She stared at him with eyes that suddenly held a touch of frost. “I would hope you knew me better than that. You told me that information in confidence and I would never run with that story. It offends me that you even entertain the idea that I might.”
She continued to stare at him, apparently waiting for him to offer her some sort of an apology. But he remained silent. Maybe it was a good thing she was irritated with him. If this really was the end of things, then maybe making her a little angry with him wasn’t all bad.
“I’m going to go check and see if any other newscasts have this as breaking news,” she said, and jumped up from the table. “I’ll let you know if I get more information.” Her tone of voice held the frost in her eyes.
He watched her leave the kitchen and then he stood and walked into the family room. He was now too restless just to sit. Instead he paced back and forth in front of his sofa as thoughts whirled around in his head.
He was sorry if he’d hurt Monica’s feelings, but maybe that’s what he needed to do. Maybe he needed to show her that he was a miserable man who deserved to be alone.
Thoughts of Monica were overtaken by thoughts of the latest development. Once again he wondered if it was possible this really was the end. That the killer had turned himself in. Even though he found it hard to believe, he hoped like hell it was true.
He and Monica would no longer be in any danger. There would be no more heinous deaths of people with Vs carved into their foreheads and Jake would be able to finally put this all behind him.
And it would be time to tell Monica goodbye for good. He was surprised at the wave of depression that swept through him at this thought.
He needed to tell her goodbye, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss her smiles and the sound of her laughter. He’d miss her chatter and even her grumpy face in the mornings. He was just going to miss her like hell.
Fifteen minutes later she joined him in the living room where he’d finally sat in his recliner and turned on the television. “I checked every news source I could think of and nobody is reporting anything on the killer.” She sank down on the sofa with her cell phone in hand. “I’m just hoping my snitch will let me know what’s going on sooner rather than later.”
She gazed at him for several long moments. “If this really is the end of things, there’s one thing I want us to do before I go back to my house.”
“What’s that?” he asked tentatively.
“I want you to take me up in the beams and show me Suzanna’s stars.”
Myriad emotions rushed through him. Memories of his sister...his love for Monica...and the pain of a final goodbye to both. For a moment he couldn’t speak as a huge lump rose up in the back of his throat.
“I’m sorry. Maybe it’s not such a good idea after all,” she said.
“No, I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said. He’d take her up to the stars and then he’d send her back to her house, back to her life, and he would return to his life of isolation.
As they waited for her to get another call from her snitch, he channel surfed to see if they could find any breaking news about the killer. But there was nothing.
He glanced over at her and noticed she was chewing on her fingernail once again. “Nails,” he said.
She dropped her hand to her lap. “Thanks.”
“Have you always been a nail-chewer or is it something you picked up when you met me?” he asked half-teasingly.
“Unfortunately, I’ve always been a nail-biter, but there’s no question that the more stress I’m under the more I chew. What bad habits do you have that I haven’t seen yet?”
It was a silly conversation considering they were waiting to get more information about a serial killer, but during their time together he realized she not only chewed her nails when she was stressed, but she also chattered.
“Socks,” he replied.
“Socks?”
He nodded. “I have a bad habit of taking them off at night and leaving them at the foot of the bed instead of throwing them in the dirty clothes basket. Sometimes I have three or four pairs at the end of the bed before I pick them up.”
“Thank goodness,” she replied.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Thank goodness?”
“Yes, thank goodness you aren’t as perfect as I thought you were. You do have some flaws.”
“Trust me, I’m far from perfect,” he replied. If she only knew how imperfect he was, she’d probably run for the hills.
“There’s got to be more than socks,” she said, her eyes holding a teasing light. “Do you leave the top off the toothpaste? Or maybe when you refill a toilet paper roll you do an under instead of an over?”
He laughed. “Is that really a flaw?”
“Definitely,” she replied, and then laughed. “I can’t believe we’re talking about a serial killer and toilet paper.”
“You started it.”
Her laughter faded as she stared down at her cell phone. “I just hope he calls soon. I feel like my nerves are jumping out of my skin waiting to find out if this guy who turned himself in is for real.”
“I feel the same way. I’m just hoping he’s really the killer.
“If he is, then I don’t have to worry about you doing something stupid.” She held his gaze.
“What do you mean? I try never to do stupid things.”
“Your plan to take this guy down while he was in the act of committing murder was a stupid and reckless idea.”
He frowned. “It was a plan to get him under arrest once and for all.”
“It was a plan that put you at deadly risk,” she replied.
“I’d still do it if it meant getting this guy off the streets once and for all.”
“You’re very stubborn,” she observed.
“Yes, I am, and you’d do well to remember that,” he said teasingly.
“Duly noted,” she replied, parroting his response about her stubbornness.
