Lethal Affair

by Noelle Hart

  A few silent moments, then, “You did the right thing. Have you told the cops out front yet?”

  “No. That's why I'm calling. Should I tell them?”

  “I don't see what point there would be in that. You say he's gone and he didn't... harm you, so there's still a chance we can influence him to give himself up.”“I tried that. He wasn't my Drew anymore, Stanley.” The tears came then, her voice breaking.

  “You mean our Drew. He's our son and we'll give him as much support as he needs. Olivia, please don't cry.”

  Those last words stilled her; it was the first time he'd ever said that to her with such heartfelt sincerity. The shock of it abated the tears.

  His voice was soft now, a balm against the storm of emotions raging inside of her. “I'll come home. I love you, Olivia. I know I've made a mess of things, but I want to be there for you now. Is that alright?”

  It was an emotional breakthrough. Too bad it had taken a crisis like this to bring her husband to his senses. To his knees.

  As Olivia stopped in the kitchen and considered making herself a vodka and tonic, then opted for plain water instead, Stanley sat behind his desk and gazed out over the city, his emotional state surprisingly resigned to their fate as a family.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Langford diner construction site was in full swing. A hive of busy workers that looked like pure chaos, contractor Al Saunders ran everything with his own kind of orderly precision.

  Buzz saws, pounding hammers and raw, uncensored jokes spiked the air. Silt overhead and sawdust underfoot made breathing masks and protective eye wear a must.

  Kylie loved it. Along with the sweat every man put into his work was a visible pride. Will inspired people to go the extra mile, to whistle while they worked and to pour the very best of themselves into whatever job they'd been assigned. A natural born leader, he put aside their weaknesses and played to their strengths, elevating their spirits and giving them positive reinforcement. It was a gift, she marveled, listening to him explain to the carpenter how he wanted the mahogany bar installed. No condescending egoism, but rather good natured collaboration.

  Jolene appeared with Dino on his requisite leash. Lyle was in the new kitchen inspecting the gas and water lines and fussing over details. When he reverently smoothed his hand over the industrial cement counter surfaces, Kylie swore she saw him drool.

  “Lyle's orgasmic,” Jolene commented. “If you think he's in love with those counter tops, you should have seen him inside the walk-in freezer just now.”

  “It's a good thing Will and Lyle share similar taste, which to my eye is pretty damn good.”

  “They have us so you can bet your skinny ass they have good taste! You should see Lyle's house. In fact, I'm surprised you haven't. But then he's a very private person. Doesn't like to share his space much. I'm going to change that.”

  “You seem pretty confident.”

  “Expect to get what you want and it will come your way.”

  “What about things you don't want? Does your theory work as a deflector too?”

  “I guess. It's all about negatives and positives. You're referring to our night caller?”

  “Unfortunately he's never far from my mind.”

  “That's exactly what he wants. He's controlling you from a distance.” She looked over her shoulder. “At least I hope it's a distance.”

  Kylie looked around. The workers wore hard hats and face masks. Drew could be one of them and they wouldn't know it.

  Will strode over to the girls. “What are you two plotting over here?”

  “This place is going to be a hit,” said Jolene. “I'd call it nostalgia meets trendy.”

  “That's what I was shooting for. Old world blended with modern.”

  Lyle stepped up. “You guys ready to roll? Gotta get back to our other enterprise. You know, the one that's paying for this one.”

  They waved their good bye's and climbed into Will's Jeep, headed out. Jolene, Lyle and Dino rode in the back and with Kylie staring absently out her window, Will reached across and squeezed her hand.

  “What's going through your mind?” he asked her.

  “Same old thing. Damn it.”

  “He's not worth all the time you're giving him.”

  “That's true,” she said testily, “he's not. But I can't control what I see in my mind's eye or how it makes me feel.”

  “Understandable,” came Lyle's observation from the rear.

  She shuddered. “Why does he have to like knives?”

