The Phoenix Agency_Eyes Wide Open

by Cynthia Cooke

  She slipped behind the tree as he and Detective Kent walked inside, essentially making her decision for her. She would go back to the apartment, pack up Lucy and a few of her things, then get in her car and go. Maybe when this was all over, if it would ever be over, she and Adam could have a future together. But right now, the only future she was interested in saving was her own.

  She turned back toward her apartment, but had only made it a few steps when a man stepped out from behind a car in front of her.

  "Hello, Jessica," he said.

  She froze. She knew that voice.

  "It's so nice to see you again." He popped a mint into his mouth, and as he drew closer, she was overcome with mind-numbing fear and the smell of peppermint. Before she could move or scream, his hand was over her nose and mouth and he was pulling her backward behind a tree. She was vaguely aware of a sickly-sweet scent from the cloth he held against her face before everything started to fade and her legs weakened. She fell against him, and the next thing she knew, she was being shoved into the back seat of a car.

  She heard voices and tried to call out, but her voice sounded raspy and faint. "Help me," she cried with the last of her strength. And then she heard the static and saw the Charleston PD baseball cap sitting on the dash. No! It couldn’t be. The last thing she saw before unconsciousness overtook her was the police scanner attached to the dash.

  ***

  When Adam came out of the bedroom, he immediately knew something was wrong. It was too quiet in the apartment. He glanced in the kitchen and saw Lucy looking confused at four giant bowls of food and water. He called out Jessica's name, knowing it was futile. She was gone.

  He hurried down the stairs, looking up and down the street, but didn't see her anywhere. He ran toward Artspace and didn't hesitate before bursting inside. McCloskey and Kent were already there talking to a tall, thin man with dark hair graying at the temples. This had to be Frank.

  "LaSalle, what are you doing here?" Kent asked.

  Adam scanned the room. "Jessica said she was coming here."

  "We haven't seen her," Frank said, looking more than a little curious.

  "Really?" Adam felt a stab of fear. He turned and glanced out the window. Maybe she'd seen McCloskey and Kent and decided not to come in? Different scenarios played through his mind.

  "Is there a problem?" the gallery owner asked.

  "No," Adam said, and flashed a smile. "No problem at all." He turned and walked back out the door, scanning the street. Where could she be? He ran back to the apartment, thinking he'd somehow missed her and she had doubled back. But the apartment was still empty.

  He looked at his watch. She couldn't have been gone more than fifteen minutes. He climbed down the stairs, searching the area around him. "Come on, Jess, where are you?"

  He rushed down the block and crossed to the next street over, where he'd left his car. He stopped. The trunk of his rental car wasn't closed all the way. He'd closed the trunk after he'd put Jessica's paintings inside it. He was certain. He walked toward the car, his heart pounding, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

  "Please don't be inside," he said, as he leaned forward and, with an unsteady hand, opened the trunk.

  It was empty.

  A relieved breath escaped his chest before he realized all of Jessica's paintings were gone. Every single one.

  He closed the lid and leaned against the car. A second later, his cell rang.

  He looked at it, but didn't recognize the number. He glanced around him, scouring the street. Did the killer have Jessica? Was he watching him even now?

  "Hello," he answered.

  "Adam?" Jessica sounded weak and groggy.

  "Jessica? Where are you?"

  "Sorry…" She incoherently muttered something. "About Lucy and…"

  "What?" She must be confused or drugged. "Are you all right?"

  "She is for now," a stranger said. "And she'll stay that way as long as you do what you're told."

  Adam's grasp on the phone tightened. The killer did have her. Mia's words came back to haunt him. We need to know his endgame. Adam had a feeling this was it.

  "And what is that?" he asked.

  "Meet us at the Harborwalk in Georgetown. Don't call anyone. Come alone or she dies. Don't keep us waiting. Remember, I have eyes everywhere."

  The call ended.

