by LS Sygnet
"Where are your keys?"
"To the rental?"
Orion nodded and thrust his hand through the open window.
"I'm not giving them to you."
"Like hell."
"They're in my purse in the front seat of the car."
"I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the bowels of the alley, and I started jerking my arm against the restraint. If I started screaming for help, would anybody hear me? Possibly Datello's guards. And wouldn't this be fun to explain if somebody did hear and called the police?
I popped open the glove compartment instead and started digging for the key to the handcuffs. Orion probably wasn't stupid enough to leave it lying around. My fingers brushed a leather case.
Or maybe he left something I could use as a weapon. What was it? I pulled the flap out of the lighted container. It looked like … I flipped it open and stared at the small shiny badge. Through clear plastic on the other side of the wallet was his identification.
John F. Orion, Commander. Office of the Special Investigator.
I groaned. Shit. Orion was undercover, working for Chris Darnell, a man I had quickly come to despise after one brief meeting. I was about to shove the ID back into the glove compartment when an explosion shook the ground.
A plume of orange and yellow leapt over the tree line. Orion! My jaw dropped. I grabbed the chain between the cuffs and struggled to free myself. No way could I be found detained in Orion's car when the neighborhood started crawling with police and rescue vehicles.
Orion was dead. He had to be. But why? What had happened?
Another chill crept over me. Had someone planted a bomb in my car that Johnny accidentally set off? Jesus! It was meant for me.
Chapter 36
A second later, Orion staggered out of the alley.
"You're hurt. Unlock my wrist and let me drive. You need medical attention."
"It knocked me down. I'm not hurt."
"What happened?"
"I don't know." Johnny thrust my purse at me and noticed that I was still holding his identification. "Just couldn't leave it alone, could you Doc?"
I shoved the badge back into the glove compartment and closed the door. "It explains a few things. I don't know why you felt that you couldn't tell me the truth from the beginning, Orion."
"It's not the nature of cops working under cover to blow it, Helen. Besides, I'm not inclined to share information with people who lie to me. Repeatedly."
I shook off the condemnation. We both told more than our fair share of lies anyway. That some of them had been to each other came as no shock. "What happened to my car?"
"I didn't want it to look completely out of place, so I went back to shut the door. I grabbed your purse, got the keys and started down the alley." Orion shook off his haze and tore away from the curb with the headlights off. "I was about half way to the end of the alley and realized that all your luggage was crammed into the back seat, so I engaged the lock on the remote. Ka-boom."
I hadn't locked the car since I picked it up from central. Someone had wired a bomb to explode the moment the remote activated the locks. "That makes no sense."
"Doesn't it? Somebody wants you dead."
"Were you lying when you said you believe this perp wanted me out here, that he wanted to me to play his game?"
Orion frowned. "No, that was the God's truth. You're right. It doesn't add up. Why would he try to kill you after getting what he wanted?"
"Oh my God. I really am getting too close. He knew we were looking for Candy Blevins."
"Candy? What for? She's a complete psycho, Doc. Even if you can find her, which will be extremely hard to do, believe me, she's not about to be cooperative."
"Oh, we found her all right," I murmured. "Uncuff me, Johnny. For better or worse, it seems like we're on the same side." This time.
He dug the key out of the pocket of his jeans and passed it over to me. "Have you talked to her yet?"
"Not possible. Sometime between ten and eleven last night, Candy Blevins was murdered."
Orion slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. The sound of flesh against metal reverberated in the darkness. "Murdered in what manner?" he finally broke through the soft hum with a question.
"Like Gwen. Like Brighton. Like the first Gwen Bennett I suspect. Why doesn't Harlan Hartley like you, Johnny?"
"Who?"
"Vinnie's only living relative. Although, I'm not sure Hartley is a blood relative now that I know the truth about Vinnie."
"I've never met the man, Doc." His fingers flew off the steering wheel at my doubtful stare. "I'm not holding anything back at this point. You already know the big secret."