  No one commented as Will pulled onto the highway heading back to the city and matched speed with the other vehicles. Checking his rear view mirror, he saw their police escort a few cars back. These guys were supposed to be incognito but their requisition black town car with tinted windows was a dead giveaway.

  Lyle caught Will's eye in the mirror. “Our shadow still with us?”

  “Like glue.” He glanced at Kylie and saw teeth clenching tension. “Hey, anybody feel like hitting a pub, grab a few beers?”

  “I gotta work,” said Lyle.

  “Me too,” added Jolene.

  They were passing the Gorge, a meandering inlet of green, murky water that ran parallel to the highway. A slow moving car had Will speeding up into the passing lane.

  “No point in being the boss if you can't pull strings,” he said. “Call Kim, give him instructions, see if Millie can pull a double. Whad'ya say? All in?”

  “We are now,” said Lyle, pulling out his cell. “Eileen can help Kim in a pinch.”

  Jolene laid a hand on Kylie's shoulder. “Sweetie, you need to relax. Let's get buzzed and let these two guys have their way with us.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Will, pulling back into the right lane and easing back on the gas. A car pulled onto the highway ahead, forcing Will to hit the brakes.

  Nothing happened!

  “Fuck!” He pumped the brakes repeatedly and got nothing. “No brakes!” Checking his mirrors he swerved into the fast lane to avoid hitting the slower vehicle in his path. “Everybody buckled in?” he yelled. The car's momentum should have slowed but they were on a downward grade.

  Lyle struggled to fit Dino into a seat belt and quietly swore he'd get Will a real dog-belt if they lived through this.

  “Is there a run off lane anywhere?” shouted Will, steering back into the slow lane and hitting his emergency lights. The highway had a narrow gravel shoulder and a low cement barrier wall. Ahead, heavy traffic had accumulated for a stop light and they were approaching way too fast.

  “Try for the shoulder. Pull on the emergency brake!” yelled Lyle. Jolene had his hand in a death grip.

  Maneuvering the Jeep onto the shoulder, Will hit the horn when a car ahead started to do the same. The car swerved back into its lane just as they barreled past. Gravel spewed up from the tires; the Jeep began to slow.

  The stop light loomed ahead. It was a busy intersection with opposite traffic zooming through. The Jeep hadn't lost enough momentum to prevent them from rolling into mayhem. His brain in overdrive and calculating the odds, Will gunned the engine at the last second and swept them through a gap in the traffic, a cement truck missing them by a hair.

  The other side was traffic free. Will stayed on the now level shoulder and used the hand brake to bring the Jeep to a skidding stop.

  No one moved. It seemed like no one breathed either.

  The black town car pulled up behind them and a plain clothes cop got out, walked to Will's window, knocked.

  Will was in a daze. He hit the button to lower the window.

  “Problem with your vehicle, Mr. Delaney?”

  Will's cell phone went off. He ignored it. “Um, yeah,” he managed, and looked across at Kylie who was sheet white, then twisted around in his seat. Lyle and Jolene were bug-eyed with Dino licking their faces.

  The cop raised his eyebrows.

  “Brakes are gone,” Will told him. His cell had quieted but now it went off insis
tently. Kylie picked it up and looked at the call display.

  It said, Drew H.

  She looked at Will sharply. “You didn't block his number?”

  He took the phone from her. “I'm putting him on speaker.”

  A hush fell over them all.

  “Hello, Mr. Hammond.”

  “Well hello to you too, Mr. Delaney. That was a helluva performance. Bravo! Very entertaining. Better than the movies in fact. You could be a stunt car driver, you know that?”

  Will stuck his head out the window and searched the landscape. Across the four lane highway on the other side was a cliff with forested land at the top. A small figure stood, hips cocked, holding a phone to his ear.

  The cop followed Will's sight line and mouthed, keep him talking. He sprinted back to his vehicle and got on his radio.

