5

Jude

Jude sat in the back seat of Fitzgibbon's SUV, half listening to Ronan ramble on about an episode of Dexter . Jude had initially been intrigued by the idea of a serial killer who only butchered bad people. Murderers, rapists, and others who'd managed to wriggle out of being punished by the justice system for their crimes. With the sort of work they did for a living, the last thing Jude wanted to do in his free time was watch a show that glorified the kinds of offenses he worked to solve.

"Take a left up here," Ronan said, swiveling in his seat to look at Jude. "You okay? You're awfully quiet back there."

"I'm good. Just got my head stuck in this case. A woman died in her own kitchen, and seven years later, there have been no arrests. I can't imagine what Jessi's family has been through over all this time. Not only is Jessi Webster gone, but there are no answers to explain why."

"Tony Webster has been under suspicion in his wife's death for the last seven years. Imagine living with that if he's innocent. All the friends it would cost you. Maybe family too. Your reputation is dirt, and until the cops arrest someone that isn't you , there's no way to convince people you're actually innocent."

Jude raised a quizzical eyebrow at Ronan. "You're on Tony Webster's side here?" Usually, Ronan was the first one calling for the suspect to be strapped to the electric chair. This certainly was a change from his usual stance, especially where a murdered woman's husband was concerned.

"I'm not on anyone's side. Dexter taught me to see crime from both sides of the coin." Ronan grinned as if he'd just discovered the secret to life. When Fitz parked across the street from the Webster house, Ronan hopped out, whistling a happy tune.

"Seriously?" Jude asked, eying Fitzgibbon in the rearview mirror. "Should we be worried about him?"

"I think he's fine. If he starts buying rolls of plastic sheeting and garbage bags, then we'll worry." Fitzgibbon shook his head and got out of the SUV.

Jude followed behind them. As he approached the house, he took stock of the two-story Cape Cod. The shingle siding was painted grey. He could smell the freshly cut grass. Sitting in the driveway were two older-model Toyota sedans and a small plastic tricycle, suitable for a toddler. Lizbet had one just like it. She'd howl like a banshee when he or Cope tried to pull her off it.

By the look of things, a normal American family lived in this pretty house, but what dark secrets did it hide? This was the house Jessi Webster had been murdered in. He couldn't help but wonder if Tony saw his dead wife on the floor every time he entered the room. If he could still smell the decomposing body or the bleach the crime scene cleanup team would have used to remove the odor. Jude wouldn't be able to live here, that was for certain.

The sound of the doorbell chiming brought Jude out of his head. He hurried to catch up to the others who were standing on the front walk.

"Captain Fitzgibbon?" a young woman asked, opening the front door.

"That's me." Fitz held up his badge. "And these are my detectives, Ronan O'Mara and Jude Byrne."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Aimee Webster. Please come in." The short blonde ushered them into the house. According to the case file, Aimee was twenty-six years old. She looked much younger. Barely over five feet tall, she had the compact body of a gymnast. Jude wouldn't be surprised at all to discover she'd competed in her youth. Aimee wore a sports bra and workout leggings, which left nothing to the imagination. There were no signs that she'd had a baby.

"Mama!" a tiny voice squealed from the kitchen.

"Mama's here, Hope." Aimee grabbed a container filled with Cheerios and added some to the baby's high chair tray. "Tony will be down in a minute. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"We're good, thank you." Jude took a seat at the round kitchen table, his eyes glued to the spot near the sink where Jessi Webster's body had been discovered.

Ronan looked as if he were about to object until he followed Jude's line of sight. Apparently, he didn't want a drink from the murder kitchen either.

"Sorry, I'm late," an older man said, breezing into the kitchen. "There's my lovebug!" He pressed a loud kiss to the top of the baby's head.

"This is my husband, Tony." Aimee made quick work of the introductions.

As she spoke, Jude studied the man who'd been married to Jessi when she was killed. He wore relaxed-fit jeans and a blue polo shirt, which stretched a bit to cover his expanding gut. If he had to guess, Jude would say the extra pounds were thanks to beer. More importantly, Webster looked relaxed, not at all nervous to have three cold case detectives sitting at his kitchen table. "Captain Fitzgibbon, you said over the phone that you're reopening my wife's case."