"Somehow I doubt that." Rather than launch into the laundry list of my complaints about being kept in the dark, I revealed the content of my interview with Harlan Hartley. "So you see, if he's really Vinnie's uncle, either he's related on the Bennett side of the family or he knows who the perp in this case is and related to him."
"You lost me. Why would Hartley be related to the man we're trying to catch?"
Oh. That. "Vinnie's parents weren't Eugene Bennett and his wife, Johnny. In fact, I don't even think there was a Eugene Bennett."
"Then who's his …" Orion's voice died.
"Gwen Foster, who you know was a victim of rape and got another gift in the bargain."
"Vinnie. That's why you asked me about her baby."
"Yes. She never confided that information to you?"
"No."
The faint green light from the dashboard of the car illuminated the set of his jaw, the bunching muscle that ticked.
"I'm sorry. I had to basically threaten Hartley to get him to level with me, Johnny. This was a secret that they were all willing to take to their graves."
"Can you blame them? Jesus, Doc. Vinnie is special."
"What does that even mean?"
"He's a sensitive kid. I'm sure that news of Gwen's murder has crippled him as it is, but learning that his biological father is a rapist? That Gwen was really his mother? He'd die if he learned the truth."
"We may not be able to prevent it from happening, Johnny. Things like this have a way of coming out in court."
"You're assuming we'll catch him." Orion pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket and lit it. He exhaled a cloud of spicy smoke out the window. "Why would he go after Gwen a second time? Or Candy for that matter. Is Carrie even safe?"
"I'm sure Carrie isn't in any danger. As to why he raped Gwen again, I don't know. Candy's murder was a necessity. I think she might've become this guy's partner, Johnny. In fact, I think Candy may have offered Carrie up to the guy as an alternative."
"Raped and murdered Gwen," Orion corrected. "He slaughtered her just like all the others, Doc."
I sucked in a deep breath. Orion didn't know the rest. "No, he didn't kill Gwen, Johnny."
"I was there. I saw her. It was like Brighton all over again. Don't tell me –"
"We have conclusive evidence. Gwen Foster was murdered by someone smaller and weaker than she was."
"Candy."
"That's what I suspected, though I doubt we'll ever know for certain unless this guy makes a full confession when he's caught. With his love of playing psychological games, I wouldn't count on it." I noticed the landscape of Downey whizzing by the speeding car. "Where are we going?"
"A safe place where we can piece together the bits of this we haven't shared yet, Doc. If the game is over from this guy's perspective, the last place you should be is somewhere he'd think you might go for refuge."
"My house."
"My penthouse. Central Division. Dr. Winslow's home. If he's the one behind that attempt on your life outside Datello's office, he made a stupid mistake."
"Why? If he'd been successful, I'd be gone and it would probably look like Datello was behind my murder."
"Yeah, but if he failed, he just lost the easiest way to track your movement that he had."
In
a way, our perp had done me a favor. Unfortunately, he was far from done making sure I was out of the way.
Orion drove into a residential alley and pulled up behind a modest bungalow. "Let's get started. I have a feeling that we should probably check the news before we do anything else. If the vehicle is identified as the one you rented, it'll be all over the media. I want to know who is rushing to announce your death."
He seemed up to speed with where my thoughts were heading. Either someone at Central Division was dirty, or he was the very perpetrator we were hunting. The memory loss I experienced on Thursday bothered me again. Had the killer tried to set Jerry Lowe up in some way? Did that explain why I was found in my car outside his house? Hardy and Weber were being blackmailed. Maybe our guy wanted to make sure Lowe understood the stakes better than he had in the past.
Flynn Myre popped into my brain again. Could blackmail be the reason such an inept fool was allowed to claw his way into the ranks of Darkwater Bay detectives? Something intangible tickled at the periphery of my knowledge. Something that didn't fit, that just wasn't quite right.
