The Turn

by Carolina Mac

  “No thanks, I had some sweet tea that Carm made.”

  “I saw you working with Olivia earlier.” He reached out and touched the bruising on her face that was mellowing slightly.

  “I like gardening,” she said. “Makes you feel so useful.”

  Blaine picked up her hand and held it to his lips. “Don’t you usually feel useful, sweetheart?”

  “Not too much. A lot of people think my line of work is crap. They call it bullshit and hooey, and they call me a freak and a fake. To them being a psychic isn’t useful employment.”

  “They can fuck themselves up the ass,” snarled Blaine. “I know you have a gift, and I also realize that some days you’d rather not have it. You don’t have to prove yourself to anybody. We’ll keep your little secret to ourselves.”

  “If I had something of Brad’s I might be able to see where he is.” She inhaled a couple of big breaths.

  Blaine shook his head. “I don’t know. That might be too stressful. You’re a bit close to that situation.”

  “But if you found him and put him back in jail, I could relax, go home and get back to normal.”

  Blaine leaned in a little closer. “That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, Mist. I’m not sure I want you to go back to your place.”

  Misty smiled. “You missed having me in your bed.”

  “Course I did, but I also missed having you in my life.”

  “I’m glad we’re talking again.”

  “We’re doing more than talking,” said Blaine smiling at her, “or hadn’t you noticed?”

  AFTER dinner, Blaine checked with the hotline to see if there had been any sightings of Brad Mulligan, and there had been a few crank calls, but nothing that sounded legitimate.

  Still of the opinion that it might not be a great idea, Blaine sent Jack to Brad Mulligan’s place to get an item that Misty could work with to locate her ex-husband.

  He returned a half hour later, just as Farrell and Travis got back from their trip to hill country.

  “Let’s have a beer,” said Blaine, “and you guys can bring me up to date.”

  Jack leaned on the granite island and chugged a Lone Star. “You wouldn’t believe the mess of Mulligan’s house. Nice big two story with all the bells and whistles, but…” Jack curled his lip. “It’s a sty. The guy is living like a raving looney.”

  “Did you get in and out okay?” asked Blaine.

  “Sure, Misty gave me her key.” He pointed. “It’s on the sideboard with the stuff I took… borrowed.”

  Blaine raised a black brow. “Didn’t know she still had one.”

  “She forgot she had it, but it was on her key ring.”

  Blaine grinned. “Good, we weren’t breaking any laws.”

  MISTY returned to the kitchen and saw Jack. “Hi, you’re back. Did you get Brad’s stuff?”

  “I rolled a couple of things up in the shirt.” He pointed across the room to the sideboard.

  Misty picked up the rolled-up shirt and headed for the door. “I’ll go into the office and try.”

  Blaine got up and followed her. “I better come too.” He was one step behind when they entered the office and he flicked the light switch.

  “I think I’ll sit in the dark,” said Misty. She sat in one of the wing chairs near the fireplace with Brad’s stuff on her lap.

  “Okay,” said Blaine. “Anything you want me to do?”

  “No, just keep me company.”

  He plopped down in the other chair and tried to relax. Blaine had learned from experience, whenever Misty tried to get vibes from someone they couldn’t find, it was extremely taxing on her. He wasn’t fond of her putting her through it.

  His eyes became accustomed to the semi-darkness. A finger of light from the newly installed outside security lighting filtered in through the draperies and he could see Misty a couple of feet away from him. A tear glistened on her cheek and he wanted to put a bullet in Brad Mulligan and take away her pain.

  She picked up a piece of jewelry, and Blaine couldn’t tell if it was a watch or a chain, maybe an ID bracelet she’d given him once upon a time.

  A squeal came out of her mouth and startled him. “My bedroom. Lying on my bed.”

  “Shit,” Blaine hopped up and stepped into the hallway. “Farrell, take Misty’s key and take all the boys to her place. She saw him in her bedroom.”