Jude was watching Aimee when Tony called Jessi his wife. A dark look passed over her eyes. If he hadn't been watching so closely, he would have missed it.

Fitzgibbon folded his hands in front of him on the table. "Technically, the case was never closed, as it hasn't been solved. My team and I reexamine cold cases to see if there's new evidence available that could help find your wife's killer."

"The murder happened seven years ago. How could there possibly be more evidence to find?" Tony's eyes drifted to the spot near the sink where Jessi's body had been discovered.

"There are continual advances in DNA," Ronan began. "Samples that may have been too small to test at the time of death might be able to be tested now. Same goes for discovering DNA and other trace evidence that wasn't found originally on items of evidence that were collected from the scene."

"It's also possible that people who weren't willing to come forward with information back in the day will want to speak with us now. The enemy of guilt is time. It never gets easier to bear the burden," Jude said.

"Relationships change as well," Fitz said, looking as if he were trying to keep a smile off his face. "Spouses and/or lovers who provided a fake alibi at the time of the crime are usually very cooperative in these instances."

Very cooperative was an understatement. Jude had worked several PI cases where ex-wives were eager to speak with him, which didn't often happen in the course of those investigations.

"Can you tell us what happened the night Jessi died?" Fitzgibbon asked, sounding conversational rather than accusatory.

"It was Wednesday, my night to work late." Tony made air quotes. "Jessi had a school committee meeting, which I knew would keep her busy until around nine and maybe later if some of the members went out for a drink to discuss what went on." Tony sighed. "I picked Aimee up from the dorm a little after five that evening. We got takeout burgers that we ate in the car and then found a place to park. We spent the rest of the night in the back seat. I came home around eleven to see every light in the house was on, which scared me. Jessi always went to bed around ten or so and only ever left the kitchen light on for me."

"Why did the lights being on scare you?" Ronan asked.

"I assumed it meant Jessi had somehow found out about my affair with Aimee. She was only nineteen, a sophomore in college, and it wasn't the first time I'd cheated on her." Tony had the good sense to look ashamed of himself.

Jude studied Aimee, who wore a triumphant look on her face, although he had no idea why. If Tony would cheat with her, he'd cheat on her, and with his track record, Jude wouldn't be surprised to learn Tony hadn't kept it in his pants during this marriage. "What happened when you walked into the house?"

"I called for Jessi and got no response. To be honest, I thought she was going to come at me like a wildcat when I walked through the door. The fact that the house was eerily quiet was unsettling." Tony took a deep breath, his eyes glued to the spot on the floor where Jessi was discovered. "I walked in here and could see her left arm stretched out, as if she'd been reaching for something. I ran toward her, and that's when I saw that her lips were blue. I skidded to the floor and checked her pulse, but there wasn't one. I called 911, and they walked me through CPR. I knew chest compressions weren't going to save my wife but did them until the paramedics arrived. They declared her dead, and that's when the police came in to speak with me." Tony scrubbed a hand over his face.

Jude was impressed with Tony's show of emotion. If he hadn't seen Jessi's autopsy and read about the bruises and broken bones the woman had suffered, he might almost believe the widower was telling the truth. "You said in your first police interview that you thought Jessi had a heart attack."

Tony nodded. "My wife was in her thirties. She was healthy, ran several mornings a week, and competed in Roller Derby. She took care of herself. I assumed something had gone very wrong, like a heart attack or a stroke."

"Roller Derby?" Jude asked.

"Yeah, Jessi was a jammer for the Salem Spellcasters. She loved it but was always coming home bruised." Tony wore a wistful look.

"Speaking of bruises, you didn't notice the ones around her neck?" Fitzgibbon asked gently.

Tony shook his head. "No. It wasn't until I saw her body at the funeral home later that I saw the marks. We had to bury her in a turtleneck to hide the bruises."

