Dead Run

by Erica Spindler

“Maybe the baby wasn’t his?” Rick offered. “Maybe she had broken up with him, but had agreed to meet him this last time in the garden. There, he killed her.”

  “It’s not true, Rick.” She got to her feet and lifted her gaze to his. “They were running away together that night. That’s why he took the money, why he-”

  “If they were running away, where was her stuff?”

  “What?”

  “Her stuff. She would have packed some sort of bag, one that included cosmetics, changes of clothes, mementos. I didn’t see anything like that at the scene, did you?”

  She sank to her seat. “But, what he said…the way he sounded, I was so certain.”

  Rick squatted in front of her and looked her directly in the eyes. “Were you certain because of what he said, or because you wanted to be? Because of your sister?”

  Her eyes flooded with tears. “I…I don’t know.”

  He caught her hand; it was as cold as ice and he curled his fingers around it.

  “He’s just a kid, Rick. How could he have done…that?”

  “I don’t want to believe it, either. I liked Mark. I trusted him and called him friend. But I’ve heard too many people exclaim after the fact how they couldn’t believe some killer capable of committing whatever vicious and unconscionable act they had committed.”

  She released a shaky breath. “What do we do now?”

  “Go to the police.”

  “Tonight?”

  “I think we should. My guess is, after meeting with you, Mark headed out of town. He’s long gone by now, but the more time that passes, the farther away he gets.”

  She nodded and stood. “I feel like such a fool. A gullible idiot.”

  “You’re not the first person to be taken in by a charming psychopath. Unfortunately, you won’t be the last.”

  Liz laughed, the sound brittle. “I was going to see the police tomorrow. I was going to bring them that.” She gestured toward a large manila envelope on the coffee table, her name printed across the front. “My sister left it for me. Pastor Tim found it in the parsonage. I thought it was proof that what Mark told me was true.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Family photographs and mementos, a page from my sister’s journal.” She sighed. “Take a look, if you like. I’ll go change.”

  She left the room. Rick picked up the envelope and drew out the contents, thumbing through, stopping on the page of sketches.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

  Tara had had a tattoo on her inner thigh. A flower. He swallowed hard, throat tight. He struggled to remember what it had looked like, but couldn’t. It had been dark, his inspection cursory. The tattoo could have been of a daisy or rose, for heaven’s sake.

  But it hadn’t been. He knew that for sure.

  And there was only one person who could confirm that for him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He looked up. Liz stood in the doorway. She had changed into a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. She looked scared.

  “Change of plans,” he murmured. “I need to make a call.”

  Ten minutes later, Rick thanked his old friend and hung up the phone. The medical examiner had not been happy about Rick waking him in the middle of the night. He’d made it clear it had better not happen again.

  But he had told Rick what he wanted to know.

  “What did he say?” Liz asked, tone almost painfully anxious. “Did Tara have a flower tattooed on her thigh?”

  “Yup. Inner left. Daniel couldn’t recall exactly what it looked like.”

  She clasped her hands together. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “Only inconvenient.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Inconvenient because my old buddy made a sketch of it, but the only way I’m going to get a look at it is to drive to Marathon. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

  “And if Tara ’s tattoo matches the drawing from my sister’s journal, what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Sunday, November 18

  1:00 p.m.

  Liz paced. The night before, she had agreed that Rick would drive to Marathon and she would stay behind, just in case Mark called. She had agreed they would wait until after he had seen the medical examiner’s sketch of Tara ’s tattoo to decide what their next step would be. They had agreed what they both needed was some sleep.

  Now Liz wondered what she had been thinking. She hated this uncertainty. She hated waiting here-with nothing to do but worry-while Rick took action. She had never been one to sit back and wait for others to solve her problems.

  As for sleep, that had been a joke. After Rick left, she had crawled into bed-and proceeded to stare at the ceiling for the next three hours, mind racing. She’d agonized about Mark’s whereabouts, about her sister and Tara ’s fate, about the factual or real existence of the Horned Flower.

  When she had exhausted topics, she had focused on Rick. What was his story? He was a smart guy, that was clear. He had a passion for police work, that too was clear. She wondered why he had left it. The pay? Had he been hurt in the line of duty or become disillusioned by the legal system? She wondered, too, about the photographs she had seen in his office, the one of the pretty blonde and the cute little boy.

  Finally, as the sun tipped over the horizon, totally disgusted with herself, she had climbed out of bed and headed to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee. That had been a half-dozen cups ago. Her stomach burned and her head ached. She felt each of the sleepless hours of the night before. Thirty-three was too old to pull an all-nighter, she decided.

  Liz stopped pacing. Anxious, she crossed to the front windows and looked out at the clear, bright day. What was happening? she wondered. Rick had promised to call the minute he had seen the ME’s sketch of Tara ’s tattoo. She glanced at her watch and made a sound of disgust. He might not even have arrived yet. Marathon was a good two-hour drive from Key West and she was uncertain what time he’d left.

  The scream of a horn dragged her back to the moment. She looked at the street. Heather was darting across, a foil-covered plate in her hands. Liz threw up her window. “Hey, you! You have a death wish or something?”