  “Farrell came running. “There’s a patrol over there, ain’t there?”

  “Yep. Check anyway and have a good look around. See if the asshole is hiding out there.”

  The boys left, and Blaine returned to the office. “Are you okay, sweetheart. How about a glass of wine?” He took her hand and pulled her up and into his arms. “The boys are checking your house. Let’s go into the front parlour and wait for them.”

  Misty’s Bungalow. Austin.

  FARRELL stopped and chatted with the patrol officer parked in Misty’s driveway. “Anything going on that you noticed?”

  The uni got out of his car and lit up a smoke. “No nothing. I came on shift at four and been staring at the fence ever since.”

  “Okay,” said Farrell, “I’m gonna take a run through the house with my guys. Won’t take long.”

  “I might as well come in with y’all.”

  “Sure.”

  Farrell turned the key in the front door and switched on the hall light. Nothing was disturbed in the small foyer, but the former living room Misty had decorated for customers was another story. The curtains were slashed, and the walls had been spray painted with black graffiti. ‘Kill the witch,’ had been sprayed in red on the large mirror over the fireplace.

  “Jesus,” said Farrell, “how’d he have time to do all this with a patrol car outside?”

  The uniformed officer stood in the doorway shaking his head. “This never happened while I was here. Swear to God, it didn’t.”

  “Give me the other names on your rotation.” said Farrell, “I’ll have to talk to all of them.”

  “Down here,” hollered Jack from the back of the house.

  Farrell turned and hoofed it through the kitchen and down the hallway to the bedrooms.

  “Looks like he was sleeping in her bed,” said Jack. “Left a note on the pillow.”

  Farrell screwed up his face. “The guy is a bonified freak. What’s the fucking note say?”

  Jack handed the torn piece of paper to Farrell. “Might be better if Misty didn’t see the message.”

  Farrell stared at the squared-off printing.

  “Bet you can’t come back from the dead.”

  Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE worked on researching the hacker once Misty went upstairs to bed. She wanted to wait until the boys returned from her house to see if they had found Brad, but Blaine had talked her into a bubble bath and reading in bed.

  Alone, he could concentrate on work. He started with the message and worked backwards, using a search program he had designed himself. Once set in motion, his computer would work through hours of searching on its own and signal him when the source was found. It might take hours, but it had always been worth the wait. It had never failed him.

  When I get up in the morning, I might know who the murderer is.

  The dogs barked and ran to the door as the boys were coming in. Blaine met them in the front foyer. “Had he been there?”

  “Oh yeah,” said Farrell, “he was there all right.”

  “But not now?”

  Jack shook his head. “House is empty.” He glanced in the kitchen door. “Where’s Misty?”

  “I sent her to bed. What did y’all find.”

  “Let’s have a beer in the kitchen,” said Farrell.

  “Front room is trashed,” said Jack. “Needs to be repainted. The rest of the house isn’t too bad.”

  “But?” Blaine gave Farrell the stink-eye.

  “There was a note.” Farrell handed Blaine the piece of paper with the child-like printing.

  Blaine stared
at the words and felt the anger bubbling inside him like a volcano ready to erupt.

  “I’ll kill him before he gets to her.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Wednesday, September 12th.

  Panama City. Panama.

  RENEE waited in front of The Hilton at the taxi stand. The warm breeze blowing off the Pacific on the other side of the highway and ruffling her hair was the most uplifting thing she could imagine.

  Today she would visit her new bank and withdraw money from the account she had opened a year earlier and made regular contributions to. A visit to a salon for a new hairstyle, a short shopping trip to choose two or three new outfits, and then dinner in a gourmet restaurant.

  Perhaps tomorrow she’d take a golf lesson or tour the canal or think about where she wanted to live in this beautiful country.

  Panama was everything the travel brochures said it was. She smiled remembering how Max had always wanted to come here.

  Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BEFORE dawn, Blaine slipped out of bed and padded downstairs, leaving Misty sleeping peacefully, unaware of the condition of her house and the threatening note her ex-husband had left for her.

