by Mary Burton
‘The police are coming to talk to you.’
‘Screw the police.’ He got in the van and fired it up. Gravel kicked up as he punched the gas and drove off.
Lindsay stood on the corner, counting the seconds until Zack arrived.
Minutes later, the white Impala pulled around her street corner. The wheels had barely came to a stop when Zack hopped out of the vehicle. He strode directly toward her. He stared at her for a long moment before asking, ‘What did you find?’
‘My maintenance man found a camera in an AC vent. He swears he didn’t put it there.’
‘Where is he?’
‘He drove off. Said he had a police record.’
Zack’s jaw tensed. Warwick got out of the police car as Zack moved toward him. He relayed what she’d said and Warwick grabbed the radio. He called in a description of the van and Steve.
The sound of sirens echoed in the distance. More cops were coming.
Zack moved toward her. ‘Lindsay, there’s been another murder. Marcus Greenland.’
Her brows knitted as she stared back at her house. ‘I was on the phone with Aisha Greenland the other night. I sat right in my living room and talked to her about her divorce. She was scared. The Guardian must have been watching and listening.’ She felt sick. ‘He calls himself the Guardian. Does he think he’s helping me?’
‘In his mind, it might have started out that way, but its grown way beyond that.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘While the Guardian was dumping Greenland’s body early this morning, two teenagers came upon him. He shot at them. One is dead and the other is at Mercy undergoing surgery.’
‘My God.’ Her voice hitched with sadness and tears pooled in her eyes.
Zack worked his jaw. ‘He’s not helping anyone.’
Two teenagers – children – shot.
‘Did you find any other cameras?’ Zack asked.
‘We haven’t looked yet.’
Warwick strode up to them. ‘I’ve called for the cavalry. They’ll be here in the next few minutes to sweep the place. With any luck, we can link this system to the guy who installed it.’
Her skin felt clammy. ‘The Guardian is taking over my life.’
‘Who’s the Guardian?’ Kendall Shaw’s voice caught them all off guard.
They turned, stunned.
‘Where did you come from?’ Zack demanded.
Kendall ignored him. The light on the cameraman’s camera clicked on, and like a lioness looking for prey, Kendall shoved a microphone toward Lindsay’s face. ‘Is the Guardian the guy who’s been killing those men? Has he been secretly videotaping you as well?’
Lindsay stared, stunned. Warwick frowned.
Zack raised his hand and blocked the lens of the camera. ‘This is not the time or place for this.’
Kendall didn’t flinch. ‘Come on, Lindsay, Detective Kier. I know this killer has been on a rampage since Monday. And it’s the anniversary week of Lindsay’s mother’s death. Lindsay lost her job because of him. He’s killed four, maybe five people.’
‘No comment,’ Zack said.
But Lindsay’s temper roiled. Not at the reporter, but at the Guardian. He had invaded her life, ruined her job, and watched her while she moved around her home. She’d promised herself this morning she’d not hide anymore. If the Guardian wanted her, he could come and get her.
Lindsay said in a loud voice, ‘I don’t know who the Guardian is.’
‘Lindsay,’ Zack warned.
Mike stepped sideways so that he had a clear shot of Lindsay. Kendall moved closer. Her eyes gleamed with hunger.
‘I can tell you this,’ Lindsay said. Zack grabbed her arm, squeezing a gentle warning for her to be silent. But she wouldn’t stay silent. This creep wasn’t going to hurt anyone else if she could stop him. ‘I’ve grown to hate and resent whoever is doing this to me.’
‘Why is he sending you the severed hands of his victims?’ Kendall asked.
‘I don’t know. He’s got a twisted form of justice that I want no part of. If the Guardian is watching, back off. Leave me alone. I don’t want your help or anything else to do with you.’
Zack slapped his palm over the camera lens. ‘Enough.’
Kendall smiled. ‘That was excellent, Lindsay. Really excellent.’ She’d gotten the quote she wanted. ‘We’re going. I’ve got to hurry if we’re going to get this edited for the noon news.’
