The Steve Williams Series Boxed Set

by J. E. Taylor

  “Fuck.”

  His phone was now useless and he looked around the apartment before crumbling in the chair behind his computer. He stared at the cell phone, unwilling to do a full inspection of the electronic device for fear of tipping Charlie off. Instead, he went back to the closet and rummaged on the shelf again, tucking the scanner away and pulling out the extra disposable phone he had for just this situation. For all he knew, Charlie could even be recording text messages and key strokes.

  With the television switched on for background noise, he opened his laptop and constructed the details of his day along with the warning that his phone was compromised and the secondary precaution was now in place. The reaction was immediate. Both Jerry and Jack insisted that he call them right away and he declined both requests. His fingers flew over the keyboard with his response.

  If I call you right now, I’ll be in deep shit. I have to act like nothing happened for a couple of days; otherwise, I’m a dead man. He has the tap on my cell phone and I’m sure he’s got another tail on me.

  I’m aware of the magnitude of what happened today, but I want an airtight case, Jack. I don’t want any chance of compromise and right now, I’m afraid it could be. I might not be your best witness, especially after following Charlie’s orders today. Any good lawyer could cast reasonable doubt if given all the facts and I don’t want that bastard to have any latitude to plea bargain.

  Besides, with this under my belt, if I can stay cool I might get lucky. He did mention mafia ties. Give me until New Year’s. If we don’t have more to pin on the fucker, I’ll personally bust him for all the charges we have stacked against him. Okay?

  In the meantime, I want to know who the fuck Lefty is and why we didn’t know about him. He said there was someone else, another informant, and we need to find out who before Charlie does, otherwise we’ll have another dead body on our hands.

  And yeah, I know. That dead body could be mine.

  Chapter 41

  Steve glanced at the calendar on his desk. Two days away from Christmas and nothing had happened since the Lefty incident. In fact, Charlie had left him alone since then and Steve turned his attention to his window and the falling snow against the darkening city backdrop.

  “Want to catch a drink?”

  Steve shot a startled glance over his shoulder at Charlie. “I need to hit the gym.”

  “Where do you work out?”

  “Gold’s Gym near the apartment.”

  “Tell you what: we’ve got a gym in my apartment building. We can work out, and then we can grab a drink.”

  Steve swiveled the chair around. The last thing he wanted tonight was another Charlie conversation. That usually led to snorting cocaine or having a gun pressed to his forehead, but instead of declining, he nodded.

  “Good, cause we need to talk.” His casual tone belied the hardness of his stare and Steve swallowed the sudden lump of fear in his throat.

  “About what?” he asked and shut his computer down. Crossing the office, he grabbed his gym bag stashed behind the door and followed a silent Charlie to the elevator.

  “Where’s the beeamer?” Charlie asked when they stepped out into the garage.

  “It sucks in the snow,” he answered and slid into the passenger seat of the SUV and tossed his bag on the floor. “What’d you want to discuss?”

  Charlie’s silence unnerved him and he watched the downtown buildings transition to mid-town as they navigated the city streets, shooting uptown on Broadway. He pulled into his building, electing not to use the valet. “We can talk after the workout,” Charlie finally said and stepped out of the car.

  The gym encompassed the two floors above the lobby and included state of the art equipment as well as a sauna. Charlie dropped Steve in the locker room. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He waved to the suit and excused himself.

  Steve changed, stowing his suit and bag in a locker the attendant gave him and stepped into the equipment room. He headed toward the Nautilus weight training stations and took a seat, beginning his weight routine.

  Charlie took a seat next to Steve a few minutes later. “How many reps in are you?” he asked.

  Steve froze mid-lift, his gaze riveted to the ornate tattoo on the inside of Charlie’s right arm. The spitting image of Jennifer’s drawing. He had to force himself to finish his repetition and not launch through the distance and beat Charlie to death. His mouth went dry and his mind raced, filtering through the timings of each and every attack, including hers. He forced a swallow and raised his eyes to Charlie’s. “Just a couple,” he answered. His grip tightened on the weight bar and he finished his repetitions while his mind whirled. “Nice tattoo. When’d you get that?”

