A young woman with blond hair and blue eyes answered the door, and Kitt thought she had the wrong address.
She smiled and showed the woman her shield. “I’m Detective Lundgren. I may have the wrong address, but I’m looking for the Riggio home.”
The woman returned her smile. “You’re at the right place. You’re M.C.’s partner.”
“That’s right.” She smiled. “I’m Kitt.”
“I’m Melody, M.C.’s sister-in-law.”
Kitt shook her hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt the family meal, I was looking for-”
“Mel, who is it?”
A tall, good-looking man appeared at the dining room doorway. That he was one of M.C.’s brothers was unmistakable.
“This is Kitt Lundgren,” Melody said. “M.C.’s partner.”
He stepped forward, hand out. “I’m Neil. Her respectable brother.”
“And my husband,” Melody added.
Kitt shook his hand. “I apologize for interrupting your family dinner. But I needed to speak with M.C. Is she here?”
He looked confused. “She’s not here.” He looked at his wife. “Was Mary Catherine coming by tonight?”
“Not that I know of.”
Kitt moved her gaze between the two, a feeling of dread growing. “Isn’t tonight pasta night?”
Neil smiled. “That’s tomorrow night. We just stopped by to see-”
“Melody, Neil?”
They all turned. Mama Riggio herself stood in the doorway. All five foot one inch of her. From her steel-gray hair to her black orthopedic shoes, Mama Riggio looked like a woman who insisted on being taken seriously.
“Mama,” Neil said, “this is M.C.’s partner, Detective Lundgren.”
The woman’s gaze sharpened. “Just who I want to talk to! Come and eat. Melody, set another place.”
The younger woman scurried to do it; Kitt stopped her.
“No, don’t, Melody. I really can’t sta-”
“I insist!” The woman used a gesture that suggested finality. “I want to hear about this man she’s seeing. She’s been secretive. I wouldn’t have even known if Michael hadn’t-”
Lance Castrogiovanni.
The funny man.
“Mama,” Neil scolded, “now’s not the ti-”
The woman shushed him and went on, though Kitt’s thoughts raced. She had no concrete reason to believe Lance Castrogiovanni had anything to do with M.C.’s disappearance, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he did.
“I’ve got to go,” she said, backing toward the door. “Sorry, Mrs. Riggio. But thank you for the invitation.”
She turned and hurried out the door and to her Taurus.
Neil followed her. “Detective Lundgren, wait!”
She stopped and turned. He reached her, searched her gaze. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
She saw his concern. She worked to cover her own. “I don’t know that, Neil.”
“I’m going to try her cell phone.”
“I already did.”
Fear tightened his features. “How can I help?”
“What do you know about Lance Castrogiovanni?”
“Who?”
“The man M.C.’s been seeing.”
“Clearly, not as much as you do. I know she liked him.”
“Any idea how they met? Or where he liv…” Kitt let the words trail off, seeing from his expression that he was clueless.
“If you hear from her, let me know right away.”
As she made a move to go, he caught her arm. “I can’t just sit and do nothing.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to.” She slipped her arm from his grasp. “I’ll keep you posted.”
After she had climbed into her vehicle and pulled away from the curb, she checked in with the CRU. No word from Riggio. She called Sal at home and after hearing her out, he agreed to an all-radio bulletin for M.C. and her SUV. He also advised her to call in Allen and White, to help track every step M.C. took since that morning.
She did as he suggested. Allen and White were none to happy to hear from her-until they learned the reason.
As she hung up with them, she got another call. Praying it was Riggio, she answered, “Lundgren here.”
“This is Deputy Roberts, Dekalb County sheriff’s office. I understand you’re looking into the Mimi Ballard murder.”
Not M.C. But second best. “That’s right. One of our officers was shot and killed by an unknown subject on Monday night. We got a ballistics match with the gun used to kill Ballard.”
“After all these years? Wow.”
“Do you remember the case?”
“I do. I was only fifteen then, but my dad was a deputy. It was a very big deal. As I’m sure you know, this is a rural community. Not a lot of murders around here. And certainly not ones like that.”
He went on. “Guy’s name was Frank Ballard. Whipped her with a belt, then shot her dead. His prints were all over the belt.”
“But the gun wasn’t found.”
“Until now, apparently. Wonder how it turned up there, seventeen years after the fact?”
“That’s precisely what I’m trying to find out. What can you tell me about the murder? The stuff I won’t find in the file.”
“Ballard was pretty well-thought-of. Not everybody’s best friend, but a solid cop. You know what I mean?”
She did. The kind who didn’t yuk it up with the guys a lot, just did his job. She told him to go on.
“Everybody was shocked. He claimed his innocence, but was convicted, anyway. As far as I know, he’s still serving time.
“Wife was from a local farming family. They owned a big spread, she inherited it all when her father died. Ballard had sold everything but the house and a couple of acres to Green Giant. ConAgra now, I think. But isn’t everybody?”
She made an agreeable sort of sound and let him ramble. “Still owned the house until recently. Seems a young couple bought it.”
“Anything else about the murder that was unusual?”
“His wife was deaf.”
“Say again.”
“She was deaf. Which made it all the more horrible. That and the fact the little boy found her. Or was it a girl?”
“They had children? How many?”
“I’m not as clear on that. Two, I think. A boy and a girl.”
“Can you remember their names? Their ages?”
“Like I said, it was seventeen years ago. And we lived in Sycamore, a whole different school district, so I’m really fuzzy on this. It might’ve been just one kid.”
The SAK and his Copycat. Brother and sister.
That’s how they knew each other. And she would bet one of them had been ten years old.
“Look,” she said, hearing the urgency in her own voice, “this is priority. I believe that gun-and its shooter-are also linked to a series of child murders here. I need you to get me those children’s names and what happened to them.”
“I’ll get back to you.” He hung up.
CRU rang. “A cruiser located Detective Riggio’s vehicle. Corner of North Main and Auburn. They’re waiting for further orders.”
“Tell them to stay put. I’m on my way.”
69
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
8:40 p.m.
Kitt pulled in behind the cruiser, killed the engine and climbed out. The two officers exited their vehicle and met her at the driver’s door of the Explorer.
“Flashlight,” Kitt said. The officer closest to her handed over his. She snapped it on and shined it into the SUV. Nothing looked out of order.
“We tried the doors and found them all locked.”
She nodded. “Let’s open it up.”
The second officer jogged to the cruiser, got a shim and jogged back. Within moments, he had the vehicle open.
She checked in the glove box and console, under the seats, in the cargo hold. It was clean.
M.C. had parked the vehicle. She had locked it, taken her phone, jacket and investigation notes.
Kitt snapped off the Maglite and handed it back to the patrolman. She scanned up and down the street. Her gaze settled on the Main Street Diner and its neon Open All Night sign.
M.C. had pointed the diner out to her. She had eaten cream pie there, four slices. With a guy.