by L. T. Ryan
“Sure you’re all right, man?” I said.
He pinched his nose, tilted his head back. “Yeah, just a busted nose. I’m fine.”
“Look, why don’t you wait here for the medics while I go check on Cassie. You might have a concussion after that blow to the head.”
He circled the back of the vehicle, waved one hand at me while keeping the other planted on the car. “No, we both go.”
“You need to get checked out. You’re bleeding and limping. I think I can handle this. Give me your cell number and I’ll call you.”
Cervantes continued past me and walked toward my rental. Why was he refusing to let me go alone? Wasn’t like he was any good to me like this.
“Fine, have it your way.” I popped the trunk and grabbed a towel for him to hold under his face. “I’ll bill you if you get any blood on the seat or carpet.”
Ten minutes later we pulled up to the house. I scanned the street. No one lingered outside. No faces peered from behind closed windows. I glanced over at Cervantes. His white shirt was stained red. So was the lower half of his face.
“Man, I hope you don’t have hepatitis or anything like that.”
“Asshole,” he said. “I’m clean. You got a gun in here?”
“I flew in and this is a rental. What do you think?”
“I dunno, Tanner. You know Cassie, so I figured you might have some other connections down here.”
“Just her. Don’t think I can call you and Pennington confidants quite yet.”
“Quite never,” he said. “All right, you stay behind me. Got it?”
“Yeah, whatever, man.”
We exited the vehicle and cut across the lawn. Cervantes was moving better now. He’d shaken the cobwebs and worked out whatever had aggravated his knee. The breeze was hitting my face, but I was so amped, I couldn’t tell if it was warm or cool. A couple birds occupying a nearby tree silenced as we approached.
Cervantes went right for the door. He squeezed and turned the handle, then looked back at me.
“Unlocked,” he said.
“Surprised?” I said.
“I thought we locked everything up yesterday.”
The door stuck at first. Cervantes lowered his shoulder into it and it popped open with a cracking sound. “AC’s on.” Cervantes gestured toward the thermostat with his pistol. “Remind me to get prints on that.”
The main living area of the house stood empty. The hallway and kitchen looked the same as when we had left.
“Cassie?” Cervantes called out.
There was no reply.
He yelled her name again.
Still no answer.
“Let’s go check in back.” He held his weapon so the barrel pointed at the floor. He’d grown a little too calm for my tastes. Maybe the blow to his head had done more damage than to just his nose.
We walked back to Alice’s room and found the door wide open. I had no idea if it had been closed after they dragged Seth out of the room. Cervantes didn’t seem bothered by it.
“Room’s empty,” he said. “Wait here while I check the others.”
Light knifed in through the space between the curtains and the wall. It stretched across the floor and ran up the wall a foot or two. Were the curtains parted like that before? I was so amped up yesterday, I had no recollection of the placement of anything in the room.
Something glinted in the light, catching my attention. I dropped to a knee and fished the item out from under the bed. I recognized it right away.
“Cervantes,” I called out. “Get in here.”
The stocky man thundered down the hall. “What is it?”
“Look at this.”
“What?” He squatted next to me. “A watch?”
“That’s Cassie’s watch.”
“Think she lost it here yesterday during the struggle with Seth?”
“She had it on last night, man. I remember it…” I couldn’t tell him the rest. I recalled it so vividly because it was the only thing she had on. My stomach knotted and the air grew heavy.
“You sure, Tanner?”
“Yeah, more than sure. I’m positive. That’s Cassie’s watch.”
“I’m sorry, Tanner, but I’ve gotta ask you to step outside.”
“What?”
“Crime scene integrity.”
“Crime scene integrity, my ass.”
“Any defense attorney gets wind that you were in this house and found that without me around, they’ll get the defendant off in a heartbeat.”
The sonofabitch was right. I might not trust him, and the thought lingered that he might be attempting to cover something up, but my presence here could bring down a case. Cervantes followed me down the hall. He stopped at the front door as I stepped outside.
“Hang tight,” he said. “Pennington is on his way. I don’t want you leaving ‘til he gets here.”
“Yeah, no problem.” Pain knifed through my eyes as they adjusted to the bright sunlight. There were no crowds gathered. Perhaps the scene yesterday was enough to keep them at bay. Or rather, the aftermath.
I heard a yip and noticed the old lady and her dog approaching. She had on a baby blue track suit with a leash and collar on the dog to match.
“You fellas any closer to solving this?” she asked.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss, ma’am,” I said.
“Sure you’re not.” She glanced over at the driveway. “Saw the lady again today. Never seen the cop she was with, though.”
I left the porch and met her at the end of the driveway. “She arrive with him?”
The old lady shrugged. “I didn’t see her arrive. Looked out the window while drinking my tea and saw the car drive past and park. Was glued to the seat after that. This is better than daytime TV, you know.”
If only these people knew what crime scenes really looked like, and the amount of work involved in processing them and tracking down the killer.
“Where at?” I pointed up and down the street. “Where’d the car park?”
