by T. R. Ragan
More scribbling in his beloved notebook. She wanted to snatch it from him and rip it to shreds. “Listen, Detective. I’ve told you everything I know. I do need to get to work soon.”
“Your best friend is missing, but you’re eager to get back to work?”
Son of a bitch. She bit her tongue and remained silent. She had a tremendous urge to bite her nails, a habit she gave up years ago.
“When a person goes missing,” he told her, “we often set up a tip line, you know, for people to call in if they know anything.”
She waited for him to elaborate.
“We received a tip recently from an anonymous caller claiming to be one of your listeners.”
She straightened her spine. “Really? Who?”
“Even if the caller had left his or her name, I wouldn’t be at liberty to say. I will tell you, Dr. Blair, this one particular caller seems to know a lot about you and adamantly believes you are up to no good.”
Madeline thought about the note still tucked away inside her purse. “Up to no good? What does that mean?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“I really don’t know what to tell you, Detective. I get strange calls from listeners all of the time. Just ask my board operator.”
“I plan to.”
“Why do I get the feeling you think I might have something to do with David’s disappearance?”
“I don’t know why you would feel that way, but now that you’ve brought it up, is there anything you’re not telling me? Anything at all?”
She locked her fingers together, not quite sure if she was doing the right thing. But it was the truth and everything would work to her advantage if she just told the truth. “I do have a concern.”
He said nothing, simply waited.
“There’s a man in the neighborhood who I’ve been seeing for the past month. His name is Chris Porter. As soon as I learned that David was missing, it dawned on me that I haven’t heard from Chris in weeks.”
“Have you gone to his house?”
She nodded. “A week ago I knocked on the door, but there was no answer.”
“Did you report this to the police?”
“No, because I vaguely recalled him saying something about visiting his daughter. I guess I just thought he would have returned by now or at least called me to let me know when he would be back.”
Judging by the look on Detective Chase’s face, the truth wasn’t helping her much. Once again, he scribbled in his precious notebook. “Daughter’s name?” he asked.
She felt heat rise to her face. “I don’t remember.”
“Does he have family or friends we can call?”
“Not that I know of.” She sighed. This was not going well.
The detective gave her a long, hard look before he came to his feet. “Why don’t you show me where Chris Porter lives.”
She stood, relieved to be done with the inquisition.
“Before we visit your neighbor, I wanted to ask you about a novel titled Obsessed.”
She couldn’t begin to imagine where he was going with this. “Never heard of it.”
“Beau Geste is the author.”
Drawing a blank, she shook her head again.
“The caller I talked about referenced the book. He believes you’re following the story to a tee.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s the book about?”
“It’s gruesome, evidently. Set in a small town. People are disappearing. The killer turns out to be a woman, a radio personality.”
Madeline crossed her arms. “This is ridiculous.”
The detective pointed to her wall of books in the family room. “Mind if I take a look?”
“Be my guest.”
She followed him into the other room. After only a few minutes passed, he pulled a book from the shelf and held it up for her to see.
Obsessed by Beau Geste. Her heart hammered. “This is crazy. I have no idea how that book got there.”
He opened the book and read aloud, “‘Thanks for being my number-one fan.’ Signed, Beau Geste.”
CHAPTER 24
At just past noon, Janelle walked in the door and marched over to where Seth was sitting in his favorite chair. She stood in front of him, hands on her hips, blocking his view of the television. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her in anything other than those ugly blue scrubs. She disgusted him.
“We need to talk.”
He wasn’t in the mood. He came to his feet and walked around her to get to the kitchen. She stayed on his heels. He opened the refrigerator and hunted around. “Looks like you need to go shopping again. We’re out of beer.”
Janelle dumped her purse on the counter. “I can only cover for you at work for so long. Whatever you’re doing, it has to stop.”
Heat rose to his face. He whipped around with a backhand to her face. He’d never struck his wife before, or any woman, for that matter. The act itself made him feel powerful . . . in control. He brought his hands close to his face and began to examine the deep grooves and fine lines in his palms. These hands had done things that could never be undone.
Eyes wide, nose bleeding, Janelle stared at him. “What is wrong with you? Who do you think you are?”
He answered with a smirk before making his way back to the family room. He felt suddenly restless, like a caged animal.
She followed close behind. “I won’t allow you to ignore me forever. You forget who you’re dealing with.”
That got his attention. His wife, the one who had slept with another man, was making threats. Interesting. He turned about, took a step toward her and stood so close he could feel the beat of her heart. She smelled like bedpans and cheap perfume. “You stupid whore,” he said as he wrapped his hands around her throat. “You have no idea who I am or what sort of man I’ve become.” He pressed his thumbs into her larynx and watched her face turn red. “Do you know what I’m capable of? Well, do you?”
