by A. C. Mason
“It’s clear down here. Stay right there.” He walked upstairs and searched every room, even looking inside the closets and under the beds.
Caleb relaxed, knowing her house hadn’t provided a hiding place for a killer. He headed downstairs to give her the good news.
A relieved expression crossed her face. “Did you really think someone could have been hiding inside waiting to attack me?”
“The person who sent you those notes and made threatening phone calls is apt to try anything to kill you. He failed in his attempt to do the job when he ran you off the road, so, yes, I believe the possibility is real.”
She wrinkled her brow. “I kept hoping the hit-and-run was only to scare me, even though I knew better. Why didn’t he follow through once I went into the ditch?”
“Probably because at the time the crash attracted attention from people who lived nearby. He would have had witnesses.”
“I’ve seen violence from alcohol and drug abuse. Magdalen House serves people who have never known peace in their adult lives. Some had violent childhoods.” She paused and seemed to be in deep reflection. Looking up at him, she gave a sad smile. “But I’ve been terribly naïve about the violence extending to me.”
Caleb moved closer and placed both hands on her shoulders. “I’ve also seen quite a lot of violence in my job. That’s why I followed you home and searched your house. I want you to stay safe.”
Her lovely green eyes met his gaze. Caleb continued holding her at arm’s length, not willing to let go. He took a deep breath. “There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you ever since the first day we met. If I’m being too forward, you can slap me.”
“Okay…”
“What is your relationship with Michael Phillips?” He couldn’t tell by her expression whether he might get slapped or told to leave.
“Michael and I are friends,” she said in a soft voice. “There’s no romantic relationship between us.”
“But he would like to be more than friends, wouldn’t he?”
“I believe so. I’ve made it clear to him that I’m not interested in anything other than friendship.”
Without thinking he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. He quickly pulled back. “I’m sorry. That was unprofessional of me. We weren’t supposed to get involved.”
Jamie lips parted in a half smile. “It was unprofessional…but I’m not sorry.”
He grinned. “Good thing. ‘Cause I’m not really sorry either.”
“I didn’t believe for a minute you regretted your actions.”
“In that case…” He kissed her again.
Thirty-one
Tuesday, December 17
Caleb slammed the newspaper down on his desk. A string of obscenities flew out of his mouth. Either a reporter witnessed the confrontation between him and Blanchard or someone else leaked the story to the paper—maybe even Blanchard himself.
Except for the kisses he had shared with Jamie, the week had not started out well. Three women had been picked up for prostitution and quizzed. Nothing had come from the interviews. After seeing the Oak Pointe Review’s story, he knew his week would continue to go downhill.
His last chance to locate Martin Verbois may have ended with Alisha’s report Saturday evening. She and Bergeron had checked out the address on Verbois’driver’s license. A twenty-five year old woman with two kids presently resided there. Unfortunately she didn’t know Verbois or anything about previous tenants.
Now this damn article surfaces on the front page no less. There were intimations of an affair between him and Jamie, which might be interfering with the investigation or at least keeping him from doing his job.
The reporter made allegations of a rift between him and Blanchard, who according to the article was considered the main suspect in the so-called mistletoe murders even though Blanchard had an alibi.
Freakin’ reporter made it sound like I was hassling Blanchard for no reason. How the hell did he know Blanchard was a suspect? Naturally all these points were insinuations, but blatant enough to give the perception of wrongdoing.
What bothered him more than the allegations of a romance between him and Jamie was the fact that a “source close to the investigation” had reportedly told the writer about Blanchard being a suspect.
Caleb expected a big time backlash from the chief about the incident and newspaper article.
~ * ~
A rumble of thunder awoke Jamie. Dark skies and a drizzling rain didn’t do much for her mood. For three consecutive days the weather had been much of the same—cold and wet.
Jon had left late yesterday after receiving a call concerning an emergency with a patient. He had tried unsuccessfully to get his patient to see the doctor who was taking calls for him while he attended the funeral, but the man insisted only Jon could treat him. Jon promised to keep in touch with her. This time she truly believed her brother meant what he said.
She glanced at her alarm clock….seven a.m. She had hoped she could sleep later. Today would be a good day to stay in bed. After a night of terrible dreams about death, her own and Joanna’s murder, she thanked God for being awake and alive. However, it was Tuesday. She needed to go to work.
Unpleasant thoughts continued to run through her head. The five hundred thousand dollars Adrien indicated he needed, the agent’s statements concerning Joanna’s life insurance policy, her decision not to see Caleb on a personal level, only added to her emotional turmoil, especially after her resolve had been totally crushed by his kisses.
Could Adrien have killed Joanna for the money and tried to make her murder look like the Mistletoe Man’s work? If that was true, who killed the other women? Maybe someone else killed them all and Adrien just had the bad luck of appearing guilty. His only crime might be cheating on Joanna and he felt guilty because he didn’t go searching for her.