  Charlie looked at the artwork that graced his arm. “A couple of days before my brother died.”

  “Ah,” he said, wiping his hands on the towel. “Pretty detailed artwork there.”

  Charlie smiled and went back to his repetitions. “You interested in getting a tattoo?”

  He shook his head. “I have a needle phobia. Just can’t get my mind around that.”

  “You said that about your nose as well. You seemed to have gotten over that pretty quickly,” he said and Steve stood to move on to the treadmill.

  “Needles are different,” he answered and started up the tread, slowly increasing speed until he was jogging at an eight-minute mile clip. He stared at the television set hanging in front of him but he didn’t see the stories unfolding across the screen. Instead, his mind was picking at everything he knew about the crime scenes, every last detail of Jennifer’s attack.

  The only thing that didn’t add up was the deliveryman with the dark curly hair. He didn’t think it was Charlie in disguise but he couldn’t be sure. He bit the side of his lip, dissecting the memory. The height and build correlated, but the voice didn’t. Neither did the dark stubble. His light hair just didn’t coincide with the memory, but he hadn’t been in the office that morning either and he showed up awfully damn fast at the hospital.

  Steve took a deep breath to calm the fury boiling under his skin. He closed his eyes and forced himself to mentally step back and assess the situation, without the emotions.

  Did Charlie fit the profile?

  Violent. Check.

  Objectifies women. Check

  Superiority complex. Check.

  Can I account for his whereabouts during any of the attacks?

  Steve chewed on the inside of his lip, digging backwards in his memory, and came up empty. No, he couldn’t account for Charlie’s whereabouts.

  But, why would he risk all he’s built?

  Charlie was militant about the business and that’s where the facts began to fall apart. Steve slowed and shot a glance at Charlie, who had climbed on the treadmill next to him while he did his silent assessment.

  “Desiree tells me you and Jennifer are coming by tomorrow night.”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

  “So are we.” He stopped the treadmill, shifting his weight from foot to foot for a minute before stepping off and stretching, his mind still grappling with the new information in his arsenal.

  “I’m heading for the showers. I’ll meet you in the lobby,” Steve said and crossed to the locker room. The steamy shower calmed his jumpy nerves, soothing the anger nearly bursting every cell in his body.

  Could Charlie be the fucking Slasher? How the hell could I miss that?

  * * * *

  Charlie straightened when Steve stepped out of the glass doors leading to the lobby and led the way to his apartment. Steve’s heart pumped faster than normal, fueled by the thoughts swarming in his mind. For the first time, he stepped into Charlie’s apartment and looked around, making a silent mental note of the absence of plastic lining the floors. He relaxed as much as his adrenaline would allow and scanned the room with appreciation. The living room donned an eighty-two inch flat-screen mounted above a gas fireplace. Surround sound wireless spea
kers graced every corner of the room and he imagined the acoustics would be near theater quality. The plush leather couches looked inviting and in the far corner, just before the sliders to the terrace, sat an amply stocked bar.

  Charlie pointed to the sofa. “I’ll be out in a few. Make yourself comfortable.” With that, he disappeared.

  Steve stood, scanning the room, memorizing and analyzing. It was pristine, not what he envisioned for a bachelor. Walking through the room, he noted the neatly stacked and arranged magazines. The combination of Entertainment Weekly along with Architectural Digest surprised him. At least he didn’t have Penthouse on the coffee table. The mahogany desk opposite the bar piqued his interest and he gave a quick glance down the hallway where Charlie disappeared and crossed to the desk. He scanned the calendar, fanning the pages back a few months, looking for anything that would clear him.