She tried to shake her head. Her eyes were wide and fearful, but her gaze never left his.
He let go, watched her struggle to catch her breath, enjoying every minute.
She stepped away, a hand on her throat. But instead of fleeing or threatening to call the police, she croaked, “Why can’t you love me like you used to?”
He laughed. “Oh, we’re going to discuss our relationship right now?”
“Answer the question. Why don’t you love me? You used to.”
“Because you’re a liar.”
“I could never lie to you. I made a horrible mistake, but I told you what I had done. Don’t ruin what we still have left. If you would just give me a chance, we could make this work . . . but you must stop obsessing over that woman—”
“Now you’re talking gibberish.” The notion she might know about Madeline surprised him and intrigued him, too.
“Nobody knows you like I do,” she went on. “I see the wistful look you get when you listen to Madeline Blair on the radio. She’s not worthy of your time. She could never love you like I do.”
Janelle’s voice was beginning to sound like an irritating mosquito buzzing around his ear.
“I told the staff at the hospital that you’ve been sick,” she said. “If you don’t show up on Monday, what will I tell everyone?”
“It’s nobody’s concern.”
“It is my concern. I care about you.”
“So you’ve said.” He grabbed his coat from the hall closet.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“I’m not waiting up for you this time.”
“Just make sure you have dinner on the table when I get back.”
CHAPTER 25
It was one o’clock when Lizzy entered Monty’s Bar & Grill on 16th. The smell of garlic br
ead made her stomach grumble as she made her way to the back of the room where she could see what had to be Dr. Madeline Blair sitting in a booth. The copper-colored hair Dr. Blair had described to her settled over her shoulders in thick curls, making her easy to spot. Their gazes met as Lizzy crossed the room. Madeline gestured for Lizzy to take a seat across from her and said, “Thanks for coming.”
Dr. Madeline Blair, psychotherapist and radio personality, sounded even sultrier in person. From what Lizzy had been able to gather since her call, she talked to her listeners about relationships, sex, suicide, bullying in schools, and her listeners treated her as if she were their sister or close friend. Lizzy had her doubts about the whole notion of radio psychology, but couldn’t help but admire Madeline’s heart-shaped face and sensuous mouth. She imagined the woman must have men lining up for dates.
While they were still exchanging pleasantries, their waitress, a young girl with braids, came over to take their order. When she was done, she looked at Madeline and said, “Are you going to be at the book club next week?”
“I don’t think so. I have a lot going on. Tell Megan I’ll give her a call.”
After the waitress left, Lizzy noticed Madeline’s gaze circling the room, her fingers entwined.
“Are you sure you want to do this here?” Lizzy asked. “We could go to my office—”
“No, we’re already here.” Her gaze swept across the restaurant once more. “I’m sorry. I need to relax.”
“You mentioned on the phone that someone is watching you. Any idea at all who it might be?”
“No idea whatsoever.” She leaned forward. “You have to help me. I don’t know what to do. I’m in a horrible mess.”
“Let’s start from the beginning,” Lizzy told her. “How long has this been going on?”
“Five days ago, somebody left me this note.” She pulled an envelope from her purse and slid it across the table.
After Lizzy read it, she looked at Madeline. “What does it mean?”
“I wish I knew.”
“You said a detective came to your house to talk about a missing friend, is that right?”
Madeline nodded.
“Did you show this to him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I believe someone is trying to implicate me.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Dr. Blair told her everything that had happened since learning her friend David Westlake had gone missing. Apparently there was a man in her neighborhood who was also missing.
“So you think whoever is watching you might have something to do with Chris’s and David’s disappearance?”
She nodded.
“Have you received anything other than that note?”
“Yes, I have.” Madeline fiddled with her phone and then passed it to Lizzy. “I took some pictures.”
The first photo was of a bouquet of dead flowers. “Where did you find this bouquet?”
“Inside my car on the passenger seat.”
“Was your car locked?”
“No, but it was inside my garage, which was locked.”
“Did he damage the door?”
“I looked, but I didn’t notice anything.”
The next picture was of a dead rat with a note tied to its tail. “Disgusting. What did the note say?”
“‘I’M WATCHING YOU.’ I found the thing on my doorstep two days ago.”
“Have you shown any of this to the detective?”
“Yes. The police have the flowers and the”—she wrinkled her nose—“rat in their possession.”
Lizzy thought it was odd that she hadn’t given the police the note as well, but it was clear she was fearful and probably not thinking straight. The woman was also thin and pale. Dark shadows punctuated her eyes. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week. “Did you ever talk about your neighbor on your radio show?”
“No. I never once mentioned Chris.”
“Can you tell me more about David Westlake?”