I sighed, nearing defeat, followed Orion into the house and slumped into a chair in the living room while he dug in another for the remote control for the television.
"What is this place?"
"My parent's home."
"You weren't lying about them Monday night."
"No. What about you?"
I shrugged. For all intents and purposes Wendell had to remain dead to me. "What's the point of lying about ancient history?"
"A suspicious answer from one of the most guarded women I've ever met."
The news broadcast blared into the modest space and postponed further discussion of my psychological tendencies to share as little as possible. Orion already knew too much as it was in my opinion.
The explosion was lead coverage, a live report from the scene. I recognized a few faces in the background. Jerry Lowe. Don Weber. Chris Darnell. I glanced at Johnny. "Did you call Darnell before you came to the car?"
"No need. Whenever something like this happens –"
"Darkwater Bay has a history of car bombings?"
"A major crime with media on scene right away," he amended, "Chris shows up to do damage control and make sure that the police department doesn't do or say anything stupid that will compromise the investigation down the road. So far, I only see the usual suspects."
"I should let Charlie know that I wasn't in the car."
"Hold off on that, Doc. I know he's a good guy and has worked this case like a pro. In fact, he's pretty much put the entire homicide squad to shame. But he's still part of that system at central. Anything he knows is at risk for discovery by others."
"Right."
"I'll let Chris know you're alive. It might buy us a little more time if we let them think you didn't survive."
"It's probably obvious that the car was empty, Johnny."
The news desk broke into my argument. "We interrupt this story to bring you live coverage of yet another apparent bombing in the greater metro area tonight. We're receiving reports from Beach Cliffs that –"
"My house!"
Orion pulled out his phone and dialed. "Chris, it's Johnny. What the hell is going on out there?"
I listened with rapt interest to Johnny's half of the conversation while experiencing my first hint of true mourning this week: the loss of my earnest money on the Beach Cliffs house.
"She's not in the car or in the house. She's safe, Chris. I promise. Helen is sitting less than ten feet away from me right now. Someone seems determined that she dies." Another pause. "Yeah, she knows everything. Mostly everything. I haven't explained the hierarchy at OSI yet, but that's hardly the pressing issue. I need you to do something for me."
Orion outlined his plan to Darnell. "Only Winslow and her most trusted assistant can know what we're doing, Chris. Promise me that no one else is aware that we're playing a ruse to buy time and anonymity for Helen. She's close. I can feel it."
Was I? Somehow the threads I once believed were being pulled together seemed to disintegrate in my fingertips now. This rapist and killer managed to stay ahead of me by at least one step at every turn. In the psychological game, he was clearly winning.
Orion disconnected the call. "Chris is on it. He'll make sure that the announcement of your death is made from the house on Beach Cliffs."
"Why is this good news?"
"He'll think he won. He won't be expecting your work to continue. Chris suggested that we set up a task force to solve your murder out at OSI headquarters and include people from Central Division. The state police can keep tabs on our current suspect pool a lot easier that way."
"I doubt that any of them will balk at the idea. They couldn't spy hard enough to stay up to speed on what I've been doing this week."
"There you have it. Meanwhile, you and I need to decide what comes next in this case. You may not feel like you're close to solving it, but the perp is convinced enough to try to kill you, Helen. We're missing something important in what we already know."
I agreed. "The escalation seems to have developed after I talked to Carrie Blevins. He knew that I made the connection between the murders and possible survivors. Question is, how did he know I talked to her?"
"Right. What does that mean?"
I ignored the paranoia in his question. He wasn't a suspect anymore, whether he believed me or not. "Probably that talking to Carrie would lead us to Candy which would expose his identity if she could be coerced into confessing her role in Gwen Foster's murder."
I paused. "Then there's Rodney Martin."
"What about him?"
"I'm aware of four people who knew that I was the top candidate Hardy would try to recruit to Darkwater Bay. Hardy, Weber, Darnell and the man who brought me onto their radar, Martin. I seriously doubt that Hardy and Weber talked about their plans to anyone but each other."