She shook her head. Stop dwelling on all these possibilities. None of this helped take away the pain of losing her sister. If Adrien did kill Joanna, the reality would be all the more painful. She didn’t want to think about the likelihood.
Concentrating on the kisses she received from Caleb was a much happier and more positive possibility. She would need to look at that as a glass half full in order to keep believing his actions didn’t verify Adrien’s accusations about him.
Her cell phone chirped. Who could be calling this early? She reached for the phone on the night stand. The caller ID read unknown number. Against her better judgment, she answered.
“I hope you slept well last night,” he said in an altered voice. “It’s going to be your last. Your cop boyfriend won’t be able to save you.”
Thirty-two
A knot formed in Jamie’s throat as she waited for Caleb to answer his phone. He finally picked up. She launched right in to the story about her latest threatening phone call. “Why would he refer to you as my boyfriend?”
“Apparently you haven’t read today’s issue of the Oak Pointe Review.” He sounded miffed.
“No, what’s in the paper?”
“A story about the confrontation in The Coffee Mug with Blanchard,” he said with a gruff tone. “There’s an indication that Blanchard is a strong suspect. We have never singled him out to the public as a suspect. The article also suggests there’s something going on between you and me, a relationship other than professional.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I can’t believe the Review would write something so tabloidish.” Even if it were partially true.
“What’s the number your man called from this time?”
He’s back to business now. She repeated the phone number as it appeared on the caller ID. “I suppose it’s untraceable.”
“Probably.”
“Is there anything that can be done about these calls? He’s already tried to kill me once. I’m scared he’ll succeed this time. He sounded like he meant what he said.”
“Is your brother still in town?”
“No, he left late yesterday after
noon.”
“I’ll come out to your house and check things out as soon as I can. Want me to bring you a copy of the Review?”
“No, I’ll just drive down to Jiffy-Pak and buy a copy.”
“In the meantime, I’ll see if I can get the sheriff to have deputies do additional patrols again on your street.” A short silence ensued. “Uh, I’ll have to call you back. It might be a while before I can get out there. Be careful.”
Jamie mused about the abrupt end to their conversation. He sounded like he had to get off the phone in a hurry. His voice throughout the entire conversation had a strained tone to it. This newspaper article he referred to must be detrimental to him or the case or both…maybe even to her.
Curiosity got the best of her. She dressed in a hurry, ran a brush through her hair, and grabbed her purse.
~ * ~
“Baker wants to see you in his office pronto,” Marino said with obvious pleasure.
Caleb clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles tensing. He left his office and strode down the hall, trying to at least look self-assured.
Chief Baker looked up when Caleb knocked. He motioned him inside. “Shut the door.”
Caleb did so and remained standing in front of the chief’s desk. “I suppose you read the paper.”
“Unfortunately, I did.” With a wave of his hand, he directed Caleb to be seated. “Who instigated this confrontation?”
“I was having coffee with Jamie…Ms. Chatelaine when Blanchard came storming toward our table. He demanded to speak to her immediately…in private. She didn’t want to talk to him and told him so.”
Baker tapped a pen against the desk top. “And then?”
“He kept insisting and was causing a scene. I threatened to arrest him for disturbing the peace if he didn’t leave. Finally she agreed to speak to him later at her office. I took her back there and that’s the last I heard.” He left out the part about following her home.
“Is there something going on between you and Ms. Chatelaine?”
“We haven’t been seeing each other, dating, or any other activities that could be construed as such.”
“Having coffee with her on a social basis can’t be construed as such?”
Caleb looked down at the floor. “I suppose it could.”
Baker studied him for an uncomfortable moment. “Are you going to see her again socially?”
“I plan to go to her house later, but it isn’t a social call. She received another threatening phone call this morning. The caller told her he hoped she’d slept well last night because it would be her last. He added that her ‘cop boyfriend’ wouldn’t be able to save her.”
“Could she be making up these phone calls?”
Caleb frowned, irked at the insinuation. “I doubt that. The phone numbers he used were traced to burner phones.” He raised one hand palm up. “I mean, the guy ran her off the road. He could’ve killed her if a neighbor hadn’t come out of his house when he heard the crash.”
Baker tapped his pen on the desk again. “Where are we in finding out who this guy is and making an arrest?”
“The same place we were after the first two murders. No leads at all. I told Ms. Chatelaine I’d speak to the sheriff about making some extra patrols in her neighborhood.”
“I’ll call him and arrange that.” Baker perked up as if a thought suddenly occurred to him. “What about this Martin Verbois fellow? Any leads on him?”
Caleb shook his head. “Nada. I feel like he’s connected to these murders. He may even be the killer.” He explained the puzzling information in the DMV records Jackson had uncovered.
“I seem to remember a man by that name from way back. I can’t recall in what connection. Put out a statewide BOLO on his car. We need to get this guy and either confirm or eliminate him as a suspect before we have another murder.”