“I live over there, sugar.” She aimed past the house. “On the other block. Anyhow, she cut through my yard, went in alone, and left with the guy a short time later.”
I choked down the anxiety threatening to overtake my body. “How long was the car there?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
“Do you remember the guy she left with? What he looked like?”
“I guess.”
“Describe him.”
“Kinda ragged looking.” She tapped her finger to her lip. “Come to think of it, he really didn’t look like the detectives I’ve seen. Was he undercover?”
“I’m afraid he might’ve been.” I craned my neck to get a visual on an approaching car. “Ma’am, wait right here, okay? I think this detective is gonna want to talk to you.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Where are you taking me?” Cassie said as they passed the outskirts of town, driving west. The land ahead was sparsely populated. A place Novak could easily dispose of her. She doubted that mattered much to him. He had tried to kill her in a cemetery. He’d slaughtered those women in a residential neighborhood, then kidnapped Alice, dragging her out of the house battered and bloodied in the middle of the night during a hurricane. Hell, he’d led Cassie out of the same house at gunpoint in broad daylight.
Novak’s head dipped and swayed with the movements of the car. His stare seemed distant and unfocused. The pistol remained aimed at Cassie, and she didn’t dare try to do anything to test his concentration.
“If you were going to kill me,” she said, “why not do it back at the house? What’s one more dead body there?”
He said nothing. Had no visible reaction to indicate he’d heard her. She switched her attention from the road and studied his face as though she was seeing it for the first time. In some ways, she was. Novak had only ever been the monstrous presence who’d risen from a grave and attempted to steal her life. In court, they were never face to face. She was shield
ed while testifying, not allowing him the satisfaction of gazing upon her. She only saw him on a monitor with crappy resolution. He’d been fuzzy, like a character in an old television show.
But now, up close, she realized he wasn’t near the villain she’d built up in her mind. His build was sort of slight. His features were soft, almost feminine in the right lighting. Where did the evil live? Certainly not on the exterior.
“I can kill us both, you know.” Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tight enough that her knuckles turned white.
“You’d be no better than me,” he said, still staring off into a distance that Cassie wondered if anyone else could see. “A murderer. At least I took pleasure from my killings. You? Well, you’d be committing two sins by taking your own life, too.”
She relaxed her grip and slunk back in her seat. She didn’t want to die. Not even at her own hand. Her glimpses into what came next were enough for Cassie to want to remain on this earth, inhabiting her fleshy cell, as long as possible, despite the constant bombardment for help. And as much as she hated to admit it, some days those requests were what got her out of bed.
“See that sign up there?” Novak stretched a slim finger out and aimed it ahead toward a billboard with a cow painting on it.
“Yeah.”
“Slow down. You are going to turn right immediately following that sign.”
Cassie glanced into the rearview in hopes that someone was behind them. The road, however, was desolate. Did he know? Had he taken his eyes off that imaginary point in the distance long enough to check the side mirror and see for himself? Or did he not care if they were seen leaving the road? What was his plan? Was he going to have her creep into the woods far enough that he could do whatever he wanted to her, then leave her for dead?
Today was the day he’d finish what he started. Cassie’s throat constricted, and her eyes burned in anticipation of salty tears. She fought them back, forcing herself to swallow the fear. Now more than ever it was important she keep her wits about her.
“Slow down, Cassie.” He shifted in his seat so that he leaned back against the door, allowing himself better control over his weapon and aim.
She wished they were in a cartoon, in one of those cars that had a button where she could eject him from his seat, flinging him high into the air.
“Just relax,” he said. “Nothing is going to happen to you here.”
Here.
Why was no one else chiming in? She’d been there for them when they needed help. If there was ever a time for them to repay the favor, it was now. Cassie took her foot off the accelerator and pressed the brake. The sound of the tires on the asphalt rose in ferocity as the friction built. She spotted the two dirt tracks that ran behind the billboard. She looked up and saw that the cow was hanging in front of the billboard, not attached in any way she could see. How’d they do that?
“That’s right,” Novak said. “Turn there and follow that old road.”
Her small car pitched and swayed as the tires found their place in the dirt ruts. How long would it last in these conditions? Enough grass covered the path that it looked abandoned now. But at one time it had been used regularly enough that the tracks had been etched permanently into the earth. Hunters, she figured, drove it during deer season.
She followed the trail, weaving around trees, trampling over new growth. In some spots, the grass grew past the hood, hitting the grill with a soft thunk and swishing underneath the vehicle.
The woods thinned out. The tracks split and formed a V.
“Go left.” Novak remained seated against the door, facing her, no seatbelt on. If she had a chance, this was it.
Cassie pushed as hard as she could on the accelerator. At first, nothing happened. The wheels roared and ripped into the soft earth. The car shook, but didn’t move forward. She glanced over and saw Novak’s eyes widen. Much like the vehicle, he was stuck, processing what was happening.
Cassie grabbed the gearshift and yanked it toward her, dropping the transmission into second gear. The engine screamed at her for doing so. She feared it would burst due to her actions. Then she was slammed back into her seat.
