“So, you caught the killer?” Confusion echoed in Jamie’s voice.
“Um. No. We didn’t. Not yet. But we’ve gotten the girls reunited with their families. All except Sydney Carter, and unfortunately, even though we haven’t found her body yet, Veronica and Julienna say that Danny killed her.”
A long pause.
“Jamie? Are you there?”
“I’m here. I’m just trying to figure out how to tell you something.”
Wariness crept up Samantha’s spine. “What? Just spit it out.” Dread slipped through her. “Oh no, something’s happened to Tom, hasn’t it?”
“No, he’s fine. But yes, it’s something about Tom’s wound.”
“What about it?”
“I was here when the nurse came in to change the bandage early this morning. When I saw it yesterday, it raised a red flag for me, but I didn’t want to make a quick judgment. Now that I’ve had a better look, I’m pretty sure it’s self-inflicted.”
“Come again?”
Jamie sighed. “There’s no way someone attacked him with a knife and cut his arm the way it’s cut. Without going into great medical detail . . . well, just trust me when I say there’s no way. I’m talking about the angle, the position on the arm, the depth, everything shouts that he did it to himself.”
“But . . . but why?”
“I don’t know, Samantha, but it worries me.”
“Yeah. Me too. I’ve got to think about this. I’ll call you later. Let me know when you get home.”
“I’m home now. Tom checked himself out of the hospital a while ago.”
Samantha hung up, her movements automatic as she mulled over Jamie’s shocking news. Self-inflicted? Could . . . would Tom do that? And why?
Connor appeared in the doorway, his features haggard once again. Jenna stood by his side. She’d keep this phone call to herself. “Hey, did we get a picture of our guy?”
Connor and Jenna exchanged a frowning glance.
Samantha groaned. “Come on, guys, not more bad news, please?”
“Afraid so. We know who the killer is.”
“But that’s great! Why the long faces?”
Connor held up the paper, looked at it for a minute, then turned it around to face her.
And she gasped. Dark spots swirled before her eyes. It simply couldn’t be.
“Are you sure?”
Jenna nodded. Connor sighed.
Samantha stood. Feeling like she was moving in slow motion, she crossed the space between the table and the door, took the picture from Connor’s hand, and stared down at Tom Jackson’s handsome face.
31
Monday morning, gray clouds and thunderstorms greeted Samantha. There’d been no word on Tom’s location. It had been five weeks and no one had spotted him. Nothing had come of the latest news conference that aired last night asking for information on his whereabouts. The case was still being fully investigated. Tom Jackson’s face appeared on television each night.
And still nothing. Which didn’t really surprise Samantha. The man had a huge amount of resources at his disposal, including a multitude of disguises. Once they discovered it was Tom who was the perp, they’d gone back over the crime scene photos and she’d found him in almost every one.
He’d looked completely different each time. Even going so far as to use false teeth to change the shape of his mouth. She’d even found him dressed like a woman and wearing a wig with sunglasses in another.
Creepy.
She didn’t like the feeling of having to constantly keep watch, looking over her shoulder. She had no doubt the man who had killed those girls wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if she got in his way.
And she’d gotten in his way—big-time. Now she knew who she was on the lookout for. Thinking about Tom now still brought the same churning nausea to her stomach as it did when Connor had shown her the sketch artist picture.
He still had protection on his family. And Jamie didn’t know it, but she had someone watching her too. Just in case. Dakota Richards had volunteered for that duty when he wasn’t on the clock. Samantha smiled. She looked forward to seeing where that went.
Then she frowned again. Tom’s sister and brother were devastated, of course, to learn the brother who’d worked so hard for them, sacrificed so much to take care of them, was such an evil person. They’d willingly offered up their home to be searched, but Tom wasn’t there. It seemed he’d simply vanished.
Or was lying in wait.
In the meantime, Samantha kept tabs on the girls they’d found. Both Julienna and Veronica were in some intense counseling. Jenna seemed to have dealt with the situation remarkably well. But she looked at it in the sense that she’d gotten her dad back because of everything that had happened, and while she still had some nightmares about being locked in the room, she was moving on. Bradley probably was at least partly responsible for the bright new smile on the girl’s face.
Patty was still Patty and hung around Jenna as much as possible, even consenting to go to church occasionally.
Veronica was due to have her baby in a couple of weeks, and ironically, she’d decided to give it up for adoption. Samantha didn’t blame the girl. She’d been through so much, it was amazing she’d come through it as well as she had.
She and Connor had put their feelings for each other on hold while he spent almost every spare moment with Jenna. He’d let the lease on his apartment go and had moved in with his parents who had decided to relocate into a local retirement community when a vacancy came up. Much to Connor’s surprise, they were number one on the waiting list they’d signed over a year ago.
For now, Connor and Jenna would live in the house, which was big enough for all four of them, but his parents had decided to move and that was that. Connor had decided to put in his resignation with SLED and stay in Spartanburg with the police department. They had an opening for a detective and he took it.
