The Hangman (Forgotten Files Book 3)



“I don’t want to believe Jim was the Hangman,” Julia said.

Novak studied her solemn expression. “We haven’t ruled out a copycat.”

She shrugged her shoulders, chasing away the tension that’d been building since he’d told her about his conversation with Andrews. “I don’t buy it. Ken is confused.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time.”

“I said I’d follow the case until the end, and I meant it.”

Julia and Novak arrived at the Thompson house twenty minutes after Andrews called. Inside, they found Ken, Wendy, and Andrews. Wendy sat next to Ken on the arm of his easy chair. Andrews stood a few steps back, making some notes on a small pad.

When Julia entered the room, Ken looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and fear. “Honey, I’m so sorry,” he said.

She knelt beside him and took his hand in hers. She had only one shot at this and couldn’t badger him into recanting his story. “Ken, don’t worry. Don’t get upset. Tell me what you told Andrews.”

“Your father left a note.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “He confessed to killing those women.”

“Why did he kill them?”

“I don’t know. The guy worked side by side with me every day trying to solve the case. None of it made sense.”

“So you think my father really wrote that note and then killed himself?”

“The scene looked like a classic suicide. There was no sign of struggle or that anyone else had been there.”

“Maybe it was someone he knew,” she said. “Maybe it was someone who could get close to him. My mother and he had been separated for a couple of months. Maybe there was someone else.”

“He never told me about seeing anyone.”

“You destroyed the note,” she confirmed.

“I didn’t want anyone finding it. I was afraid for you and your mother. She’d have lost her widow’s benefits if it could be proved he was the Hangman.” His wrinkled brow knotted into a frown. “I wanted to protect him, you, and your mother. I wanted to do right by everyone.”

“Why let me go to Shield if you found the note?” Julia asked.

“Because I need the truth before I die.” He slowly shook his head. “The suicide never made sense to me.”

“Was he depressed or sad in the days leading up?” Novak asked.

“No. Not at all. That’s why I hid the note.”

“You didn’t think to send it in for analysis?” Novak followed up.

“The media and the brass were still hungry for a close.” He met Julia’s gaze. “It would have made it all so easy to pin it on him. And you and your mother’s life would have been devastated. You have to believe me. I did what I thought was best for you.”

“What if he was murdered?” Julia asked. “What if that note had been a clue to the killer?”

Ken shook his head, his watery gaze lost. “I thought about that later. I wished I’d saved the note. But I didn’t.”

Wendy stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. “This is enough for today. It’s time for his medicines, and he’s tired. It gets worse when he’s tired.”

Julia rose, keeping her frustrations in check. “I want to talk to you again, Ken.”

“Sure, honey. Sure,” he said.

She kissed him on the cheek and stepped outside. The morning sun warmed her face, but she didn’t feel it. She was numb.

Novak came up behind her. She resisted the urge to lean into him, ask him to wrap his arms around her, and hold her tight. Andrews walked up.

“What brought you here, Andrews?” she asked.

“I went to see Dr. Kincaid. She allowed me to see your father’s autopsy file.”

Her gut tightened. “And?”

“The findings were conclusive enough,” he said.

“What’s that mean?” she asked.

“Most of the indicators suggest suicide.” He also relayed Dr. Kincaid’s personal opinion and doubts.

“And now we have a note that no one saw and our only eyewitness is a guy suffering from Alzheimer’s. So basically, we have a few maybes, but no solid facts,” she said.

Andrews appeared unfazed. “I consider it progress.” His phone chirped, and he checked the message. He raised a brow as he read. “I’m running those pictures you gave me of Vicky Wayne through a facial recognition scanner.”

“And?”

Novak was listening.

“I have two faces that the program identified,” Andrews said. “Vicky Wayne and Rita Gallagher. So we know Rita knew Vicky or was at least at a party with her shortly before they were both killed in the fall of 1992.”

“Have you completed your handwriting analysis of the letters Julia gave you?” Novak asked.

“I did. I do not believe they were written by Jim Vargas.”

“So Vicky’s boyfriend wasn’t my father?” Julia asked.

“He didn’t write the notes,” Andrews said.

Wendy pushed through the front door.

“How’s Ken?” Julia asked.

“He’s upset and withdrawn into himself. He does that now when he’s stressed.”

“Do you have a minute to answer questions?” Julia asked.

“I’m not sure what I can add.”

“What was your opinion of Jim Vargas?” Novak asked.

“No matter what anyone said or what Ken thinks he remembers, Jim was one hell of a cop. A good man. He hated being away from you and your mother. But he said someone had to be willing to sacrifice and do the hard work.”

“Some men like Jim get addicted to the rush of the job,” Andrews said. “Sometimes a more normal life is too mundane without the constant adrenaline rush of undercover work.”

Julia watched Wendy closely. A tension seemed to ripple through Wendy’s body that made Julia think she was on guard. “Do you think Jim could have been the Hangman?”

“No.” A nervous laugh rumbled in her chest. “That is absurd. I don’t care what Ken thinks he remembers. Why would Jim kill those women?”

“He knew them all,” Julia said.

“He was your father, Julia. How can you say this?”

“I didn’t see him growing up. I never really knew the man.”

“I’m sorry for you, because he was a great man. People don’t realize what kind of sacrifices men like Jim make. He gave up so much. And I can’t stand to hear him run down,” Wendy said.

“You’re loyal to Jim,” Novak said.

She glared at him with watery eyes. “He was my husband’s partner.”

“You married Ken right after Jim died, right?” Julia asked.

“So? Ken and I were engaged when he and Jim worked together.”

“But when you talk about Jim Vargas, it’s as if it were yesterday,” Novak said. “You sound like his champion.”

Wendy raised her chin. “I cared about him.”

“Did you and Jim Vargas have an affair?” Novak asked softly.

Julia wasn’t surprised by the question and stood waiting for the answer.

Wendy flinched. “Why would you ask that?”

“I’m not passing judgment, Wendy,” Novak said, softly. “I’m trying to solve a case.”

Julia was silent.