  Although anxious to check his desktop to see if the program had finished running, he let the dogs out and started the coffee maker before settling in his office. He sat down and stared, and his heart gave an extra beat. “Thank you.”

  The IP address was on the screen.

  In no time at all he had the name of the service provider for that address. Easy Peasy. He picked up the phone and called the Chief. “Morning, sir. I need a warrant for a service provider. I’m emailing you the info.”

  “You’ve got him, son?”

  “Hope so. His internet provider should have his name and billing address on record.”

  “I’ll get on it right now. I was talking to Judge Campbell just yesterday and she inquired about the murdered girls. I’ll try her first and call you when the warrant is ready to pick up.”

  “Thanks, Chief. I want to surprise him.”

  “Uh huh.”

  He ended the call to Calhoun and the lab was on the line. “Hey, Sue, anything?”

  “Got an email from the Johnson City folks who ran your scene, and there is trace there in the ashes—human trace. They got enough bone frags to run DNA but it will take at least until tomorrow or the day afterle.”

  “Thanks, Sue, call me the minute you know.”

  “Always, Blaine.” She paused for a moment. “Umm… how’s Farrell?”

  Shit. Women are swarming around Farrell and he’s oblivious.

  “Fine. Farrell’s fine.”

  Jesus. They know he broke up with Mary.

  Blaine refilled his coffee, hugged Carm good morning as she stood beside the stove whisking eggs in a big white bowl, then trudged out to the back porch and sat on the steps to have a smoke. The morning was still cool and fresh, but it wouldn’t last more than another half hour.

  The dogs, full of energy and running in circles made him laugh. Lexi loved having Hoodoo back. Misty’s Bernese Mountain Dog was almost as big as Lexi and the two dogs were best friends.

  Misty came out a few minutes later, sat down beside him and rested her hand on his leg. “I didn’t hear you get up.”

  “I tried to be quiet. I ran a program overnight and I wanted to check on it.”

  “Had Brad been at my house?” she asked.

  Blaine nodded, and Misty’s eyes teared up. “What did he do?”

  “Nothing that you’re going to see.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I’ll go over there later and see what needs doing. Don’t stress about it because you might not go back there.”

  “He hates me so much,” she whispered.

  “The man is insane, Mist. Don’t try to figure it out.”

  An hour later the boys reported for work and Blaine sent Travis to question the rotation of uniformed officers that had been stationed at Misty’s house for the past forty-eight.

  “Check the doors and windows, and see how he got in,” said Blaine. “He never had a key to her new house. I’m adding another bunch of charges to his warrant.”

  When I catch him, the fucker will never see daylight again.

  Judge Campbell’s Residence. West Austin.

  BLAINE rang the bell and Judge Campbell answered the door herself. A tall redhead with wide-set green eyes, about seven or eight years older than Annie, the lady judge was reported to be the hottest thing in the Austin Courthouse. This morning, she wore tight jeans and a red tank and Blaine thought the rumors might have some basis in fact.

  Recently, after Doctor Rodriguez dropped out of the race, Judge Catherine Campbell had announced her candidacy for Governor.

  “Come in, Blaine, sweetie,” she opened the door wide. “What happened to your arm? I didn’t know you were hurt.”

  “Minor stab wound.”

  “No wounds are minor. You shouldn’t be working.” She motioned them in. “I want to go over a couple of points Randy has on the warrant.”

  “Did he write it himself?” asked Farrell.

  Judge Campbell smiled. “Randy knows how to write a warrant, just like he knows how to do everything else related to the job. Now that he’s number one, he doesn’t do the everyday stuff as often.”

  “I didn’t mean anything,” said Farrell. “I’m the Chief’s biggest fan.”

  The judge nodded. “And he’s one of yours, Donovan.” She winked at him. “Yes, I know who you are. I try to keep track of all the shining stars.”

  Farrell’s face colored as he concentrated on the marble tiles in the huge foyer.

