“I’d love to see you,” he lied. “We had some good times, didn’t we?”
She’d had good times. He’d been in hell. But it had been a hell of his own making. Laura Lou had simply been the particular devil he had chosen to oversee his torment.
“Yeah, we had some good times,” she said, a wistful quality softening her lifetime smoker’s voice. “But your girlfriend wouldn’t want me showing up, now would she?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment,” he assured her. That much, at least, was the truth. Until he got all his addictions under control, a committed relationship was out of the question.
“What’s wrong with the girls in Arkansas?” Once again her laughter turned into uncontrollable coughing.
“Are you taking care of yourself? That cough sounds bad.” He didn’t give a damn how sick she was or if she lived or died. Correct that. He needed her to stay alive a while longer, long enough for him to accomplish his goals. He needed the old bat’s money. Smiling to himself, he wondered how Laura Lou would react if she had any idea how he was using the cash she sent him.
“I’ve got bad sinus problems,” she told him. “Apparently, they’re chronic and I just have to live with them.” She coughed a couple more times and then got straight to the point. “So, how much do you need this time?”
“What makes you think I’m calling to ask for more money?” They played this same game every time he called her. He understood two things about Laura Lou. One: She needed the attention he paid her during these long-distance conversations. Two: She would send him the money he needed.
“Sweet boy, I know you.”
“Inside and out,” he agreed.
“So, how much this time?”
“A thousand should be enough.”
“Want me to wire it to the same account there in Fayetteville?”
“Yes, please. Under the name of William Geisman.”
“I hope you’re using the money wisely,” she said. “But if not…if you’re doing anything illegal, be careful not to get caught.”
“Good advice. But you always were the smart one, weren’t you? Don’t worry about me. I learned from the master how to get away with murder.”
Lorie hung up the phone and turned to Mike.
“You already know what Maleah told me, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Derek called Jack this morning and Jack relayed the information to me when he called a little while ago. He told me that Maleah planned to phone you and tell you herself.”
“Sonny Deguzman’s dead and the Midnight Killer didn’t murder him.”
“Yeah, it seems he was stabbed in a bar fight in Madrid about six months ago. He’d been living under an assumed name and that’s the reason Powell’s had so much trouble finding him.”
“That narrows down the targets for our killer, doesn’t it? The only actors from Midnight Masquerade left alive are Jean, Terri, and me.”
“And all three of you have around-the-clock protection. Jean Misner’s husband is keeping two bodyguards on duty at all times. Terri Owens is recuperating in a private facility, in a restricted section of the rehab center that screens all of her visitors. And you have me and backup from my deputies.”
“Why haven’t they caught him?” Lorie asked, simply voicing her thoughts and not expecting Mike to have an answer.
He put his arm around her shoulders.
She tensed.
He released her instantly.
She took a deep breath.
Whenever Mike touched her, she wanted to turn into his arms, hold him close and never let him go. And the odd thing was, she sensed that he felt the same way.
Dear God, what an impossible situation.
Lorie dove directly into the other subject she had discussed with Maleah. “Did Jack tell you that Shelley’s sister plans to have her cremated, as she had requested in her will, and there won’t be a funeral, only a private memorial service?”
“He did.”
“If the state ME releases Shelley’s body within a few days, the memorial service will probably be next week,” Lorie said. “I’d very much like to go to Knoxville for the service.”
“I think that can be arranged. I figured you’d want to go, so I’ve already mentioned to Jack that perhaps he and Cathy could go with us.”
Despite their years apart, Mike still knew her so well that he could often second-guess her thoughts. “That would be good. I’m sure Maleah would appreciate their being there. Even though they didn’t really know Shelley all that well, she and Maleah did work together and…” Tears lodged in Lorie’s throat. She swallowed. “Damn it, I’ve got to stop tearing up all the time.”
“Your bodyguard, a woman you liked and were becoming friends with, was brutally murdered two days ago,” Mike said. “You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t upset over that fact. You have every right to cry whenever you feel like it.”
“If I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that all this emotional turmoil isn’t just about Shelley.”
“I know.” He looked at her with sympathy and understanding.
She tried to smile; the effort failed. “So many people have died. People I knew, people who were a part of my life years ago. Dean and Hilary and Charlie and Shontee, all murdered. And poor Charlene. And now to find out that Sonny died half a world away in some senseless bar fight.” Her lips curved upward in an almost smile. “And knowing Sonny, the fight was probably over some woman.”
Nodding, keeping his gaze connected with hers, Mike remained silent.
“You don’t want to listen to me talking about the people I knew out in LA, especially the ones I got to know while making Midnight Masquerade. You probably think of them as the scum of the earth, but…they were real people, people who had hopes and dreams, people who did not deserve…” Lorie bit down on her bottom lip in an effort to control the tears threatening to overflow.
“Talk about whoever you want to talk about,” he told her. “Do whatever helps, whatever makes you feel better.”
“I’m not sure anything can make me feel better. It’s as if I’m trapped in a never-ending nightmare.”
“There will be an end to it, I promise you.”
