The Evan Buckley Thrillers: Books 1 - 4 (Evan Buckley Thrillers Boxsets)

by James, Harper

  ‘He didn’t say anything about trying to find out what happened himself? ‘Evan said in an attempt to stop her descending into a pit of remorse and self-pity again.

  And to take his mind off the effect she was having on him.

  ‘No, we never saw each other again. What with all the interest in the disappearance and everything else, he couldn’t have risked it even if he wanted to. The one thing I can tell you for sure is that he didn’t run off with me.’

  Evan was pleased to hear what she said; he truly believed something bad had happened to Robbie. It meant he wouldn’t have to go back to Linda and tell her that her Robbie had run off with another woman like all the old gossips said.

  That was a huge relief, but he immediately felt guilty. Once again, the price of his peace of mind was another person being dead.

  ‘None of this helps you, does it?’ Barbara said, laying her hand lightly on his knee.

  In any other situation it would have been a gesture of comfort or support, but not today.

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said, his voice suddenly gravelly. ‘I feel like I’ve gone backwards.’

  ‘A bit of a wasted journey. All that way for nothing,’ she said as she traced a pattern on his thigh with a bright cerise fingernail. ‘We wouldn’t want that, would we? Can’t have you going away empty handed.’

  There was something in her tone of voice. Something primeval and predatory, something hungry. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Empty handed wasn’t going to happen, not in this room, not today. From where he was sitting he could see exactly what he’d like to fill those empty hands with. They rose and fell steadily as her breath quickened, her nipples hard, clearly visible through the thin material. His fingers ached to reach out and touch them.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying,’ she said, leaning forwards to give him a better view down her blouse to the lacy bra underneath, ‘but I couldn’t help noticing how you can’t take your eyes off my breasts.’

  She looked down at them herself as if seeing them for the first time, pleased with what she saw.

  ‘I know you’ve tried so hard, given yourself a stiff’—she licked her lips and paused before the next word—‘neck trying, but you still need to work on it. Some people might not like it.’

  From the way her lips parted and her tongue darted out and ran along her teeth, it was clear she didn’t count herself in that number. Some people liked it a lot, in fact. Lived for it. He could feel the heat coming off her body, smell her perfume.

  He couldn’t deny it. The evidence against him was growing by the minute. Now it was her who couldn’t take her eyes off him. He swallowed thickly as she took hold of his hand, put it where she wanted it.

  ‘It’s got me slicker than deer guts on a doorknob,’ she said, ‘if you know what I mean.’

  Evan had a pretty good idea. He also couldn’t see any good reason why he shouldn’t get over there next to her before it was too late.

  Chapter 25

  DRIVING BACK FROM BARBARA’S house, Evan felt more relaxed than he had since he couldn’t remember when. Bryan Adams’ Thought I’d Died and Gone to Heaven was playing on the radio, which was maybe a bit strong for how he was feeling, but he was still feeling pretty good.

  He would have liked to have come away with some ground-breaking insights into the case but he was happy enough with his consolation prize. He marvelled, as he had many times before, at the way people reacted to bad news by reaffirming their own life in the most basic way—although basic wasn’t the right word for some of what they’d got up to.

  Now he had to decide whether to go around to see Faulkner and ask him whether he knew anything about the possibility of Hendricks changing his name. Surely that would have come up in their investigation.

  More importantly he wanted to see Faulkner’s reaction to the fact that it was looking highly unlikely that Robbie Clayton had killed his son and run away. It wasn’t conclusive proof by any means, but he believed Barbara’s story. Robbie Clayton sure as hell wasn’t living there now and he doubted he ever had been. It was still possible that he’d run away on his own, but he didn’t think it was likely.

  The afternoon’s extracurricular activities had taken quite a bite out of his day, but he decided to go anyway. One thing was for sure’ he wouldn’t be going for another beer with him after what happened last time.