  The Judge led them into a sitting room to the left of the entrance and pointed to tan leather club chairs. She sat on the sofa and spread the warrant out in front of her on the coffee table. “The only thing I’m questioning is how you zeroed in on the IP address, sweetheart.” She focused on Blaine’s face. “I can’t sign it if we’re violating privacy laws.”

  “Okay,” said Blaine. “Here it is. This guy has killed at least four girls that we know about, maybe more in the past. We had nothing on him, and I mean nada.” Blaine got out of his chair and paced. “I checked my emails yesterday and bam—there he is—hacked into my computer and a big fuckin message flashing on my screen.”

  “He’s a hacker?” asked the Judge.

  “Big time,” said Blaine. “He violated my privacy when he put that message on my screen, and believe me, Judge, I have a lot of protection on my desktop and on my laptop too. To date that’s the only mistake he’s made. Overnight I ran a program I designed myself for just such a situation and this morning his IP address was on my screen. In my opinion, he gave that to me. It was a gift—more like a taunt—but if he hadn’t done that, his privacy would be secure, and we’d still have nothing.”

  “I understand.”

  “The warrant is only for the service provider. They can’t cough up a name and street address without it.”

  The Judge picked up her pen and signed the warrant. As she saw them to the door her smile vanished, and she said, “Dinner next week. We need to talk.”

  Blaine raised a black eyebrow. “We do?”

  She nodded. “You too, Donovan. I’ll call with a time and place.”

  “Okay,” said Blaine.

  Gotta be about the election.

  “Go get him.” She gave a little wave and closed the door.

  FibeIT. Downtown Austin.

  BLAINE placed his creds on the counter in front of a tall blonde with silver glitter caked on her eyelids and a bull ring in her nose. “Could I speak to the manager, please?”

  “Y’all are from the police?”

  “Yes, could you ask the manager to come on out here?”

  “Can I ask what this is about?”

  Blaine shook his head. “No, I need to speak to the manager.”

  She turned and charged through the door behind the counter. Thirty seconds later a tall man in his late twenties appeared, not looki
ng too pleased to see them.

  “What’s this about?”

  “I need a name and address of one of your customers, sir,” said Blaine. “I have a warrant.” He placed it on the counter.

  “I see.” He stared at the warrant pretending to read it, then said, “Come back to my office, could you? I’ll look it up for you.”

  “Thank you.” Blaine and Farrell followed him through the door and down a short hallway.

  “What has this person done?” the manager asked.

  “It’s a police matter,” said Blaine. “Just give me his name and address.”

  “I feel like I’m violating someone’s privacy.” He stared at his screen and then at Blaine.

  “That’s what the warrant is for.” Blaine pointed to the signature. “We just came from the judge and this warrant authorizes you to give us the name and address.”

  “I’ve never had to do this before.”

  “First time for everything. Do it now.”

  The guy typed a few keystrokes and a list appeared on the screen. “Okay, here is it.”

  Benson Lovell. Thirty-three Tansy Court. Apartment 612.

  “Print it,” said Blaine.

  “Yes, sir.” The guy gave him a two-fingered salute.

  “What’s your name?” asked Farrell.

  “Justin Bordeaux.”

  Farrell wrote it down.

  “Why do you need my name?”

  “For the police report,” said Farrell. “You may have to testify in court. We’re not here just dicking around.”

  Justin retrieved the print out and handed it to Blaine. “Are we done here?”

  “Sure are.”

  Thirty-Three Tansy Court. Downtown Austin.

  “HIS BUILDING is close to the club district,” said Farrell as he parked the truck.

  “Nice and handy.”

  “Want more backup, boss? Can we take him on our own?”

  “On your own, bro? My goddam arm is in a sling.”

  “Let’s fuckin do it. I need some anger management, and the best way to vent my hostility is with physical activity.” Farrell was always up for action, and he made Blaine grin as they took the elevator to the sixth floor.