  Without hesitation, Adam climbed into his car and peeled down the street toward the bridge that would take him north out of the city, punching Georgetown into the GPS on his phone. One hour and fifteen minutes. He was going to have to fly and hope he didn't get pulled over.

  As he drove, he replayed the conversation over and over in his mind. The bastard already had Jessica, so why did he want Adam? What did any of this have to do with him? Or his sister?

  He drove like a bat out of hell toward the address plugged into his phone. He should call Mia. She could help him. But the killer had told him not to call anyone. Would he know? Could he take that chance?

  "Trust us," Mia had said.

  He wanted to, but he'd always faced his problems alone. This time couldn't be any different. Not if he wanted to save Jessica. And he did want to save her. In fact, he couldn't imagine his life without her. Not anymore. Somehow, she'd worked her way into his heart, and there would be no getting her soft voice and luminescent blue eyes out. Not now.

  His phone rang. He looked down at the display. Mia.

  I will know.

  The phone continued to ring.

  He should get it. He could trust her.

  Call no one.

  Damn.

  Was his phone bugged? His car?

  The ringing stopped. Ten seconds later, it started up again. He snatched up the phone. "Hello."

  "What's happening?" Mia demanded.

  He didn't say anything as he contemplated his options.

  "Dammit, Adam. What is happening?"

  His throat constricted so tightly around his vocal cords that he didn't think he was going to be able to breathe.

  "Adam!"

  "He has her!" he said in a loud whoosh.

  "What?"

  "That bastard has her. He told me to go to the Harborwalk in Georgetown. Gave me an hour and said I had to come alone. Not to call anyone."

  "And you believed him?"

  "He put Jessica on the phone, Mia. She'd obviously been drugged. I don't have any choice. I have to find her."

  "Damn right. We will find her together. Think, Adam. What is his endgame?"

  "I don't know," he yelled with frustration.

  "Think about it. This same killer has killed every one of the girls in those portraits."

  "Yes, we believe so, but are you sure?"

  "Yes. That means he's been obsessed with Jessica and following her for years."

  Adam's heart thumped. "Since she was a kid," he said. "He killed her best friend. She dreamed it. She tried to tell the police, but they didn't listen. Made her out to be the town freak."

  "He must have got a rush out of that," Mia said. "Out of her life being destroyed by what he'd done. He became fixated on her then, and all these years he has killed to continue the process of her tearing down her life and moving, over and over, all because of him."

  "So what's changed this time? Why is it different? Is it me?" he asked.

  "Maybe. Except he outed her before you came."

  "Because he wants her to himself?" The thought of that burned him to the core.

  "Or he's finally ready to kill her, too."

  Adam's stomach dropped as he flew down the road, weaving in between traffic, ignoring the blaring horns.

  "Whatever it is," Mia continued, "I don't believe it has anything to do with you. There's no reason why he would want you there also."

  Adam's hands tightened on the wheel. "So you think he's sending me on a wild goose chase?"

  "He's definitely getting you far out of town. You have to go back."

  "I can't take that chance."

  "Trust
us. Let us help you."

  He drove on, torn in two by the decision he had to make.

  "He wants you out of the way, Adam. Did Jessica say anything when you talked to her?"

  "She was really out of it. Apologized for her cat."

  "Her cat?"

  That was it! He hit the brakes and swung the car in a wide circle, escaping two near misses before he stepped on it and headed back into the city.

  "Yes, she asked me to feed it, but then she ended up giving it enough food for a whole week. It didn't make any sense."

  "Unless she wanted you to think about the cat for some reason."

  "You don't think?"

  "It's the last place you'd think to go."

  "All right, I'm going back. I can't let anything happen to her. She means too much to me."

  "That's good to hear," Mia said quietly.

  "I'll be at the apartment in twenty," he said.

  "I'll meet you at her place."

  "I just hope we're not too late."

  Chapter Eleven

  "Good job," the killer said to Jessica as he disconnected the phone. "Now he will be out of our hair for a little while. By the time he figures out you're not in Georgetown and drives back, I'll be long gone, and he'll have a nice little present waiting for him when he arrives."