  “Really? Those yokels actually think they can catch up with me? I'll be long gone before anyone gets their ass up here. But wait, we're getting off the subject. I must say that despite your heroic driving efforts, I'm a little disappointed. I was hoping for a spectacular crash with screeching metal and sparks flying, maybe even an explosion, a few mangled bodies on the highway.” He expelled a long sigh. “All I got was a near miss. Oh well, maybe next time.”

  He clicked off and disappeared from view.

  *

  “So now it's a group kill?” said Lyle, sucking on his beer.

  After having the Jeep towed to a police yard for inspection, at Will's insistence the cops had dropped them at a tavern and were now outside keeping vigil while Crane sat down with them inside. The barkeep had turned a blind eye on Dino who sat quietly at their feet.

  “It's a switch from his usual M.O.,” said Jolene. She held out her trembling hand. “I'm still shaking.”

  Crane got right to it. “We found the camper Hammond stole from the couple who owned the cabin abandoned near Goldstream Park off the Malahat. The white van he used for transporting Max and Miss Lambert had also been stolen. What he's using right now could be any number of reported stolen vehicles from around the city or up-island. Or he might have bought one privately.”

  “In other words,” said Lyle, “you have nothing.”

  Crane ignored the comment. “Our forensic psychologist suggests that the stunt he pulled today was a play for sensationalism. He may be hoping the press will put a moniker on him, make him famous.”

  “He's behaving erratically because his brain is a jumbled, illogical mess,” Kylie said softly. “The Drew I first knew, he's gone. On the boat he was fluctuating, at war with himself. The other night I saw nothing of his former self. His eyes were black, bottomless voids, completely soulless.” She paused, then said what she'd been thinking all along. “He's no longer fixated on just me. Everyone is in danger. Detective, is there a way to put his attention back solely on me?”

  “Now hold on a minute,” protested Will. “Get that idea right out of your head.”

  “Ditto here,” added Lyle, cutting off Jolene's comment. “You're not a damn lure on a fishing line.”

  “I'm already a lure. Don't you guys get it? His ultimate prize is me! So let's give it to him. Detective?”

  Crane stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “You mean a trap, with us waiting in the wings? While I appreciate your input, Miss Lambert, I have to agree with your friends.”

  “He's going to keep trying. I'm in his spotlight. If I give him what he wants then he won't come after anyone else. So why not create a scenario in which he feels safe enough to try, but with your team ready to pounce?”

  Jolene sputtered over her beer glass. “Stacie Hoyle was a trained cop and look what happened.”

  Kylie was resolute. “Maybe it's dangerous and foolish and I'm out of my mind, but it's my choice and he's got to be stopped before he takes out one or all of you.” A hysterical laugh trickled out. “My parents aren't safe. Has any one of you thought of that?”

  With her statement sinking in, the group as a whole recognized the sheer determination on her face and resignedly hunkered down to listen as Crane laid out a plan of action.

  “Look,” Crane began, “he knows you like to jog at Beacon Hill Park, right?”

  A shower, a change of clothes and two of Lyle's steaming hickory coffees had Kylie alert and anxious. They'd decided to take care of phase one immediately and set the wheels in motion.

  She came out of her apartment building and was instantly surrounded by the press. Apart from the local TV station, two major newspapers covered the city but several of the fringe rags had sent their reporters as well. Articles that put Kylie Lambert at the core of the city's recent murders had already emerged, so when they received a tip that she'd been targeted once again along with her friends, they swarmed like wasps on a hive.

  Jolene steered her into the melee from behind.

  “Kylie!” yelled a zealous young man, shoving a microphone in her face. “What's your true connection with the person behind these crimes?”

  Conscious of TV cameras pointed her way, Kylie mumbled, “We barely know one another.”

  “Miss Lambert,” began another more polite and seasoned reporter, “we know that you were involved in a kidnapping spree that ended with the perpetrator's escape. Is it true that you dated him before he committed his crimes? Do you have a personal relationship with this person?”