  Despite his best efforts he’d somehow managed to get his damaged ear caught up in the elastic of Barbara’s pantyhose when she clamped his head tight between her thighs and refused to let go. Now it was hurting like hell. At the time, the sight of her heavy breasts swinging wildly as she laughed uncontrollably while he clutched his ear had made it worthwhile, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  It was still light when he got to Faulkner’s trailer park and there was an old Dodge Ram pickup truck parked next to Faulkner’s car in the driveway. He parked behind it and got out and walked up to the trailer. Inside he heard two men’s voices. They weren’t shouting but it was a very heated conversation. He knocked on the door and waited. The voices stopped abruptly and after a few moments’ silence Faulkner opened the door.

  ‘What the hell do you want?’ he said, stepping outside and closing the door behind him.

  Evan caught a quick glimpse of the back of the other man inside before the door closed.

  ‘It’s nice to see you again too,’ Evan said. ‘I thought you’d be interested to hear how I’m doing after you took me to that bar the other night.’

  ‘You’re right, I haven’t been able to sleep at night with the worry. Anyway, I’m in the middle of something right now. Can this wait?’

  ‘Sure. I just wanted to let you know I went to see the woman Robbie Clayton was seeing before he disappeared. I think it’s pretty certain he didn’t run off voluntarily.’

  He watched Faulkner carefully to see how he took the news. As far as he could see, he might as well have been telling him what he’d eaten for breakfast for all the reaction he got. Maybe his eyes narrowed a fraction but that could have been the late afternoon sun slanting through the trees.

  Faulkner snorted. ‘I’d be interested to hear what kind of proof you think you’ve got, but I’m busy right now. What are you doing tomorrow?’

  Evan was momentarily distracted by a movement at the window behind Faulkner, but it was too quick for him to get a look at Faulkner’s visitor. Faulkner waved a hand in front of Evan’s face.

  ‘Sorry. What have you got in mind?’

  ‘If you can haul your lazy ass out of bed in the morning, why don’t you come back about seven tomorrow morning and I’ll take you fishing.’

  ‘Fishing?’

  ‘Yes, you know, you go out in a boat with a rod and a reel and catch fish. Millions of people do it every day. It’s called a hobby.’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘I’m going anyway. If you’re here by seven, you can tag along. I’ve got enough gear for both of us. There’s an added attraction for you, too.’

  Evan didn’t really want to give Faulkner an easy shot at him, but he asked

  ‘What’s that?’ anyway.

  ‘Even you should be able to see McIntyre coming if you’re half a mile from the shore in the middle of a lake.’

  ***

  HE’D ALMOST FORGOTTEN ABOUT McIntyre, despite the throbbing pain in his ear. Driving away from Faulkner’s place he knew he had to think of a way to deal with him. He didn’t want to risk meeting him even if it was somewhere public, the man was clearly a maniac.

  An idea took form in his mind. It wasn’t perfect but it was the best he could come up with. He still had Kevin Stanton’s numbers in his phone. He’d never rung the home number but he’d taken it down just in case he couldn’t get him on his cell.

  No time like the present. He pulled onto the shoulder, found the number and hit the dial button. She picked up straight away.

  ‘Mrs Stanton, my name’s Evan Buckley.’

  There was a long silence. He wondered if
she was still there.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘You’re the bastard who took the photos and gave them to Kevin.’

  ‘Yes. I’m very sorry about the way things turned out.’

  ‘Sorry? You’re sorry! Your pictures killed my husband,’ she spat.

  He didn’t think it was an appropriate moment to point out that if she hadn’t been screwing Hugh McIntyre, there wouldn’t have been any pictures. Or that, as far as he could see, she hadn’t given a shit about her husband in the first place.

  She was still talking, if that was the right word to describe the venom coming down the phone line.

  ‘You sick bastard. I can’t believe you’re calling me.’

  Thirty seconds in and he was already wondering if this was such a good idea. But she hadn’t hung up on him, he might as well plow on.

  ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Is this how you get off, you pervert? You got bored jerking off to the pictures already, and now you want phone sex. Is that it, you filthy pervert? Got your credit card ready?’

  She was screaming at him now, anything and everything she could think of to call him. He didn’t say anything, let her rant on for a while longer. She needed to get it off her chest.

  ‘Did you know Hugh McIntyre attacked me a few nights ago?’ he asked when she’d quietened down.

  ‘Yes, he told me. If he’d brought you back here, I’d have bitten off a lot more than your ear, you sick bastard. I hope your balls never come back down.’

  Evan smiled to himself—he’d already had the opportunity to road test the aforementioned equipment. And it had all passed with flying colors. But it wasn’t a thought he wanted to share with her right now.

  She’d gone quiet for a moment, which was a relief. He wasn’t sure, but he had a suspicion she might have covered the mouthpiece with her hand.

  ‘I don’t want to talk on the phone. Why don’t you come over?’ she said in a much calmer, more reasonable tone of voice. ‘Sorry I was so rude.’

  Nice try, but no coconut. Do I look like I was born yesterday?

  ‘Don’t worry about it, but I don’t think that’s a good idea in the circumstances.’ He decided to pretend that he hadn’t seen the newspaper report. ‘I want to ask you what this is all about.’

  That set her off again.

  ‘What do you mean what’s it all about? What do you think it’s all about? Are you stupid as well as sick? Is that why you spend your life ruining other people’s, because you’re too stupid to get a proper job—’

  ‘I understand why he wants to hurt me,’ he interrupted. ‘I don’t understand what else he wants. The police have the photographs. There isn’t anything else.’

  ‘You must have copies.’

  ‘I delete them as soon as the case is over.’

  He felt a little bit guilty thinking about the copies he had mailed to himself at home, but that was just insurance. He’d delete them as soon as this was all sorted out.

  ‘Why would I keep them?’

  Incredibly, she decided to pass on the opportunity to accuse him of jerking off again. He figured he would continue playing dumb.

  ‘I don’t see why the photographs are so important. Your husband is dead and, as far as I know, McIntyre isn’t married. The damage is already done.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘What, so you can blackmail us. Do you think I’m stupid?’

  This wasn’t going anywhere. Added to which, yes, he did think she was stupid. If he had been looking to blackmail them, she’d as good as told him there was something to blackmail them about. All he had to do was look in the paper.

  ‘I don’t want to blackmail anyone, but that’s irrelevant because there aren’t any more pictures anyway. The reason I’m calling you is because I would like you to pass the message to McIntyre.’

  ‘What message?’

  God, give me strength.

  ‘That there aren’t any more copies, so there’s no point in McIntyre stalking me and trying to abduct me and then torturing the truth out of me, or whatever else he had in mind.’

  ‘I can tell him, but I don’t think it will make any difference. He never listens to me.’

  At least he’s got some sense, Evan thought. At that moment, his car was rocked violently as the pickup truck he’d seen outside Faulkner’s trailer blew past, doing eighty at least. He hadn’t been paying attention to the road so he didn’t get a chance to see the driver. On a whim, he decided to follow it.

  ‘I’ve got to go now,’ he said, pulling back onto the road. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d pass on the message. There’s not a lot else I can say.’

  She started to say something but he ended the call without listening to her. He was quite convinced that it wouldn’t have been anything of any importance.

  ***

  THE PICKUP TRUCK WAS a quarter mile up ahead, still burning up the road. Evan put his foot down, got up to eighty himself, then kept his distance. It didn’t really matter because he didn’t think the man in the trailer had seen his car, but it was better to be safe.

  After a couple of miles, the pickup slowed and took a left, and then slowed right down on the smaller road. He recognized the road as he turned left, but couldn’t immediately place it. It came back to him and was confirmed a mile further on when the pickup turned into the driveway of a nice-looking property on the right.

  He kept on straight and glanced at the sign at the entrance to the driveway as he passed. Beau Terre looked as picture perfect as it had last time he’d been there. Carl Hendricks was climbing down from the pickup’s cab and looked up as Evan drove past.