Zack’s expression was harsh as he watched Kendall and Mike leave. ‘Get them out of here.’ He shook his head. ‘You could very well have turned yourself into a target, Lindsay.’
She dug her hands through her hair. For the first time since she was a child she felt oddly in control. ‘Good. Better me than another child.’
Richard Braxton sat in his rented Mercedes down the street from Lindsay O’Neil’s town house. The place was swarming with cops. There was no sign of Christina, but in the center of the cops stood two women. He glanced at the photo of Lindsay O’Neil and then back at the two women. The shorter one was O’Neil.
He twisted his wedding band around his finger. ‘Where are you hiding my wife, Ms O’Neil?’
The cops wouldn’t surround her forever. Soon there’d be an opportunity to get her alone. And when he did, he would make her regret that she’d ever interfered with his marriage.
Patience.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Thursday, July 10, 11:00 A.M.
Lindsay felt dirty and violated as she watched the cops go through her house searching for electronic bugs. So far they’d found five: one in the kitchen, one in the back patio, one in the front entryway, and two in the living room.
Zack came down the stairs and moved within inches of her. ‘We didn’t find any bugs in your bedroom or the bathrooms upstairs.’
She didn’t feel any relief. ‘I guess that’s the Guardian’s way of protecting my privacy.’
Zack nodded. ‘I think you’re right. In his own way, he seems to be looking out for you.’
She glanced around the room at each of the vents. She hugged her body, warding off a sudden chill. ‘Nicole said this place gave her the creeps. I even felt it once or twice. But I shrugged it off to fatigue. Do you have any idea how long the bugs have been there?’
‘No. But if I had to guess I’d say all this started around the time that article came out in the paper about you.’
‘I agreed to that damn piece because Dana had said it would boost fund-raising. Now I wish I’d never met Kendall Shaw.’
‘That article landed you on someone’s radar,’ Zack said. ‘Anyone different you’ve noticed lurking around lately?’
She lifted an amused brow. ‘Zack, you know me. I’m so busy on any given day I couldn’t tell you if it’s raining or not.’
Zack offered her a half smile as if a memory played in his head. ‘Can you think of anyone who might have come into your home?’
‘Just Steve the maintenance guy as far as I know. But I don’t own this place. The property management firm has the right to send in anyone they want if there are maintenance problems.’
‘What about Nicole? Did she bring anyone in here?’
‘No. She’s barely getting used to the place herself.’
He considered what she’d said. ‘Does the property manager have to notify you when they come in?’
‘They’re supposed to. But the girls in the rental office are young and not so focused on their jobs.’
Zack’s face looked as if it had been carved from stone. ‘I’ll talk to the rental office. How many people know you legally changed your name when you turned eighteen?’
‘Since I returned to Richmond, I’ve told no one about my past except you. But I grew up in Ashland, and any one of the people there could have seen the article and recognized me.’
‘Have you had contact with anyone from the old days? Like Joel, maybe?’
‘How do you know about him?’
‘Warwick and I spoke to him the other d
ay.’
She couldn’t be angry. He was being thorough. ‘I haven’t seen him since high school.’
‘He was worried about you.’
‘He was a good guy.’
He didn’t confirm or dispute the comment. ‘What about family?’
‘There wasn’t much family. My dad was an only child and his parents were gone by the time I was born. My mom’s parents were dead too. And her brother only saw her rarely.’ She stopped, remembering the dream she’d had last night. ‘I remember my uncle called my mom when I was about ten. Mom had lunch with him. My father was furious.’
‘Any pictures of your uncle or your parents?’
‘As a matter of fact, I found a few pictures the other night.’ She went to the closet below the stairs and pulled out the box of photos. She had to dig deep to find what she wanted. She handed Zack the grainy color photo. ‘It was taken on my parents’ back porch. That’s my mom and dad, me in the center, and my uncle on the end.’
Zack studied the picture. ‘He’s in a Navy uniform.’
‘Yes. That’s why he was away so much.’
‘What was your uncle’s name?’
‘Henry is all I remember.’
‘O’Neil?’