“David and I have been friends since kindergarten. He and his wife, Debra, have two daughters. He’s a personal-injury lawyer. I called Debra yesterday for an update. Detective Chase interviewed her husband’s colleagues and every one of them said it was business as usual the day he went missing.” Madeline held up a finger. “But there was one night watchman who says he saw David in the parking lot that night talking to a man in a car.”
“Did he get the license number of the car? The make and model?”
Madeline shook her head.
Lizzy sighed. “Crack security operative.” She thought for a moment. “Did David know about Chris Porter?”
Madeline nodded. “He was the only one who knew I was seeing Chris. I hadn’t even told my own sister.”
“I’m confused. Are you hiring me to find your friends or your stalker?”
“Both,” Madeline said. “You know what it’s like to be followed around day and night? He’s watching me, and I have no idea what he wants. If you can find out who this maniac is, I’m hoping it will lead us to Chris and David.”
“We’ll need to meet again,” Lizzy said. “And I’ll need you to make a list of everyone you know, especially people who might have reason to cause you harm.”
“I’ve gotten my share of irate callers over the years, but nobody has ever threatened me.”
They paused while the waitress served their food and drinks.
“I spend ninety-nine percent of my life at work,” Madeline told her. “I have never stepped on anyone to get to the top. I spend my time trying to help people. I have no idea who would want to hurt me. He could be the man sitting over there drinking a beer, for all I know.”
“You said earlier that someone was trying to implicate you. How so?”
“According to Detective Chase, an anonymous tipster told police to keep an eye on me. This caller mentioned a book titled Obsessed by Beau Geste. It takes place in a small town and lots of people go missing, one at a time. The antagonist is a woman. She’s also a psychotherapist and radio personality. The only difference is the setting—Obsessed takes place in New Jersey.”
“I don’t understand how this would implicate you.”
“It gets worse,” Madeline said. “The detective asked me if I ever heard of the book or the author, which I hadn’t. At the end of our conversation, I gave Detective Chase permission to go through my house, and lo and behold he found a copy of Obsessed signed by the author to his number-one fan.”
“No prints, I suppose.”
Madeline shook her head. “Mine either, as far as that goes, but the fact that it was on my shelves seems to have trumped that.”
Lizzy exhaled. “It sounds like you may need to hire a lawyer.”
“I decided to hire you first. Somebody planted that book. Nobody has a key to my house—not my sister, my brother, or my parents. I need to find out who’s doing this to me. I need to find Chris and David.”
“Any possibility that Chris was jealous of David?”
She shook her head. “I never once talked to Chris about David. I can’t picture it.”
“What about the other way around?”
“David jealous of Chris?” Madeline snorted. “Absolutely not.”
“I think it would be best if I focused my attention on keeping a twenty-four-hour surveillance on your house,” Lizzy said.
“What about Chris?”
“If he has a daughter or family in the area, I’ll be able to find them. Maybe they can shed some light on where he’s run off to.”
Madeline wiped her eyes.
It was the first time she’d shown any emotion. “Are you OK?” Lizzy asked.
“I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have someone in my corner. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I can
’t open a door without feeling as if someone is waiting to attack me.”
Lizzy nodded in understanding.
“The thing that frightens me the most, though, is the thought of never seeing Chris or David again. I have to find them.”
Lizzy nodded. “We will find them, but first we need to keep you safe. This guy has found a way into your house. Starting first thing in the morning, I’m going to be your shadow while I get to know your routine. Whenever you can, it would help if you could gather a list of contacts, people close to you or who you might have recently come in contact with. I also need a checklist of your daily routine.”
Tears fell freely now. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER 26
Seth waited until that time of night when even the insomniacs of the world couldn’t fight sleep any longer. The bump key he’d made for Madeline’s back door, the one that led into the laundry room, worked perfectly. When he was a teenager, he had lost the key to his house and was forced to find a way in without waking his parents. It was easy—so easy he’d started breaking into his neighbors’ homes. Sometimes he would have a snack in the kitchen while they slept, but mostly he left everything just the way it was. Fun and games. He didn’t steal anything. No harm, no foul.
He padded quietly across the floor, past the kitchen and dining room before making his way upstairs. At the landing, he stopped to listen for any sound. There were two bedrooms upstairs. Madeline’s bedroom was to the right. Her door was open and he could hear her breathing.
Careful not to make the slightest noise, he placed a bag on the floor by his feet and pulled out a syringe. After readying the needle, he pulled the mask over his head. He was finally going to meet Dr. Madeline Blair. Only tonight wouldn’t be anything like what he’d originally had in mind.
Two men were dead. She deserved to die for what she’d made him do, but that would be an easy out for the good doctor. She was going to suffer in ways she could never imagine. Madeline needed to be taught a lesson.
Madeline struggled to move, to open her eyes, to scream. It was no use. Tape covered her eyes and mouth. Thick, scratchy rope bound her wrists. She twisted and pulled and screamed beneath the tape.
