Desperate Measures

by Carla Cassidy

Jake pulled her closer and leaned into her. “Must be a slow news night,” he murmured in her ear. “How about we get out of here.”

  “Sounds good to me,” she replied.

  They headed for their cars in the parking lot. The crowd began to break up as other people hurried toward their cars, too. She was grateful to see that none of the emergency vehicles had them blocked in.

  “Well, that was exciting,” she said as they reached her car.

  “Definitely more excitement than I expected for a meal out,” he agreed. He looked back at the restaurant and the emergency vehicles. “At least it looks like nobody got hurt.”

  “That’s a good thing. For a minute there I thought I was going to be crushed by the crowd.”

  “I wouldn’t have let that happen,” he replied.

  Warmth washed over her at his words. “Well, thank you, and I’ll see you later tonight.” She wanted to get home and write up a few notes on the fire to add to her podcast that night.

  Besides, she needed just a little bit of distance from Jake. When he’d put his arm around her and pulled her close to his side, she’d wanted to stay there forever, and that was the last thing she needed from him.

  “It’s about the story, stupid,” she muttered to herself as she drove away from the restaurant, where the fire was finally out.

  * * *

  JAKE AWAKENED THE next morning with a sense of dread. He’d tried not to think about this particular date for the past several days, but it slammed into him the moment he opened his eyes.

  Two years ago today he had unlocked the door of Suzanna’s house and had found her dead in her bedroom. The memory of that moment and the vision of his sister beaten and broken would remain with him forever. He would never forget the smell of death that had hung in the air.

  At that moment he’d wanted nothing more than to run to the side of her bed. He’d wanted to gather her into his arms and weep...and scream. But he hadn’t.

  Even with wild grief clawing at his insides, someplace in the back of his mind, he’d known not to touch anything. He’d backed out of the bedroom and called the police. He’d then collapsed in the hallway and fallen apart.

  It had been a kind policeman who had finally pulled him up and taken him out of the house. He’d sat in his patrol car with Jake while he screamed and sobbed.

  When his tears had momentarily subsided, he’d managed to give a statement. The policeman had followed Jake in his car to ensure Jake got home safely.

  He now finally roused himself out of the bed to shower and dress, and then he went out to retrieve his morning paper. He needed to keep busy today. He needed to keep the memories at bay and not dwell on this horrible anniversary.

  He made coffee and then sat at his table to read the paper. He was vaguely surprised to see on page two a report on the restaurant fire the night before. The brief article was accompanied by a photo of the restaurant and in the background, along with some of the other diners, Jake could be seen with his arm around Monica.

  Once again last night they had spent several hours in front of Clay’s place, where nothing had happened except he’d learned that Monica’s favorite color was lavender, her favorite kind of music was old rock and roll and she made delicious throaty happy sounds when she ate gummy bears.

  When he’d thrown his arm around her the night before to lead her out of the restaurant it hadn’t been lost on him that she fit perfectly against him.

  He was grateful to read the paper, drink his morning coffee, and then he needed to get to the job site where he didn’t have to think about Monica’s redolent scent. He didn’t have to imagine her lavender bedroom or what it would be like to hear those throaty noises coming from her when his lips took hers.

  The last thing he wanted to do was think about her and he certainly didn’t want to dwell on memories of Suzanna and the last time he’d seen her.

  It had been so terrible. He’d known she might be in trouble when noon rolled around and he hadn’t heard from her. Not only had she not called him, but she hadn’t answered any of his calls.

  He’d driven to her house in a panic, knowing in his gut that something terrible had happened. And it had. Suzanna’s death had been a defining moment that had changed his life forever.

  He stuffed his memories deep inside and left the house at eight. He headed for the building site, hoping that talking to the men would keep his mind clear.

  “Hey, Jake,” Brett Cummings, the foreman on the job, greeted him as he got out of his car. “I was waiting for you to get here today.”

  “How’s it going?” Jake asked. When the foreman came looking for him, generally there was a problem.

  “I was wondering if you could go up with me and do a little review of the prints for the next two floors.”

  “Sure,” Jake agreed.

  The two men got in the cage that would carry them up to the sixteenth floor, where the foreman’s tiny shack sat across a spiderweb of beams.

  When they reached the floor, they each snapped onto the safety line that would keep them from falling to their deaths with a single misstep.

  “At least the good weather is keeping us on deadline,” Brett said as they maneuvered across the beams.

  “Before deadline and under budget is always a good thing,” Jake replied. “That will make Sam a happy man.” Sam Watterson was the owner of the project. Sam was a well-known developer in Kansas City and was involved in dozens of projects.

  For the next hour Jake clarified what he needed to with Brett and when he finished he walked around and greeted the workers. He’d always believed being on a first-name basis with the men who were doing the actual work of bringing his blueprints to life was important.

  Today it was difficult to make pleasant small talk, but he forced himself to do just that. When he’d finally made the rounds, he returned to his car and sat and watched the work being done.

