by Rita Herron
Cissy Cornwell was lying on the bathroom floor, her eyes gaping in the shock of death, blood soaking her neck and chest.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lenora gasped, a deep trembling starting inside her that made her cold all over. Cissy Cornwell lay in a pool of her own blood, her lips parted, one bloody hand reaching out as if to plead for her lover to save her.
Simpleton had probably enjoyed watching her beg for her life, seeing the shock on her face, the realization that she’d risked everything to help him. Yet in the end, he’d made her suffer just as he had his other victims.
“Son of a bitch,” Micah muttered.
“He used her, then killed her,” she said, her voice thick.
“Yeah, and now she can’t tell us anything.” Micah knelt to examine her body, although it was obvious she was dead. She’d lost a lot of blood, her complexion was pasty, her eyes glazed.
“Body’s just starting to go into rigor,” Micah said. “That means Simpleton can’t be too far away.”
Lenora glanced around the bathroom in search of signs of Simpleton. Women’s toiletries. Cheap perfume. Fake eyelashes. Peroxide for her hair.
Or was it for Simpleton’s? He could have dyed it white.
Another scan of the small bathroom and she noticed wrappers from a kit, moustache and sideburns. He’d obviously donned a disguise.
What did he look like now?
Micah pulled his phone from his pocket and made a call. “Yes, Lieutenant, this is Hardin. I’m at Cissy Cornwell’s apartment. She’s dead.” A hesitation. “Yes, it was him. He slashed her throat.”
Although he’d stabbed his other victims in the heart. Why hadn’t he done so with Cissy?
Lenora’s eyes were drawn to the bloody X on the woman’s chest, and she started to shake uncontrollably. The bloody X was just like the one he’d carved on all his victims, including her.
After the crime scene photographs had been taken at the hole where she’d been kept and then again at the hospital, the nurse had washed away the bloody X. Except Simpleton had carved it deep enough to leave a scar. A plastic surgeon had taken care of it soon afterwards.
But in her mind, it would always be there.
A permanent reminder of what he’d done to her.
In the early stages after her release, when she’d suffered severe panic attacks and nightmares, she’d wake up screaming that she had to get rid of that damned X. She’d scrubbed her skin raw trying to erase it. The doctor assured her it wasn’t visible.
But she saw it every time she looked in the mirror.
“Send a crime unit,” Micah said. “And see if you can find out what kind of car she drove. Maybe Simpleton’s in it now.”
Lenora’s heart raced. Could it be that simple? They’d locate the make and model, issue an APB and the police would catch him.
A shiver tore through her. No. Robert Simpleton was a cunning planner. He hadn’t escaped on a whim. He’d carefully orchestrated his escape just as he had his abductions.
Which meant he probably already had a list of his next victims. She was top on that list. But who else would he take?
A random woman or someone connected to her?
Micah wished to hell that Lenora wasn’t with him. He hated that she’d seen Cissy’s dead body and knew that the bloody X on the woman’s chest triggered painful memories.
“Lenora, once the crime unit arrives, I’ll take you home.”
Her eyes flared with determination. “No, do what you need to do to find him.” She pointed to the trash and the wrappers. “It looks like he may have altered his appearance.”
Micah nodded. “In prison, they cut his hair. Our computer team can run his picture through our program to show how he might look in different disguises, with different hair and facial hair. Then we’ll show it on the news.”
Lenora wiped perspiration from her forehead. “Did he leave the knife he used to kill her?”
Micah scanned the small bathroom. “I don’t see it anywhere. He probably took it with him.”
“To use again,” Lenora said through clenched teeth.
Micah couldn’t argue with that point. He used his phone to capture several photographs of Cissy’s body, focusing on details of the way she was lying, the blood pools, and her clothing which was strewn across the bathroom.
He looked in the trash and saw Simpleton’s prison jumpsuit and photographed it as well. “He didn’t even try to cover his tracks.”
Lenora grimaced. “He wants me to know he’s coming.”
Micah gripped her arms. “Look at me, Lenora. He may come after you, but I won’t let him hurt you again. I promise.”
Lenora’s lower lip quivered. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Micah.”
She was right. But he had to make her feel safe.
“I will keep this one,” he said softly.
Her gaze met his, emotions darkening her eyes. She wanted to trust him; that was obvious. But she also understood the kind of monster they were dealing with, and if Simpleton found a way to get Micah out of the way, he might trap Lenora again.
He couldn’t let that happen. He had to stay focused.
He dropped his hands and took a step away, needing the distance. Becoming personally entangled with Lenora would only cloud his judgment.
“I’m going to look around, see if I can find any sign where Simpleton was headed.”
“Probably to find another victim. You know he always takes three women.”
“Yes, but I’m not sure Cissy counts. The MO is different.”
“Because he knew her,” Lenora said.
“Maybe. She might be different to him because she actually did love him.”
Lenora’s stomach rolled. “You’re right. He tried to force us to say that we loved him. But when the other women did, he grew enraged, called them liars and killed them.”