  He poked her with the tip of the knife once more, and she felt the blood trickle down her neck to her collarbone. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of being afraid. She was done being afraid. This man had chased her her whole life. Now that he was here and she could look him in the eye, he wasn't that scary. He was just a pathetic man. A loser who liked to prey on young girls and women. But not anymore.

  He was busy going through her paintings, one by one, admiring her work, reliving each kill. It made her sick. She wished he hadn't seen Adam put them in his car. But he did, and now he was looking at each one, studying them, critiquing them, relishing them, then discarding each as easily as he had the women they represented. Throwing them on the floor like so much garbage to spread in a heap around her. He'd handcuffed one of her hands to the foot of her sofa, and try as she might, she couldn't budge it.

  "What are you doing?" she demanded. Not that she really wanted to know. She just couldn't stand the sound of his chuckling to himself as he examined her work.

  "They are almost perfect," he said, looking at her with admiration. "Except they're lacking one thing."

  "Yeah, what's that?"

  "Color."

  He grabbed her free arm, held it up, and then drew his blade down her forearm to her wrist. Blood squirted then started to drip, spilling onto the paintings lying on the floor around her.

  "See, now that's better. Now they're the way I remember them, and you are the way I always imagined you would be—covered in blood."

  "You're sick."

  "Am I? Or are you? Killing all these women and then finally killing yourself."

  She glared at him as she finally realized what he'd been planning all along. "No one will ever believe that."

  "Oh, but they already do."

  She watched in horror as her blood seeped into the fibrous canvas, moving around the ink and coloring the white between the black lines crimson. Her stomach turned and she began to feel lightheaded. She lay down on the floor, lying on her arm, trying her best to use her body weight to stanch the flow, hearing the crumpling of her paintings beneath her. She caught sight of Lucy hiding beneath the sofa.

  "It's going to be okay," she whispered. "We're going to be okay. Adam will come."

  ***

  Adam took the stairs two at a time and burst through the door into Jessica's apartment. The first thing he saw was blood. Everywhere. Jessica was lying right in the middle of it, and a man stood over her, a bloody knife in his hand. Shock tore through him, then the man lunged. Adam knocked him to the ground, brought up his gun, and pointed it at the man's chest. "That's enough. Now, drop the knife and slowly get up."

  The man stood and let the knife fall from his fingers, and it landed next to Jessica's still body. He had to tear his gaze away from her and focus on the killer.

  "You better hope she is still alive," Adam said through gritted teeth.

  The man grinned. "She is, but she won't be for much longer. Not if you don't do something to stop the bleeding. It's getting everywhere. I tried to stop her, but she—"

  "Save it for your lawyers," Adam said. "Take three steps back and keep your hands up where I can see them." With the killer away from her, Adam bent down and touched Jessica to see if she was still alive, and then McCloskey burst through the door behind him.

  "Hold it right there, LaSalle. Drop it."

  Adam held up his hands, but he didn't drop the gun.

  "I said drop it."

  McCloskey entered the room. "Dunham, you okay?"

  "Yeah," the killer answered.

  Adam turned to McCloskey, stunned. In that split second, Dunham lunged for his gun. Adam wrestled him for it, but he was one strong son of a bitch. He had a hold on his weapon, but Adam wasn't letting go.

  "Drop it! Drop it, I said," McCloskey yelled, coming toward them.

  Adam wasn't sure McCloskey wouldn't shoot him, but didn't loosen his grip. He was still struggling with the killer for the gun when the bastard suddenly yelled out and fell to one knee. The gun went off just as Adam grabbed hold of it, the deafening sound booming throughout the room. Taking back the gun, Adam tackled Dunham to the floor and ground one knee into his shoulder.

  "Do not move."

  Dunham just looked up at him and grinned.

  Jessica rolled toward the killer, his bloody knife in her hand, and drove the sharp blade into his heart. "Jessica!" That was when Adam saw the long cut on her arm still oozing blood. He got off Dunham and dropped to her side. "Call 911!" he yelled to McCloskey while pulling off his shirt. He used it to stop the blood flow, pressing it to her arm.