  This building design had been one of several he and Suzanna had worked on together right before her murder. It had been ambitious and bold, and it had taken him the last two years to find the right people to invest in seeing their dream come to life.

  It was bittersweet to see it actually being realized without her. There were many nights he and Suzanna would go up and sit on the high beams of one of their construction sites and gaze up at the stars overhead.

  Suzanna had always loved the stars and she would point out the various constellations to him. That was why he’d named his business Lamont and Star.

  God, he missed her so much. He missed her smiling face. He missed brainstorming with her about new visions of building. He missed talking to her. They had been such an integral part of each other’s lives.

  An overwhelming grief and a killing guilt pressed down on him. If he’d just made a different decision on that night, then Suzanna would probably be alive today. If he just hadn’t been so damned selfish.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting in the car and thinking of his sister when Monica’s car pulled up next to his. He looked at it in surprise. What in the hell was she doing here?

  He got out of his car and waited while she exited hers. “Hi.” She greeted him with a bright smile. “Did you see the morning paper?”

  “I did,” he replied.

  “We’re now famous.”

  “Not that famous. Our names weren’t even mentioned. Is that why you’re here?” Clad in white shorts and a bright yellow blouse, she was like a ray of sunshine in what had been a very dark day for him.

  “Actually, yes and no,” she replied. “I was curious to know if you saw the paper, but I also brought you lunch.”

  “Lunch?” He stared at her blankly.

  “Yeah, you know it’s when people eat a meal around noon.”

  “Did we talk about having lunch together today?” Maybe in the wee hours of the morning while they’d been
sitting on Clay’s house last night he’d somehow missed something.

  “No, we didn’t talk about it, but I thought maybe today would be a good day for you to have lunch with your partner.”

  Her smile and her soft gaze made him realize she knew. She knew it was the anniversary of the day he had found Suzanna’s dead body and she had come here to help him get through it.

  There was a part of him that wanted to growl at her to go home, to leave him alone with his dark thoughts. She didn’t need to be here because she pitied him. That was the last thing he wanted from her.

  But then she turned and pulled a picnic basket from her passenger seat and her eyes held a touch of apprehension, as if she knew she might not be welcome. “I hope you like ham and cheese.”

  And just that quickly he was oddly grateful she’d shown up. “I love ham and cheese,” he replied.

  She lit up like a Christmas tree, her eyes sparkling as she smiled widely. “Should we sit in one of the cars?”

  “You brought lunch, so I’ll provide a dining room.” He took the picnic basket from her and then grabbed her hand in his.

  He led her around the side of the building where there were several lawn chairs and a couple of sawhorses with sheets of plywood on top. He set the picnic basket in the center of the plywood and then pulled up two chairs.

  “It isn’t exactly the Ritz,” he said.

  “But it’s perfect for a picnic,” she replied, and then opened the picnic basket. The first thing she pulled out was a red-and-white-checkered tablecloth. He helped her put it down, still touched that she was here.

  Not only did she have ham-and-cheese sandwiches, but there was also a container of potato salad, small bags of chips, a container of fruit salad and cookies.

  “This isn’t lunch, this is a feast,” he said as she pulled out two cans of soda, then moved the picnic basket to the side.

  “I wasn’t sure what you normally did for lunch.”

  “Sometimes I just skip it and other times I grab a hamburger from a joint down the street,” he replied.

  The noise of the work site quieted as the men all knocked off for the lunch hour. As he and Monica ate, she asked him questions about the building.

  “What’s it going to be?” she asked.

  “The first floor is going to be a grocery store. They’re hoping to draw more people into living in the area and those people will need a place to buy their food.”

  “And the rest of it?” She looked past his shoulder to the skeletal building.

  “The next fifteen floors are office space and the rest of it is going to be lofts for sale.”

  “I’m not sure I’d want to live in a loft that high up,” she replied.

  “Are you afraid of heights?” he asked.

  “Maybe a little, why?”

  “There is no place better to stargaze than on the beams near the top. Suzanna and I used to go up in the high beams and look at the stars. I was just thinking that one night when we aren’t doing surveillance, you might be interested in doing a little stargazing with me.”

  Once again, she looked up at the top of the structure and then gazed back at him. “I imagine it’s kind of an exhilarating experience.”

  “It is.”

  “There are safety belts or ropes or whatever involved?”

  “Definitely.”

  She looked at him. “Then I’d be up for it.”

  “We’ll do it some night soon.” He hadn’t been up on the beams at night since Suzanna had died. It was something he hadn’t wanted to do by himself when he knew memories of her would assail him.

  With Monica it was difficult to be depressed. Something about her filled him with an inexplicable optimism. She reminded him that there was still laughter, and moments of real contentment, real happiness left in the world.

  However, none of that really mattered. He could fall madly and wildly in love with her, but he wouldn’t act on his feelings.

  In any case if she ever learned the role he had played in his sister’s murder, she would look at him with revulsion. He’d made a decision that night that he would never forgive himself for and he had a self-loathing that would last for the rest of his life.

