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“Yep, exactly. You were all over the connection between Madison and Naomie, so I had to distract you as quickly as possible by killing someone who wasn’t a personal friend of Naomie’s. I needed you to find her before you started looking too closely toward me.”
“And that’s why you changed your mind from Chelsea as the third victim?” Jo asked.
He waved his hand like he was shooing a fly. “That, and because my initial research didn’t uncover that Chelsea had a homicide detective on speed dial.”
“And having someone particularly motivated to avenge her death was too risky,” Arnett said.
Chris nodded. “So I brought Naomie some coffee at work, conveniently ‘forgetting’ she had a team meeting at that time. I went through her files and picked out another unwed mother from the wrong side of the tracks. Then I followed her, and the first chance I got after dark I killed her.”
“How did you get her to go behind the strip mall with you?”
He shrugged. “Pretended to recognize her, and introduced myself as Naomie’s husband. I asked her about her baby, and that was that—if I’ve learned one thing over the last few months, it’s you can’t shut pregnant women up about their damned babies. They all think theirs is special and amazing, like everything from elephants to rats don’t manage to get themselves knocked up every day. Once I had her off guard I pulled the gun on her.”
Jo’s mind flew to the witness who’d reported a black woman talking happily with a friend. “You were taking quite a risk that she wouldn’t just start screaming.”
“Not really.” He leaned forward like he was sharing a stock tip. “I told her I was going to rape her, and that she and her baby would be fine if she didn’t put up a fuss, but that if she called any attention to us, I’d shoot her through the side of her stomach so her baby would die, but she’d live.”
Jo stood abruptly, sending her plastic chair flying back to the wall. Both Chris and Arnett jumped—Chris back from her as far as the handcuffs allowed, and Arnett up to put himself between her and Chris.
Jo stared into the monster’s eyes for a long moment, summoning every ounce of will she had.
Then she turned and walked out of the interrogation room.
CHAPTERFIFTY-NINE
Jo pulled up to Chelsea’s street and parked two doors down. She sat in the car, staring up at Chelsea’s brownstone, taking a moment to decide if this really was the best way to handle the situation.
Events had developed quickly after they captured Chris. He’d pleaded guilty to killing all four of the women and Rick Moranto, on the condition that Julia’s murder be charged as manslaughter rather than murder.
“Saves the taxpayers the expense of a trial at least,” Arnett had said. “Too bad we don’t have the death penalty anymore. I’d flip the switch on the electric chair myself.”
Jo found it hard to argue. “At least the families know what happened to their loved ones, and the pregnant women of Oakhurst County can rest easy again.”
“Amen,” Arnett said.
Then, three days later, Ben Silva from the Springfield PD called them with an update. “We got the bastard.”
“Travis Hartley?”
“Yep. He was slick, but not slick enough. Some guy got rough with one of his girls, one of Travis’s favorites apparently. Travis personally took him out into the back of the parking lot to teach him a lesson, not realizing we had a night-vision camera stuck up in a tree. As soon as my guys saw what was up, they intercepted. That allowed them to search Travis, and the coke they found in his pocket got them a search of the premises. That’s when they found two thugs in the back room with an assortment of pharmaceutical goodies and stacks of bills. Things escalated from there. Long story short, I got you your DNA sample.”
She thanked him profusely, and made arrangements with Marzillo to have the DNA tested. “I’ll pay for it personally,” Jo had said. “It may not matter much to the case anymore, and even if the baby is his, I’ll never be able to prove the relationship wasn’t consensual. But I’d like to know, and I’d like him to know I know.”
“Not a problem. I have a favor I can call in,” Marzillo had said. “Because I couldn’t agree with you more.”
And she hadn’t been kidding—she called in the favor so fast they had the results two days later: Travis Hartley was Madison’s baby’s father.
Jo smiled at the thought of Marzillo’s face when she’d relayed the news. Sometimes—too often—she forgot how lucky she was. To have friends like Marzillo, and Lopez, and Arnett. And family who loved her, and a wonderful partner in Matt. She had zero doubt they’d go to the ends of the earth for her, as she would for them.
And, she reminded herself as she gazed up at Chelsea’s house, not everybody was so lucky. After what Chris said he’d overheard, she’d done a little digging on Chelsea. No matter where she looked, she couldn’t identify any close connections in Chelsea’s life other than her sister, who David had said was essentially out of her life. Chelsea’s parents had died tragically, and while her social media over the last ten years had countless photos of parties and sorority events, Chelsea was always surrounded by a crowd. There was never any particular person—other than the man named Pierce—who recurred regularly.
And that was the reason she’d waffled back and forth on what she was about to do.
With a deep intake of breath, she climbed out of the car and made her way up Chelsea’s stairs. She rang the bell, then punctuated with a firm knock.
Chelsea’s face when she opened the door was a strange mixture of fear and gratitude. Apparently, she wasn’t much happier about their inadvertent relationship than Jo was.
“Oh, hello. I wasn’t expecting you.” She glanced up and down the street. “Is everything okay?”
