Fair Warning

by Hannah Alexander

  “I take exception to that. I was on the police force once, and they bust their behinds to catch the bad guys.”

  “Well, in this case, I’m helping, and they’ll just have to put up with the insult.”

  “Hang on a little longer, boss,” Larry said. “I’m going to make another call on my way there.”

  Graham disconnected and decided to try Ginger’s cell phone this time, instead of the main clinic number. She was undoubtedly swamped with calls and patients and would not find much time to listen to messages.

  Why would someone kill Sandi? She’d worked for Sperryville at one time, but she’d been fired for apparently fraternizing with his son. So who had sent her here? Sperryville? Why would someone suddenly kill her?

  He wished he knew why she had come here. According to his research and Larry’s, she’d been at work the night of the fire and the night her children had disappeared, so what had she been sent here to do?

  Or maybe she hadn’t been sent here at all. Maybe she had come on her own. There just wasn’t enough information to go on.

  Had someone overheard her call to Willow this morning?

  But Willow had told no one about her call before she left to meet Sandi. He needed more information.

  At long last, Ginger answered her cell phone, sounding stressed.

  “Brace yourself, Ginger,” Graham said. “I think you should sit down.”

  As quickly as possible he filled her in and dealt with the emotional fallout. With her promise to call DFS as soon as he hung up, he got off the phone and called Larry one more time.

  “Hi, boss. I’m almost there,” Larry said.

  “Your friend told you Sandi was fired for fraternizing with the son? Did you happen to catch the son’s name?”

  “Nope, but I can probably find out.”

  “Do that and get back to me.” He disconnected and drove out of the parking lot.

  Willow sat tensely watching the road as Rick took the sharp curves of Highway 265 with smooth grace. “Did you see Preston before you left?” she asked.

  “Sure did. He looked bad. You knew they had to intubate, didn’t you? I’ve never seen anything like it. Even his eyelids were swelled. The doctor thought he might have to cut.”

  Willow cringed at the sound of excitement in his voice, as if he’d have loved to watch that procedure. “You should go to med school,” she said. “Med students live for that kind of thing.”

  “I tried. I couldn’t get in.”

  “How many years have you been an orderly?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “Not that long.”

  “Thanks for driving me,” she said. “I hope I don’t get you into trouble. The police didn’t want me to leave yet.”

  He chuckled. “That’s the least of your worries. Besides, I know how it feels to need help. My father, you know.”

  “Of course. How’s he doing?”

  Rick stopped at the intersection of 265 and 165, and he remained stopped for a long moment. “Funny you should ask. He isn’t doing well.” He glanced at Willow. “Not at all.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He glanced in his rearview mirror, looked both ways, then instead of turning right, as he should have done to take her to the hospital, he turned left.

  “No, wait. Rick, we’re going the wrong way. It’s faster to—”

  “You know, now that you mention it, I’m glad you’re sorry about my father.”

  “Well, of course. Look, we were supposed to turn right back there. My brother’s life is hanging in the balance, and—”

  “My father’s life is hanging in the balance, too, Willow, and thanks to you it’s never going to get any better.”

  Her stomach tightened, and she felt a numb, tingly sensation along the back of her shoulders and scalp. “What are you talking about? Where are we going?”

  He negotiated another tight curve, then glanced at her, that characteristic bright smile back in place. “I’m going to conduct a little medical experiment.”

  From the time Willow was a little girl, when other children were making fun of her on the playground because of her mother, she had learned a useful tool—never let ’em see you sweat. “I’m not interested in an experiment right now. I need to get to the hospital, and if you’re not going to take me, just drop me off right here and I’ll—”

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, almost sweetly. “I can’t do that, because I need you in particular for my experiment. You see, they’ve been experimenting with medications on my father in prison for years now, trying to come up with the right combination to give him the fewest side effects for his Parkinson’s.”

  The numb tingle of horror spread across her body, tautening each nerve fiber.

  “He’s had an especially bad time of it,” he continued. “Other Parkinson’s patients can do fine for years with the right drugs, but I think being tried and convicted and thrown into prison might have accelerated his disease.”

  She looked at him, then looked at the road ahead. It had been dawning on her since the turn that she was in the car with Sandi’s killer. Now her background information took her a step further. “Sperryville is your—”

  “Father,” Rick supplied for her. “And you’re the person I hold directly responsible for ruining his life. My life. My whole family’s life.” His words grew clipped, his voice harsh, and his eyes narrowed and filled with anger.

  “You don’t hold him responsible for committing the crime in the first place? He personally killed two college students who were witnesses to another murder.”

  “He was injured and helpless in that ICU bed, and you betrayed his trust!”

  “Whose trust would I have been betraying if I hadn’t reported it?”

  He didn’t answer. She had always known that someday her bluntness would get her into big trouble. However, she didn’t think this was that time. She’d been in trouble the moment she stepped into this car.

  “So you’re going to help me conduct this little experiment, in which I inject you with my father’s dopamine dose…actually, several of them. After you go totally psychotic on me, I have another little surprise. It’s called haloperidol, and a large injection of that might send you into neuroleptic malignant syndrome. Then your body will stiffen until you can’t move, and your brain will cook. A fascinating experiment, don’t you think?”

