Trailing a Killer

by Carol J. Post

  He put his steaming mug on the table and took the chair next to her. “I’ll be glad to put you to work. A few days of this, though, and you’ll be ready to get back to detectiving.”

  She grinned at his use of the made-up word. “Or I might decide I like construction better than detectiving and apply for a job with you.” She drained the last of her coffee and put the empty mug on the table. “I’m hoping the others will make some progress on the case during my days off.”

  The units that had been dispatched to Cody’s house in the early-morning hours two days ago had found nothing. Donovan’s lead had gone nowhere, too. Detectives had talked with every contractor who ever bid on his jobs and were now working their way through the employees and subcontractors. Not a single one recognized the guy in Cody’s composite. If there was a link between Donovan and their investigation, they hadn’t found it.

  Erin sighed. “Donovan has the most to lose if the project doesn’t move forward, but he always has projects in the works. He says if this one doesn’t go through, he’s got five others waiting in the wings.” She frowned. “What he says is true, which kind of weakens the possibility of him being our suspect.”

  She deposited her coffee mug in the sink, then picked up her Bible and devotional book. Instead of taking them back to her bedroom, she left them on one of the living room end tables. Besides saving herself the trip down the hall, maybe Cody would get curious and check them out.

  Cody called to her from the kitchen. “How about if I whip you up some scrambled eggs? I’ll make Mimi and Opa’s once they get up.”

  “Sounds good.” She walked back into the dining room, where two flat, rectangular boxes stood against the wall. “I’ll work on assembling those shelves we bought yesterday.”

  After she’d gotten home from work, they’d bought two plastic shelving units. She would use them to keep her dishes and food easily accessible while the kitchen was undergoing renovations.

  Erin had just sat on the floor next to one of the boxes when Mimi entered the living room, walker in front of her, Opa behind her.

  Cody looked in their direction. “Did our talking disturb you?”

  “No. It was the smell of coffee that woke us up.”

  “There are still at least two more cups in the pot. And if scrambled eggs sound good, I’ll have them ready in a few minutes.”

  At Mimi’s acquiescence, Cody added four eggs to the bowl. While Erin sliced into the box with a utility knife and began removing components, Mimi sat at the table and Opa prepared their coffee.

  When finished, he sat next to his wife. “Mimi and I are ready to head back home.”

  Erin stopped, one upright post held aloft. “Are you sure?”

  “We were talking about it last night, after we went to bed. It’s been a week and a half. We’re ready.”

  Erin nodded, a lump forming in her throat. She’d enjoyed having her grandparents with her. Knowing they were just on the other side of the open door had put her mind at ease, and she wasn’t ready to send them out on their own. But it wasn’t her decision. She had to trust that Mimi and Opa knew what they were doing. And trust God to watch over them. The problem was, when it came to trust, she was a work in progress.

  When breakfast was over, Mimi and Opa disappeared into the suite and came out a short time later with Opa wheeling their suitcases.

  Erin looked at them long and hard. “Are you sure about this?”

  They both nodded, and Opa grinned. “You guys live with a little too much excitement.” He was probably only half joking.

  Erin and Cody each took a bag from her grandfather and followed them to the front door. She hugged one, then the other. “Be careful driving.”

  Her grandfather shook his head. “Pumpkin, I’ve been driving back and forth to the hospital, then the rehab place, for more than two months.”

  But this was all the way to LaBelle. Of course, it was only forty-five minutes, a straight shot down Florida 80. And traffic was lighter.

  “You’ll have to get groceries. Except for condiments, I pretty well wiped out your refrigerator.”

  Cody put his hands on her shoulders. “You go with them.”

  “But—” She’d already done the math. She’d be hard-pressed to make the drive to LaBelle and still get home in time to unload the cabinets before Cody’s guy got here at one o’clock.

  Cody waved away her concerns as if he’d read her mind. “Go on. I’ll unload the cabinets, and they’ll be ready to remove by the time you get back.”

  She hesitated for another beat, then nodded. “Arm the security system.”

  “I will.”

  “And you’ll feed Alcee her lunch if I’m not back in time?”

  He smiled. “I always do.”

  Erin mouthed a silent thank you, hoping that he understood how much she appreciated him. Why had she ever given up a guy like Cody? What good had her freedom done her?

  It had given her the ability to choose her own path. But what if the best life was the one she’d walked away from?

  She stepped from the house with a sigh, then pulled out behind her grandparents. When they walked out of Winn-Dixie an hour and a half later, they had a full shopping cart with several bags lining the shelf beneath. Erin and Opa loaded them into the back of the Cube and drove the remaining seven miles to their park.

  When Opa helped Mimi from the vehicle, she looked around, her face lit with joy. There really was no place like home. And Moss Landing was a beautiful park, right on the Caloosahatchee River, with street names like Shark, Porpoise, Dolphin and Bass Drives, and all the amenities one could want.

  Instead of making her way up the ramp into the double-wide mobile home, Mimi met Opa and Erin at their vehicle’s open back door.

  Erin frowned at her. “What are you doing, Mimi?”