Fifteen minutes later she got a call from her friend, who told her there would be a news conference at four o’clock that afternoon, and that’s all the information he had for her.
Would they learn the identity of the man who had confessed during the press conference? Had Matt or Adam walked into the police station and turned himself in?
Waiting was a study in torture. Monica went back to Jake’s office to work on her podcast for that evening and he once again found himself pacing restlessly as he waited for the news conference. He hoped this was the end. This had been a burden on his soul since the very first murder. He couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if that particular weight was finally lifted.
It didn’t escape him that a new burden had been carved into his heart, and that was his feelings for Monica. When she left, there was no question she’d leave a huge hole and memories of what life might have been like if he’d made a different decision on the night of Suzanna’s murder.
At four o’clock they were both back in the living room and seated on the sofa with the television tuned to a local channel that would broadcast the news conference.
A red banner appeared at the bottom of the picture, announcing breaking news. On the screen a lectern appeared and police officers began to fill the space. Chief of Police James Donahue stepped up to a lectern.
James Donahue was a popular man in Kansas City. He was a big man with a burly chest and a head full of snow-white hair. He was beloved not only by the officers who worked beneath him, but also the people of the city. He was known as a straight shooter who didn’t give a damn about politics.
“I’d like to begin by introducing the officers who have been working around the clock on the Vigilante Killer case. When I call your name please step forward. Detective Chuck Baker...”
As the officers were called forward, Jake glanced over at Monica, who was chewing on her index
fingernail as she leaned forward and watched the television. “Nail,” he said softly.
“Right,” she replied, and dropped her hand to her lap.
“This morning a man walked into the North Patrol and turned himself in, claiming he was the Vigilante Killer,” Donahue said. “After questioning this individual at length, we believe he is who he claims to be.”
Reporters began shouting questions. Donahue held up in his hands in an effort to quiet everyone and then he continued, “The man is forty-year-old Grant Timmons and we are still determining motive. That’s it, folks. I am not taking questions at this time.”
He left the lectern with reporters shouting questions. The channel went back to regular programming and then a local reporter came back on screen with an interview with one of Timmons’s coworkers.
“Of course we were all stunned to find out about Grant, but we also knew he seemed to be struggling a bit in his personal life. He lost his parents in a car accident about three months ago and he wasn’t the same after that.” The reporter spoke to the man for another few minutes and then regular programming returned. Jake lowered the volume on the TV.
It wasn’t Adam and it wasn’t Matt. Jake was positively stunned.
“Grant Timmons. Do you know him?” Monica asked.
Jake frowned. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Let me see what I can pull up about him on the computer,” she said, and jumped up off the sofa.
“My laptop is in the kitchen. Why don’t you bring it in here?”
As she went to retrieve the computer, he racked his brain for any memory of a Grant Timmons. If he really was the killer, then why had he killed the perps of the men who had been in their murder pact? Why had he come after him and Monica? It didn’t make sense.
Monica returned with the laptop and placed it on the coffee table before them. Her fingers danced over the keys and within moments she had a picture of Grant Timmons pulled up.
The photo was on a law firm site where Grant was listed as a paralegal. Jake leaned forward and studied the picture of the dark-haired man.
“He looks vaguely familiar,” he said slowly.
“Is it possible he went to the Northland Survivor Group, too?” Monica asked.
“Maybe. I’m thinking maybe he sat in the meetings and never interacted with anyone. We had several men who never introduced themselves or spoke at the meetings. But I can’t be sure that the guy I’m thinking about and this Grant are the same person.”
“Surely the police wouldn’t come out publicly and name the subject without vetting the story,” she said.
She was right. The authorities had to have found some kind of corroborating evidence that proved Grant Timmons was, indeed, the Vigilante Killer. Otherwise they wouldn’t have held that press conference.
Thank God he hadn’t said anything to the police about Matt or Adam. If he had he could have potentially ruined the life of an innocent man.
“So I guess it’s really over,” he said. “I’m sorry you weren’t the one to break the big story.”
She shrugged. “There will always be another story at another time. I’m just glad the killer is behind bars and you and I don’t have any bullet holes in our body.”
“That is definitely a good thing. So, I guess since we don’t have to do our middle-of-the-night surveillance we can go star-watching tonight to celebrate.”
“I can’t wait. And then tomorrow morning I guess I’ll pack up my things and move back home.” She looked at him as if waiting for him to say something, anything, that would change things.
But he couldn’t choose to change his future. It had been decided for him on the night he’d made a selfish choice that had resulted in the brutal death of his sister.
* * *
IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL, clear night and at midnight Jake came out of his bedroom wearing jeans, a T-shirt and one of his black blazers.