“Cissy was a means to an end, not part of his sick demented MO. He wanted to get rid of her quick and fast.”
Lenora inhaled a deep breath. “Tell me what to do and I’ll help.”
He removed two pairs of latex gloves from his pocket, tossed one to her, then yanked on the other pair. “Look for her purse while I search the desk and kitchen. If you find something let me know and we’ll bag and tag it to send to the lab. But be sure to put everything else back where you find it.”
Lenora nodded, pulled on the gloves then ducked into the closet in search of the purse. Seconds later, she came out empty handed. “Judging from the unopened boxes in the closet, Cissy had an addiction to the shopping channel. But her purse isn’t in there.”
“Check the den and kitchen.”
She disappeared into the other room while he strode over to the small desk in the bedroom corner. No computer or cell phone. A quick scan through the drawers turned up nothing but unpaid bills and a dry cleaning stub.
“I found her purse,” she called.
“Is there a cell phone in it?”
“No.”
Dammit, Simpleton probably took it. Although he’d be too smart to use it. Because he knew they’d check Cissy’s caller ID log and text history. Was there something on there he didn’t want them to see?
He’d ask forensics to pull her phone records and examine them.
“Go through her purse,” Micah said as he stepped into the den. “Look for an address book, notes, anything that might give us a clue where he’s going. The name of a motel, another friend who might be helping.”
“I’m looking.”
Micah opened the refrigerator and found a cheap bottle of wine and two steaks. Cissy had obviously planned a celebratory romantic dinner, but Simpleton had had other plans. He spotted a grocery receipt on the counter and skimmed it. Ahh, she’d also bought beer which Simpleton obviously had taken.
He closed the refrigerator, then looked inside the cabinets and found tacky orange flowered dishes that looked like they’d come from a yard sale along with mismatched chipped coffee mugs.
A
basket on the counter held junk mail and unpaid bills. He thumbed through them, deciding Cissy must have been a hairbreadth away from being evicted. A convenience store receipt confirmed that she’d bought two burner phones, so she’d probably given one to Simpleton to take with him.
Then he hit pay dirt. He found a receipt for a pickup truck and a tag, both paid for in cash.
A siren wailed, and he realized it was probably the crime unit so he told Lenora he’d be back, then stepped outside the apartment to meet them. His phone was ringing, so he swiped to answer it.
“Hardin, it’s Lt. Roper. We found out what kind of car Cissy Cornwell owned. A white Toyota sedan.”
“It’s in the parking lot,” Micah said. “But I found a receipt for a black pickup truck. My guess is that’s what Simpleton’s driving.”
“Give me the details and I’ll issue an APB.”
Micah recited the license number, well aware that Simpleton might remove or disguise the tag, but hoping that the make and model would be enough to catch the police’s attention on the road.
It would be a miracle if they caught the asshole before he killed again.
He just wished he believed in miracles.
Lenora felt as if she was violating Cissy’s privacy by searching through her purse, a cheap vinyl, oversized orange bag that was packed with junk. Yet the woman had helped a cruel madman escape prison so he could wreak havoc again on innocent women’s lives.
Had Cissy not understood how brutal and violent the man was? Hadn’t she read the papers and seen the list of his victims?
If so, how could she possibly have aided in his escape?
She pulled out a comb, hair spray and perfume along with a red wallet. She opened it and glanced at Cissy’s driver’s license. The woman was only twenty-nine, but the cigarettes she found inside explained why she looked older and the reason for her yellowed teeth. Two lighters and matches from a bar that sounded vaguely like a strip joint were at the bottom of the bag.
Micah had said Cissy was a hairdresser, but she could have moonlighted as a waitress, stripper or…prostitute.
She laid each of the items she removed on the coffee table. A fire engine red lipstick. Compact. Make up bag with eyeliner, blue eye shadow and enough rouge to paint a clown’s face.
Next, she discovered a stack of envelopes wrapped in a rubber band. She pulled them out, expecting to see bills, but when she looked at the return address, she realized they were from the state prison.
Her stomach churned as she opened the first one and began to read.
Dear Cissy,
I am so grateful to find you, my love. You are such a special woman. Each night as I lie on my cot, I think of how beautiful you are, how delicate your face is. How tender and soft your skin will feel when I finally touch it.
I dream about you every night now. Dream of the two of us kissing and holding each other. Of long walks in the moonlight. Of long nights where we make love and hold each other until dawn.
Seeing you is like seeing the sunshine that I miss so much. I can’t wait until I’m free and we’re together.
Love always,
Robbie
Lenora’s hand shook as she dropped the letter. Her pulse pounded as she opened another one and read it. More of the same. Loving words and promises, tender thoughts and dreams of gentle touches, memories Simpleton proclaimed to want to make with Cissy. Even love poems he’d carefully copied in some kind of script writing that looked elegant and lovely.
Not at all like the ugly monster beneath that façade.
With each letter, Lenora grew increasingly angry. Simpleton had completely conned Cissy into believing he’d been victimized, that she’d told lies about him, that he’d been falsely imprisoned.