  “Getting groceries. I’m fully capable.” She grabbed a bag of produce and hung it over one of the walker arms, then added one to the other side. When she moved away, two more bags sat on the walker’s seat.

  Erin and Opa followed her, several bags looped over their arms. After one more trip, Erin had the rest of it inside. She helped them put everything away, then kissed them goodbye, with orders to call if they needed anything.

  Once back in her SUV, she pulled her phone from her purse. She would text Cody and let him know she was on her way home. When she swiped the screen, she’d already missed a text from him. It was simple, an address, then CC. Probably short for Cape Coral.

  But it was the three numbers that followed that put a knot of dread in her gut.

  He’d ended the text with 911.

  She checked the time stamp with her heart in her throat. More than fifteen minutes had passed since he’d sent the text.

  With shaking fingers, she pulled up the keypad, ready to relay what she had to Dispatch. She had no idea what was significant about that location or what might be happening there.

  But one thing she knew. Cody was in trouble.

  God, please let someone get there in time.

  * * *

  Cody drove through the Friday lunchtime traffic, one hand on the wheel. The other was wrapped around his phone, currently pressed to his ear.

  It was his business phone, the number that was on all his advertising and the one his customers used to reach him. It was Candy Hutchinson who’d called him this time, a sweet middle-aged lady, not the pushy type at all. But she’d phoned twenty minutes ago, pleading with him to come over so they could discuss some changes. And it had to be today. Now.

  He’d promised to come right away, but every time he’d tried to end the call, she’d come up with something else, her tone even more urgent.

  She was acting so out of character, he’d asked her if everything was all right. The assurances she’d given him weren’t convincing at all. Something was off. So with his other hand, he’d
grabbed his personal phone to send a quick text to Erin, then headed out. At the first red light, he pulled up the same text and forwarded it to Bobby.

  He was walking into a trap, and he knew it. Someone was forcing Candy Hutchinson to make the call, trying to draw him out. Erin would have a fit. But what choice did he have? If he didn’t cooperate, things could go badly for Candy.

  The light ahead turned yellow, and he braked to a stop, again reaching for his personal phone. His neighbor Jack was another one who knew about the case. He’d be able to decipher his obscure text and call for help.

  Cody held his thumb against the message, then selected Forward as Candy continued to babble. Now to select Jack’s name from his contacts. Several seconds of silence passed before he realized Candy had asked him a question.

  “I’m sorry. What was that?”

  “I was asking about tile, the difference between porcelain, ceramic and marble. Do you recommend one over another?”

  He touched Jack’s name and pressed Send. A horn sounded behind him. Multitasking had never been his strong suit.

  He returned the phone to the cup holder and surged forward, engine revving. Where were the cops when he needed them? For the past twenty minutes, he’d hoped to draw the attention of law enforcement by breaking a few traffic laws. If successful, rather than tipping off whoever was with Candy, he’d keep driving and likely have a tail three or four cruisers long by the time he rolled into the Hutchinsons’ drive.

  But he hadn’t seen a single cop. And now the house was only three blocks away. He moved into the left turn lane and waited for the light to change. Had anyone gotten his text? He picked up the phone. Erin hadn’t responded. Neither had Bobby or Jack.

  Meanwhile, Candy continued to ramble. “Bill and I aren’t in agreement on what we want. He wants to change the whole color scheme, materials and everything.”

  Cody dropped his personal phone back into the cup holder. He couldn’t count on anyone seeing his message. Bobby and Jack were both at work, and Erin was en route from LaBelle. He needed to call 911.

  But the killer was listening. Cody was sure. And the man was forcing Candy to keep him on the line so he couldn’t call for help. Now time was running out.

  “I’m about two minutes away. Let me go, and I’ll be pulling in shortly.”

  “No, please don’t hang up.” Panic laced her tone. “This whole situation has me so upset.”

  The light changed, and Cody accelerated into the turn. How had his attacker linked the Hutchinsons to him? He and Leroy had gone by there a week and a half ago, but Erin had made sure they didn’t pick up a tail. And since Leroy had driven, Cody had kept a constant eye on the traffic behind them, too.

  It wasn’t from raiding his home office, either. The Hutchinson job was the only one in progress, and he’d brought the file to Erin’s when he’d collected the rest of his belongings.

  As he moved down the Hutchinsons’ street, his chest tightened. He should see emergency lights by now. But there was nothing.

  He pulled into the drive and killed the engine. At every window, the blinds were drawn. The sight set off even more alarms.

  Candy loved natural light. She’d told him so. The first thing she did every morning was open all the blinds in the front part of the house. He’d never seen any of them drawn other than the ones at the bedroom windows.

  When he reached for the driver door, his gaze swept across the yard and settled on one of his signs—Another quality project by Elbourne Construction. His heart dropped. It hadn’t been there when the three of them had visited previously. Bill must’ve removed it to mow and then put it back.

  His signs were free advertising. This one was advertising he didn’t want. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He’d made it easy for the killer to get to him.

  He opened the driver door. “Candy, I’m here, so I’m hanging up now.”

  Maybe he could dial 911 before getting out of his truck, mumble a quick call for help and drop the phone into his pocket.

  There was a slight pause before she responded. “Wait. Can you come in first?”