And so, here Samantha sat on a chilly November morning, staring out her window, lost in thought, wondering what she was missing.
Where was Tom? Where would he go? Who would he go to for help? Who would be dumb enough to help him?
A headache started in the base of her skull. Samantha rubbed the back of her head and thought—and prayed.
Then a chill slid through her at a sudden idea, and she stilled, sat up, and started to smile.
She reached for the phone.
Connor flipped through the file sitting on the desk before him. Technically, everything about this case was finished and he should be ready to move on.
Except a serial killer still roamed the streets. Maybe not the same streets he was on as of five weeks ago, but he was still out there.
So the case wasn’t closed. Which was why Connor was still here.
His phone buzzed and he absently put it to his ear. Samantha’s excited voice caught his full attention, and as he listened, his own excitement grew to match hers.
He slapped the folder shut and rose from his seat to head into the sheriff’s office.
Samantha sat on Jamie’s couch and switched channels. CNN was running the story that had caught the nation’s attention. A reporter stood in front of Spartanburg Regional, microphone to her lips. “And now, an update on one of the girls who was snatched a little over ten months ago from her home here in Spartanburg, South Carolina.”
A voice off camera asked, “What have you got for us, Lori?”
“Well, I’ve just learned that Veronica Batson is here at the hospital ready to give birth. She’s five weeks early, so naturally precautions are being taken.”
“Have you been able to talk to the family today?”
“I spoke with Mrs. Batson, Veronica’s mother, just a few minutes ago, and she said Veronica was doing as well as could be expected. She’d been living practically in isolation since being found and rescued five weeks ago from the man, Tom Jackson, who kidnapped her.”
“Any word on Tom Jackson and where he might be hiding out?”
“No, no word on that. The police continue their search for this man, but as you know, he’s a former FBI agent and an expert with disguises. Unfortunately, he could be nearby and the police just don’t recognize him. Which brings me to another point. Parents, you need to keep tabs on your teenage daughters at all times and monitor their internet activity as well as cell phone conversations. It may seem a bit extreme, but Tom Jackson is very clever and very dangerous. Please take every caution to protect your child.”
“Thank you, Lori. Please keep us updated on Veronica’s condition. Oh, do you know if she plans to keep this child who was fathered while she was held prisoner?”
“The word is that she plans to place the child, that we now know to be a little boy, up for adoption. The adoptive parents are here now, but have asked to remain anonymous.”
“Certainly understandable in this bizarre situation. Again, thank you, Lori.” The camera returned to the newsroom where the slick-looking man smiled and said, “Please stay with us. We’ll have more after this.”
Samantha clicked the television off and sighed. They’d been doing reports from the hospital since after lunch. She looked at her watch.
Time to go. “Jamie?”
Jamie looked up from her laptop. A couple of weeks away from graduation, she worked nonstop making sure everything was in order. “Yes?”
“I’ve got to go. Is Dakota coming over for dinner tonight?”
“He said he was. Why?”
“Just checking.” She wiggled her brows. “So, how’s that going?”
A dimple peeked at Samantha when Jamie flashed a grin. “It’s going.”
Emotion caught her by surprise and Samantha had to swallow twice before she could speak. “I’m glad.”
Clouds appeared briefly in Jamie’s eyes, then were swept away. “I . . . haven’t told him anything yet.”
Samantha strode to her sister’s side. “And you don’t have to. Not until you’re ready.”
“I feel like I should tell him . . . something. I think he suspects something anyway. I tend to be a little . . . jumpy around him.”
Samantha gave Jamie a side hug. “In your own time, got it?”
“Got it.”
“Is he . . .” She paused, not sure whether she should ask.
“What?”
“Well, is he a Christian?”
Softness covered Jamie’s face. “Yes, he is. I think he’s got his own burdens that he’s carrying, but yes, he’s a believer.”
Relief swept Samantha. “I’m so glad.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run.”
“Where to?”
“To catch a killer.”
32
Tom Jackson, aka The Agent, strode down the hall, his breathing even, anticipation sweet. The small suitcase stuffed with newspaper rolled silently along behind him.
He snarled. Stupid cops had traced everything attached to his name and had frozen all of his funds. He couldn’t touch a dime of that money without them knowing it.
He needed this baby. Fortunately, the couple waiting to adopt little Veronica’s bundle of joy had never seen his face. So, it was simply a matter of walking into Veronica’s room, picking up the kid, getting out, meeting the couple, and grabbing his money. Of course he would have to deal with the little matter of the alarm on the brat’s arm, but that wasn’t anything a pair of scissors wouldn’t take care of.
Tugging on the lapel of the white coat, he smoothed it down, then adjusted the stethoscope around his neck. One of the nurses to his left caught his eye and smiled.
Another doctor swept past him with a nod.
Tom kept walking; confidence oozed with every step.
He stopped at the nurses’ desk. A well-built male looked up. “May I help you?”
“Veronica Batson’s room, please.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “And you are?”
“Dr. Ron Jessup. Since Veronica’s baby is premature, I’ve been called in as backup, to do the initial observation. Preemies are my specialty.”