  It was what they all wanted to know, if she was personally involved with the killer. If she knew him. The police had hand fed the press only tidbits of information to curtail the true confessions that inevitably came their way when hunting a killer. That way they could siphon out the ones who didn't match the modus operandi and follow up on any that did.

  So far none had. There was a fine line, Crane had explained, between showing the public the face of a killer and not causing an all-out panic. They'd chosen not to publish his name or photograph until they had him in custody, which to Kylie's mind was a mistake. People needed to know who he was so they could steer clear. Crane's argument had been that it brought out the vigilantes, encouraged them to act on their own. A similar case a few years ago had resulted in a lynching. It had turned out the man in question had been innocent, and otherwise upstanding citizens had been convicted of manslaughter instead.

  “I can't comment on that,” she said, but she'd found her opening and looked head on at the cameras, speaking to Drew directly. If he was watching. The evening newscast would be repeated on every channel and she sincerely hoped he would be.

  “I want to make a statement.”

  Everyone stopped yelling and looked at her expectantly.

  “Just say what we agreed on,” Jolene buzzed in her ear.

  She took a deep breath. “It's true I've been targeted. The person behind all of this is most likely clinically insane and needs to be brought to justice to receive the help he so obviously needs. I've been living in the shadows, unable to live my life freely, looking over my shoulder and always having someone breathing down my neck in the interest of protecting me. From now on I'm declining protection and I'm going about my business as usual.”

  A raucous broke out and she held up her hand for silence, then ran her hand over her belly in a meaningful way to Drew but that would escape the attention of the press. “He tried to get to me on several occasions and failed, but not for lack of ability but because he doesn't really want to hurt me. He knows why.” She paused for effect. “That's all.”

  Immediately questions were hurled.

  “What does he know?”

  “How did he fail, Kylie?”

  “What's business as usual for you?”

  “Don't leave us hanging, Miss Lambert!”

  Their demands fell on a mute response as Jolene turned Kylie around and ushered her back into their building.

  Mission accomplished. Now it was just a matter of time.

  *

  Later that night they tuned in to the late local news.

  Kylie's so-called press statement was the lead story. The reporter expressed the sam
e astonishment as the others, verbally wondering what the killer knew, according to Kylie Lambert. An inside joke perhaps? Some kind of personal ditty between the two of them? It was a real head scratcher.

  Crane called. “You did good, Kylie. We're taking all visible signs of protection out of the equation, the key word being visible. By the way, we got Jay Humphrey's report back. He said Hammond performed an intricate hack job worthy of a pro. Sounds like he's educating himself on rudimentary crime.”

  “Thanks Detective. We'll be heading out bright and early. Hope your team will be awake.”

  “No worries there.”

  “Promise?”

  “Get some rest, Miss Lambert.”

  They all bedded down for the night. Facing her, Will felt her anxiety. “Try to sleep,” he suggested quietly.

  She closed her eyes. Moments later they popped back open. Will was still watching her with deep concern.

  “I give up.” She rolled on top of him, began to feed on his mouth. She felt him go from dormant to active in seconds. Hands roving, Will flipped her over and gently kissed her throat where a thumb had crushed her larynx, soothing with fingertips and lips where there had been cold, sharp metal, taking her only when she moaned and begged for release.

  For Kylie it was a sweet torture that held her suspended on the verge, then sent her surging into mindless oblivion, all the while being held with reverence as though she were so fragile she might break. Will's total concentration, his entire focus solely on her pleasure was a testament to the depth of his love.

  When he'd found his own point of release and tumbled onto the bed beside her, Kylie leaned up on one elbow and smoothed her hand over his skin as it cooled. “Thank you,” she said, simply.

  He raised his eyebrows. “And I thank you, too.”

  “What I mean is... Will, we've told each other we love one another. I want you to know that I feel your love. You could bow out, you could say this is too much to have to handle, hell, you could want to strangle me yourself for bringing all this down on you. Instead, you just...” She stopped, her eyes welling.