"They didn't tell Chris they acted on the idea," Johnny said. "He learned you were here after I called him on my way home from Gwen's house Wednesday morning."
"So if this guy knew about it before I decided to come to Darkwater Bay, in advance far enough to send Kelly and Varden to Washington, that leaves Rodney as the leak in information."
"And now he's missing."
"Forsythe told me that the evidence they found in his house indicates strongly that Rodney Martin is dead." I detailed the conversation and included the bit of information about the missing keys.
"Is that why you went to Datello's office?"
I nodded. It was mostly the truth. That would have to suffice.
"May I see the keys?"
I dug them out of my pocket and passed them to him.
"These are pretty low tech for a guy who has motion detectors around his office building, Doc. These look like those you'd find for a home safe, one designed for keeping documents from being charred in a fire." He glanced at me. "What led you to Datello for these?"
"A hunch." A convenient excuse. It didn't really matter. Johnny was right and I knew it. "I see your point."
"So what next?"
"I think this guy has targeted the Bennett family, Johnny." He hadn't spent as much time focusing on the missing person's cases as I had. Orion's goal was finding a witness that could point to the suspect, not curiosity about how all of this had begun. He was shocked that there had been a missing Bennett girl long before Brighton and hadn't linked Brighton's murder to Gwen's rape, apparently.
"I need to talk to Harlan Hartley again. It's the only hope I have of learning why their girls became this guy's obsession."
"Helen, this is the truth. I have no idea who Harlan Hartley is or why he gave you the impression that he doesn't think much of me when you met him last night. I knew Frank. Gwen and I were close for a long time. I met Dennis during the investigation into Brighton's murder. Obviously Vinnie and I know each other, but to my knowledge, that's the entire Bennett family."
"I believe you. Let's go see if a fac
e to face with Harlan offers any information."
Chapter 37
Hartley opened the door with a snarl. "You again."
Johnny wisely stood beside the door out of sight. He waited until Hartley appeared before stepping to my side.
"Mr. Hartley, it's vitally important that we –"
The gasp cut me off. Hartley's not Orion's.
"Mr. Hartley?"
"That isn't Harlan Hartley, Doc. Meet Dennis Bennett," Johnny's dry pronouncement floated over my shoulder. "Curious that he's living out here in seclusion under an assumed name, wouldn't you say?"
"Is this true?" I asked.
"You'd better come inside," Dennis muttered. He stepped aside and let us pass.
"Where is Vinnie tonight?"
"Someplace safe," Bennett squinted hard at me. "I sent him away this morning, and I will not tell you where he is, not while somebody is threatening his life."
"I wasn't aware that happened, Mr. Bennett. I would like to know why you gave me a false identity. Or does Vinnie believe you're his dead mother's brother too?"
He sat at the kitchen table and sealed his lips defiantly.
"I can at least explain why he doesn't like me, Doc. Dennis blamed me for not keeping Masconi in jail for murdering Brighton. I wonder if he's aware that we had the wrong suspect after all."
"I think that's obvious," Bennett snarled. "Maybe if you'd done your job better all those years ago, Gwen wouldn't be dead, Mr. Johnny-come-lately."
There was no point in correcting his misuse of the slur. Johnny wasn't new to this case or what was going on in Darkwater Bay.
"What I want to know, Dennis, is why this man has targeted your family so many times over the years."
He picked at the cuticle of his left thumb. "Maybe because he's nuttier than a fruitcake. Isn't that your job to figure out?"
"First Gwen, then Frank's Gwen, then Brighton, and now Frank's Gwen again. That's four assaults on three Bennett girls in over thirty years. Would you like to hear my theory?" I had his undivided attention after that.
"You know about my sister?"
I nodded. "I think that if Brighton and Gwen hadn't reminded him of her so very much, he would've left them alone. Dennis, tell me something. Is that black hair your natural color?"
