Page 37 of The Drowned Woman
“Detective Jericho?” he said, his tone rushed. “I think you need to come here. The killer sent Risa another message. I can’t explain, just get here as fast as you can.”
Twenty-Two
To Leah’s surprise, after Risa buzzed her into the Falconer, her door wasn’t opened by Risa or even Jack O’Brien, but instead a reedy man with a shaved head and a pair of very small, round glasses perched on his nose.
“You must be Dr. Wright,” he exclaimed as if he’d been waiting all day to meet her. He thrust out a hand. “Dominic Massimo. Risa’s agent. Call me Dom.”
Leah followed him inside where Risa waited in her customary chair. Jack stalked the narrow space behind the island that separated the kitchen from the living area, talking on the phone in a low voice. He hung up and turned to Risa. “He’s on his way. But as soon as he gets here, we should leave. Let me get you out of here.”
“Why? It’s not like he doesn’t already know where I live.” Leah frowned at Risa, who shrugged. “Jack was here when Dom called, so I told Jack about the stalker, showed him the letters. Thanks for coming. I just don’t know what to do—and these two aren’t being much help.” Her almost flippant attitude surprised Leah until she realized it was all an act of bravado. When Leah looked closely she saw the fear hiding behind Risa’s calm façade.
“Excuse me?” Dom said, hands on his hips. “The letter was sent to me, not you. Who dropped everything to drive here from Manhattan?”
Jack glared at the other man. “Only to protect your own interests. You want Risa to turn this into some kind of media spectacle.”
“We all want Risa to return to her former level of success. If this serial killer story is our ticket, then I say we take it and run with it.”
“Except it’s her life on the line.” Jack walked over to Risa’s chair, settling on its arm.
“Mine as well—the killer obviously has my address.”
“Wait,” Leah put in, drawing both men’s attention. “How did the killer send you a letter addressed to the detective investigating Trudy’s death when she only died this morning?” It sounded terribly complicated and meant the killer—or stalker—had been close enough to know Luka was on the case and where to reach Dom.
“Exactly why I want Risa out of here. The guy is toying with us,” Jack said, one hand laid protectively over Risa’s arm.
“Anyone care to know what I think?” Risa asked. “I don’t think Trudy’s murder was planned—or at least not like his other killings, which despite his victims being determined by a throw of the dice, otherwise were so meticulous no one has ever labeled them as murders. And he had plenty of time after he killed Trudy to email a letter to a courier service, ask them to print it out and deliver it to Dom.”
“Even required my signature. I thought I was being sued or something.”
“You called Luka, right? He’s coming?” Leah asked.
“I just spoke with him. He’s on his way,” Jack assured her. He seemed the only one taking the potential threat seriously.
“In the meantime, we might have had a breakthrough on one of the other cases the killer mentioned. The guy from Indiana?” Dom sounded excited by the prospect of helping to unmask a serial killer. More than excited, rapacious. Making Leah wonder exactly how far he’d go to resurrect Risa’s career.
“Jack thinks I was looking in the wrong place for the dead landscaper,” Risa explained.
“Problem was, Risa grew up in Kansas and then lived in New York City,” Jack said. “She doesn’t know this area. Not Indiana the state, but Indiana, Pennsylvania. It’s a town not far from Pittsburgh. Making it much too close to here,” he finished with a worried expression, edging his hip closer to Risa.
“Any missing landscape guys from there?” Leah’s tone matched Dom’s and she realized how easy it was to get caught up in the exhilaration of hunting a serial killer—never mind that ten minutes ago she’d been convinced that Risa might be making the whole thing up. And who was to say she wasn’t? She could have arranged for the letter to be delivered to her agent. It was a great way to divert suspicion.
Before Risa could answer Leah, there was a knock on the door. Dom rushed out and returned with Luka and Harper, neither of whom appeared happy with the circumstances.
“I understand you have a letter addressed to me,” Luka began after introducing himself and Harper to Dom.
“Actually, it’s a letter to me,” Dom corrected him. “Containing instructions to deliver a message to you. In person.” He raised his phone to video the encounter. “I saved everything for fingerprints and DNA and such.” He turned to Harper, who was donning a pair of nitrile gloves. “I assume that’s your department?” With a flourish he reached to the coffee table and handed her a clear plastic folder containing an envelope, sheet of paper, and receipt.
“Please stop filming, sir,” Luka told him. “What was the message?”
“I have my rights,” Dom argued.
Risa intervened. “Dom. Stop. It’s distracting. And this is important. Give Detective Jericho the message.”
Dom shrugged and pocketed his phone. “It’s all there, in the letter. You didn’t expect me to memorize it, did you? It’s just a bunch of numbers. Said to bring them to Detective Sergeant Jericho. So I did.”
Harper held up the plastic-encased sheet of paper. “Looks like maybe an IP address?” She snapped a photo. “I’ll ask Sanchez.” She moved to the foyer to make her call.
Luka took a breath and Leah knew he was sorting through priorities—she’d seen that expression on him before, when he was questioning her after Ian’s murder. “Ms. Saliba. I’d like to know more about your stalker. Take me through everything. When exactly did the emails and texts begin?”