‘No. He and Mom were half brother and sister. They had different fathers. There was a fifteen-year age difference between them. I don’t remember his last name.’
‘Which would make him how old?’
‘Sixty-nine. Mom would have been fifty-four this year.’
As thirty loomed for her, she realized just how young her mother had been when she’d died.
He tucked the photo in his pocket. ‘Who is Claire Carmichael?’
The out-of-the-blue comment stunned her. ‘Claire? She runs a bookstore in San Francisco but also does a lot of volunteer work with battered women. She gave Nicole money so she could leave the city. Why?’
‘She was murdered on Tuesday.’
Grief washed over her. Claire and she had been good friends. They’d lost touch but she’d liked the woman immensely. ‘My God.’
‘Someone placed a call from her cell to your phone on the night she died. Tuesday night.’
‘I got a late-night call on Tuesday on my cell phone. It woke me out of a sound sleep. It really rattled me. The call came from outside the calling area, so I just figured it was a misdial. Was it Claire who called me?’
‘We don’t know.’
An unthinkable thought crossed her mind. ‘Richard Braxton got to her.’
‘Whoever killed Claire was a sadist.’
‘Nicole said Richard could be quite violent. We’ve got to warn her.’
‘I’ll have a sheriff’s deputy posted outside my folks’ place so we can keep an eye on her. I want you back there.’
‘No.’ When he frowned she added, ‘I appreciate what you’re doing, Zack, but I can’t let the Guardian or Richard ruin my life.’
‘You can’t stay here.’
‘I know. I’ll bunk with Ruby. No one will ever find me there.’
*
The elevator doors opened to Mercy Hospital’s fifth floor and out stepped a grim-faced Captain Ayden. Anger overrode fatigue and fueled him as he approached the intercom by the locked metal doors of the surgical recovery floor. He’d not slept in forty-eight hours. He had arranged for his boys to stay with the neighbors and had called them a couple of times just to hear the sound of their voices. He missed them now more than ever.
This latest shooting of the teenage boys had hit too close to home for him. His own sons, fourteen-year-old Zane and sixteen-year-old Caleb, were athletic and active in local mountain bike clubs. Each could have been on that trail this morning and stumbled upon the Guardian.
Ayden pressed the buzzer that sounded at the ICU nurses station.
‘Yes,’ a woman said.
‘I’m Captain Ayden and I’m here to see Dr Moore.’
‘Sure, just a moment.’ Another buzzer sounded and this time a lock on the door clicked and the doors swung open.
Ayden strode into the ICU ward toward the nurses station, where a woman stood reading a chart. She was in her early fifties and wore her shoulder-length dark hair tied back with a rubber band. Wisps of hair stuck out, framing her angled face. Dark shadows hung under vivid blue eyes.
He pulled out his badge. ‘I’m Captain Ayden.’
The woman closed the chart and set it down. ‘My name is Dr Moore. I’m Mr Langford’s surgeon.’
‘Mr Langford.’ Ayden swallowed an oath. He was doing his best to keep his voice calm. ‘The kid isn’t old enough to shave and we’re talking about him like he’s an adult.’
Dr Moore kept her expression neutral, unapologetic. ‘The less attached I am the better, detective. I can’t do my job if I’m emotionally involved. A cop should understand that.’
Ayden frowned. ‘I understand but I still don’t like it.’ He turned his back to the curtain separating them from patients. Unseen monitors beeped. ‘How’s the kid doing?’
‘The bullet tore into his chest.’
‘But he will live,’ Ayden said.
Dr Moore met his direct gaze head-on. ‘I’m going to do everything I can to save him. Either way he’s got a long road ahead of him.’
He shoved out a breath. ‘Does he know his friend died?’
‘No.’
‘Can I talk to him?’
‘You can only if you promise to keep your conversation very short. The boy’s only been out of surgery for an hour.’
‘Understood,’ Ayden said. ‘I won’t do anything to jeopardize his health.’
Dr Moore led Ayden to a corner cubicle curtained off from the rest of the floor. She pushed back the curtain. The boy in the bed was deathly pale and shirtless. IVs stuck in each arm. Sensors were pasted to his bare chest. Blood dripped from a bag into his arm.