  It was a quiet road and didn’t get much traffic, probably only the neighbors. Evan looked away quickly. He didn’t know whether Hendricks recognized him or not. It was one of the few times that he wished he’d gone for the drug-dealer style tinted windows that everyone seemed to have these days. At least his window was up, so there was a chance the reflection on the glass would have obscured his face.

  He drove on for miles until he found another left turn—he didn’t want to turn around and drive past Hendricks’ place again—which eventually looped back and he joined the main road back into town again. His mind was spinning as he took it easy through the back streets to his apartment block. He parked up and stayed sitting and thinking in his car.

  One thing was glaringly obvious. Faulkner and Hendricks knew each other, and Faulkner hadn’t mentioned that particular to Evan. It also looked like they’d just had an argument, what with the raised voices coming from inside the trailer and then Hendricks taking off like a bat out of hell.

  What wasn’t so clear was what did it all mean, if anything? There were a million questions flying around in his mind. Did they know each other before the disappearances, or had they got to know each other subsequently? Was that why Faulkner hadn’t looked very hard at Hendricks? But most importantly; could he trust Faulkner? The man had been good to him after McIntyre attacked him and now they were about to become fishing buddies. Should he even go on the fishing trip tomorrow? Maybe McIntyre wasn’t who he should be worrying about when he was stuck half a mile out in the middle of a lonely lake.

  Chapter 26

  HE HADN’T BEEN BACK to his apartment since the day before McIntyre attacked him and he’d stayed with Faulkner. On that occasion he’d been surprised that the thumb drive he’d mailed to himself hadn’t arrived, but it was there when he collected his mail that evening. Perhaps the postal service had siphoned it off thinking it was suspicious, or maybe the postal workers union had held a day of action, but whatever it was, it had arrived now.

  He took the elevator up to his floor and walked down the corridor to his apartment. It was obvious before he got there that something was wrong. The door to the apartment was standing ajar. He carefully pushed it open all the way and peered in. From where he was standing outside he could already see the chaos inside. He stopped and listened careful
ly but couldn’t hear anything. He stepped cautiously into the hallway and crept forward making his way towards the living room at the end.

  Suddenly there was a fast blur of movement and something black shot between his legs and out into the corridor. He jumped, almost losing his balance, and let out an involuntary yelp as his heart slammed in his chest. It was just his neighbor’s cat. At least he was confident there was nobody in the apartment now. The stupid cat would never have ventured in if there was. The whole place reeked of cat spray which meant the pesky animal had been enjoying its new-found territory for at least a couple of days. That meant McIntyre had come around the same evening he attacked Evan.

  The whole apartment had been turned upside down, more for effect than anything else. Surely McIntyre—it couldn’t be anyone else—didn’t believe he’d hidden the pictures inside the books on the bookshelves, but he’d thrown them all over the floor just the same. Evan had some nice first editions and they’d be ruined now. He bent down and picked up a Robert B. Parker and put it back on the shelf. What would Spenser do now, he wondered? Go around and kick McIntyre’s ass, that’s what. Unfortunately, he didn’t think he was up to it.

  He’d had the lyrics to Bob Dylan’s Sara framed for his Sarah and now they were lying on the floor, the glass smashed. He’d always teased her saying that Dylan got the words the wrong way around and she would say she was Sarah, not Sara, so it didn’t count. He picked the frame up and tapped the broken glass out into the trash can, before hanging it back on the wall.

  The only consolation was that McIntyre hadn’t ripped open all the upholstery as well. Probably allergic to feathers.

  There wasn’t any point in calling the police. McIntyre might be acting like a maniac but he wasn’t stupid and he wouldn’t have left any evidence. Not that the police would have been interested anyway, not if they sent someone like Ryder round. What he did do, was call Stanton’s wife again.

  When she heard who it was she started ranting again as if the call had never been interrupted, but he just talked over her.