  “What do you think about dogs?” Her question pulled him back from his dark thoughts.

  “I like them better than cats.”

  “Have you ever thought about getting one?”

  “I’ve thought about it from time to time, but with my work schedule the way it is, it wouldn’t be fair to the dog. I’m gone most of the day. Why? Are you thinking about getting one?”

  “Maybe. There are times I’d like a little fur baby to keep me company. You know, somebody who thinks I hung the moon and loves me unconditionally.” For a moment she looked incredibly vulnerable. Her eyes appeared wistful and then she released a small, uncomfortable laugh and the vulnerability was gone.

  “Have you ever had a dog before?” he asked.

  “We had a dog when I was young. His name was Pooky and he was the sweetest little schnauzer you’d ever want to meet. He was my cuddle buddy at night and I adored him.”

  “What happened to him?”

  She sighed. “He got heart failure and we had to put him down. I was devastated for a while.”

  “That’s one reason why I don’t want a dog. I don’t want to bond with a dog that won’t live as long as me,” he replied.

  “But then you miss out on years of laughing and doggy kisses and having a little fur friend that loves you unconditionally. Besides, a dog is a thing to have before babies. It’s practice for taking care of something helpless.”

  He didn’t respond to that. He couldn’t, because there would never be any babies in his life.

  They finished eating and cleaned up and then he walked her back to her car. He hadn’t forgotten why she’d shown up and her thoughtfulness humbled him.

  She had pushed away the darkness that had threatened to descend on him. When they reached the car she placed the picnic basket in the seat and then turned back and smiled at him.

  “Thank you for taking time out to have lunch with me,” she said.

  “No, thank you,” he replied. She looked so gorgeous, and for just a moment he wanted to pull her up close to him and kiss her smiling, lush lips.

  “And now I have a favor to ask you.”

  “A favor?” He consciously shoved away any thoughts of kissing her.

  “I have these two huge steaks and a barbecue grill I don’t know how to use. You’d be doing me a big favor if you’d come over this evening and fix them for us.”

  He looked at her skeptically. “Do you really need me to grill the steaks or are you just being kind?”

  “Oh, I definitely need you on the grill.” She looked at him innocently. “My father insisted I get one when I bought my house, but the idea of gas and flame scares me a little bit so I’ve never used it. Besides, you told me you could eat a steak and a baked potato every night, and tonight I’m offering them to you. Besides, I’m really hungry for steak tonight and they just don’t taste the same broiled in the oven.”

  He wanted to tell her no. Things were definitely getting a bit too cozy between them. But when he thought of being at home alone during the long hours of this particular evening with nothing to keep him company but his dark memories, he finally relented.

  “Okay. How about six?” He was already going to hell for his role in Suzanna’s murder and his part in a pact of death. He might as well add using Monica for company on a difficult night to his sins.

  “Perfect,” she replied. “I’ll text you my address and I’ll see you then.”

  Minutes later he frowned thoughtfully as he watched her drive away from the job site. His desire to have dinner with her tonight was at least partially selfish.

  She was like a panacea to his grief, a magic po
tion that would keep dark memories away. But there was also a bigger part of him that just wanted to spend all his spare time with her, and that’s what had him worried.

  She was getting under his skin. He found himself thinking about her way too often. Each time he was with her a simmering desire filled his veins. Her spicy citrus scent enticed him and her easy laughter enchanted him.

  He’d go to her house tonight and grill the steaks. He’d enjoy having dinner with her, but after tonight there would be no more meals with her.

  They would continue their surveillance, but that would be the extent of the time they spent together.

  * * *

  HE STARED AT the picture in the paper and then slammed his fist onto the faces of Jake Lamont and Monica Wright. Oh yes, he knew who she was. She was a freaking reporter.

  Why were the two of them together? Even as he asked himself that question he knew the answer. Jake had turned on them.

  How long had the two of them been talking? Why hadn’t a news story already appeared detailing the murder pact? Why hadn’t any cops come knocking at his door?

  He’d known none of the other men would really adhere to their plan of murder. They had all talked a good game that night in the woods, but he knew when push came to shove they wouldn’t be able to kill anyone.

  He’d taken it upon himself to ensure that four foul pieces of humanity got what they deserved. What he had discovered on that first night when he’d slit Brian McDowell’s throat was that he liked it. He’d liked the feel of blood on his hands, the smell of it and the swell of power that filled him as he took the man’s life.

  He also liked that he had a name...the Vigilante Killer. Only really good killers got names. Hillside Strangler... Son of Sam... Zodiac... Someday the Vigilante Killer would be as well known as those other killers.

  He was good at what he did. He’d left no clues, nothing for the police to find him. He had no intention of getting caught or stopping. There were lots of bad people walking around free as birds who needed to be killed.

  This was his mission in life. It was his passion and it excited him and he wasn’t about to let Jake Lamont run his mouth to a reporter and ruin it all.