  Nothing. No clandestine meetings noted on the dates, no out of town reminders, nothing. Steve bit the inside of his lip, harnessing the growing ferocity gripping him. Visions of Jennifer lying on the floor of his apartment snapped off in his head and he inhaled, returning his focus to the desk. Nothing on the desk set off any internal alarms and he glanced at the drawers, pausing. Pretending to study the architecture of the room, his trained eye breezed right over the hidden camera in the ceiling before falling back on the desk. Charlie was watching. Shit.

  He sat in the plush leather desk chair, running his hands over the arms in appreciation. Spinning it around toward the terrace, he looked at the cityscape. With a deep breath, he stood and headed toward the bar, praying he did a convincing job for the camera. Behind the matching mahogany face, he found a refrigerator full of beer. “Corona.” At least he has good taste. He also found already-sliced limes and raised an eyebrow. He grabbed a bottle and a sliced lime and was searching for the bottle opener when Charlie came back into the living room.

  “I see you found the alcohol.”

  “Yeah, but where the hell is the bottle opener?”

  Charlie pointed at the back of the bar.

  Steve turned and grabbed the gold plated bottle opener that hung from the back wall. He popped the top of the beer and pushed the lime in before taking a long draw with his back to Charlie. “The guy who attacked Jennifer had a similar tattoo,” he said without turning. His gaze landing on the mirrored image of Charlie.

  Charlie blinked and his mouth popped open, his gaze dropping to his covered arm and then back to Steve’s reflection. His head cocked to the side and his eyebrows drew together in confusion. After a moment, he closed his mouth.

  “And?” he asked once his composure returned.

  Steve turned, meeting his gaze. “You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?” he asked and wasn’t sure the sudden display of shock on Charlie’s face was real.

  Shock transitioned to confusion and Steve stared him down, wondering if Charlie really was that good an actor. Doubt wrapped around his gut as he kept Charlie’s gaze.

  “Did they catch him?” Charlie said, trying to piece together sections of a puzzle he didn’t have all the parts to.

  “No,” Steve answered and he mentally reviewed Charlie’s reaction. There were no tells, no concrete signs that gave any indication Charlie was the one who attacked Jennifer and he sighed, pulling his temper back into control. “Sorry,” he added. “Your tattoo just set me off. The fact the asshole is still out there burns the hell out of me.” Steve said and took another sip of beer.

  “You thought...” Charlie started and stopped, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. “I guess I’d be the same way if Jennifer was my girl,” he said and leaned on the side of his desk.

  The mention of her name almost released the raving beast and Steve raised an eyebrow. Easy now. “I want to be the one to find the bastard,” Steve said. “But that’s not what you wanted to talk to me about, was it?”

  “No.” Charlie shifted. “Are you really ready to marry Jennifer?”

  “I don’t have the same commitment phobia that you do.” He pointed the neck of his bottle in Charlie’s direction.

  “So, you’re ready to commit to her forever just because she’s pregnant?”

  Steve nodded. “It’s not just because of the pregnancy, either.”

  Charlie paused. “In that case.” He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to him.

  He opened the card and stared at the enclosed check. All thought ceased—the tattoo, the Slasher, the drugs—all of it drowned by the figures on the check. He blinked and then his eyebrows arched and his jaw dropped before he shot his gaze to Charlie. “What’s this?”

  “A wedding gift.”

  He cleared his throat. “You’re giving me a million dollars as a wedding gift?”

  Charlie smiled, visibly pleased at the reaction. “Think you can find a way to spend it?” he asked and retrieved a beer for himself.

  “I’m sure Jennifer can find half a dozen ways to spend the money.” He grinned, and his eyes lowered to the check. Money can be a pretty seductive bitch, Jack’s words echoed, and he certainly was right. Steve blinked again, his thoughts resuming along with a torrent of doubt.

  Does this fit the profile?

  “Find a nice house and use that as a down payment. Kids shouldn’t grow up in an apartment.”

