Chapter 113

Chapter 113
Chapter Title: Two Hearts

Kathy

We were almost out of the precinct when Nick called after us.

“Reynolds.”

We turned.

Nick was still sitting at his desk, his eyes fixed on his monitor.

“Healy wants to see you. Both of you. At the morgue.”

Reynolds glanced at the clock on the wall. “It's ten.” He sighed. “We'll have to wait and ask Gray ourselves."

He reached across Nick's desk, picked up the phone and dialed.

“I need SWAT on standby,” he said when someone answered. “Pocomoke Docks. We have an undercover asset coming in after midnight. I want a team there to secure him and bring him in safely.” He paused. “No, we're not executing a warrant. This is a recovery operation. I'll send the exact location once we have it.”

He hung up, then he looked at Nick. “Tate back yet?”

Nick shook his head. “No.”

Reynolds pulled out his phone, dialed her number, and put the call on speaker.

She answered on the third ring. “What?”

“What's taking you so long?” Reynolds asked.

“Do you know how many fingerprints and body fluids we have to process in this place?” Tate's exhausted voice came through the phone. “And I'm still waiting for a safecracker. If he doesn't show up soon, I'm having the damn thing hauled back to CPD.”

Reynolds frowned. “Benny had a safe?”

“Yep. Underneath his desk.”

He immediately looked interested. “What kind?”

“Not one of those fancy biometric safes. Key and combination.”

“You found the combination?”

“No. And I can't find the key either.” Tate sighed. “Hence the safecracker. That's what safecrackers are for, Detective.”

Reynolds grinned. “Call me the second it's open.”

“Will do.”

The call ended.

My phone vibrated. I pulled it from my pocket.

Ace.

I answered. “Hastings.”

“I called to let you know Hank will be arriving early tomorrow morning,” Ace said. “The Senator needs him to finish some work before the festivities begin. Apparently, there's a brief he wants Hank to finish before the birthday celebration.”

I rubbed my forehead. There was already too much happening. Under normal circumstances, I'd have driven to Washington myself and questioned Hank.

Tonight wasn't normal.

“Thanks, Ace. We'll see Hank tomorrow.”

Reynolds' eyebrows rose when he heard Ace's name.

Before I could say anything else, Ace spoke again. “Are you free? Maybe we could grab a late dinner.”

I opened my mouth.

“Come on, Hastings,” Reynolds suddenly called loudly from beside me. “Dr. Healy wants to see us.”

I shot him a look. “Sorry, Ace. I've got to go. Duty calls.” I hung up.

Reynolds looked at me.

“What did Ace want?”

“Hank's held up in D.C. He'll be back in Crisfield tomorrow morning.”

Reynolds nodded. Then he looked toward outside. “I've got to grab that box from Sweet and Savory.” He pointed toward a chair. “Wait here.”

"Can you grab my backpack for me?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied then walked away.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket.

Judging by Ace's voice, he hadn't heard about Benny yet. That meant news of his death hadn't reached the Williamson camp.

Yet.

I walked toward the glass walls of the briefing room. Inside, the press conference was still underway. Three photographs were displayed across the massive television screen behind Chief Morgan.

Emma Morgan, Cole Jones and Kimberly Hastings.

Beneath them was CPD's hotline number, along with a notice offering a substantial reward for information leading to the safe recovery of the missing people.

Reporters were having a field day. Questions came from every direction.

Then one reporter shifted the subject.

“Chief Morgan, since your daughter is one of the missing people, you've held a press conference and offered a reward for information. But what about the other women?”

The reporter glanced down at his notes.

“Tanya Wilson. Lori Emery. Marissa Vega. All three disappeared under circumstances similar to the people currently being investigated. Why haven't they been included?”

Chief Morgan's expression tightened. “We're looking into every missing-person report that comes to our attention.”

“But those three women haven't been included in the reward," the reporter countered.

“The circumstances surrounding those cases are different,” Morgan said carefully. “All three women had prior arrests for minor offenses, and investigators found indications that they may have left Crisfield voluntarily.”

“So you're saying they weren't victims?” the reporter pressed.

“I'm saying we don't have sufficient evidence at this time to establish that they were abducted.”

The reporter wasn't satisfied. “But isn't that exactly what you've been criticized for in the past? Assuming missing women simply left on their own?”

Morgan's jaw tightened. “We follow evidence, not speculation. If new information connects those cases to the current investigation, we will act on it.”

