The Perfect Murder

by Brenda Novak

  “That’s not enough!” she snapped. “I have a husband, kids. I don’t want to be forced to explain to them why Mommy’s getting phone calls in the middle of the night!”

  “Tell them it’s job-related. They’ll believe you.”

  “Forensic technicians don’t have job-related calls after midnight. That only happens in the movies.”

  Even on low, the noise from the television was irritating. Malcolm muted it. “Take it easy. I’ll make this quick. I have a question.”

  “What could you possibly want from me? We concluded our business over a year ago.”

  “I need to know what’s been going on since I left.”

  “What do you think? Nothing! It went down just the way we planned it. If something had gone wrong, you wouldn’t be walking around a free man.”

  “I’m free for now, but I can’t be sure it will last. I have no idea whether or not I should be looking over my shoulder.”

  “And I’m supposed to care?” she snarled.

  “I can’t help wondering what’s happening back home.”

  “As you can tell, I don’t give a shit. I’ve got to go. Don’t ever call me again.”

  “Wait! Just one more question.”

  There was another long silence, but he didn’t hear a click, so he spoke up. “Have you heard of a man named Sebastian Costas?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Her response surprised him. “No. Why would I be kidding?”

  “Anyone remotely associated with you has heard of Sebastian Costas.”

  He gripped the phone tighter. “He’s contacted you?”

  “He’s contacted anyone and everyone who’s ever known you. When you got me into this, you didn’t tell me I’d have him on my ass every step of the way.”

  Malcolm didn’t react to the accusation in that statement. He was too preoccupied with what her words signified. “He’s looking for me, then.” He’d been afraid of this. Sebastian had been a thorn in his side from day one….

  “What’d you expect? That you could kill his son and he wouldn’t mind? Why’d you have to do that, anyway? You didn’t say anything about shooting the boy. You only mentioned Emily.”

  “What did you think would happen to Colton, Pam?”

  “You could’ve left him alive. His father would’ve taken him.”

  “His father would’ve gone after the money.”

  “You mean like he’s doing now? God, I wish I’d never met you.”

  “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? You wanted twenty thousand dollars to pay off your credit cards before your husband found out you’d been shopping again, and I gave you the opportunity to earn it. Now you want to blame me?”

  “I’m hanging up.”

  “Wait! So everyone knows I’m alive?”

  “Sebastian knows. Or at least he’s guessed. But the DNA evidence has everyone else convinced you were in that car—so unless he can prove otherwise you’re fine.”

  Except that he was probably doing his damnedest…

  “You’re lucky your family cremated that body before he started raising hell,” she added.

  Thank goodness his mother had followed through. He’d laid the groundwork several weeks in advance by telling her he wanted to be cremated if anything ever happened to him. But until this moment, he hadn’t been sure she’d acted on his request. He’d watched the papers online, but they’d never included this detail. Not even the obituary had mentioned it. And until now he hadn’t dared contact Pam, who was the only person on earth who was supposed to know he wasn’t dead. “You’re even luckier than I am,” he said.

  Obviously uncertain how to take this statement, she didn’t respond right away. When she did, her tone was wary. “What do you mean by that?”

  “What we did saved your marriage, your family. Mine is gone.”

  “Don’t cry on my shoulder. You’re the reason they’re gone. You wanted it. You could’ve spared the boy and you didn’t.”

  Because he’d hated Colton almost as much as Colton’s father. That boy was all Emily had lived for. “It was the only way our plan could work, and you know it.”

  “No. You could’ve taken the money just like you did. Chasing five hundred thousand dollars would be a lot less of a motivation than chasing your child’s killer. You might’ve signed your own death warrant and mine, too.”

  “Oh, quit sniveling. You were able to pay your bills, weren’t you?”

  “And you paid for a new life. I hope you’re happy with it.”

  “Up yours.” He disconnected, then sat staring at the flickering TV. Damn Pam Wartle. And damn Sebastian Costas. Sebastian and Colton were all Emily could ever talk about. Sebastian never would’ve treated me this way…. Sebastian will pay for it. He wants Colton to have whatever he needs…. I’ll ask Sebastian for a list of stocks. Maybe he can help us with some investments…. You ever touch Colton like that again, and I’ll tell Sebastian….

  She’d always acted as if Sebastian was tougher, smarter and more dependable than he was. She was proud her son was turning out so much like his father because she’d been in love with her ex. She’d probably been sleeping with him the whole time.

  So why the hell hadn’t he shot Sebastian, too? He could’ve called him up and had him come over to find Emily and Colton, then placed a slug in his head. The bastard deserved it.

  Malcolm smiled as he imagined Sebastian’s reaction had he been invited to that party—his shock and horror, his heartbreak when he saw his son lying in a pool of blood, his righteous but impotent anger as he faced the barrel of Malcolm’s Glock.

  But it was just a dream. Malcolm hadn’t killed Emily’s ex. He’d told himself it was smarter to work quickly and efficiently, smarter not to include anyone else. The fewer victims, the better his chances of pulling it off.

  Too bad. Not killing Sebastian had been a mistake. Now he had to worry, watch his back. And he couldn’t have that if he planned to start a new life with Mary.