“Are you wearing your gun?” she asked in surprise.
“I am.”
“But with the killer behind bars surely we don’t have anything to worry about.”
“It’s just a precaution. I’m not thinking about the Vigilante Killer, but I am thinking maybe I should have it with me just in case the drive-by shooting at your house was either the work of gang members or even Larry Albright.”
“I don’t think it was either of those. I can’t help but believe it was the work of the killer.”
“But why? Why would he go after the two of us? We weren’t anywhere close to outing him. Neither of us knew him.”
She held his gaze and frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think we’ll ever know the answer to that question, but I guess the gun is a good thing. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” she replied.
“My thought exactly. Besides, when I go downtown at this time of night I always carry.”
Minutes later they left his house for his job site.
Although she was looking forward to the night activity of stargazing, overall she was depressed. It wasn’t the loss of a big story that had her disheartened; rather, it was the loss of something she’d thought would be wonderful, something she’d somehow thought would happen with Jake.
She’d believed he might be in love with her. She’d thought she’d seen it in his gaze and felt it in his touches. She’d tasted it in his kisses and yet he hadn’t said anything to stop the plan of her going home in the morning. And she’d given him a perfect opportunity to do just that.
That upset her far more than not getting the story. She couldn’t believe how much she’d changed, how her priorities had shifted since Jake had come into her life.
When they had first met, they had been just alike in their assertions that work was enough, that they didn’t want or need anything else in their lives. She was still passionate about her work, but she also had a passion to have Jake in her life forever.
“You’re very quiet,” he now said, pulling her from her thoughts.
“I’ve just been thinking about everything that has happened since I so rudely shoved my way into your life,” she replied.
He flashed her a quick grin. “It’s definitely been a wild ride.”
“Definitely,” she replied. She’d been kissed and shot at, she’d feared for Jake’s life and her own, and through it all she’d fallen in love.
“How often did you and Suzanna go stargazing?” she asked. She needed talk to keep her brain off the emotions that were far too close to the surface.
“Not that often. Maybe once every six weeks or so. It always depended on the weather and the cloud cover and how busy we were with our personal lives and what building was in a state to allow us to go up in the beams,” he replied.
“Tonight looks like a perfect night. There isn’t a cloud in the sky.”
“That’s supposed to change. Storms are supposed to move in sometime before morning.”
“Then thank goodness we didn’t wait any later to come out, and hopefully we’ll have time before anything moves in.” She looked out the passenger window. The houses they passed were dark and there were few cars on the road.
It was nice to know they were on their way to see nature’s beauty and not going to spy on a man they thought was a killer.
She turned to look at Jake, loving the way the dash light illuminated his handsome features. There was a faint five o’clock shadow on his jaw and it only added to his attractiveness.
“Will this be painful for you?” she asked softly.
“What would be painful?”
“You’re taking me to a place where you always took your twin sister.” She watched his features closely and relaxed when a soft smile curved his lips.
“When we get up there, will I remember times spent with Suzanna? Absolutely. But they will be good memories about her life.”
“And when we get up there, I want
you to share more of Suzanna with me.” For a moment she wondered if she’d pushed him too far, but he smiled once again.
“I’d like that.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence. She released a soft sigh. Her heart was going to be completely crushed when she packed up her things and left his house in the morning.
It wouldn’t be because she didn’t want to go home; rather, it was because his house had become her home. She didn’t want her time with him to end. But he’d never wavered from his declaration that his desire was to spend his life alone.
She’d been such a fool to allow her emotions to get so tangled up with him. Still, there was a tiny nugget of hope in her heart that when tomorrow morning came, he’d confess that he was in love with her and ask her to stay with him forever.
Dammit, she hadn’t imagined him falling in love with her. She hadn’t misread his soft glances, the caring touch of his embraces and the desire that still simmered between them like unfinished business. She knew in her heart he was in love with her. What she didn’t know was why he would deny himself her love.
When they reached the job site, Jake parked and they both got out of the car. She looked up at the huge skeletal structure silhouetted against the night sky and lit slightly by the streetlights in the area.
“Seeing it in the daytime and at night are two very different things,” she said.
“I guess it could be seen as being a bit scary at night,” he agreed.
She wasn’t about to admit to him how nervous heights made her. She didn’t ride the Ferris wheels at carnivals and she’d never chosen to go to a lookout point that was a cliff hanging in the air. But she believed she’d be fine as long as he was by her side.
“We’ll go up to the sixteenth floor. The beams on that floor are about two feet wide,” he said.
Two feet wide? Twenty-four inches wide? That didn’t sound so reassuring. “Isn’t there a floor where the beams are at least six feet wide?” she asked.
Desperate Measures Page 13