  “Hey to you, too!” She held up the plate. “I come bearing gifts. Key lime cookies.”

  “Be right down.”

  A moment later Liz swung open the door. Heather held out the plate. “I made them myself.”

  “You’re beautiful, successful and you bake?” Liz said, taking the plate. “Excuse me while I turn pea green.”

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I hit the kitchen. Baking is one of those things I resort to when I’m upset about something.”

  Liz drew her eyebrows together. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Sure. I’ll make coffee.”

  Liz led her friend upstairs and to the kitchen. “Have a seat,” she said, motioning to the table and chairs. “This will only take a minute.” She quickly measured coffee into a filter and water into the carafe, then switched on the pot. That done, she turned to her friend. “What’s going on?”

  “Someone’s been following me.”

  Liz’s heart stopped. “What?”

  Heather clasped her hands together. “Last night and…before. It’s probably nothing, but after Tara, I guess I’m just…well, I’m a little spooked.”

  An understatement, Liz realized. She looked terrified. Coffee forgotten, Liz took the chair across from the other woman. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  She nodded. “For the last few days I had this feeling that I was being followed. You know how that is? It’s like you’re aware that someone is there, behind you. Or you catch a movement from the corner of your eyes but when you look there’s nothing suspicious.”

  “Yes,” Liz agreed. “I know what you mean. Do you sense it’s a man or a wo
man?”

  “Man. I’ve no doubt.” She drew in a deep breath, then continued. “Last night…I awakened suddenly. I didn’t know why, because I had been deeply asleep and dreaming.

  “I was confused and sat up. My window was open. About two inches.”

  “It wasn’t open when you went to bed.”

  “No.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Absolutely. The night air can give me a sinus headache, so I’ve learned not to sleep with the windows open.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  She shook her head. “I was afraid…I mean, all this could just be my imagination.”

  “But the window-”

  “What if I was mistaken? I’d look like an idiot.”

  “Better an idiot than-”

  Liz bit back the word but it hung in the air between them.

  Dead. Better than being dead.

  Heather made a sound of distress. “I’m sorry,” Liz murmured quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, really, I…did Tara ever say anything about being followed?”

  “No. But I only met with her twice and she never really opened up.”

  Silence fell between them. Liz fidgeted, uncomfortable, uncertain what to do. Should she ask the other woman about the Horned Flower? Perhaps she had heard of the group. After all, because of Bikinis & Things, she saw a lot of teenagers. She would overhear conversations. Rumors.

  And if she shared her suspicions about that, should she come clean about it all, most importantly her relationship to Rachel?

  The phone rang and Liz jumped to her feet, nearly toppling her chair in the process. “Excuse me a minute, Heather. I’ve been waiting for a call.”

  She crossed to the phone and picked it up, turning her back to the other woman. “Hello.”

  “Liz? It’s Rick.” By their crackling connection it was obvious he was calling from his cell phone. “The images are the same.”

  “My God, Rick. That means he was telling the truth.”

  “Not necessarily. Everything we have right now is circumstantial. Or worse, speculative.”

  Liz lowered her voice. “So, what do we do next?”

  “Val needs to be brought up to speed. I’ve got to relieve Margo at the Hideaway. I’ll come by your place as soon as I can get away.”

  “Wait! Are you sure that’s a good idea? Mark said-”

  “It’s Mark I’m thinking of. We need to locate him fast. To do that, we need the police department’s manpower.”

  “All right. You know your way around this kind of situation better than I do.”

  “Liz? You’re breaking up. Look…to yourself…after we-”

  His cell phone dropped the call, and she hung up, frustrated. She was pretty sure he had been asking her not to tell anyone what was going on until they had talked to Val. Which answered her question about whether she should involve Heather.

  Liz glanced at her friend. Heather stared toward the window, her lovely face puckered with worry. Liz caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She didn’t know why, but she felt a strong compulsion to disregard Rick’s advice and tell the other woman what was going on. She felt that by not telling her she might be exposing her to danger.

  Liz shook off the sensation.

  Heather turned her gaze to Liz. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine.” She forced a smile.

  The other woman’s eyebrows shot up. “You seem kind of jumpy.”

  Liz laughed. The sound rang false even to her own ears. “Too much caffeine, that’s all.”

  Heather saw through her lie and looked hurt. She stood. “I’d better go.”

  “Wait-” Liz held out a hand. “A friend’s gotten himself in some trouble. I’m trying to help, that’s all.”

  She hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Okay. If you need to talk, you know where I am.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

  Liz accompanied her friend downstairs to the front door. There, she met the woman’s gaze once more. “What about you? What are you going to do? I’m worried. I think you should go to the police.”

  “Forget what I said about being followed. I’m probably overreacting. I mean, why would anyone be following me?”

  “Heather, don’t take any chances. Please. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I’m pretty tough.” The woman grinned. “Anybody tries to mess with me, they’ll regret it.”

  Liz watched her go, appreciating her pluck but unable to suppress a feeling of dread. No matter how tough she thought she was, Heather Ferguson would be no match for the monster who had murdered Tara.