  He needed a clean slate, no one chasing him from the past—which meant he had to deal with Sebastian once and for all.

  “Where were you last night?”

  Jane’s hand froze, her coffee cup halfway to her mouth. The few hours she’d slept had been restless. Between the knowledge of what she’d done with Sebastian, skipping her workout routine and Kate’s absence at the breakfast table, it had already been an odd morning. Getting a call from Jonathan made it even more unusual. They spoke at the office whenever they passed each other, but he’d never called her before. And he’d certainly never questioned her whereabouts.

  Trying to play it cool, she put her mug down. She didn’t want anyone at TLS to become aware of the fact that she’d slept with someone involved in her first case. Sleeping with Sebastian wasn’t a conflict of interest, but it wasn’t very professional. She was embarrassed by her own actions, and by the neediness that had caused them. “I went to bed early. Why?”

  “At your place?”

  His apparent confusion surprised her. She’d missed a call from him late last night, but she hadn’t thought much about it. If he was on an important case, either one of his own or one for TLS, he worked around the clock. She’d figured she’d touch base with him when she got to the office. “Of course. Where else would I sleep?”

  “I don’t know, but you weren’t at home.”

  “Yes, I was,” she argued. “This morning I saw that I missed your call, but I had my phone turned off when you tried to reach me.” At least that much was true.

  His voice grew firmer. “Jane, I dropped by.”

  Damn! What was he doing coming to her house? He’d never done that before. “When?”

  “Just after midnight.”

  “What was so important that you’d visit that late?”

  “I was worried about you. I was at The Last Stand using the Internet because my laptop battery is on the blink. Then, out of nowhere, this guy showed up, asking for you. I said I was the only one there, but
he demanded I tell him where you live or call you for him. He was angry that your business card doesn’t have your cell phone number.”

  “Who was it?” she asked.

  “Said his name was Luther. Wouldn’t give a last name.”

  Latisha’s father. As long as she wasn’t facing his pit bulls, she could relax. “I know who he is.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. He’s connected to my case.”

  “He wasn’t too happy when he left. On the off-chance he managed to find you, I drove over to make sure you were safe. But you didn’t answer the door.”

  “I must’ve been sleeping too deeply to hear the bell.”

  “Come on, Jane. Your car was gone. I was worried enough to cruise the lot several times.”

  She was making this worse by the second. Jonathan was a private investigator, someone trained to notice details. She should’ve known better than to bullshit him. She should just tell him the truth—or as much of the truth as she was comfortable revealing. “All right, I was with someone,” she admitted. “But please, don’t tell David or anyone at TLS. I don’t want to deal with this at work.”

  There was a long silence. “Secrets make me uncomfortable, Jane.”

  “This isn’t a secret. It’s my private business. There’s a difference.”

  “If you’d told me you were out with someone when I first brought it up, it would’ve ended there.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Jonathan, it’s nothing, really. I lied because…because it’s none of your concern. I can see whomever I want.”

  “Jane, that guy who came here last night was dangerous. I’m pretty sure he was on drugs, and I know he was packing a gun. You have to watch out for yourself, especially if you’re coming home late.”

  “He doesn’t know where I live. My number’s unlisted, so he couldn’t find me even if he wanted to.”

  “There are ways…”

  “For people like you. We’re talking about a pimp from Oak Park.”

  “Don’t underestimate him,” he said. “Maybe it isn’t my concern, but if he’s someone you met through The Last Stand…you should be cautious. The people we come into contact with aren’t typically the type of people you’d want to date.”

  “I know. But some of them are worth risking a relationship. You met Zoë through TLS.”

  “True, but her child had been abducted. That’s not the same.”

  “Of course it is,” she said. “She has to rebuild her trust just like Skye and me and anyone else who’s ever been violated. You think I don’t know that I have to be careful? I understand the risks we face. That’s the problem. That’s why last night was the first time I’ve been with a man in five freakin’ years!” Her voice was getting shrill but she couldn’t seem to gain control of it. “Can’t I shake off the past just once and spend the night with a guy simply because I want to? Can’t I forget about danger for a few minutes and act as if I don’t have to doubt every single person I meet?”

  Finally, she caught herself. This wasn’t what she wanted to tell Jonathan. This wasn’t what she wanted to tell anyone. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Ignore me. I…I made a mistake, that’s all.”

  “Jane?”

  “What?”

  “You’ll get beyond Oliver.”

  She didn’t realize she was crying until the tears fell from her chin. Frustrated by her inability to stanch the emotions last night had churned up, she swiped an impatient hand across her wet cheeks and tried to swallow the lump that threatened to choke her. “Yeah, I will.” She continued to backpedal, pretending to believe she’d eventually recover, but she had no idea if she really would. Relationships were complicated enough without throwing her background into the mix.

  Jonathan’s voice lightened, as if he hoped to tease her out of her current mood. “I hope it was fun, at least.”

  She wasn’t even tempted to smile. “It should’ve been.” She couldn’t imagine he’d want to challenge that candid an answer, so she went right on. “I’ll give Luther a call, see what he wanted.”

