Page 87 of Kill For Me Kill For You
As they read the article, a news alert popped up onscreen for Billy.
New York Times – As President Trump gears up for the traditional Thanksgiving address tomorrow, commentators wonder if he might pardon more than just turkey this Thanksgiving, 2018.
Amanda swiped the pop-up away, and continued to read.
When she finished, she leaned back. Billy blew out his cheeks.
Wiping her face, Amanda tried to think. But she was too tired. She’d had too much information tonight. She read the article again. One last time. The article was from January 2008. It was about a murder trial. It was the picture of the man who had been killed which attracted Amanda to the story. Billy had already told her there was no link between Quinn and Benson, the victims targeted by Naomi, that is until you looked at pictures of them. They could’ve been brothers, separated at birth, they looked so strikingly similar. When Amanda found a picture of another man, a murder victim, who looked almost like a third twin of Benson and Quinn, she’d clicked on the link, and halfway down that article she’d seen Naomi’s picture. And then it had all made sense.
Today, in the Manhattan Criminal Court Building, the trial began into the murder of mayoral campaign manager Patrick Travers. The defendant is forty-one-year-old Ruth Gelman, a former realtor from Manhattan. Mrs. Gelman stands accused of Murder in the First Degree, and Conspiracy to Murder. Assistant District Attorney David O. Rush opened the case for the prosecution, alleging that this was a misguided vigilante killing. It is alleged that Mrs. Gelman was, some months prior to the murder of Patrick Travers, a victim of a brutal attack in her own home, from which she was lucky to survive. It is believed Mrs. Gelman was a victim of an alleged serial killer, nicknamed by theNew York Postas the Prowler, but known in police circles as Mr. Blue-eyes.
Mr. Rush explained to the jury that Mrs. Gelman identified Patrick Travers as her assailant and that together with her husband, Scott Gelman, they plotted and executed a plan to murder Mr. Travers in his hotel room, believing him to be the person who had attacked Mrs. Gelman. Evidence gathered during a separate investigation by the US attorney’s office has ruled out Mr. Travers as being Mrs. Gelman’s attacker, as he was in a different state at the time of the attack. Mr. Rush went on to say that the defendant is claiming to have been of unsound mind at the time of the murder. He urged the jury to be skeptical of such suggestions. The trial continues tomorrow . . .
Amanda opened a new tab, searched under the name Ruth Gelman, and scanned the articles. Patiently, silently, Amanda and Billy read them all.
A half hour later, she said, ‘Can you take me back to my car? I need to go home, process this.’
‘Sure,’ said Billy.
Back in Billy’s Escalade, on their way to Amanda’s car, Billy broke the silence.
‘Let me see if I understand this, because right now I’m still a little confused. Ruth Gelman is found not guilty by reason of temporary insanity; she spends seven years in the hospital and is released. And then what? She starts tracking down men with blue eyes? That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘You said it yourself – Benson and Quinn had nothing in common. Not on paper. They probably never met, and there was nothing to connect them. Apart from one thing – they looked practically identical. I knew that couldn’t just be a coincidence. And it’s not just the eyes. Travers, Saul Benson, Quinn – they all look so similar they could be family. Same hair color, same cheekbones, same chin, same kind of nose, lips and, yes, they all have blue eyes. I mistook Benson for Quinn when I saw the picture in your file, and I knew that couldn’t just be a coincidence. She thinks she’s found her attacker, and she manipulates someone vulnerable, like us, into killing them. Like she manipulated her husband into killing Travers.’
Amanda had read an article on Ruth’s attack. She had been at home alone when a man broke in and almost stabbed her to death. That had been on the fourteenth of September 2007. Ruth had changed her appearance since. Amanda was living in Manhattan then, studying at night school and working in the care home during the day. Their paths could have crossed any time – standing in line for coffee, getting on the subway, passing each other on an escalator, or maybe not. Maybe they never came close to each other until a few weeks ago.
Billy turned right onto Bleeker Street from Sixth Avenue, taking the long way through the winding streets of Greenwich Village, making sure he wasn’t being followed, and so he could drive past Amanda’s car – make sure there were no cops around.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Billy. ‘Surely she must know that Travers was innocent. And once she’d had Benson killed, why target Quinn? She must know she’s killed innocent people. They can’t all be – what did the police call him?’
‘Mr. Blue-eyes,’ said Amanda. ‘Yeah, she must know. On some level she has to know. Maybe she doesn’t care, Billy. Sometimes people get too damaged. Trauma changes you. Losing a loved one to violence provokes a response. There are two common responses – either they don’t want anyone to ever hurt like they do, or they want everyone to hurt like they do.’
Billy glanced over at Amanda.
‘I don’t want anyone to go through the pain I’ve experienced,’ he said.
‘Me either. That’s why I want the man who killed my daughter. So he can never do that to another child. No parent should have to go through this. And I’m not the only one. The man who killed Jess murdered another little girl called Emily Dryer, about twelve years ago. The cop assigned to Jess’s case has been hunting this monster for a long time,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t ask about your loss. I didn’t want to push you. Some people find it hard to talk about it.’
‘That’s okay. I’m getting used to it. I told Naomi all about the man who killed my little girl.’
‘And did she tell you she had killed this man for you?’
Amanda nodded. ‘Yeah, his name is Wallace Crone. He’s a . . .’
‘Henry Crone’s son?’
‘Do you know him?’
‘No, I know of Henry Crone. Read about him in the papers. You can’t absorb that much news about New York and not come across that name. He’s a Wall Street guy, right? Billionaire?’
‘Yeah, he’s a powerful man. And he didn’t spare any cash when it came to protecting his son. Wallace Crone killed my girl, Jess. She was six. Then my partner took his own life. He had been with Jess in the park. Turned around for like a second and . . .’
Her throat closed. That choking sensation. A cloying constriction right at the back of her gullet. If she let this grief build, it would sit in her stomach, making her feel sick and robbing her of all thought. She shut her eyes, bit down. Tried to fight it.
‘I’m very sorry,’ said Billy, and he reached out, placing a large palm gently on top of Amanda’s hand. She looked at him and saw the pity and the sorrow in his eyes. It was a kindly gesture, and Amanda, who was often uncomfortable with close contact, welcomed it with a sad smile.