A few reporters immediately began shouting follow-up questions.

I stepped away from the glass and found Reynolds standing behind me. He handed me my bag, and I slung it over my shoulder.

“He knew the serial case was going to bite him,” he said quietly.

I looked at him. “All unsolved cases bite back. You know that.”

He inclined his head. “Well, he has a good enough excuse to cover the department's shortcomings,” he continued. “But he's not the guy we need to worry about right now.” He held up the pastry box.

I nodded. "Got it. Healy's waiting."

We headed for the elevator and took it down to the morgue.

The basement was quiet. Too quiet.

Sterile walls. Fluorescent lights. The sharp smell of formalin.

We followed the corridor until we reached the autopsy suite of the morgue. Dr. Healy stood beside one of the examination tables. He wore a white coat, surgical mask, and bloodied gloves.

On the slab lay Benny Reed.

“Vince,” Healy said to his assistant, “place the box on my desk.”

Vince took the box from Reynolds and disappeared into the adjoining room.

Healy gestured for us to come closer. Reynolds and I approached the table.

“Benedict "Papa Benny" Reed. Single gunshot wound to the chest. Nine-millimeter projectile.” He pointed toward the paper bags on a separate table. “Gunshot residue was detected on the fabric.”

“So he was facing the shooter,” Reynolds said.

Healy nodded. “Most likely.”

Reynolds glanced at him. “But you didn't call us down here to tell us what we already know.”

“No.” Healy's eyes gleamed above his mask. “I called you here to show you this.”

He pointed toward Benny's ear.

I took a pair of gloves from a nearby box and leaned closer. There was something written behind his ear. I moved the auricle of Benny's ear to get a better look under the light.

Baby Murderer.

“Benny killed a baby?” Reynolds exclaimed.

“Tattooed behind Allison Reed's ear was the word Murderer,” Healy said. “And now, written behind Benny's ear, in what I can only assume is a Sharpie, Baby Murderer.” He paused. “Father and daughter shared something in common besides DNA.”

“That's for sure,” Reynolds agreed.

Healy turned toward the metal basin and lifted it. “He had these in his mouth.”

Two tiny heart-shaped charms rested inside, each engraved with a letter. K and L.

I stopped breathing.

I knew those charms. I'd seen them before.

When I was a child.

My mind flashed back to the days when Kelly, Kimberly, and I made charm bracelets.

Mom and Dad were already divorced, but they were fighting. Like they always did.

“Kelly, why are you using an L?” Kimberly asked, confused. “It should be an H like me and Kathy.”

“Mom said I'm getting my name changed,” Kelly said quietly. “My new name is going to be Kelly Lawrence. Just like Mom's.”

It hurt to hear her say those words. It was like I had lost a sister and a mother.

That's when I knew we were never going to be a family again.

“Agent Hastings?” Healy asked, concerned. “Are you okay? It's like you've seen a ghost.”

“My... my sisters and I...” I stuttered. “We... we played with charms like these when we were little girls. K and L.”

I stared at the two tiny hearts.

“They're the initials of my deceased sister... Kelly Lawrence.”

“Deceased?” Healy repeated.

I took off the gloves, opened my backpack, and pulled out the file on Kelly's case.

“She’s the cold case from New York I wanted you to take a look at,” I said. “Apparently, it leads here.”

Healy took off his gloves and accepted the folder from me. He began scanning through it, with Reynolds looking over his shoulder.

“Kimberly must have found out about something,” I said. “Maybe whoever is doing this took her for information. No one knows about these charms except for me and her.”

“That means they know you're related, despite the different surnames,” Healy said. His eyes moved across the pages. “It says here she was a few months away from turning twenty. A junior at NYU. And pregnant.” He looked up. “The boyfriend must be one of Crisfield's own.”

“But to get entangled with the Reeds?” Reynolds said. “That's only possible if she knew the four.”

“But Allison graduated from Salisbury University, not NYU,” Healy said. “I got that information from her file.”

“Well, Dr. Healy, we probably need to dig further,” Reynolds said. “My cousin, the assistant DA, says she saw them during a theater performance hosted by the school.”

“Anyone can attend a performance, Detective,” Healy argued. “And what could be the possible connection to that?”

“My sister, Kelly,” I said.

Both men looked at me.

“She’s the connection.”

I stared at the two heart-shaped charms resting in the basin.

“She played Fantine in that specific performance of Les Misérables.”