“Why did you want to meet for lunch?” he asked abruptly. “You said it was important.”
“One BBQ with fries and one tuna salad.” Their waitress set the plates before them.
An uneasy silence fell as the waitress left. In the background, an Eric Church song played.
Shelly picked up her fork and bit into the tuna, too nervous to taste it. After a couple of bites and a sip of tea, she answered his question. “I need your help. Someone’s been in our house.”
He frowned. “You think it’s the same man who bothered you at the grocery store?”
“I think so. We’re out some jewelry, some coins—”
“When did this happen?”
Uh-oh. She shouldn’t have mentioned the missing valuables. “A few nights ago, but the important thing—”
“You were robbed days ago and you’re just now telling me? You haven’t even filed a report yet.”
“I was going to. But then you were busy with your mom and—”
“That’s bullshit.”
Several heads turned their way in the crowded deli.
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “I have something to tell you and I don’t want anyone else to hear.”
Tillman raised a hand and signaled the waitress. “Two to-go boxes,” he said. He faced her again. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s not much privacy in Bayou La Siryna.”
Five minutes later, they were seated in his cruiser.
“I feel like a criminal,” Shelly said, watching people glance their way as they passed. “Everyone probably thinks I’m in trouble.” She took a deep breath. “Actually, I am in trouble. What’s scary isn’t what’s been stolen—it’s what the man left behind.” She pulled the baggie from her purse, hesitating slightly. She risked not only serious legal entanglements, but her lies and half-truths could also destroy a relationship that, so far, had only lasted all of a week.
Who was she kidding? It could never work out. She couldn’t spend her life in constant fear of discovery. She took a deep breath and handed over the panties.
Tillman’s eyes widened as he took it. “What the hell?”
“I found this on my bed. There’s semen on them.”
His face was grim, stoic. “Is this underwear yours?”
“No. And they don’t belong to my cousins, either.”
“You sure one of them didn’t borrow your bedroom to fool around with some guy?”
“Positive. And—there’s more. He left a note.”
“Show it to me.”
Shelly produced a second baggie from her purse. “It came speared on a dead fish.”
“Jesus.” Tillman smoothed the plastic and read it aloud.
“I know what you are. You have something that belongs to me. I’ll email in 48 hours for instructions on where to meet. You better bring it, bitch. Next time it’s a knife through your fucking heart.”
“What the hell?” He turned the note over and held it to the light. “You say it was thrown in your window?”
“When I was home alone last night. I expect another email from him tomorrow.”
He said nothing, just kept looking at her with those smoky-gray eyes as if dissecting her under a microscope. “Shouldn’t you be doing something?” she asked breathlessly, waving an arm in the air.
He leaned back in the car seat. “Not until I get all the facts.”
“What else do you need to know?”
“Everything.” Tillman suddenly leaned forward, his face inches from her own. “Everything,” he repeated, with an intensity that made those gray eyes a darker shade of gunmetal. “Because you aren’t even close.”
Shelly licked her lips and her breath came out slightly above a whisper. “I’m not?” She couldn’t help remembering the last time his eyes had darkened, as he’d laid his body over hers on the massage table. They’d been dark with passion then. Now they blazed with either anger or impatience. She couldn’t be sure which. Maybe a little of both.
“No, you are not.”
His words were too controlled, too neutral. What had she done to turn him from the warm, passionate man whose kisses had made her sleepless with longing these past nights? She thought he’d be beside himself with concern for her safety, despite their last meeting. If only she could trust him.
Shelly composed her features to betray nothing of the hurt burning in her gut. “What more do you need to know? I gave you the only things I have that are concrete.” Shelly was astonished how easy the lies came. Self-preservation will do that for a person, she supposed, but she didn’t want to become that kind of woman. Tillman either trusted her or he didn’t. “Can’t you trace him from the fingerprints on there? Or monitor our computers for his email?”
If he thought he could unnerve her with this silence, he was dead wrong. Still, she breathed easier when his attention returned to the note.
“My guess is we’ll find that the email account is from an anonymous remailer website.”
“What does that mean?”
“That we can’t know who mailed it or from what computer it was sent.”
A chill settled in her stomach. She glanced involuntarily at her watch and imagined the ticktock of the killer’s deadline approaching.
“Just what kind of trouble are you in, Shelly?”
“I don’t know! You saw the note.” Shelly almost winced at the shrillness of her voice.
“I’m trying to help you,” Tillman said.
“Really? ’Cause that’s not how you’re acting.”
He let out a long sigh. “Let’s take this line by line. First. ‘I know what you are.’ He doesn’t say who you are but what you are.”
“I know what it says.”
“Unusual choice of words.”
“Agreed.”
Tillman raised an eyebrow. “Any idea what that means?”
“How should I know?”
“Let’s just say your cousin Lily has a little—shall we say—reputation around town. Perhaps this person thinks you do, too.”