It was on the tip of Jude's tongue to press the man harder. Yes, this was a fact-finding mission to see if there were details Tony would drop about the night of the murder that hadn't been previously divulged, but that didn't mean they had to go easy on this dirtbag. Jude knew it sometimes took a while for bruises to develop postmortem, but the crime scene photos had clearly shown the marks on her neck. If the police and crime techs had seen them, why hadn't Tony?

"Is the timeline right, Aimee?" Ronan asked.

"Yeah. He picked me up at five and dropped me off around ten. I didn't know what happened to Jessi until the next afternoon. I'd been texting Tony all morning, and he hadn't responded to me. He called me later that night and told me what happened and that he'd been interrogated several times by the police. I remember thinking my wildest dream and worst nightmare had come true all at once."

"Your wildest dream?" Jude asked, trying and failing to keep the shock out of his voice.

"I was nineteen and in love for the first time, Detective Byrne. I'd been begging Tony to end it with his wife for months, but he kept telling me the time wasn't right and that he needed to let her down easy." Aimee rolled her eyes, showing Jude the nineteen-year-old version of herself she'd been that night long ago. "Jessi being out of the picture was exactly what I wanted, but I also knew that Tony would be a suspect in the murder."

"Did you think he'd killed her?" Jude couldn't believe the callousness of the young woman sitting in front of him. Aimee might have been beautiful with a killer body, but on the inside, she was rotten to the core.

Aimee shook her head. "Of course not. I knew Tony could never hurt anyone like that. He's a bit of a wimp, you know? Cries at romantic movies, that sort of thing. When you manually strangle someone, you're right in their face, and my husband wouldn't have had it in him to be that confrontational. Hell, he'd spent the last ten years being henpecked by that woman. If it was me, I would have snapped long before then."

"Your sorority sisters backed your alibi in terms of when you came home?" Jude already knew the answer. He'd read the police interviews with the other women, but he wanted to see Aimee's reaction to the question.

"Right. After I got home, I gave the girls the down and dirty details about my night with Tony. And those details were very dirty, weren't they, honey?" Aimee grinned lasciviously at her husband. Jude had a feeling that she'd like to throw him onto the table right now and ride him like a prize-winning stallion.

"Is there anyone you can think of who would have wanted to hurt your wife?" Fitzgibbon had his pen out and ready to go.

"Read my interrogations, Captain Fitzgibbon. I know I gave several names from the school committee, other parents, and bank customers who Jessi had turned down for mortgages."

Fitz wore an annoyed look. "You've been the top person of interest for seven years, and you can't even give me a name?"

"I didn't kill my wife. I'd been seeing Aimee for eighteen months behind her back. Jessi had no clue. I was getting the best of both worlds. I had a smoking hot side piece who swallowed my dick like it was candy and didn't nag me about getting the car serviced or taking out the trash and a frigid wife who cooked my meals, washed my clothes, and took care of the house. Why the hell would I ruin a good thing?"

Jude's eyes were on Aimee as Tony spoke. Her face stayed impassive, as if she'd heard this line of bullshit before. She looked almost bored. Jude couldn't help but wonder if Aimee had turned into a nag and if Tony had a new side piece. He opened his mouth to ask when Fitzgibbon stood up.

"Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch if we have any more questions." Fitzgibbon nodded to the couple and headed for the front door. Ronan and Jude followed behind.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ronan muttered when they were back in the SUV. "It felt as though they'd put this murder behind them and that they were offended we're working on the case."

"Something isn't right here," Fitz said, shaking his head. "Tony told that story like he was recapping a movie he'd seen rather than an event he lived through. Ronan, resubmit all the physical evidence for DNA, especially the shirt Jessi wore that night. Maybe the fucker who strangled her was yelling while he was in her face, and we'll get lucky with saliva or epithelial cells on her clothes. Jude, start looking into the school committee members. Find out if there's film of that meeting in the archives. I want the names of the people who argued against Jessi that night. I'll get busy with loan customers."

"You got it, Cap," Ronan said.