  He hesitated. This was his last opportunity. No, he wouldn’t put Candy in even greater danger. He picked up his personal phone, dialed 911, then dropped it back into the cup holder. Now that he’d arrived at his destination, they could trace his phone’s location. Maybe the dispatcher would send help, even without him asking for it. He’d just have to stay alive until it arrived.

  He stepped from the truck. A high-pitched whine sounded in the distance, definitely sirens. But that didn’t mean they were for him.

  He closed the truck door, listening as they drew closer. The vertical blinds at one of the living room windows parted, and something appeared in the opening. Cylindrical, such a dark shade of gray it was almost black.

  The barrel of a pistol.

  He dived sideways as a shot rang out, then rolled toward an oak tree. As he stood, a second shot sent splinters of bark spraying outward. He turned sideways and pressed his shoulder to the tree, hoping his body didn’t overlap the medium-size trunk.

  The sirens were so loud now, they set his teeth on edge. But he’d never heard anything so beautiful. Two police cars pulled into the drive, a third stopping at the edge of the road. The sirens died. A crash sounded from inside. Then another shot.

  No, not Candy.

  The first two officers jumped out, weapons drawn.

  Cody remained behind the tree. “There’s a gunman in the house.”

  The front door opened, and four weapons swung in that direction. A second later Candy Hutchinson burst through as if she’d been shot out of a cannon.

  “Hands in the air.”

  The command didn’t register. She kept running, casting frantic glances back at the house.

  Cody held up a hand. “She’s the owner.”

  Her head swiveled in his direction, and relief flooded her features. She ran to him, plowing into him so hard she almost knocked him down.

  “I’m so sorry.” She threw her arms around his neck. “He said if I didn’t get you over here, he was going to kill me.”

  Before he could respond, she spun to face the police. “He ran out the back. Blond hair, shoulder length. Mid to late thirties. Blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt with a fish on it, a Guy Harvey. A blue baseball cap, too.”

  The officers in the first two cars had already disappeared around the side of the house. One of the officers in front relayed the description over his radio. The other approached Candy.

  “What happened?”

  “The mail lady had just come. I walked to the box, and when I came back, a man jumped out of the bushes and forced his way in before I could get the door locked.”

  “Had you ever seen him before?”

  “Never. He told me to get Cody over here.”

  The officer looked in his direction. “You’re Cody?”

  Cody nodded and brought the officer up to speed on everything that had happened. When Cody finished, he frowned. “He traced me to the Hutchinsons’ through my sign, which was a pretty stupid oversight.”

  Candy continued. “Whatever the guy wanted with Cody, I’m sure it wasn’t good. When he started shooting, I figured he wasn’t going to leave either of us alive. I didn’t have anything to lose, so I grabbed the vase from the table and brought it down over his head as hard as I could.”

  Cody’s jaw dropped. That was the crash he’d heard. He didn’t know Candy had it in her.

  Candy pursed her lips. “His head was bleeding, and he was stumbling, but he was still on his feet. So I swung the brass lamp like a baseball bat, knocked the gun out of his hand and ran for the front door. By then, you guys had pulled into the drive, so he picked up the gun and ran toward the back.”

  If the officer was surprised at the spunk of this five-foot-two-inch lady, he didn’t show it, just
continued to take notes. “Can you describe the suspect, other than the clothing and hair?”

  “Eight or nine inches taller than I am, somewhat stocky build. His face...” She looked at Cody and both officers, then frowned, apparently not finding what she was looking for.

  “His face was a little longer than yours.” She nodded at the younger officer. “And he had a beard and mustache.”

  “Do you think you could work with our artist to do a composite?”

  “You betcha. He’s had a gun pointed at me for the past half hour. I don’t think I’ll ever forget his face.”

  Cody gave her a wry smile. She made a much better witness than he did. Of course, she saw the guy for more than a second or two and wasn’t drugged at the time.

  He gasped and grabbed Candy’s arm. “You and Bill have to get away from here.” The killer had been relentless in trying to track him down so he couldn’t identify him, and Candy had now seen his face.

  The older officer nodded. “He’s right. Do you have somewhere you can go until we catch this guy?”

  “We have family. I need to call my husband. Can I do that now?”

  “Sure.”

  A familiar SUV screeched to a halt in the street, and Erin jumped out. “I’ve been blowing up your phone for the past fifteen minutes. Why didn’t you answer?” She hollered the words, her tone accusatory.

  He bit back a defensive response. Erin’s concern often came across as anger. The more worried she was, the angrier she appeared. It was one of her quirks. He could live with it.

  He could even deal with her walls, because they seemed to be slowly crumbling. Her sharing with him what had happened in that remote cabin so many years ago was proof of that. But if they ever decided to move beyond friendship, she’d have to commit to a serious long-term relationship, and he’d have to risk someone walking away yet again. Neither scenario was likely in this lifetime.

  He tapped his pocket. The phone was there. But that was his business cell. His personal one was sitting in the cup holder in his truck. He retrieved it and swiped the screen. There were numerous texts and missed calls from Erin, along with a missed call from Jack and a text from Bobby. Among the three of them, they’d probably kept Dispatch busy.