Chapter Thirty-four
Danielle lived in a small two-bedroom post-WWII house in Glendale only blocks from the mail drop. Two Glendale PD squad cars, a locksmith, and two teams of FBI agents were already there when Ken and Lucy arrived. One of the FBI agents, who identified himself as SSA Tim Nelson, said, “We didn’t attempt contact, as you asked, but we haven’t seen any movement in the house, and a neighbor informed us that Ms. Sharpe left the house shortly before noon today and she hasn’t returned. She’s driving a silver Nissan Altima with new dealer plates.”
“Thanks, Tim,” Ken said. “Do you have an extra vest for Kincaid here? She’s from out of the area and doesn’t have her gear.”
Tim nodded and motioned for Lucy to come to his trunk. “It might be too big.”
“Thanks,” Lucy said and put the vest over her T-shirt and left her blazer in his trunk. FBI was printed on the back and front in large yellow letters. She adjusted it. Big, but not cumbersome.
Ken, Lucy, and Tim approached the front door. Tim had Glendale PD covering the back. Ken knocked on the door. “Danielle Sharpe, this is the FBI. We have a search warrant for these premises. We’re coming in.”
He waited to make sure she really wasn’t home, then Tim had the locksmith crack open the lock. They entered the premises, guns drawn, and did a complete search of the house.
“Clear,” they called out one by one.
They met back in the living room. “I’ll clear the garage,” Tim said and left Ken and Lucy to begin the search.
They both pulled on gloves and Lucy found the light switch.
The house was sparsely furnished. There were no pictures on the walls, nothing personal. A television was in the corner, a couch, and a coffee table. The far wall had a faint stain on it. Lucy approached, at first thinking it might be blood, but when she got closer she realized that it was a wine stain. On the floor was a broken wine stem.
“She threw a full wineglass at the wall.” Lucy touched the carpet. “It’s dry.”
Ken was in the kitchen. “She drinks a lot of wine—the recycling bin has twelve, no thirteen, empty bottles.”
“She may not have emptied it recently.” But it also could be part of her process, building herself up to take another human life. Yet Lucy didn’t see how she could be intoxicated and still be sharp enough to commit these murders without leaving any evidence.
“Refrigerator is almost empty—a couple of take-out boxes,” Ken said. “Cabinets—looks like my first apartment. Minimal dishes, glasses—just enough to get by.”
Lucy opened the first door—it was a den. Danielle spent far more time in here—there were books and photo albums and the distinct smell of sour grapes. The desk was a mess. Two wineglasses with residue were positioned on the bookshelf.
Lucy went through the papers on the desk. A photo album had been destroyed—pictures cut out and shredded. Lucy put a couple of the photos back together—they were of Danielle and her ex-husband. The photos of Matthew were still intact, yet if one of his parents was in the photo, they had been cut out.
Both Richard and Danielle.
What did that mean? Was she suicidal? Had she already killed herself? Something had tipped her off—she wasn’t sick, she wasn’t home, she hadn’t returned Nina Fieldstone’s call, and she likely had a gun.
Lucy’s phone rang and she jumped.
“Hello?” she answered.
“This is Richard Collins.
“Mr. Collins. Do you have information?”
“Danielle just called me. It wasn’t a long call, and she sounded … strained.”
“What did she say? Did you record it?”
“Yes, the FBI recorded it. She asked me if I had betrayed her again. Then she told me to kill myself. What’s going on?”
“Has she ever told you to kill yourself?”
“No, I mean, she told me repeatedly that I should have been the one to die, but not like this.”
“We’re looking for her. Stay put, Richard, okay? Stay in your house with your wife. The FBI will stick with you for tonight, just in case.” Lucy didn’t see why Danielle would go after Richard now, after twenty-three years, but something had tipped her off. Then she realized.
“Richard,” she asked, “when we talked yesterday you said she left voice mails, but you only talked to her once.”
“Yes, so?”
“What about the other times she called? Five years ago? Before then?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Did you talk to her every time she called, or not?”
He paused. “No, I usually only answered the phone once or twice. Then I started sending all blocked calls to voice mail. It got to be … stressful for me.”
“Thanks. If she calls again, let me know immediately. I’ll get the tape from the Denver office.” Lucy wanted to listen to her voice.
Ken said, “I have it—they sent it to me.”
He played the recording. It was short—not even a minute long.
“Betrayed me again,” Ken mumbled. “What does that mean? They’re not married, they haven’t been.”
“She knows he’s talked to us.”
“How?”
“Because he’s been answering all her calls. That’s something he hasn’t done in the past. She’s not an idiot, it’s a change, and any change of behavior she’s going to pick up on. I think she realized it last night when she talked to him, which is why she left this morning. And last night she sounded intoxicated, she may have needed time to sober up and plan. She’s not irrational—not in the way we might think. She had a plan, but now she changed it. Just like she had a plan for Jonah Oliver, but had to change it when his babysitter confronted her.”
But what exactly was she going to do?
Lucy looked around the room. She noticed there were seven photo albums on the top shelf of the bookshelf that all matched the one that was torn apart on her desk. She took them down. Inside all the pictures of Richard had been cut out, but Matthew’s pictures—and Danielle’s pictures—were intact. “She might have kept a diary, kept something that can help us find her.”
“I’ll take the desk.”
Tim Nelson turned in to the doorway. “You gotta see what’s in the garage.”
Lucy and Ken followed him out the back door. An officer guarded the door, and another was standing by the side door into the small, detached garage. The lone window had been blacked out.
The garage was set up as a war room—one wall were photos of Kevin Fieldstone and his parents. Kevin with his grandmother after school. Kevin going into his house. Kevin playing on the playground at school.
Pictures of the Fieldstone house. Of Nina at work. Of Tony at a party. Of another woman, older, blond, pretty. Of Tony and the woman in bed.
Of Nina and a woman in bed.
Hundreds of photos, all printed at home on photo paper. A computer stood in the corner of a workplace. A color printer next to it.