Jude would do exactly what Fitzgibbon asked of him, even though he was more certain now than ever that Tony Webster brutally murdered his wife. Once all other possible suspects were eliminated, they would be able to refocus their efforts on the husband and bring the fucker down once and for all.

6 Cope

After dinner, with the kids splashing in the pool, the adults sat around Fitzgibbon's patio table. They'd had a potluck dinner with Ten and Ronan bringing potato salad and brownies while Jude and Cope made deviled eggs and a charcuterie board filled with meats, cheeses, and fruit. Jace made a chicken on the rotisserie. The meal had been delicious.

"Have you guys ever heard of the Ghost After Dark podcast?" Cope asked after Ronan and Fitz finished talking about the cold case they were investigating.

"No, what is it? A call-in show for all the unfulfilled spirits out there?" Jude asked.

"It's one of those sexy love song shows. Where you request songs for your dearly departed." Ronan snorted.

"Assholes," Ten muttered under his breath.

"Bad! Word!" Everly yelled, breathless from splashing.

"You did not hear me say a bad word." Ten folded his arms over his chest.

"Oh, yes I did! Add a dollar to the swear jar!" Everly laughed. "We're one step closer to Water Country!"

"What the hell is Water Country?" Jace asked. "Aurora's been singing a song about it for two weeks."

"It's a water park in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. They have water slides and a wave pool. I don't know how you've missed it. I swear the commercials are on every ten minutes," Ronan said.

"Ah, well, that explains it. When I'm home at night, Fitzy and I don't watch television. Do we, babe?" Jace waggled his eyebrows. "Maybe we should call that Ghost After Dark show and ask them to play some Marvin Gaye."

Ronan burst into a surprisingly on-key chorus of "Sexual Healing" before nuzzling Ten's neck.

"Get a room!" Aurora called from the pool.

"Okay, that's my fault." Fitz laughed. "We were on our way back from a doctor's appointment yesterday, and there were these two kids making out at the light near Essex and Washington."

"That's not like you to stick your nose in other people's business like that." Ronan rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but you know how teenagers kiss like goldfish with those big mouths who gulp at the surface of the water for food? That's what those two looked like. I was performing a public service." Fitzgibbon grimaced, as if he were seeing it again in his head.

"What was their reaction?" Ten asked.

"They told me to get fucked, but at least I stopped their kissing or whatever the hell that was." Fitz grimaced.

"Anyway, back to Ghost After Dark ," Cope said, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. "It's a podcast where the host examines different ghost stories. The first new episode dropped last night, and a bunch of us were tagged in a Facebook post about what happened."

"What did happen?" Jude asked, perking up. He'd been a bit down since he'd gotten home from work, but with the potluck, Cope hadn't had much of a chance to ask him what was going on.

"They're doing a story about Domenica Fibonacci," Cope began.

Fitzgibbon's eyes widened. "Jace and I visited Rothschild Manor when we were dating. They'd opened it for tours during the summer. The guide was interested in telling our tour group about the architecture and the artists who painted the artwork hung in the mansion, but all people wanted to talk about was Domenica's death and if she jumped or was pushed off the cliff."

"That's what Kit Savage wants to investigate with this podcast. He was setting up the story in the first episode when a female voice could be heard asking for help in perfect Italian." Cope's eyes moved around the table, looking at the reactions of the detectives.

Ronan raised a quizzical eyebrow. "And you believed it was a ghost speaking?"

"Don't look at us like that, Ronan." Ten slapped his husband's hand. "We've all heard ghosts speak before."

"This is the podcast's fifth season, and there's never been anything like this before. The show's got half a million followers," Cope added.

"Exactly. You know the powers that be want to increase that to a million, two million, ten million. More listeners means more advertising dollars and more consumers buying those goods and services. Rinse. Repeat." Ronan shook his head. "I don't buy this for a second."

Fitzgibbon nodded in agreement. "The best way to get new followers is for something like this to make headlines. Look at all the attention Steven Avery and his nephew got when their story was investigated on a podcast and then on the follow-up Netflix show. This Savage guy is looking for his own viral moment to go big-time. Get himself on Good Morning America or CNN. Hell, he could become the Dr. Phil of the paranormal."

