by Brenda Novak
His beeper chirped and Nick glanced at the number on its screen. Mendez. Maybe one of those tips had already revealed something important.
Glancing down the hall to make sure Maggie was still in her room, he dialed the detective on his cell phone, holding it against his ear with his shoulder while he scooped up his wallet and change from the coffee table and thrust them back in his pockets.
“Sorenson here.”
“Glad I caught you,” Mendez said.
“What’s up?”
“Me an’ Hurley are at Discovery Park. I think you’d better get down here.”
Nick had been expecting good news, but the gravity in the detective’s voice caused his stomach to clench with the wrong kind of anticipation. “Why?”
“I think you need to see this.”
MINUTES LATER, Maggie heard the front door close and the engine of Nick’s truck turn over. He was out of the house and on his way to God knew where. She could breathe easier and try to forget her uncharacteristically forward display, at least until he returned. Then the humiliation and embarrassment would come tumbling back. It wasn’t as though she could avoid him forever now that they were living in the same house—but she hoped that, by the time she saw him again, she’d have it all in perspective. Or maybe she’d be at work and he’d take another night off….
Luck is never that much in my corner. How had she come to let Nick move in with her, anyway? Only a few weeks ago, she’d been determined to keep her distance. Yet he’d slipped easily and quickly past her defenses, and she’d ended up kissing him. She’d actually crossed the room, run her hands over his incredible bare chest, slid her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth to his—
Flushing, Maggie wound her hair into a knot and fanned herself with one hand. Darla must be having an effect on her psyche. With Tim, she’d been reserved and unassertive, afraid to say or do anything that might make him turn on her. Now…well, her behavior didn’t bear thinking about. That kiss had been more than the challenge it appeared to be and she knew it, but she was determined to forget about the whole incident. She had work to do.
Clicking on her “Old Mail” file, she decided to let her response to John wait and pulled up the message she’d received from Lola Fillmore’s editor.
Dear Ms. Russell—
Your message has me very concerned. Lola’s murder was a difficult thing for all of us here at the Independent. We’re anxiously awaiting the time the police catch her killer so we can come to some sort of resolution, but if Dr. Dan is now contacting you, as he was contacting Lola, I want to stress how important it is that you work closely with the police. Because Lola was my friend, as well as my employee, I wouldn’t admit this to just anyone, but Lola’s ambition sometimes came between her and good judgment. Don’t make the same mistake.
Mr. Dale Henderson, Editor
Maggie twirled a lock of hair around her finger, pondering the words on her screen. Dr. Dan had been contacting Lola, and now Lola was dead. The connection certainly hadn’t escaped her. But there were other things in Henderson’s letter that raised her curiosity and her interest. Lola’s ambition sometimes came between her and good judgment. What did Henderson mean? He couldn’t be intimating that Lola had used her connection to Dr. Dan to build her career instead of helping the police…or was he? And, if so, how had her actions played a part in her murder?
The telephone sat on the corner of the desk. Maggie’s eyes darted to it, and she hesitated only a moment before lifting the receiver to dial information. Based on her own relationship with her editor and how closely he was involved in her work, she sensed that Dale Henderson knew more than he was saying. He might even know more than he’d told the police. Maybe Lola had done something that wouldn’t reflect well on her or the paper. In any case, Maggie needed more than a dire warning to be careful. She needed to know exactly what had happened between Lola Fillmore and Dr. Dan.
After getting the number, she called the Independent and the receptionist came on the line.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Henderson is unavailable at the moment, but I could transfer you to his voice mail.”
Maggie agreed, left him a message, then called back. If the Independent was anything like the Tribune, there’d be others working at the paper who knew something about Lola and the stories she’d been writing on Dr. Dan. Maybe she had a friend like Darla or worked with one particular photographer. Or maybe she collaborated with another cop reporter. Maggie knew that if she talked to enough people, she’d find someone who could tell her about Lola and Dr. Dan. There’d been a growing familiarity between them that was apparent in the articles Lola had written. If only Maggie could find out how he’d first approached her, what had drawn him to her—and what Lola had done in response. That information could very possibly save her life.
IT WAS ANOTHER VICTIM.
A knot formed in Nick’s stomach as he viewed the female corpse found only hours earlier in the shrubbery of the park. A petite brunette, she’d once been an attractive woman. Now she was dead. And like the rest of Dr. Dan’s victims, she’d died a violent death.
The guy who’d stumbled upon her body as he was coming back from a morning jog was sitting on a park bench, still looking like he might be sick. When Nick arrived, the jogger had been shaky and desperately wanted to go home to assure himself of his family’s safety. Only after Mendez had let him use his cell phone to call his wife, had he calmed down enough to answer a few questions.
Hurley was with him now, but as soon as the coroner arrived, Nick joined them. He’d been listening to their conversation with half an ear already and was intrigued by the jogger’s sighting of a man who’d apparently been crossing the park when he first got there.
“—have you seen him here before?” Hurley was asking.