  CHAPTER 30

  Sunday, November 18

  3:20 p.m.

  Val was waiting for Rick when he arrived back at the Hideaway. He looked pissed. “We need to talk.”

  “Well, hello to you, too,” Rick muttered. Instead of his bike, he’d taken his battered but reliable old Jeep to Marathon. Usually reliable, he amended. The air-conditioning had gone out just outside Big Pine Key. He was hot, tired and thirsty. The last thing he wanted to do at this moment was tangle with his old friend.

  “Cut the shit, Rick. I know where you were today. And I consider it a personal betrayal of our friendship.”

  The cat was out of the bag now. Dammit. Rick laid his cell phone and keys on the bar. “Mind if I get a cold drink first?”

  “Hell yes, I mind. But you always do whatever you want anyway. Don’t you, Rick?”

  Margo looked from one to the other of them and ducked her head, pretending to take inventory of the drink well.

  The two men exchanged a long glance. Rick swore. “Margo, we’ll be in my office.”

  A moment later Rick closed the door behind them. They faced each other. “You crossed the line, my friend. You crossed it big time.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Daniel called. He’s had second thoughts about sharing that sketch with you.”

  Covering his ass. Smart man. Rick lifted his shoulders. “What’s the big deal? No harm done.”

  “Bullshit. I want that sketch.”

  Rick stalled. “It’s only a copy.”

  Val held a hand out. It shook slightly with the force of his rage. “The copy, please. Now.”

  Rick dug it out of his pocket and handed it over. Val shoved it into his pocket. No doubt he had another copy in a file at the KWPD. “Jesus, man, that’s evidence you’re screwing with. My investigation you’re screwing with. I’d ask what the hell you were thinking, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s over. Do you read me? You’re out of this.”

  He strode to the door, yanked it open and started through.

  “Ever hear of a group called the Horned Flower?” Rick asked.

  Val stopped but didn’t turn around.

  “It’s a group of teenagers on Key West. They’re a close-knit group, they call themselves a family. They’re involved in drugs and sex for sure. And maybe murder.”

  Val turned. “Is this a joke?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  Val studied him a moment, then shook his head. “A group of teenagers here on Key West, involved in murder? Tara ’s murder?”

  “Yes.”

  Val shook his head. “I don’t have time for this…nonsense.”

  “I think you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.” Rick motioned to a chair. “Sit. Hear me out. If you think it’s a crock of shit after you do, you won’t hear from me again. Agreed?”

  The other man stared at him for a long moment, then sat. “Make it fast.”

  “The night Tara was murdered, remember I told you one of my employees had gone home early, claiming stomach flu?”

  Val nodded. “That kid who works for you-Mark.”

  “Mark Morgan. Worked for me. Past tense.”

  Val’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Go on.”

  “I didn’t close out my register until later the next day. Found an IOU for six h
undred bucks.”

  “The kid took the money.”

  “Yup. It was an emergency, he said. He had to leave Key West. He promised to pay it back.”

  “Yeah right, in your dreams.”

  “I went to his place, looking for him. Car was gone, his rented room dark and silent as a tomb.” Rick frowned, wondering what he would have found if he had decided to go in. “I figured the money was history and chalked it up to bad judgment on my part.”

  Val leaned forward slightly. “And the rest of the story?”

  “A little less than a week ago Mark called Liz Ames. He arranged for them to meet that afternoon at Mallory Square. They’d never met before but she agreed because he said he had information about Tara ’s death.”

  Val straightened. Rick could tell by his old friend’s expression that he had a mouthful of questions, but to his credit he held them.

  “They met. Turns out, Mark was Tara ’s boyfriend. They had planned to run away together the night she was killed. That’s what he needed the money for.”

  “So he says. He knew she was pregnant?”

  “Yes. But it gets worse. He was there that night, in the garden.”

  Val launched to his feet. “Son-of-a-bitch! We’ve been chasing our tails all over this island trying to find a suspect, and you-” He bit his words back and dragged a hand through his hair. “When did you learn all this?”

  “Just last night.”

  Angry color stained his cheeks. “You should have called me then and there. Shit, man! In an investigation like this every minute counts. You know that.”

  “Believe me, Val, that was what I intended to do. After I closed I went to Liz’s place to collect her. I planned to insist she come with me and relay exactly what transpired between her and Mark.”

  “But instead you used an old friend to help you illegally obtain evidence and in the process interfere with a murder investigation. Smart, Rick. Really smart.”

  Rick sent his friend a level stare. “You want to hear the whole story? Or not?”

  Val scowled. “What I want is to get out there and catch this killer.”

  “Then I guess, like it or not, you need to hear it, don’t you?” The other man grunted a response and Rick continued. “ Tara was a part of that group I asked you about, the Horned Flower. Mark said they had threatened Tara. If she tried to exit their ‘family’ they would hurt her. That’s why they were running away. He went to the garden to meet her and found her there, dead. Mark told Liz that he believed they, members of the Horned Flower, had killed Tara. He also believed the Horned Flower was responsible for Rachel Howard’s disappearance.”