Looking too emotional to speak, Fitz nodded and headed out the door.
Cope cradled Snowball in his arms. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Make sure Frankie knows she can always come home, Cope.” Sofia hugged him, as well.
“I will,” Cope promised.
Over the course of the twenty plus years he’d been able to speak with the dead, Cope had only come across a few spirits who were stuck in a moment. He wasn’t certain that was what Frankie was dealing with, but he would do whatever he could to speak with her. Cope didn’t know a lot about murder, but if a stranger wanted to kill Frankie, they would have shot her in her home and been done with it. A friend or a loved one would have been let into her home with no questions asked. He was convinced the killer knew Frankie, which made the crime an even bigger betrayal. The killer bound Frankie and took her out of the house for a reason. It was up to Cope to figure out what that reason was.
Cope wouldn’t stop until he figured out who did this to Frankie and her unborn daughter.
9
Jude
Jude sat at the conference table waiting for Fitz to finish his call with Salem Police Chief, Cisco Jackson. He was updating their boss on the interviews they’d conducted with Oliver and Frankie’s parents. Aside from a couple of new names to pursue, they had no evidence pointing them to the killer.
“Cisco wants us at Frankie’s funeral,” Fitz said, as he walked out of his office.
“When is it?” Jude asked.
“Day after tomorrow, at 9 A.M.” Fitz took his usual seat at the table. “He wants us there in suits, as mourners. There will be a dozen or so plain clothes officers monitoring the crowd.”
Jude knew that killers sometimes attended their victims’ funeral services as a way to further get off on their crime. Frankie had been dead for four years, it was possible her killer was long gone.
“Jude?” Fitz asked, sounding like he’d called Jude’s name more than once.
“Sorry, Cap, I was thinking about the funeral and how Frankie’s killer might not put in an appearance.”
“Why do you think that?” Ronan asked.
“Frankie was murdered four years ago. Whoever killed her has been living on the edge ever since. If it were me, I would have gotten out of town as soon as the heat died down and it wouldn’t have looked suspicious.”
Fitz tapped his pen against the table. “You think her killer is a stranger.” It wasn’t a question.
Jude sighed. “It’s the only option that makes sense.”
“Frankie was taken from her house, was tied up and had tape over her mouth. She was moved to a second location where she was shot in the head and left in the woods. If the killer was a stranger, they would have done the deed and gotten out of the house before anyone noticed he’d been there.”
“I hear you, Cap.” Jude sighed. “We’ve all done this job long enough to know that nine out of ten times the killer is somehow known to the victim. You always talk about how our victims are flawed. People are imperfect, so it makes sense victims would be as well. It’s just that I don’t see any flaws in Frankie. Here’s a woman who dedicated her life to serving others. She was a member of the Salem City Council, volunteered her time and money to local food banks. She participated in color runs, turkey trots, and polar plunges to raise money for all kinds of charities.” Jude paused, trying to collect his rising emotions. “Frankie was beloved by her husband, her family, her friends, her community, which is why I think her killer had to be a stranger.”
Fitzgibbon nodded. “If that’s the case, if it was a stranger, why risk taking Frankie out of the house in broad daylight?”
“The only thing I can think is that the killer gave her a reason to walk out of the house under her own power. Maybe the killer had a partner who was going to kill Oliver or Frankie’s parents if she didn’t come along quietly.” Jude shook his head. He knew none of this made any sense. “Fuck.”
“Everyone makes enemies, Jude,” Ronan said quietly. “Neighbors who hate barking dogs, late night parties, and trash bins left out after collection. Coworkers who are jealous of a promotion or the special treatment you get and they don’t. Drivers who cut you off on the highway. People who bring a cart full of groceries into the twelve items or less lane. In this dayand age, we find ridiculous reasons to hate each other. I agree that Frankie was a paragon in this community. She was a loving daughter, wife, and friend, but someone killed her anyway. Someone she knew and possibly loved.”
“You’re right,” Jude agreed. It made no sense that anyone would want to harm Frankie, but someone had. Someone who needed to pay. “What’s our next step?”
“Step one, I want you, Cope, and Tennyson to try to reach out to Frankie. Bring Carson in if you think he can help. We need to get as much information from Frankie as we can. Ronan, get on Doctor Vincent Holbrook. Where is he? Does he have a criminal record? Reach out to friends, family, an ex-wife or husband. Get me everything you can find. We’re going to pay him a visit tomorrow morning. I’m going to do the same thing with Ambrose Watson. I want to see him tomorrow afternoon. Shock and awe, no advance notice to either man.”
“Do you think seeing them tomorrow will keep them away from the funeral? You know, make them duck and cover?” Jude asked.
Fitzgibbon barked a quick laugh. “We’re gonna have a press conference later in the day saying we have no suspects and want the public’s help. Cisco’s setting up a tip line. Our faces will be plastered all over the news, making our potential suspects think they’re in the clear. I want you both in suits, not black though, save those for the funeral.”
“You got it, Cap,” Ronan agreed.
“Shout if you need me.” Fitz headed back into his office and shut the door.