‘Mr Langford,’ Dr Moore said.
The boy laid open-mouthed, his eyes shut.
Ayden shifted. ‘What does his mom call him?’
Dr Moore checked her chart. ‘Jeff.’
Ayden leaned close to the bed, careful not to disrupt the wires. ‘Jeff.’
The boy’s eyelids fluttered.
‘Jeff,’ Ayden said louder.
A monitor indicated that the boy’s heart rate rose from sixty beats a minute to seventy. He was waking up.
‘Jeff, I’m a cop. I’m trying to figure out who shot you. Can you tell me anything about the person who did this to you?’
Jeff moistened his dry lips. In a bare whisper, he said, ‘Never saw him before.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Gray hair.’ He ran his tongue over his dry lips again.
Ayden laid his hand gently on Jeff’s. It felt cold. ‘Can you tell me anything else, Jeff?’
‘He limped, like he’d been hurt.’ The boy shut his eyes.
Dr Moore glanced at the monitors. The boy’s heart rate was dropping again. ‘He’s not going to be able to give you much more. Not until tomorrow.’
‘Where’s Mark?’ the boy whispered.
Ayden squeezed the boy’s hand. ‘Don’t worry about him now.’
Jeff’s eyes fluttered closed.
Frustration dogged Ayden. This boy was the key to catching the psycho. ‘I have just one more question.’
The doctor looked annoyed. ‘You can ask all the questions you want but the boy isn’t going to talk. He’s heavily sedated and his mind isn’t going to clear for at least twenty-four hours.’
Ayden handed his card to the doctor. ‘Call me when he can talk again. I don’t care if it’s day or night.’
She tucked the card in her white coat pocket. ‘I’ll do that.’
He was grateful to leave the room and the hospital with its antiseptic smells and dull green colors. It was time to turn his attention to what he did best – catching killers.
Kendall Shaw had filed an updated news report on the Guardian just barely in time for the news at noon. It was a good piece. N
o, it was a great piece. Her best.
She’d known when she’d stuck the microphone in Lindsay’s face that she was going to get a hell of a quote. Lindsay was a powder keg. And it hadn’t taken much to set her off and get her talking.
And then Kendall had looked directly into the camera and challenged the Guardian. She’d called him a coward who hid behind Lindsay O’Neil.
If this wasn’t going to be the tape that got her noticed she’d be shocked. Success was so close she could almost taste it.
Kendall’s heels clicked on pavement as she crossed Channel 10’s small city parking lot to the side street where she’d parked her car. The sun was low in the sky and the day’s heat waning. She was headed to her hairdresser to treat herself to a wash and blow-dry. There hadn’t been much time to doll up before the noon news report, but when she rebroadcast at six she wanted to look her best.
Kendall reached her red sports car and clicked the lock open with the keyless remote.
‘Ms Shaw?’
The raspy voice had Kendall turning toward a pleasant looking man dressed in khakis and a white collared polo shirt. His graying hair was brushed off his face. Deep lines around his eyes made him looked distinguished more than old.
‘Yes?’
‘I saw your news report today. It was something else.’
She opened her car door, aware she had no time to spare if she was going to get her hair done and be back at the station in forty-five minutes. ‘Thank you for noticing.’
A smile tipped the edge of his mouth. ‘You’re one great reporter. Not many would have the spine to call this killer out.’
She was accustomed to being recognized. It was part of the job. She’d learned long ago to be nice to viewers while not getting pulled into lengthy conversations. Still, the clock was ticking. ‘Thanks. I’d chat but I’m really late for an appointment.’
He held up calloused hands. ‘Oh, no problem.’
She tossed her purse in the car, grateful that this guy, whoever he was, wasn’t going to ask a thousand questions. ‘You have a good afternoon.’
‘You too.’
Kendall had all but put the man out of her mind when she felt the first sharp electric bolt rip through her body. Every one of her muscles convulsed and gave way. Her knees buckled. She’d have hit the ground hard if the guy hadn’t grabbed her.
