Dreaming Death (Krewe of Hunters #32) - Heather Graham Page 0,98
some people deserved to be in the world, and others just didn’t. I still thought it was a come-on to get money in some way, so, I said that I was calling the police. And then, naturally, she ran away. And I didn’t think anything of it—even when those poor women were being butchered—because I couldn’t believe anyone could be killing to steal organs!” She was truly indignant.
Anita smiled at them. “I’m in my late sixties; I’d love to have more years. But I’ve had a beautiful life. I lost my husband last year. We didn’t have our own children, but we adored our nieces and nephews, traveled the world and took them with us sometimes. I’d never take a single breath of life from another human being. This is so horrible!”
“Thank you for helping us, Mrs. Kendrick,” Stacey told her. “What’s your prognosis? Is there—”
“A chance?” Anita asked, smiling. “While there’s breath, there’s a chance. I don’t give up. I just wish there was more I could give you.”
“If we showed you pictures, do you think you might recognize the woman?”
“Maybe. But she was quite odd. Now that I think about it, I think that she was wearing a wig and glasses. I am certainly more than happy to try.”
Keenan produced his phone, flipping through his apps quickly. He found the dossiers he had on Cindy Hardy, Sandra Smith and Agnes Merkle.
He thought about the others, the other women who were connected, in one way or another. Jess’s friends, Nan, Candy, Betty, Tiffany and Gia. Tania Holt.
And Peggy Bronsen, the aide who had come running from Congressman Smith’s office, worried about what her boss might be doing.
He would draw them all up next, if need be.
He showed the first three pictures to the woman. She studied the three of them carefully once, and then again.
“Maybe...”
Her voice trailed.
“Maybe?” he, Stacey and Jean Channing all spoke at the same time.
Their hostess looked up, smiling. “I could be wrong. I told you she was wearing a wig and glasses. But the nose...and her chin. I think...it might have been this woman. No, I don’t just think. Yes, this is her, the woman who approached me.”
She pointed. The picture she’d picked out was of Sandra Smith, the congressman’s wife.
Keenan stood quickly, ready to head out.
“Wait, please!” Anita Kendrick pleaded. “Don’t leave me—I mean, until you have her.”
“Keenan, go,” Stacey said. She looked at Anita Kendrick. “Is that all right with you? I was top as a marksman—or woman—in my academy class. And Jean has been a detective for years—”
“And years,” Jean put in dryly.
“Yes, fine, I just thought that you were all going. And my housekeeper went shopping and hasn’t come back yet. She’s due soon. I just don’t... I don’t want to be alone. Just in case someone knows somehow that I called the police. Of course, you have the man, but that woman... I won’t feel safe until you have her, too.”
“We’ll have the woman,” Keenan assured her.
He headed to the door telling Stacey to call Jackson and find out just where this suspect was and say she should still be under watch.
Stacey followed him. “I’ll lock up behind you. Still want to be safe,” she said. She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “On it. Go.”
“Thanks.”
“Yes, sir. Keenan, maybe...maybe this will break the whole enterprise.”
“At least,” he told her, “we’ll get it crumbling toward the ground.”
He heard the door lock and hurried to his car.
Seventeen
Was it possible? And if so, why? And if Sandra Smith really was the person who had approached Mrs. Kendrick, was Congressman Smith involved, too? He was the one who had known both Jess Marlborough and Billie Bingham. They’d suspected him from the beginning. But...
Stacey dialed Jackson, filling him in on where they were and what they had learned from Anita Kendrick.
He told her he’d talked to the agents watching the congressman’s house just an hour ago; he’d check in with them again and let them know that Keenan was on his way.
Keenan would be bringing Sandra Smith in, even if they only had twenty-four hours before they’d have to charge her. And if Anita Kendrick would agree to view an identification lineup the next day, Sandra would be put under arrest. And pray God, she wouldn’t make bail.
Stacey’s call completed, she pocketed her phone again and started back to the smaller sitting room.
She paused, a strange dizzy sensation seizing her. She stopped.
The fireplace.
Every damned house they’d been in had a hearth. Her apartment had