Tom didn’t even flinch as the nurse studied his name badge. He’d been planning this moment for the last five weeks.
“Veronica just delivered. She’s in room 518.”
“Is the baby in there or the nursery?”
“He’s in the room with his mother.”
“Thanks.”
Tom rolled his suitcase behind him.
He stopped at room 518 and took a deep breath. He had no way of knowing how many people would be in the room. But he would ask them all to leave, take a break, whatever, while he examined the baby. Then he’d kill Veronica—she’d be an easy, weak victim of suffocation—put the child in the suitcase, and be on his way to collect his money.
He pushed open the door and stopped. The room was empty save the rolling crib on the far side of the bed, and a young girl in the bed with her back to the door. Jet black curls rested on the pillow. She had the sheet pulled up around her. She stirred, but didn’t turn.
“Hello, Veronica.”
The person in the bed turned toward him. “Hello, Tom.”
Fury zipped through him.
“You set me up.”
Samantha sat up, gun pointed at her ex-friend and occasional partner. She narrowed her eyes. “And enjoyed every minute of it.”
Understanding crossed his face. “Everybody out there is a cop.”
“Every last person on this wing.”
“No babies.”
“What?”
“I should have realized. All the way here, on the baby ward. I didn’t see any babies.”
“Actually, we had some people walking around carrying baby dolls. You must have missed them.”
“So, this is it, huh?”
She let him see the pain he’d caused her. “Just tell me why.”
“Because it was my—destiny, I suppose you could say.” A faraway look entered his eyes. “I gave those girls a higher purpose. Because of me, I gave their lives meaning.”
Nausea swirled within her. “You’re sick.”
Anger flashed as he looked at her fully once again. “No, Samantha, not sick. Ambitious. I wanted the money too. Lots and lots of money.”
“You killed those girls!”
“Of course I did. They’d seen my face without my disguises. And Boss—Victoria Abbott—insisted no one be left as witnesses. She was incredibly clever.”
“Well, she’s sitting in a jail cell now.”
Disappointment crossed his handsome features. “I’m not sure what happened with her. She became weak in the end.”
“No, she just met her match in Jenna Wolfe.”
His jaw went tight, then he said, “Yes, that one didn’t frighten easily.”
“She’s too much like her dad.”
“Whatever.” He drew in a deep breath. “I suppose you’re recording this conversation.”
“Of course.”
“And the room will be swarmed as soon as you give the signal.”
“Right again.” She hauled in a gulp of air. “Why did you kill Calvin, the bomb guy?”
“Yes, I figured you’d come up with that question.”
“And?”
“Because as we were leaving the scene, he asked me how I knew the bomb was under the seat. I took a chance and told him I heard the click.”
Understanding dawned within her. “There was no click, was there?”
“Nope. Not that kind of switch. It probably would have blown when you turned the first corner . . . when the chemicals mixed together, ignited, then hit the C-4.”
“And Calvin pointed this out to you.”
“No, he just looked at me funny and kept walking. But I knew he knew.”
“So you killed him.”
“Yep.”
Sorrow grabbed her and held on. “He had a ten-year-old daughter, Tom. His nineteen-year-old son was killed too. Do you even have any kind of conscience left?”
“Not really, I guess, because I don’t feel bad about
the stuff I do. Makes me the perfect killer, doesn’t it?” He shifted. “Tell Jamie she’s the only one I ever really cared about.”
Confusion hit her. “Why are you bringing up Jamie?”
“Just tell her.”
His hand slid into the pocket of his white lab coat, and Samantha rolled to the floor, placing the bed between her and Tom. She hit the button on her radio, the signal for help as he pulled out his gun.
But he didn’t fire, just stood there. “Tell her, Sam, okay?”
Then put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
33
The case was solved. Jenna was safe. A killer was dead, and parents would rest a little easier tonight. Connor knew he would. So now it was time to do what he’d put off for several weeks.
“Jenna, you ready?”
“I can’t go, Dad.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I’m going to take you.” Samantha’s familiar voice had the same effect on him this time as it did the very first day he’d met her.
He turned from the steps to see her standing in his open front doorway. “You are?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
“More than okay.”
Her smile flashed and singed his heart.
Connor followed her down the drive to the edge of the lawn where she’d parked her car. He climbed into the passenger seat and waited for her to slide behind the wheel of her Jeep.
She turned to say something and he acted on impulse. He leaned over and placed his lips on hers and wrapped his left hand around the base of her neck.
She froze for about a second, then accepted his kiss, eagerly returning it. He felt the electricity of attraction and passion with this incredible woman, and yet she also touched his vulnerable, gentle side too. He wanted to pull her close and never let her go.
Instead, he pulled away. Sat back and smiled as she slowly opened her eyes.
An answering smile crept across her face and she said, “Well, that was . . . unexpected.”
“But?”
“But . . . nice.”
“Nice?” He pretended to be wounded. “Nice? I guess I’m going to have to work on my technique.”
Too Close to Home Page 29