“How dare you!” Shelly’s fists knotted at her side. “Lily’s the kindest, the sweetest, the—”
Tillman held up a hand. “Calm down. We’re just getting started here.”
She wanted to smack his hard, cold face. This was a side of Tillman she hadn’t seen before. All cool professionalism with no hint of concern or warmth.
“Moving on,” he continued in an implacable voice. “You must have some idea what he’s talking about when he says you have something that belongs to him.”
“No,” she said at once, but realized she might have spoken a tad too soon when he scowled. She should have been prepared to answer such an obvious question, but she had been counting on his sympathy. He acted as if she was no more special to him than any of the other several thousand residents of Bayou La Siryna. The realization was like a sucker punch to the gut. Shelly closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see her vulnerability.
Think, think.
“Could be the stalker believes I belong to him.”
At his blank stare, she elaborated. “In a sexual way. In his twisted mind, I’m a sex object and he wants me to—you know—give it up for him.”
“Jesus.” Tillman stared at her intently, an undecipherable look in his eyes.
Shelly wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull her close to him—or shake her.
“I need to have these tested right away. And I’ve got Lily waiting on me as we speak.”
“What?” A burst of jealousy shot through her body like poison. All it took was one look from Lily and she could have any man she wanted. One damn look...
“I have to question her.” He hesitated. “May as well tell you, she will, anyway, when you get home. I got an anonymous tip today that Lily is our serial killer.”
“That’s ridiculous! She would never—”
Tillman held up a hand. “I’m not saying she is. But I have to question her all the same. Now that you’ve given me this—” he tapped the evidenc
e “—I have to wonder if your stalker is actually the serial killer and if his real target is Lily. Maybe he sent that tip to draw suspicion away from himself.”
Shelly’s breath caught. “Everyone confuses us. It’s me. He’s after me. He assumed my name was Lily.” She bit her lip. Remember who you’re talking to.
“What are you talking about?” Tillman grabbed her shoulder. “What’s going on, Shelly? I want the truth. I don’t know yet if the person who robbed and stalked you is the killer. One glaring loophole in my guess is that it makes no sense for the killer to leave incriminating evidence like he’s shown me.”
Shelly shuddered under his intense scrutiny. “Maybe he’s plain crazy and sloppy.”
“Let’s slow down a minute. It may be that the killer and the person stalking you aren’t the same person.”
“But it’s such a coincidence. The stalker was in our house last night and today you get a message about Lily as a suspect in the killings.”
“I’m not a big believer in coincidence myself.” His eyes softened, grew closer to the way she remembered him that night. “I’m worried about you, Shelly. I’m going to make sure your house is patrolled at night.”
“Maybe you’ll catch him when he comes back.”
“You seem sure he will.”
“He will.”
Tillman drew back. “How can you be so sure of his behavior? The other victims weren’t stalked before being killed. And they were prostitutes. I don’t see any similarity in their cases and yours. The MO is different.”
Shelly bit her lip. “Call it women’s intuition.”
“I don’t believe in that, either.” He raked a hand in his hair. “Damn it, Shelly, you aren’t telling me the whole truth.”
Shelly opened her mouth to speak, but this time the lies wouldn’t come. “Please,” she said, “try to have a little faith in me.”
“Why should I when you won’t trust me with the truth?” He growled in frustration before reaching across her and opening the passenger door. “I’ve got to get this evidence turned in and talk to your cousin. I’m going to swing by tonight. We’ll talk.”
Easing her legs out until she hit pavement, Shelly gave him a wobbly smile. “You make that sound like a threat. Is this when you warn me not to leave town?”
“Oh, it’s most definitely a threat.” He didn’t crack a smile in return. “And you will tell me everything you know. No more secrets.”
Chapter 10
Who can you trust
What do you believe
When faith turns to dust
And love becomes need.
Tillman entered his office where Carl sat at his desk, Lily across from him. He looked uncomfortable. Probably wanted to whittle but worried that wielding his knife in front of a person of interest could be construed as threatening, however casually it was done.
“Sheriff.” Carl stood. “I believe you’ve met Miss Lily Bosarge?”
Tillman nodded at her. “Leave us, Carl,” he said, taking a seat at his desk.
“Sheriff, why am I here?” She was composed, not at all shaken or surprised. She looked like a scoop of cool vanilla cream with her long blond hair and white linen skirt and blouse.
“I understand you had an incident at your home last night.”
“Oh. So you’ve seen Shelly today?”
“I have.” Best to take it slow, see what he could dig up. “She told me y’all were robbed.”
“She wasn’t supposed to—” Lily broke off.
“Wasn’t supposed to what? Tell me all the details?” Tillman fought against showing his annoyance. What was it with these women and their secrecy?
Lily gave a delicate shrug of one shoulder. “So why am I here?”
He countered with a question of his own. “You want to file a robbery report?”
“No.” She gave a small sigh. “I don’t think it would do any good.”
“Have that much faith in my office, do you?”