  She wanted to spit in his face. It would be more proactive, however, to jump on him and scratch his eyes out before he could carry through on his threats.

  She sighted the gray balustrade of Table Rock Dam ahead of them, and braced herself for escape. Sightseers. Help. If only he were forced to slow his speed as he drove over the crowded road across the dam. She would make sure someone noticed.

  But even as she lowered her hand to the buckle of her seat belt, Rick reached for the lock mechanism on his door. “Don’t try it, because it won’t work.”

  He engaged passing gear and blasted across the dam in a fury of squealing tires, earning looks of disgust from the women and whistles of admiration from a couple of teenagers. Willow couldn’t risk grabbing the steering wheel; if he lost control, he could hit someone.

  She slapped the passenger-side window in an attempt to catch someone’s attention. No one noticed.

  She heard Rick’s soft chuckle.

  Willow closed her eyes and saw Sandi’s battered face. Would she soon look like that?

  Maybe not. While Rick negotiated the traffic signal below Chateau on the Lake, she slid her hand into her purse and withdrew her cell phone, praying her battery would hold out and her reception would be strong. She pressed what she knew to be the speed dial number for Graham’s cell, then to mask the sound she momentarily pressed the face of the phone against the side of her leg as she returned her attention to Rick. After it had had time to connect, she laid the phone faceup on the seat beside her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Graham was speeding down Highway 65 when he received a call. With heavy traffic, h
e didn’t take the time to check his caller ID screen, so he pressed Answer, adjusted his earphones and had opened his mouth to speak when he heard the unmistakable contralto of Willow’s voice.

  “You killed my husband, didn’t you? And my child. How you must hate me to be so willing to turn to crime yourself, in order to avenge your father.”

  “Willow? It’s me. Graham. This is no time for jokes. What are you—”

  “I gave you fair warning.” Another voice spoke. A man’s voice, slightly familiar, though in his state of growing horror Graham couldn’t place it. “I said you would pay for what you did.”

  Fair warning. Those were the words the killer had used when he’d called her.

  “You killed innocent people, Rick! I simply reported a guilty one.”

  Rick Fenrow. The orderly who smiled a lot and paid his rent on time.

  A sudden, jarring vibration of the steering wheel startled Graham. In his distraction, he had veered from the highway onto the shoulder. He readjusted, still listening with amazement and growing terror to the conversation taking place…where? Were they still at the lodge?

  Willow must have somehow managed to press speed dial without Rick’s knowledge.

  “Oh, come on, you think your husband was going to stay innocent for long? He was a narcotics agent,” Rick growled. “How many times did you think he’d resist temptation before he gave in?”

  Graham thought he heard the sound of an accelerating motor.

  “And my baby?” Willow asked. “You ran me down like an unwanted dog on the road and killed my baby.”

  “How was I supposed to know you were carrying? I was just disappointed I didn’t get you.”

  Graham’s grip tightened on the wheel. Where are you, Willow?

  “Is that the hypodermic needle you’re going to shoot me with?” Her voice sounded angry, belligerent, but Graham had come to know her well enough to recognize the undercurrent of fear she was trying to conceal. “You can’t possibly believe I’ll hold still for that.”

  “You don’t have to hold still. You get close to me and I’ll plunge it into you up to the hilt. This little baby makes an effective weapon, don’t you think? You try anything, you’ll deprive me of some of my fun, but you’ll be just as dead in the end.” There was a wicked chuckle. “I can live with that.”

  Graham’s whole body chilled at the possibilities, remembering the drugs that had been missing from the pharmacy. Dopamine and haloperidol would be a wicked combination. Dopamine was the drug used in the treatment of Parkinson’s disease. It was a very symbolic choice, considering Willow’s history, and the fact that dopamine could trigger schizophrenia.

  “You can’t possibly believe I had anything to do with your father’s illness,” Willow said.

  “You’re about to,” Rick said. “In a few minutes you’re going to discover the wild thoughts that rage through his mind. Come on, Willow,” the man taunted. “You’re a compassionate ICU nurse—don’t you want to be able to identify with your patients?”

  Graham flinched instinctively, imagining the horror Willow must be feeling.

  “Where are you going?” she asked. “You can’t possibly be in the mood for Silver Dollar City.”

  Good girl! Graham slammed on his brakes, checked traffic, made a U-turn. He had passed Highway 165 barely two hundred feet back. If they were headed toward Silver Dollar City from the lodge, they would be driving south of the lake on 265. He could reach that point more quickly on this road. And he’d better hurry.

  Keep talking, Willow.

  Willow prayed Graham was on the line. When her phone had good reception, it could last for several minutes on a low battery. Highway 265 followed a ridge around the southwest perimeter of Branson. It should provide good exposure for reception. From where she was, she could see the observation tower at the Shepherd of the Hills center.

  “How did you get a job at the hospital?” she asked. “They do a meticulous background check on their employees.”

  “What makes you think I have a criminal record?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said dryly. “Maybe the fact that you’re a killer has something to do with it.”