Then Cissy had helped him and gotten her throat slit for doing so.
The bastard deserved to die.
She wanted to rip the letters into a million pieces and burn them, but common sense reminded her they were evidence.
And that she was supposed to be looking for something to help them track down Simpleton.
She carefully placed the letters back in their envelopes for the crime team, then dug in the purse once again and found a small black book. She opened it and skimmed the pages, but all the names listed were men.
Clients? Not from a hair salon…
Had Simpleton known she was a hooker on the side? If he hadn’t and he’d discovered it when he escaped, it might have triggered his rage.
Not that she believed that the man had loved Cissy. No…he was incapable of love.
He had coldly used Cissy then discarded her just as he did all the women in his life.
Micah filled the crime unit in on what he suspected had happened, then led them inside Cissy’s apartment.
“I’ve looked for a computer and cell phone but didn’t find one. Simpleton left his prison uniform in the trash, but we need to process it for forensics just to confirm it was his.”
“Did you find the weapon?”
“No.” Micah gritted his teeth as Lenora looked up at him from the couch. Her expression looked tormented, but he decided not to question her until they were alone. After all, technically she shouldn’t have been handling evidence.
One of the techs collected the purse from Lenora.
“He snowed Cissy with love letters,” she said in a whisper so only Micah could hear.
“He’s a sociopath,” Micah murmured. “He changes faces like a chameleon.”
Lenora nodded and crossed her arms, and Micah turned back to the CSI team.
“The body is in the bathroom.” The ME appeared and Micah led the way.
“She’s been dead only a few hours,” he said. “We haven’t found a computer or cell. Pull her phone records and let me know what you find.”
The ME knelt to examine her. “You’re right. Body’s still slightly warm.”
He didn’t need the doctor to tell him cause of death. She’d bled out within minutes from the knife wound.
“I’m going to drive Lenora home,” he said. “Look for something that might indicate where Simpleton’s going next.”
The CSI nodded, and Micah stepped back into the den. “Come on, Lenora. Let’s go back to your place.”
She followed him outside to his SUV, unusually quiet.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said softly as they settled inside.
“I saw him kill before,” she said as if the sight of Cissy’s dead body hadn’t bothered her.
“I know,” he said. “But that’s supposed to be behind you.” And they both knew Simpleton’s escape had resurrected the memories.
“It’s hard for me to imagine that Cissy fell for his act,” Lenora said as he drove toward her condo. “She had to have seen the news. Heard what he did to all those women.”
And to her.
Micah’s jaw twitched. “Some people are so lonely they only see what they want to see.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence, Micah praying that the police spotted Simpleton’s pickup and pulled him over so this nightmare could end for Lenora before it got worse.
A siren blasted the air. Robert cursed as he looked up and saw a police car racing up behind him. Blue lights flashed and twirled, the lights nearly blinding him.
God dammit. He checked his speed. Under the limit. He hadn’t run a stop sign, and there weren’t any red lights in this lone stretch of highway.
Someone knew that he was driving this truck.
Fucking Cissy. He’d told her to throw away receipts, bills, anything that left a paper trail. But the stupid cunt obviously hadn’t listened.
It was a good thing she was dead or he’d kill her.
The police car roared closer, and he veered onto a side street and sped up, weaving around two other cars that were drag assing along. He spotted another road up ahead to the right and skimmed the side of the VW as he passed, sending the driver toward the embankment. The VW spun out of control, causing the Jeep behind
it to crash into its side, and he swung onto the other road just before the police car met up with the crash.
He whooped with joy when he saw the police car slow to see if the drivers were okay. Then he sped up and flew down the highway singing Joy to the World.
Images of Nan Purcell flashed in his head, and he clenched the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip as his cock hardened. Nan had sat behind Lenora at his trial. Nan had been Lenora’s best friend since high school, and they’d roomed together in college.
But Nan had looked up at him, and he’d seen the doubts in her eyes. She didn’t know whether to believe everything Lenora said.
She was drawn to him.
A smile tilted his lips as he remembered the file he’d obtained from another inmate who’d been paroled. It had burned in the diversionary fire at the prison, but he’d memorized every detail in it.
Nan was a financial planner. Traveled a lot. She lived alone.
He would have her tonight. That prim and proper, shy little lady was going to learn what it was like to be with a real man. What it was like to be loved.
What he’d done to Lenora.
But he’d wait to end her sorry life until Lenora was there to watch.
Listening to Lenora’s pleas to save her friend would be his revenge. Then they would both have to die.
CHAPTER FIVE
Micah scanned the parking lot of Lenora’s condo, half expecting to see the pickup Simpleton was driving but also knowing the man was smart and might park away from the complex and walk—rather sneak—inside.
Streetlights illuminated the lot, and he noticed two security cameras in opposite corners. She led him to her unit, a two-story with pansies in flowerboxes flanking the doorway.
Her hand shook as she unlocked the door, and he followed her inside, glad he kept a duffel bag of clothes and toiletries in his vehicle because he sure as hell didn’t intend to leave her alone tonight.