The jogger, who’d given his name as Mike Flynn, shook his head. “No, I don’t think so, but I don’t always pay a lot of attention. This park draws all kinds. I just go about my business—”
“But this was early. There couldn’t have been a lot of people in the park at 6:00 a.m.?”
“Not a lot, but some.”
“Mostly joggers, cyclists, that sort of thing?”
“And people walking their dogs.”
“Was the guy you saw out walking his dog?”
“No, he didn’t have a dog.”
“And he wasn’t dressed like a jogger.”
“He was wearing dark pants and a jacket of some sort.”
“It’s the end of June. Didn’t the jacket strike you as odd?”
“Not really. It’s pretty cool here in the mornings. I mean, I wouldn’t wear one, but this guy looked kind of wrinkled, like he might’ve been sleeping in his clothes. Or maybe he spent the night drinking or something.”
“So he looked homeless?”
Mike Flynn ran a hand over the top of his short Afro. “Maybe that’s why he seemed a little furtive. I don’t know, man. By the time I saw him, he was walkin’ away from me and seemed to have some purpose. But like I said, I didn’t look at him real close. He was just some middle-aged white guy wearing street clothes.”
“Have you seen the paper this morning?”
“No. I only take it on weekends.”
Hurley slid the composite of Dr. Dan in front of him. “Could this be the man you saw?”
Nick crossed his arms and leaned against the picnic table, carefully watching Flynn’s reaction for any flicker of recognition. What he saw was confusion.
“I don’t know. The guy didn’t have a beard or a mustache and his hair wasn’t so dark. It was bleached on the ends, you know? And spiked up. I noticed because it was sort of a young style for a man his age.”
“Can you remember anything about the way he walked? Did he look at you or speak?”
“No. He had his head down and was moving pretty fast.”
“Did you notice any cars in the lot?” Nick asked, entering the conversation for the first time.
Flynn shot him a glance but spok
e to Hurley. “Just the one this guy unlocked and seemed to be getting into. I was starting my run then, so my attention was on the bike trail, not the parking lot.”
“Do you know the make and model of the car you saw?” Nick persisted.
Flynn stood, looked nervously at the coroner, who was overseeing the removal of the body, and began to edge away. “Did I hear him right? Did he just say that woman had her tongue cut out?”
Hurley nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“I just want to go home. It’s not every day I stumble on a dead person, especially one who’s been…mutilated. I feel bad about what happened to that poor woman, but I really didn’t see anything that could—”
Nick identified himself and showed his I.D. “Mr. Flynn, sometimes the smallest details are the ones that help the most. I know what you saw wasn’t a pretty sight, but it’s our job to make sure this type of thing doesn’t happen again, and we need to ask you these questions while the answers are still fresh in your mind. Now, can you remember anything about the car?”
Flynn sighed and turned so he could no longer see the body. “It was a late-model Geo.”
“What color?”
“Blue.”
“Are you sure?”
“That’s the only thing I am sure of. Can I please go now? I just want to be with my wife.”
“Just one more question. Did you happen to see if it had local plates?”
“No, man. I didn’t even look.”
Nick thanked him, and Hurley jotted down his personal information so they could reach him again if needed, then let him go.
As Nick watched, he headed up the hill to the street that dead-ended into the park. Flynn hadn’t been able to give them much, but at least he’d been able to confirm the Geo Metro. Without any information on the plates, it wasn’t enough to take to the DMV. But they could leak it to the press. Sightings of the Geo could generate more leads. So far, the composite hadn’t netted them anything. On the other hand, Dr. Dan would learn that they knew what he was driving and might simply park the Geo in a garage somewhere and buy, steal or borrow a new vehicle. Then the investigation would be no better off than before.
Suddenly, Nick realized that Hurley was shifting uncomfortably and acting as though he had something to say but didn’t want to say it.
“What is it?” he asked.
Mendez finished with the coroner just then and joined them, and Hurley shot his partner a meaningful glance. “Tell him,” he said.
Mendez shook his head ruefully and cursed. “We got something in the mail today.”
Nick raised his brows. “You gonna tell me what?”
“It’s a letter. From Dr. Dan.”
“What does he have to say this time? Anything new?”
“Not a lot,” Hurley said.
Mendez cleared his throat. “He gloats for three pages.”
“About what happened at the river?”
The smaller detective scowled. “Yep. He even signed the letter Norman Bates.”
“Asshole,” Hurley added.
If a woman hadn’t just been killed, Nick would have laughed. Mendez and Hurley had earned Dr. Dan’s derision. Dr. Dan had dangled himself right in front of them and had still managed to slip through their fingers.
But not for long.
Checking his watch to make sure it was late enough, Nick called Oliver Steele from Solid Security. According to the company’s secretary, he was supposed to be back at work today at two o’clock, which meant he was probably in town.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Steele? This is Special Agent Sorenson with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’d like to come over and talk with you. It’s important. Do you have a few minutes this morning?”