  “Whatever you do, keep your distance from him,” Jonathan warned. “Meth, or whatever he’s using, makes people crazy.”

  Loneliness could make people crazy, too, if last night was anything to judge by. “I will,” she said, pouring her coffee down the sink. It was cold and she didn’t have time for another cup. What did it matter that she’d slept with Sebastian? Or whether she’d enjoyed it? Latisha and Marcie were still missing. They were the ones with the real problem. She needed to get going, work harder to find them.

  “And on that other issue, you know the cliché,” Jonathan added.

  From his tone she guessed he was referring to what she’d done with Sebastian. “What cliché?”

  “You gotta get back on the, er, horse.”

  The metaphor brought a smile to Jane’s lips. “Sometimes it’s better not to ride at all. Sometimes it’s smarter to stay out of the way of flying hooves.”

  “Depends on the horse.” He disconnected, and she chuckled as she went in search of her purse.

  Twelve

  A clap of thunder woke Sebastian. After the initial boom, it rolled across the sky loudly enough to shake the whole building and was soon joined by an onslaught of wind and rain.

  “What a morning,” he grumbled. It was still early; he felt like going back to sleep. Especially when his first thought was of Jane—and the disappointment and frustration that had resulted from their lovemaking. He couldn’t help feeling he’d let her down. She’d summoned the courage and trust to return to his room, and he hadn’t been able to deliver what she wanted. She wasn’t sexually liberated enough to take advantage of being in charge. Not after five years of celibacy. Not after what she’d been through. He should’ve thought of that, should’ve realized she actually needed him to take the lead. He would’ve slipped into that role if he hadn’t been so afraid of spooking her.

  What she needed was a happy medium between aggressiveness and restraint. He could see that now. But at the time, he’d been feeling his way through the experience, too. He’d never made love to a woman who’d been viciously attacked by a stranger, let alone by the man who was supposed to love her and protect her above all others.

  He wondered how Emily would’ve reacted to the violence of having been shot had she survived….

  When he considered it in those terms, he had to admit Jane was recovering quite well. She’d been attacked in a brutal, very personal fashion. Yet she was standing her ground, battling her fears. That alone told him she was a brave woman.

  He wished last night had brought her some comfort, some satisfaction.

  “Live and learn,” he said aloud. Too gentle was almost as unfulfilling as too rough. He instinctively understood that, but he’d made an exception for Jane.

  In an attempt to put her out of his head, he showered and checked his voice mail. But he didn’t have any messages and his chores offered little distraction. While he was working, part of his brain kept replaying that moment when her tongue had first touched his and sent his heart racing. He hadn’t been so aroused in ages….

  The phone interrupted his thoughts. Halfway hoping it would be Jane, he picked up. “Hello?”

  “Sebastian?”

  It wasn’t Jane; it was Constance. His disappointment surprised him—and confirmed that he wasn’t himself anymore. Didn’t he want to reconcile with his girlfriend? Maybe she didn’t seem vital to him now, but she would at some point. At this rate, he’d have to rebuild every aspect of his life.

  And yet he’d rather speak to a woman he’d met yesterday, a woman with whom he had no future, a woman who’d left him feeling off-balance.

  “Yes?” he said into the phone.

  “You haven’t called.”

  He’d just sat down and booted up his computer, but at the sulkiness in her voice, he pushed away from the desk and stared at the rain sliding down the window. “You told me it was over.”

  “And you were will
ing to leave it at that?”

  “I thought it was what you wanted, what would make you happiest.”

  “I was angry.”

  “And now?”

  “I’m still angry. But…I’m not sure I can give up on us.”

  Sebastian had no idea how he felt about their relationship anymore, how he felt about her. Was it fair to let her believe things would go back to the way they were before? He’d drifted so far from the man he used to be; he doubted she even knew him anymore. And what about last night? Once he told her he’d been intimate with another woman, they’d have more problems. Constance was nothing if not intensely jealous.

  “Malcolm is within reach, Connie,” he said. “I can feel it.”

  “I think you might be right.”

  Her sudden reversal surprised him. “What?”

  “Someone called late last night, Sebastian, at about 2:00 a.m.”

  “Who?”

  “A man. He wouldn’t give his name.”

  He gazed out at the overcast sky. “What’d he say?”

  “He asked for you.”

  Below, puddles formed in any depression, mirroring the gloom overhead. “Did you get the number he was calling from?”

  “I couldn’t. It was blocked.”

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “I said we broke up, that you were at your condo. But I don’t think he believed me.”

  “Why not?”

  “He said, ‘Then why the fuck doesn’t he answer?’ and hung up. He was…enraged. I could feel the hate coming through the phone. It was weird.”

  Trying to absorb what that call, and the emotion of the caller, could mean, Sebastian looked over at the parking space where he’d found Jane crying. He wished he could have last night to do over again…. “You think it was Malcolm?” he said.

  When Constance replied her voice was softer than it had been in a long while. “Yes.”

  Sebastian had immediately considered the possibility, but he had Malcolm on his mind 24/7. He’d never expected Constance to suspect a man she believed was dead.

  Or maybe she simply wanted to believe he was dead—so Sebastian would come home and they could get on with their lives.