Free You Belong to Me by Karen Rose Page B

remember anything at all.’
    Herrigan’s eyes widened at the ‘Homicide’ on JD’s card. ‘Is she dead? Mrs Bennett? ’Cause if she is, the doc did not do it. That woman had all kinds of men, bad ones. Any one of them coulda done it.’
    JD’s brows lifted. ‘We could use some names, a place to start.’
    ‘Don’t know their names,’ Herrigan said, now surly. ‘She’d meet them down the street when she lived here and they’d go off to do God knows what. But I saw them.’
    ‘What about the wife’s name?’ JD asked.
    ‘Brandi, with an i,’ he said scornfully. ‘Signed for things with a little heart over the i. Was about as mature as a seventh-grader. Bitch.’
    JD wrote it down. ‘If you see them again, call me. Thank you.’
    Once they were in the car, Stevie nodded approvingly. ‘Good guess, that the wife had supplements.’
    JD shrugged. ‘Thanks for the mammaries. It just made sense. Bennett must give that guy one hell of a Christmas bonus to inspire such loyalty.’ He pulled away from the curb, his hands tense on the wheel. ‘So do we talk to the wife or Dr Trask first?’
    ‘We know Lucy didn’t do this. Let’s head back to the morgue and see what she can add. I’d like any background we can get before we talk to the wife.’

Monday, May 3, 11.45 A.M.
    A few hours’ sleep and a good cup of coffee were all he’d needed. Feeling downright chipper, he parked his Lexus near his dock, pulled out his cell phone and opened up Trakamatik’s website. The little blue dot blinked at the morgue, just where it was supposed to be, because that’s where Lucy Trask was.
    He didn’t expect her to bolt today, but she would once the bodies began to stack up and she knew her jig was up. He imagined she’d turn tail and run when she realized she’d be found out for the liar she was and the crimes she’d committed, and he wanted to be able to find her when she did. Thanks to modern technology, that was as simple as the tracking device he’d slipped in the lining of her purse. It had been so easy. Women were completely careless with their handbags.
    Which was good for him. He could log into the website from anywhere, on any computer. Or even his phone. For now, little Lucy was where she was supposed to be.
    Locking his car, he paused at the end of his dock, taking a minute to admire his handiwork. He’d repaired the broken planks and cleared away the junk. The property was shaping up, if he did say so himself.
    James Cannon had owned this place, but he hadn’t deserved it. He certainly hadn’t taken care of it.
    Cannon’s name had been the first on the list provided by Malcolm Edwards, two months ago. Getting the list had been an amazing rush. Killing Malcolm and his wife . . . simply unforgettable. He’d psyched himself up for the Malcolm kill, and the high had lasted for days .
    But when he’d taken James Cannon out on Malcolm’s boat to slit his throat, it was just . . . bleh . No finesse. No panache. And nobody to know what he’d done. He realized that some of the rush had been Malcolm’s horror in watching his wife die.
    They deserved that horror. Every name on his list deserved it. So when he’d killed Cannon alone, it had been a shallow victory. Nothing to savor.
    Except Cannon’s two properties. This place here on the water and Cannon’s upscale condo in downtown Baltimore. He’d use them until he was finished. Having a center of operations plus a cushy place to crash after a day of killing was a boon.
    Cannon had certainly had an eye for real estate. Luckily he was a virtual recluse. He was cut off from his family. He had no friends. Nobody missed him. None of his neighbors even blinked when I told them I’d sublet his condo . He’d simply taken the key off Cannon’s body and moved himself in. No one asked where James was. No one cared.
    Nobody around this place on the water asked either. He’d found the deed in Cannon’s drawer, and when he’d driven his Lexus out here to