Had he hit her?
In her peripheral vision, she saw Novak flung forward. His head smacked the windshield. The glass splintered. The car had lurched forward, stopped abruptly when she hit the brake, and was now bouncing in the rutted ground. She kept her foot pressed on the gas as they blew through the middle of the V in the path into the field. Ahead, she estimated fifty yards before they reached the wood’s edge.
She pressed harder on the accelerator. Gripped the wheel. Let out a scream that had been building since the moment life had been restored to her shredded body.
Then the world went black.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The sedan pitched forward as Pennington slammed the brakes. Scorched rubber polluted the air, enveloping me like a cloud. He drove his shoulder into his door, stepped onto the asphalt, slammed the door shut. He ran up to me. “The hell is going on?”
“Slow down, man,” I said. “Cervantes is inside, securing the scene. You need to talk to the dog-walker over there. She saw them leaving.”
“Who?”
“Cassie and her abductor.”
Pennington’s face went slack. Beads of sweat formed along his perfect hairline. “This isn’t happening.”
“Afraid it is, man. Now you need to tighten up and do your damn job. Go talk to that lady over there.”
He looked past me, his eyes narrowed, and studied the woman. Fixing his gaze in my direction again, he stepped forward. “I swear, Tanner, if you had anything to do with this…”
I moved to block his path. “Me? You better step the hell back, man. I’ve known Cassie a long time. She means a hell of a lot more to me than you’ll ever understand.”
“You were the last one with her,” he said. “I know you were at her house late last night. Spent the whole day together, didn’t you?”
Had he been watching or having her house patrolled? Keeping tabs? On who? Her? Or me? Perhaps he’d had someone else doing it. Told them he was concerned for Cassie’s safety because of what happened earlier in the day, and assigned a unit to her neighborhood, with the focus being her.
I got close enough to his face I could smell his breakfast lingering between us. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”
He said nothing, focusing on my face, my expressions, looking for the tiniest of signs of deceit. Problem is anger can trigger some of the same responses cops are taught to look for. And my blood was boiling at that point.
“Look, Pennington, I left Cassie last night and haven’t seen her since. Then I saw the paper this morning. You seen it?”
He nodded tersely.
“Then you understand the implications.” I put my hands on my hips and took a step back. “I couldn’t reach her by phone. Went to her house, and she wasn’t there. Went to the precinct to find you guys, to find out if you’d seen the paper yet. How many guilty men you know walk right into a police station?”
He mulled it over for a second. Almost smiled. “Dirty cops do it every day.”
“Pennington,” Cervantes said. “Come on. We ain’t got time to dick around with this.”
He brushed his shoulder against mine as he passed. “We’re not done, Tanner.”
I turned and followed him, stopping halfway. “One of you needs to talk to that woman. She saw something this morning. I’m outta here now.”
“You leave Savannah and I’ll make you our number one suspect,” Pennington said. “Stay put until you hear from us.”
The keys dangled and glinted in the sunlight as I held them high and waved back at the other detective. He could go to hell. I got back in my rental and drove straight to Cassie’s house. Maybe they’d use it against me later. I didn’t care. Stepping into her house, I caught a whiff of the smell of her hair, raising hope for a few moments. It didn’t take long to determine she was not there. I searched the kitchen, her
bedroom, even her computer desk for something, anything, that might indicate why she went back to the crime scene, and who she thought might’ve been there.
It was busy work meant to keep my mind from diving into the reality of what Cassie was going through at that moment. What else could I do? I didn’t have the ability to talk to the dead, like her. I had to work with logic. Not the easiest thing when dealing with a psychotic killer. There was little to go by at this point, but all I needed were one or two clues and I’d be off to the races.
The photo in the paper, and the revelation from Cervantes that Novak had escaped from jail more than three weeks earlier, left little doubt in my mind that Novak had followed her to the crime scene house. Or perhaps he sprung a trap, baiting her to come. Hell, he might’ve been waiting for her there, knowing somehow she would show up on her own. Were they inexplicably linked through a bond created by attempted murder, a bond that gave him such powers?
I stood in the hallway underneath an air vent. The cold air washed over me, chilling the last of the sweat that covered my skin. I listened with my eyes closed. For what? Hell if I knew. Maybe the same spirits that spoke to Cassie would chew on my ear a bit, too. It’d never happened. Christ, I doubted it happened to her. Yet I waited there for a couple minutes anyway.
Beep-beep-beep.
The sound nearly startled me into a cardiac event. I rushed into the kitchen expecting to find a bomb taped under the table with a note written To the Late Mr. Tanner. The red light on the coffeemaker blinked with each subsequent squeal until the machine cut off.
I walked over and pulled the pot off the burner. Held it to my nose and inhaled. The brew had gone stale and had a burned smell to it, but it was piping hot. I poured half into the sink before thinking better of it and stopping. I had a thought. The machine had an auto-cutoff. That time had to be programmed into the device. With that information, I could pinpoint the earliest possible time that Cassie left the house.