  Speechless, he sat down on one of the overstuffed chairs, staring at the check while he drained his beer. “Thanks, Charlie.” He looked up at his boss, wondering again if the man was capable of doing the kind of damage he suspected. He looked back at the check, tucking it in the card and slipping it in his inside suit pocket. “But, why?”

  “Because you’re the closest thing I have to family.” Charlie took a seat. “No one else I know gives me shit like you do.” He shrugged it off and stared at his beer. “It’s been a long time since I had a friend.” He glanced at Steve.

  The shock of Charlie’s answer wrapped around the flurry in his mind, soothing the fury and forming a slight chuckle in the back of his throat. “Same here.” He tapped his bottle against Charlie’s and finished the last of the beer.

  Chapter 42

  Steve stood in the wings of the theater, still dressed in his suit and staring into space, not seeing the chaos surrounding him.

  “Earth to Steve,” Jennifer said as she approached, watching his eyes focus on her. A slight smile form on his lips.

  “Hey. You about ready?” he yelled in her ear over the applause.

  Jennifer nodded.

  Steve was unusually quiet and self-absorbed on the subway ride and she tilted her head as they stepped off in Brooklyn, a block from the apartment. When he remained quiet in their enclosed apartment, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning an envelope over in his hands, she spoke up. “What’s eating you?”

  He handed her the envelope.

  She pulled the card out, smiling at the sweet sentiment on the front. When she opened it, the check slipped. She caught it and stared at the amount. “Holy shit.”

  “Our wedding gift.”

  She sat on the side of the bed next to him. “A million dollars?”

  He nodded. “I guess you could say I’m now in his ‘inner’ circle.” He made a quotation gesture with his hands when he said the word inner. “Charlie’s looking forward to Christmas Eve.” He glanced at her. “I’m not.”

  “This isn’t going to be an easy holiday, is it?”

  “Not the one I was hoping for.” He ran his hand over her stomach. “You’ve got that ultrasound tomorrow, right?”

  “Yes. Do you want to know the sex?”

  Steve shook his head. “No. I want to be surprised.”

  “Mister I-want-to-be-prepared-for-everything doesn’t want to know what sex of his child?” she teased without looking away from the check. Her eyes were glued to the amount they would never see a penny of.

  “That’s right. Some things are worth waiting for.” He stood and stripped his jacket off.

  “Since when have you waited for a
nything?” She stood and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, planting a kiss on his lips. “What are you going to do with this?” She waved the check at him.

  “Give it to Jack. It’ll go into the account where the rest of my paychecks from Charlie go.”

  Jennifer pulled away. “Where does that go?” She’d always assumed they’d been living off the funds in some way.

  “Charity,” he said. “I got to choose where I wanted the money to go.”

  “What’d you choose?”

  “St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital and the New York City Food Pantry and Homeless Shelters.”

  She smiled at her husband and leaned up, gently kissing his soft lips, inviting the kiss to become more.

  Chapter 43

  Steve stared at the images on the ultrasound screen, trying to make out anything familiar as the technician ran the wand over Jennifer’s stomach.

  “There’s one heart.” Marney, the ultrasound technician, pointed at a small fluttering blob on the screen. “And over here is the second one.” She pointed to another fluttering blob.

  “Excuse me?” he interrupted. “Two hearts?”

  Marney turned and smiled. “You’re having twins,” she said. “See?” She pointed the two separate bodies out on the screen.

  They exchanged glances then looked back at the monitor as Marney traced each form for them. Like those three dimensional picture puzzles, one minute the screen was a bunch of black and white blobs and with a blink, the screen cleared and he could make out two distinct forms. “Hot damn, look at that.” His lips spread into a dimple-clad grin. “Are they identical?”

  Marney glanced at the monitor. “It looks like they each have their own sac, so I don’t think so. It looks more like fraternal twins.” She pointed out the ghost of a line showing the separate sacs. “Do you want to know the sexes?”

  “No,” they said in unison.