“Yes, I’m sure there will be, but will I still be alive to see it?”
“Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.” He moved in on her, mere inches separating their bodies, and glared straight into her startled eyes.
“You’re right. I have to think only positive thoughts.”
She also had to put some distance between them. If she didn’t, she couldn’t be held responsible for what she might do. She wanted Mike so desperately, needed him so completely. She tromped across the living room and looked out the window. “Do y’all still believe that Shelley’s death had nothing to do with the Midnight Killer’s murder spree?”
Mike walked across the room and stood beside her. “Shelley’s murder doesn’t fit his MO. That’s all we know. Powell’s and the FBI are looking into old Powell cases that Shelley worked on hoping to find a link.”
“What are the odds that a bodyguard on an assignment to protect a client from a serial killer would end up murdered by another killer?”
“Yeah, I know. It sounds implausible, doesn’t it?”
Suddenly Lorie noticed an older model Buick turn off the road in front of her house and roll to a stop in her driveway. “Is that your mother’s car?”
“Yeah, it is. I wonder what she’s doing here.”
Mike and Lorie watched while Nell Birkett emerged from the Park Avenue along with Hannah and M.J. The children ran ahead of their grandmother, straight toward the porch.
“Why the hell did she bring the kids here?” Mike grumbled under his breath as he headed for the front door.
By the time he unlocked and opened the door, he came face-to-face with his kids. Lana Ladner, the deputy on guard duty this evening, hadn’t stopped his mother and children; instead, she had escorted them to the door.
Han
nah hurled herself at her father. He swept her up into a bear hug and then set her on her feet. M.J. grinned broadly, evidently glad to see Mike.
“Hi, Miss Lorie,” M.J. said.
Hannah went from her father to Lorie and grabbed Lorie’s hand.
“What are y’all doing here?” Mike looked squarely at his mother.
“We’re here for supper,” Nell replied. “The children miss you and they asked if we could pay y’all a visit.”
“You should have called first,” Mike said.
“Never thought of that,” she replied, a sly grin on her face.
“I’m afraid we were going to have sandwiches for supper,” Lorie said. “But I can thaw out some chicken and—”
“Don’t bother,” Nell said. “I brought supper. Mike, go out to the car and bring in the picnic basket. It’s on the backseat.”
“I’ll help you, Dad,” M.J. said.
“Why don’t you and Hannah both go help your father,” Nell suggested.
Mike frowned at his mother, but did as she had asked. When Mike and the kids were out of earshot, Nell smiled at Lorie.
“How are you?” Nell asked.
“I’m okay.”
“Is my son treating you well?”
“Mike’s been very good to me.”
Nell sighed. “Well, it’s about time. That boy of mine is every bit as stubborn as his father was.” Nell walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. “Tell me, is he thawing out any?”
“Pardon?” Lorie asked.
“Has Mike thawed out any where you’re concerned? I know you said that he’s treating you well, but is he…are you two…” Nell cleared her throat. “Has he at least kissed you?”
Lorie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, whether to tell Nell Birkett that it was none of her business or blurt out everything she was feeling.
“Mike and I are still attracted to each other,” Lorie admitted. “But even if something does happen—and it hasn’t—we both know that we have no future together.”
“Hogwash.”
Lorie stared questioningly at Nell.
“You made a stupid mistake when you were quite young and then Mike compounded the problem by acting like a complete jerk for the past nine years. But, honey, it’s as plain as the nose on your face that if ever two people were in love, you and Mike are. As much now as you were when you were teenagers.”
“That’s not true. Mike may want me…” God in heaven, how could she talk to Mike’s mother about the sexual attraction that was driving both of them crazy?
Before Nell could comment, Mike and the kids came in, Mike carrying a wicker picnic basket and M.J. toting a red and white cooler.
“Take that stuff out to the kitchen,” Nell instructed them. “There’s potato salad, deviled eggs, and tea in the cooler. Everything else is in the basket.” As soon as her son and grandchildren did as they were told and headed for the kitchen, Nell put her arm around Lorie’s shoulders and whispered, “Honey, if you want him, my son is yours for the taking.”
Lorie didn’t know how to reply to such a comment. She was beginning to believe that she actually could seduce Mike while he was acting as her protector. He’d probably put up a token protest before giving in to her. But as much as she longed to have sex with him again, she wanted more. A lot more. She wanted forever after.
Tyler Owens spoke to Lila Newton as he walked up to the nurses’ station. He visited his mother several times a week, sometimes staying five minutes, sometimes half an hour. He usually arrived around 7:30 P.M. shortly before Lila’s twelve-hour supervisor’s shift ended. Occasionally, he brought flowers or a small gift of some kind for his mother, and he made a habit of bringing a dessert tray once a week and leaving it at the desk for the nurses and aides.
“How’s Mother been today?” he asked.
“She’s had a good day.”
“I don’t suppose she’s said anything yet.”
“No, sir. She tries really hard during physical therapy. She gets out sounds, of course, so it’s only a matter of time before she’s able to talk again. But she becomes terribly frustrated when she tries so hard and can’t form the words.”
