was crying. She’d been following your father.”
“She saw him with another woman?”
“She never would say. Only that you two would be staying above the bar and that she wasn’t going back. Jim came by the next day. He was upset. I’d never seen him this upset, but this time he looked broken. Your mother told him she wanted a divorce.”
“When was this?”
“Several months before he died.”
“What made her decide to go back?”
“Jim Vargas had the devil’s charm. He could make anyone like him. And he set his sights on winning your mother back. She said the marriage was over. He said it would never happen again. He told me the same thing, and as much as I knew about the guy, I even believed him. Like I said, the devil’s charm.”
“And you never found out who he was seeing?”
“No. Didn’t matter. If not this girlfriend, it would have been another later. As much as I wanted my sister to be happy, your father was doomed to make her miserable.”
“Was it Rita?”
“Could have been. Those two got on well together.” She nodded toward the three tapes. “Have a look at those, and if you have more questions, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks.”
Julia changed into sweats and a T-shirt and then went to the poolroom, where she dug through a cabinet until she found a dusty VCR. In her room she plugged it into the outlet, and after a few minutes of trial and error, had it connected to a small television.
She didn’t have a remote, forcing her to pull up a chair close to the television so that she could hit “Play.” She chose the video that read “Julia’s 7th Birthday,” hoping to start with something upbeat. She pushed the video into the machine, and her fingers hovered over the “Play” button before she pressed it. Julia sat back, folding her arms over her chest as the static crackled. Then the image of a backyard popped onto the screen. She knew from pictures that it had been her parents’ home. She recognized a tall oak and the gray privacy fence. Her parents had bought the house when her father transferred to homicide. Balloons tied to the back fence wafted gently in the breeze, and in the background a neighbor’s dog barked.
In the next frame, a little version of herself ran out into the yard. She was wearing shorts and a blue-and-white-striped T-shirt, and her hair was short and curly. She was laughing, running toward the balloons. The c
amera panned to the right, and her mother’s voice said, “Today is Julia’s big day. She’s seven years old.”
Julia hit “Pause” and replayed the section, this time closing her eyes as she listened again to her mother’s voice. It had been so long, and she’d forgotten what her mother sounded like. When she looked at the screen again, her mom was panning the camera toward a group near a smoking barbecue grill. There were more children running around, their laughter bubbling up as they played with Julia.
The adults gathered on the small back porch were cops. Some were in uniform as if they’d swung by after or before a shift, and others were in plain clothes. One man had long hair and a thick beard and looked like he belonged on the streets rather than at a kid’s birthday bash. Novak had visited her father’s former partner and told her of the meeting. She’d bet money that was Nate Unger.
Her father stood at the grill. He held a spatula in one hand and a bottled beer in the other. Beside him were Ken and Wendy. As Julia studied Ken and Wendy, she was struck by the change in appearance of both over the years. Wendy could only be described as hot. She wore her clothes tight and her thick blond hair loose around her shoulders.
Ken looked into the camera. “Are we going to get the cake?”
Her mother’s laugh drifted from behind the camera. “Very soon.”
“How about now?” Ken asked. “Starving.”
“Sure. I think the kids are more than ready.”
Julia wished her mother had turned the camera around so she could see her face. Instead, her mother set it down and followed Ken. The footage continued to roll.
Jim Vargas continued to grill and sip his beer while Wendy moved closer to talk to him. As she spoke, too quiet for the camera’s microphone, Jim’s body tensed. He looked toward her. She tried to touch his hand, but he pulled away. The movements were so small, anyone at the party could have missed their interaction.
She hit “Rewind” and replayed the footage. Wendy reached for Jim. He tensed and pulled away, quickly glancing toward the door.
Ken’s voice boomed from behind the camera. “Birthday girl! We have cake!”
A gaggle of squealing children ran from offscreen. Wendy put several steps of distance between her and Jim and smiled brightly. The camera rocked and the picture jumped as her mom settled the camera back up on her shoulder. The kids came running toward the cake, and seven-year-old Julia dashed to the head of the table. Jim lit the candles, and everyone sang “Happy Birthday.” Wendy snuggled close to Ken, and he kissed her on the cheek. Life went on; the moment was gone. The tape stopped.