  “Don’t be so naive,” he said. “I’m not a criminal—I’m an avenger.”

  “So why change your name?”

  “I never changed my name. It’s always been Fenrow. It’s my mother’s name.”

  “Your parents never married?”

  “Why should they?” He placed the syringe on the dash, well out of her reach. “Keep an eye on that for me, will you?” He laughed again.

  She stared at his weapon of choice, willing herself to do something, to grab the steering wheel and jerk them from the road, to attack him, but she couldn’t. If she did, she had no doubt she would immediately feel the prick of that needle. Terror paralyzed her. That syringe was more effective with her than a gun or knife would have been.

  She glanced out her window and saw the city of Branson far below the ridge, a blur of hotels, shops and restaurants on the roadside. How easily a crime could be committed in the midst of a crowd, and no one would be the wiser.

  “You followed me with a black car,” she said.

  He patted his steering wheel. “This baby’s far too noticeable, and there are lots of car rentals in town. They weren’t too happy when I brought in a dented front fender, but insurance pays.”

  “So you did run me off the road.”

  “I shouldn’t have, I know. Too risky. You might have remembered something, and then where would I be? Lucky for me you didn’t. I needed to make sure you would be killed.”

  She cringed at his words. “Of course,” she muttered. “Can’t take any chances with my death.”

  “I got into the habit of volunteering a lot of free time to the hospital. That way I had a good excuse to be there to enjoy the results of my labors, and, of course, everyone realizes what a nice, compassionate guy I am. They wouldn’t dream of suspecting me.”

  “Of course not. You must have charmed Mrs. Engle long enough to get a copy of her keys. Did you manipulate Sandi the same way?”

  He ignored her, focusing on the curves and traffic as they neared Highway 76 west of Branson.

  “Some thought you were Sandi’s boyfriend.”

  He snorted. “That piece of trash was not my girlfriend. She couldn’t even follow simple orders.”

  “To do what?”

  “She was supposed to seduce Preston and kill him, but she couldn’t even get him to look at her.” He gave Willow a leer. “Imagine my surprise and delight when you suddenly moved in with him.”

  “You came here just to kill my brother?”

  “You destroyed my family. You needed to see how it felt. I could have taken you out in Kansas City easily, but I decided to make you suffer a little longer.”

  She winced at the insanity in his voice. Why had she never picked up on that? Had he actually appeared so sane to everyone all these weeks?

  “Sandi got scared. Sandi felt wrong.” He said it in a singsong voice, mocking and filled with bitter anger. “Sandi suddenly decided you were a nice person. She was as stupid as—”

  “So you killed her and left her little girls alone, orphans in the world.”

  “An ape at the zoo would be a better mother than that woman was, anyway.”

  “Try telling Lucy and Brittany that.”

  She thought of his killing methods. He’d used a gun, a figurine, fire and, several times, a car. He must have mistaken Jolene Tucker’s car for a Subaru the night of the fire, when he ran her off the road. But then he had obviously discovered differently when he saw Willow’s Subaru in its customary spot in the carport. So of course he had planted the arson materials in it. She had no doubt he would have tipped off the police about it, if they hadn’t checked first.

  He slowed at the intersection of 265 and 76, but instead of turning left, as she had expected him to do, he turned right on 76.

  “We’re going back to Branson?” she
asked.

  He slanted a glance at her. “Before long it won’t matter to you where we go.” He frowned, glancing down at the purse at her side. It was open. “Why have you been giving a running commentary on our route?” He reached over and grabbed the purse, knocking her open cell phone from the seat. It bounced on the floorboard, landing faceup.

  The battery was dead. She had no idea how long it had been that way.

  Graham stomped on the accelerator, streaked past a delivery truck, then swept back into the right lane with a racing heart. Branson. The last words he’d heard were “back to Branson.”

  But why would Rick return to the city when he could more easily turn left and find himself in the wilderness of the Mark Twain National Forest in just a few miles? Then he could easily do what he was threatening with no interference.

  Of course, Rick was from the city. He had no knowledge of Branson or the surrounding area. He could be headed for someplace close, especially if he felt he wouldn’t be able to control Willow much longer. She wasn’t exactly a controllable person.

  There were still some places between the 265 intersection and town where Rick might be able to turn into the forest and be almost immediately concealed by trees.

  Still speeding, Graham passed two more cars, switching on his flashers as he dialed the police. Quickly he gave them all the necessary specifics, then disconnected and dialed Larry.

  After explaining the situation, he asked, “Have you ever been to the top of the observation tower at the Shepherd of the Hills center?”

  “Sure have, boss,” Larry said. “Great view. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Call there. Describe Rick Fenrow’s car to one of the security personnel—it shouldn’t be too hard to spot on the road, twisting around those mountain curves.”

  “I’ll do it now.” He hung up before Graham could say any more.

  Now Graham could do nothing more, but drive and pray.

  The sound of crashing plastic compartments echoed through the car as Rick slammed Willow’s cell phone against the window, smashing it to bits in a fit of rage. Willow cringed against her door.