Thirty-three
A sheriff’s deputy drove slowly past Jamie’s house in a pouring rain only thirty minutes after her phone call with Caleb. If only the police could catch this killer before he acted on his threats to kill her.
She stepped away from the window and walked into the kitchen where she’d left that darn newspaper. Not wanting to read any more about an affair between her and Caleb that might be slowing the investigation, she tossed the paper into the trash.
Since the release of this article, everyone in Oak Pointe would know about Magdalen House and most likely believe she and Caleb were having an affair. She shrugged. It really didn’t matter. The news certainly couldn’t make matters worse. Mercy, I should know better to make such a statement. Situations can always get worse.
An explosive clap of thunder shook the windows. Alarms on neighborhood vehicles, set off by the jolt, beeped and blared.
Jamie flinched as a streak of lightning followed another rumble. I hate rain and cold, especially with thunder and lightning. The last two months had been exceptionally wet. Usually October and November were dry. She’d often thought she could live in the desert. The dry part was fine, but hundred and one degree temperatures didn’t appeal to her.
She stiffened when the doorbell rang. Please let it be Caleb. Cautiously, she peered through the peephole. She relaxed when she saw him standing outside closing a dripping umbrella.
“Hope I don’t drip too much water on your carpet.” He leaned the wet umbrella against the wall outside the door before entering the house.
“Don’t worry about getting my carpet wet.” That was the least of her worries. “I didn’t expect you so soon after the abrupt ending to our phone call.”
His faint smile didn’t even reach his eyes. “My boss summoned me to his office about the confrontation.” His expression sobered. “Did you read the article?”
“There must have been someone in the coffee shop who talked to a reporter,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Or else the reporter happened to be in there.”
“That’s my guess.” He glanced around the room. “On which phone did this guy call you?”
“My cell phone.”
Caleb raised his eyebrows. “I imagine you give out your cell number to a lot of people.”
“Yes, I do. The house phone isn’t a cordless. My name and number for the land line is listed in the Oak Pointe phone directory, but I only keep that old phone around in case the power goes out or cell service is off for some reason.”
“Can I see your cell phone? You haven’t deleted the call, have you?”
“No, but I would love to have erased it and pretended the past days of my life hadn’t happened. Then Joanna and the others would still be alive and nobody would be trying to kill me.” She wrinkled her brow. “Why do you need to see my phone?”
“I just need to verify the number he called from.”
Jamie couldn’t tell from his expression whether he was telling her the real reason for his request. Maybe he didn’t believe my story about the phone call.
He stood extremely close to her and studied her face with his intense blue eyes. The sensual scent of his aftershave hung between them. She wanted to kiss him again. Not a good idea. She turned away quickly and retrieved her phone from the table.
Caleb pulled up the record of calls received. She pointed out the number in question.
“Is this the only call from him on your cell?”
“The first phone call came on the land line.”
“And the other threat was conveyed by a note giving basically the same message.”
“Correct. That was the initial threat…the one with Kim Hendricks’ picture.” She gave an involuntary shiver. His next question shouldn’t have been unexpected, but it caught her off guard.
“Could Adrien be sending you those messages?” His neutral expression never changed.
“I would hope not. If he made those phone calls and sent the note, it would mean he killed Joanna and three other women.” She averted her gaze from him. “I don’t want to go there.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me,” he said in
a soft voice. “Come sit over here on the sofa and let’s talk about the possibility.” He ushered her over to the sofa and sat facing her. “At present, I don’t have any evidence against Adrien or anyone else for that matter. His actions indicate to me he’s guilty of something. Why couldn’t he be the killer?”
She exhaled. “I can’t explain his behavior since Joanna’s murder, but I simply can’t imagine why he would have killed her.” That was a lie. He could have killed her for the money from the insurance policy.
“How about Michael Phillips?”
Her eyes widened. “Michael? No way. That’s not even an option.”
Caleb rubbed his thumb and forefinger on his chin, looking as if he was debating whether to ask his next question. “Have you ever heard the name Martin Verbois?”
Her stomach clenched.
Thirty-four
Her expression upon hearing the name said it all. Caleb didn’t like the path her reaction seemed to be leading this discussion.
She chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds before she answered. “I’ve heard his name before, but I don’t remember where.”
“Jamie, if you aren’t completely honest with me, I can’t keep you safe or find out who killed your sister. Are you protecting someone? Is someone threatening you to keep quiet?”
“No, of course not. I want justice for my sister and the other women.”
“I can tell by your face you know more about Martin Verbois than you’re saying.” He hardened his expression. “You do know that concealing evidence is a crime? You could be arrested.”
He didn’t want to believe she could be involved. But why wouldn’t she tell him the truth about Martin Verbois? Could Verbois or Blanchard be threatening her?
He waited, silently challenging her to tell him whatever she was holding back.
Jamie’s lips parted as if she wanted to speak.
His phone rang. Of all the damn luck. He glanced at the display. Alisha was calling. This couldn’t be good news. Reluctantly he answered.