Cope sighed. To be honest, after everything Ronan and Fitz had seen over the years investigating cases with the help or sometimes hindrance of spirits, Cope thought they would be fascinated rather than skeptical. "Anyway, at the end of the podcast, Kit Savage asked for psychics to come on a broadcast and see if the voice spoke again. He named West Side Magick and Ten and I by name."

"Did you agree to go on the show?" Ronan asked.

"No," Ten said. "We just wanted to run this past you."

Jude looked back and forth between Ten and Cope. "You want to do this. Both of you."

"I do. Maybe," Cope admitted. "This woman has been dead for forty years. We could settle the circumstance of her death once and for all."

"If the voice was actually Domenica." Jude wore an annoyed look, as if he couldn't believe his husband was this gullible. "If this was some sort of trick to titillate listeners or to trap a psychic into saying her spirit was really with them when the producers were the ones who set up the voice in the first place, then you're both walking into a world of trouble."

"I agree," Ronan said softly, as if trying to spare Ten's feelings.

Jude wasn't saying anything Cope didn't expect. His husband had always been skeptical of the things he and Tennyson could see and hear with their gifts. Jude's belief in spirits was situational, not a blanket acceptance of every incident being of a paranormal nature. "Well, I guess that's that." Cope got up from the table and headed into the house.

After he'd finished with his last client of the day, Cope had gone back and listened to the rest of the first episode of Ghost After Dark . He paid particular attention to the facts of the case, just like Jude would have done in his official capacity. At the end, he heard Kit Savage's public appeal for psychics to join the investigation. Cope wanted to help. No, that wasn't quite right. He needed to help.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jude asked, startling Cope.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" Cope shrugged as if he weren't upset over Jude's dismissive attitude.

"Don't take that tone with me." Jude pulled Cope into his arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "My number one priority is the safety of our family. You've put your gift on display for the public before, and it hasn't always gone well. Remember those Titanic families?"

Cope nodded. There had been an incident at one of the public readings with the distant relatives of those lost in the long-ago tragedy. Cope's appearance and the ripples it caused only served to make his appointments book up faster. "I do remember. There were some angry people, but at the end of the day, my popularity grew, and the shop got a ton of new bookings. I still see a couple of those clients. The same thing happens to Tennyson every time the Michael Frye episode of Dateline airs in reruns. The phones explode with people wanting to book readings."

"I get that, Cope. I really do. I just don't want you to get hurt. Ten too." Jude sounded perfectly reasonable, but Cope knew his husband was just trying to change his mind.

Cope felt a flame of anger flare to life. "How is this any different than what you do?"

"I don't—" Jude began before Cope held up a hand to silence him.

"This is a cold case, just like the ones you and the guys investigate. If Domenica was murdered, her husband can be arrested and prosecuted for her death. There's no statute of limitations on murder, as you and Ronan always point out." Cope knew he could help solve the mystery.

"Cope, I just don't think this is a good idea." Jude's voice had taken on a patronizing tone.

"Why? Because I'm not Tennyson? How many cases did he work with Ronan when he was with the Boston Police Department? How many more has he worked since then? All I wanted was a little support from you, Jude, and you can't even give me that." Cope felt his hands bunch into fists at his sides.

Jude took a step back from Cope. "Are you saying you've made up your mind to contact Kit Savage?"

"I don't know what I'm saying." Cope set his hands on his hips. "I just expected more from you." With those words, Cope stormed back out to the patio. "Okay, kids, time to go home."

Watching his disappointed son trudge out of the pool hurt Cope's heart. He should have just gone home alone and left Jude to wrangle the kids, but he hadn't wanted to upset anyone with him walking out in a huff.

Why was it that Cope looked out for everyone else's feelings but his own while all Jude did was think about himself? What the hell was the big deal about appearing on a podcast?

Cope was about to find out. He was going to help solve the mystery of the night Domenica Fibonacci with or without Jude's help.