“Actually, I’m glad you called, Agent Sorenson. Lucy, the gal at work, left a message on my answering machine telling me what happened to that poor woman, and I wanted to tell you what I saw the night she was killed. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I think it might be significant.”
“What’s that, Mr. Steele?”
“Well, when I was locking the bathrooms at Sunrise Boulevard, I saw the flicker of headlights coming down the bike trail on the other side of the river and went to investigate.”
Already the story sounded familiar. Evidently Dr. Dan didn’t have much of an imagination. “And?”
“I found a man and a woman in a blue Geo Metro.”
“Did you speak to them?”
“I didn’t have much to say. I’d realized by then that they hadn’t been driving down the bike trail, like I’d thought. They’d entered via the parking lot across from the boat launch, so I simply told them the park closed at dusk. The man thanked me, but the woman said nothing. It was pretty dark, but I could see that she was kind of slumped against the car, propped up by the man. When I didn’t leave right away, he helped her back into the car and took off.”
“Why didn’t you contact the police?”
“The man held her like he was her husband or boyfriend. I assumed the woman was drunk. But when I heard about the murder, well, I knew I was wrong.”
So that was why Dr. Dan had hauled Sarah Ritter out; he’d been interrupted. With Steele right there, he couldn’t float her down the river the way he’d planned. “Sit tight, Mr. Steele. I’m going to bring over a composite sketch of the murder suspect. I’d like to see if it’s the same man you saw that night.”
“There’s no need,” Steele told him. “I’m looking at it right now.”
“And?”
“That’s the man.”
“NO! NO WAY! No dog!” Barefoot, Maggie stood with her hands on her hips as she confronted Nick in the entryway, wearing a pair of shin-length jeans and a T-shirt that hugged her breasts and was just short enough to show a tantalizing slice of midsection. Her hair was up in some sort of clip and was sticking out all over, and she wore no makeup, but she looked better to Nick than ever before. Of course, he’d been staying at his apartment, buried by the investigation and hadn’t seen her for twenty-four hours, which probably had something to do with the power of his response.
Ignoring the impulse to slide his hands over that strip of soft, bare midriff, he focused on her face and tried not to laugh at her abhorrence as she stared at his dog.
“First you show up with your luggage and ask to move in. I enlist Mrs. Gruber’s support and clean her room. Then you disappear for a day and a night. And now you show up with a dog,” she complained.
“Does that mean you missed me?” he asked hopefully.
She gave Rambo a baleful glance. “Not enough to let you bring home a dog.”
“Come on, Maggie. Rambo’s a great pet.”
“Maybe he is, but big dogs scare me, and I don’t want to worry about my shoes being chewed up while I’m at work or—”
“He doesn’t chew. And look at Zach.”
Zach had come to stand by Rambo and was giggling as the dog licked his face. Nick could tell the sight had an effect on Maggie, but he wasn’t sure it would be enough to convince her to let Rambo stay.
“Come on, Maggie. We’ll only be here for a few weeks,” he coaxed.
She bit her lip, continuing to watch as her son hugged his dog. “The house could be destroyed by then.”
“Rambo’s well-trained, and he’s completely safe around Zach,” Nick argued. “I’ve had to take a second job as a wedding photographer to pay off some old debts, so I’ll be gone more than I expected. Rambo will be here when I’m not, guarding you and Zach. Don’t you like the idea of that?”
“With my luck, the only person he’ll protect is you,” she grumbled. “You’ll walk out that door and two seconds later he’ll take a chunk out of Zach’s arm.”
“No, he won’t. Look how gentle he is. And he won’t hurt you, either. Come here.” Nick took Maggie’s hand and slid their entwined fingers beneath the dog’s nose. “See? He’ll associate our scents and know you’re my friend. He’ll never harm you.”
Ram
bo sniffed their hands, then returned his attention to Zach. Nick told himself to let go of Maggie, but his fingers refused to obey. Instead, they trailed up her arm, and he couldn’t help lowering his head to breathe in the smell of her hair. After two days with no more than a few hours’ sleep, she seemed like heaven. He barely managed to stop himself from kissing her neck.
As if she could sense the change in him, she stiffened and moved away. “You’re saying this dog will protect us?”
“He doesn’t like intruders.”
“And he’d never harm Zach?”
“Never.” Nick studied her. “You trust me, don’t you, Maggie?”
She hesitated.
“Come on,” Nick said. “How could you not trust me after Tuesday morning?” If she knew the self-control refusing her kiss had required, she’d consider him a saint. She’d never doubt another word he said. She’d trust him with her life—and if she knew what was good for her, she’d never tempt him like that again.
“If Zach was older, I probably wouldn’t mind,” she said, “but…” She let her words trail off as Zach tried to ride Rambo and ended up hugging him again, instead.
“I do worry about Zach getting lonely,” she admitted, frowning. “There aren’t any little kids to play with on this street, just Mrs. Gruber’s grandson when he comes to visit.”