“Don’t take it personally.”
This woman’s calmness was maddening. There was something a little off about Lily. She was too remote, too calm. She was beautiful, no denying that, and it was easy to see why she had her pick of men around town. But she didn’t have Shelly’s fire and passion. “You’ll have to file a report for insurance purposes.”
Lily gave another maddening shrug. “We’ll see.”
“But that’s not why I called you here.”
She looked only mildly curious.
“I got a letter this morning incriminating you in the serial killings around Bayou La Siryna.”
For the first time since he’d met Lily, Tillman glimpsed real emotion. Her impossibly blue eyes widened and her glossed lips parted in surprise. “Me?”
Tillman picked up a paper. “Here’s a copy.”
Lily read it quickly. She crumpled it into a little ball and threw it in the trash can by the side of his desk. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t think I’m the murderer.”
“Why do you think I got this letter? You know anyone who’d want to deliberately hurt you?”
She shook her head, golden hair flashing like a halo in the slit of sunlight from the window. About the same length as the hair found on China’s body, Tillman couldn’t help noticing. Was Shelly protecting her cousin? He’d find out tonight.
“Must be a silly prank.”
“From a jealous wife or girlfriend, perhaps?”
She blinked. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“Just getting to the bottom of things. Is anyone angry or threatening to harm you?”
“Not that I know of.”
Tillman leaned back, hands behind his head. He’d have to watch her inscrutable face closely for reactions. “Tell me, Miss Bosarge, do you recall where you were on the night of September fifth?”
She raised the tip of one long pink nail and tapped it against her lips. “I worked at the salon until six o’clock, came home, got ready for a date with Gary—”
Tillman took out a pen and paper. “Gary who?”
“Gary Armstrong. Then I—”
“Is he someone you’re currently seeing?”
“No. I broke it off a couple of days ago. Too possessive.”
“And how did Armstrong take the rejection?”
“Hurt, I guess. But no big deal. We hadn’t been seeing each other long.”
“He have a wife or a girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend.”
“Her name?”
“Wanda something.”
Tillman scribbled it down. He would check with Gary later.
“Any bad scenes between you and the ex-girlfriend?”
“She called me crying one night, all upset. I told her Gary wasn’t anything special, nothing to get upset about.”
“And that’s when you dropped your relationship with Armstrong?”
Lily smiled faintly. “No. I hadn’t found a replacement for him yet.”
Was she joking? Hard to tell. No wonder she did nothing for him. Lily was cold-blooded as a fish and ruthless as a shark.
Carl stuck his head in the door. “Coffee’s ready. Can I get y’all anything to drink?”
“Water, please, Mr. Dismukes.” Lily turned the charm of her smile on the old deputy. Carl melted like a marshmallow over a fire.
“What else can I get for you, Miss Bosarge? Anything you want.”
“Water’s fine.”
Lily faced Tillman again, mouth upturned in a sly grin. Her long legs, crossed at the knees, began slowly rocking. He must have been the only man in the bayou not under her spell.
“Back to the night of September fifth. You’d come home, got ready for your date—”
“Right. I had a late supper with Shelly and Jet and then Gary picked me up to go to a nightclub in Mobile.”
“What time?”
“It was pretty late.”
“I’ll need you to be a little more specific.”
“About ten o’clock.”
<
br /> Carl returned with bottled water, presenting it with a boyish eagerness. Tillman waited until Carl left the room before resuming.
“Do you know Melkie Pellerin?”
Lily scrunched her face slightly. “Melkie Pellerin.” She rolled the name around her mouth in slow deliberation before shaking her head. “Is that a male name?”
“Yes. Ring any bells?”
“It’s an unusual name. I’d remember if I’d heard it before.”
Tillman nodded and said nothing, hoping the silence might make Lily uncomfortable enough to want to talk and fill the void.
The silence stretched on. Lily kept her impassive eyes on his, never moving a muscle or showing any trace of wariness.
Lily was one cool customer.
Her glossy lips curved upward a fraction as she rose. “If there are no more questions?”
“That’s all for now.” He stood also. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some fingerprints and hair samples from you before you go.”
Lily retrieved her purse from the back of the chair. “No,” she said simply.
“Why not?”
“I don’t need a reason. Unless you arrest me, I have the right to refuse.”
“True. But if you have nothing to hide I don’t see why you won’t do it.”
“If that’s all?” Lily asked, pausing at the doorway.
Tillman sighed. “Go on. I’ll be by your house this evening to speak with Shelly.”
The moment Lily exited, Carl returned.
“I want the Bosarge house watched 24/7. Effective immediately,” he informed Dismukes.
“For their protection or for suspicious activity?”
“Both.”
“That’s stretching us pretty thin. We already have one officer tailing Pellerin.”
They walked over to the personnel board and looked at the manpower available by shift. Most officers were dedicated to county jail posts, all positions mandatory for safe operation at the correctional facility. It didn’t allow much leeway.
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