“Has she had any visitors today?” he asked.
Lila hated lying and did so only in the sense that she deliberately omitted his father’s name from the list she recited. “Reverend Harper came this morning. And of course you know your wife brought Mr. Clement by earlier this afternoon for their weekly visit. Seeing her uncle always seems to cheer Miss Terri right up.”
“Yes, I believe Uncle Clement was like a second father to her when she was growing up and they were always quite fond of each other.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tyler nodded, then turned and walked down the corridor past the guard at the entrance to the row of deluxe private rooms.
Tyler Owens was a nice enough young man, cordial and mannerly, but never truly friendly. She always felt as if he believed he was better than she was, better than anyone who worked at the rehab center, even the doctors. He certainly wasn’t the man his father was, not as good a man, not as smart a man. And in the looks department, he was pretty much his mother’s son, all blond and beautiful.
Only Terri Owens wasn’t so beautiful anymore.
Lila checked her wristwatch. She needed to begin her shift change rounds. If she started now, she would have more than enough time to check in on each patient in her care. And since at this time of day, patients often had visitors, it was a good way to be seen by the patients’ friends and families and for her to take note of who seldom, if ever, had visitors. Those poor souls, so alone in the world, were the ones she felt the most sorry for.
Fifteen minutes later, as she paused outside the half-closed door of room 107, she heard Tyler Owens speaking softly to his mother.
“I have to go now, Mother. You get a good night’s rest and I’ll be back in a few days to see you. If you need anything, anything at all, just do your best to let someone here know and I’ll see to it that you have it.”
Terri moaned again and again, trying her best to speak.
Lila started to open the door fully and go into the room. But just as her hand touched the door to give it a gentle shove, she saw Tyler reach inside his shirt pocket and remove a newspaper clipping.
“Here it is, as promised,” he told her as he placed the folded clipping into her left hand, the hand unaffected by her recent stroke.
Lila pushed open the door and entered the room. “I’m here to check on Miss Terri before I leave for the evening.”
“Please, Lila, come on in,” Tyler said. “I was just on my way out.” He leaned over and kissed his mother’s forehead.
Sitting perfectly still, no emotion showing on her slightly warped face, Terri gripped the newspaper clipping tightly in her good hand as her son walked past Lila and out of the room.
“Want me to put that away for you?” Lila asked as she paused at Terri’s bedside and held out her hand.
Terri shook her head.
“Is it something you would like for me to read to you?”
Again, Terri shook her head.
“All right, then, is there anything you need before I say good night? Juice? Water? Help going to the bathroom? Another blanket?” She patted the cotton blanket lying across Terri’s legs.
Terri nodded, unfolded her hand and shook the newspaper clipping as if it were a salt shaker. And all the while she kept mumbling, “Mu…mu…mu…”
“It’s something about the newspaper clipping Mr. Tyler brought you?”
Terri nodded again and held up the clipping.
Lila took the clipping from her. The heading read: MIDNIGHT KILLER SLAYS 4TH VICTIM. Lila scanned the brief article. Shontee Thomas had been shot and killed in her fiancé’s Atlanta nightclub. The victim was a former porno star, the fourth one murdered since January. All four murders were believed to be the work of a serial killer dubbed the Midnight Killer by the press because the four victims had all star
red in the movie titled Midnight Masquerade.
“Merciful heavens,” Lila said. “Why on earth would Mr. Tyler bring this to you?”
Terri patted her chest with her left hand, the gesture speaking for her.
“You’re trying to tell me that you knew these people, aren’t you?”
Terri nodded and again tried to speak, but without success. She then reached over and slapped at the drawer in her bedside table.
“You want me to open the drawer?” Lila asked.
Terri nodded.
Lila opened the drawer and there beneath a silver mirror and brush and comb set lay several other newspaper clippings. Lila eased them out of the drawer and hurriedly skimmed each article. They were all about victims of the same serial killer.
When Lila looked at her again, Terri patted her chest.
“Oh, sweet Jesus. You’re trying to tell me that you were in that movie?”
Terri nodded as tears misted her eyes.
Lila laid aside the clippings and grasped Terri’s hand. “I don’t understand why Mr. Tyler brought you these. He told the staff, of course, about the killer and that you were in the same movie as the victims. But we assumed you were to be kept in the dark so you wouldn’t worry. We immediately tightened security to make sure you’re kept as safe as possible. I don’t know why Mr. Tyler…” Lila huffed. “There was no reason for you to know, no reason for you to worry.”
Terri frowned and shook her head frantically.
“If you’re concerned about that crazy man getting in here, don’t be. You’re well protected here, Miss Terri.”
A lone tear escaped her left eye and trickled down her cheek. She tried again to speak, but when all that came out was a mumble of moans and groans, she pulled her hand out of Lila’s, laid her head back against the pillows, and turned to face the opposite direction.
“Oh, you poor dear.” Lila picked up the newspaper clippings and placed them back in the drawer. “I don’t know why your son would bring those articles and show them to you, but I’m sure he had a good reason.”
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