  McCloskey groaned, but wasn't moving. The stray bullet Dunham fired must have hit him. Adam took out his cell and called 911. "Officer down. Civilian casualties. Send ambulances." He had just finished giving them the address when Kent burst into the room, gun drawn.

  "Hands in the air," he commanded.

  "Screw you, Kent."

  "I mean it, LaSalle."

  "You want my hands in the air, then you get over here and hold her arm, or she'll bleed out."

  Keeping his sights on Adam, Kent dropped down to see if McCloskey had a pulse. "What the hell happened here?"

  "Your guy just shot McCloskey." He gestured toward the body on the floor with the knife sticking out of his chest. "I called 911. The ambulance is on its way." He kicked his gun over to Kent just to make the cop feel at ease. "How's McCloskey?"

  "Looks like he's been hit in the shoulder." Kent picked up Adam's gun then bent down to apply pressure on McCloskey's wound. He took out his phone and called it in. "Officer down. Need backup."

  At that moment, Mia and her team arrived at the front door. "We're with the Phoenix Agency," she said to Kent. "May we come in?"

  He nodded grimly.

  She rushed to Adam's side. "How's Jessica?"

  "I don't know. She's lost a lot of blood." Adam didn't like how pale Jessica was, or the slight blue tinge of her lips. He heard the sirens of the first responders as they pulled up. Paramedics came running up the stairs, took in the scene, and immediately went to work on Jessica and McCloskey.

  "You want to explain what happened here?" Kent asked again.

  "Your guy, Dunham, is your serial killer," Adam said, and gestured toward the body on the floor.

  "No way," Kent said. "Convenient that he can't tell me what happened himself."

  Ignoring him, Adam turned to the paramedic who was bandaging Jessica's arm. "Is she going to be okay?"

  "Why don't you tell me how one of our volunteers at the station ended up with a blade in his chest?" Kent asked, his voice raised to get Adam's attention.

  Adam turned back to him. "Listen, this asshole ca
me here to kill Jessica and make it look like she killed herself. You're damn right he's the killer, and while I was fighting him for the gun, it went off, and McCloskey was hit."

  "What Adam's saying about Dunham is true," Mia said. "We have a complete file on him being sent to your chief right now. He has lived in, and volunteered at police and sheriff departments in, four different cities where women have been murdered by strangulation. All of the cases unsolved."

  Kent looked stunned.

  She turned to Adam. "It is also how he knew you were related to Sara. When we made the request from Armani to review the case files of the murder victims here in Charleston, we told him you'd be coming and mailed him your file. Dunham was the one who gave your file to the chief. He obviously had time to read it first, and must have recognized your name."

  The paramedics loaded Jessica on a gurney and were getting ready to carry her out the door when she called to Adam.

  "I'm right here, babe." He leaned over to brush the hair back from her face, and gently kissed her on the forehead. "You're going to be all right. I'm here for you."

  "I couldn't move much," she said. "But I was able to cut his Achilles tendon. I hope that helped you."

  He remembered Dunham crying out and falling to one knee, and smiled. "Oh, baby. It sure as hell did."

  "I hope he's dead," she said as they carried her out the front door.

  Adam looked down at the sightless eyes of the killer on the floor. "Oh, yeah, he's dead. He'll never hurt you again."

  ***

  Jessica woke in the hospital to find Adam sitting beside her. She smiled at him. "Hey."

  "Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?"

  "Thankful."

  He grinned. "It's all over. Your killer, a Mr. Mark Dunham, is dead."

  "I must admit I've never been happier to hear of a person's passing before."

  "He was certainly deserving of it."

  A moment of fear and uncertainty came over her. "Am I going to be arrested?" she asked, her voice wavering.

  "For killing a man who's been stalking you for most of your life? Who almost killed you? Not a chance."

  "For killing a cop."