“And then?”
“Oliver acted like it was no big deal. He has a lot of pride, as you know. But T.J. says he was seething inside. He’d lie awake for hours, scribbling in his little notebook and drawing pictures.”
Pictures again. But David let that pass for now. He was too interested in hearing the rest of the story.
“Shortly afterward, Oliver stole something from a very dangerous man named Enrique, a lifer, and gave it to Larry as a gift,” Tiny went on. “When Enrique heard Larry had it in his possession—thanks again to Oliver, apparently—he assumed it was Larry who’d stolen it and killed him in the yard.”
David whistled. “That’s ruthless.”
“That’s Oliver. What’s more, T.J. said he acted completely indifferent to his lover’s death. He gloated as everyone talked about it, then went back to his journal.”
“He likes to write.” David and Tiny had been going in different directions all week. This was David’s first chance to tell him what had been found at Burke’s former residence, but Tiny wasn’t surprised.
“Makes sense,” he responded when David explained. “T.J. said he pored over his journal almost every night, making notes, some of which were in code.”
“Did Oliver leave any of that behind?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“So what do you think?”
“What I thought before. He’s a killer.”
“Did you ask him about Eugene Zufelt?” David asked.
“I did. He was pretty drugged up because of the pain, but the question still caused a reaction. He looked at me kind of strange, then smiled and said, ‘Yeah, I knew Eugene. Eugene was a friend of mine.’”
“Eugene called him a fag, then beat the shit out of him in eighth grade,” David said.
“Some friend.”
“Eugene also died in a very strange drowning incident two years later.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me, either. Not when you’d already asked me to see if Burke attended his funeral.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“He admitted it?”
“Freely.”
“Interesting.” Although distracted, David managed a smile and a nod when Jeremy turned around to show him his game score.
“How’d he do it?” Tiny asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’d sure like to talk to Eugene’s parents, though.”
“Will you be able to find them?”
“I’ve already gone through the phone book with no luck. The only Zufelt listed turned out to be a distant relative who said they moved but he didn’t know where.”
“That’s too bad.”
“He’s going to see if he can track them down through the family grapevine. If I learn anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks.”
“After what happened to Larry, isn’t T.J. scared that Oliver might try to get back at him?” David asked.
“He says he has a lot more friends inside than Larry ever did.”
“What if those ‘friends’ aren’t as loyal as he thinks?”
“I mentioned the possibility. He shrugged and said it was still worth it. He’s never met a more deceitful, cunning son of a bitch.”
David gazed down at his tennis shoes. “And that’s one killer talking about another.”
“T.J. classifies his crime a little differently than Burke’s. He’s in for murder, but he didn’t attack a woman, said he never would. The man he killed had been beating on his mother.”
“And he’s a lifer?”
“It was particularly gruesome. He plotted it well in advance and then he covered it up.”
“With that background, he probably wasn’t the safest cellmate for a ra**st to have.”
“In San Quentin, everyone’s dangerous. T.J. has an anger-management problem, but I don’t think he’s a psychopath.”
Shielding the phone with his hand, David snapped his fingers to get Jeremy’s attention. “High score, huh, buddy? Good job!”
Jeremy responded with a broad smile and restarted the game.
“Was Jane around while you were at the hospital?” David asked Tiny.
“Yeah, she was in the room, wringing her hands and staring out the window.”
“What’d she have to say?”
“‘I can’t believe what she’s done to me. It just doesn’t end.’”
“Who’s ‘she’?”
“Skye, I guess. Jane wouldn’t address me directly. She seemed very upset.”
David couldn’t help feeling some sympathy for Burke’s wife. Her only mistake, at least before the affair with Noah, was marrying the wrong guy. He felt sorry for Burke’s family, too. All the publicity surrounding the trial, and Burke’s subsequent incarceration, had humiliated them. But they’d rallied around him, stood by him in spite of it.
Problem was, if Oliver was really the calculating killer David thought, they were about to get hurt again. And so was whoever Burke chose as his next victim….
“Thanks for doing all that,” he said. “Jeremy’s waiting so I’d better go.”
“Just tell me one thing.”
“Sure.”
“What’s going on between you and Lynnette these days?”
“Same old, same old. Why?”
“She called me a couple hours ago.”
David’s hand tightened on the receiver. “What for?”
“She asked me if you’re sleeping with Skye Kellerman.”
It took David a moment to absorb that. But part of him said he should’ve expected it. “What’d you tell her?”
His friend blew out an audible sigh. “The truth.”
“Which is…”
“That I don’t know.”
Jeremy crashed his simulated race car, but instead of starting the game over, he tossed his controller aside. “Daddy, can we go out for ice cream?”
Once again splitting his attention between his telephone conversation and his son, David raised a hand. “Just a sec, okay?”
“Are you?” Tiny pressed.
“Not yet,” David said and hung up.
“Dad?” Jeremy looked up at him hopefully. “Can we get a strawberry shake?”
Maybe he couldn’t forget Skye, but he could deliver on ice cream. “Why not?” he said.
Enjoying the hot water and the scent she’d added to make her bath a little more luxurious, Skye sank deeper into the tub, careful not to get the headset attached to her iPod wet. She’d been functioning on a strictly practical level for so long that this felt like an indulgence—maybe even a waste of time—but it took her mind off the fact that it was Friday night and Burke was probably home by now. So did thinking about the dress she’d bought at a small boutique off Fair Oaks Boulevard. Made of a delicate sea-green fabric in a classic halter-top style, it molded to her body, then flared out slightly at the ankles, but it had no plunging neckline or thigh-high slit to make her feel self-conscious. It was simple and elegant, which was just what she’d been looking for. Of course, she wasn’t nearly as excited about attending the fund-raiser now that she’d be going with Charlie Fox instead of David, but something about lying in David’s bed without him last night had made her long to improve her desirability. She’d let herself become too consumed by the past, too cautious and scared.