by Debra Webb
Since LeDoux and one of his colleagues were in the conference room, she had no desire for them to hear what was obviously going to be a desperate mother and bereaved wife melting down.
“I am sick to death of hearing the same thing,” Taggart shouted. She stabbed a finger at Bobbie. “You’re the reason he’s here. You’re the reason he took my son and killed my husband. You should be out there trying to stop this monster.”
Newt stepped between them. “Mrs. Taggart—”
“Mrs. Taggart.” Lieutenant Owens’s voice was direct and firm and somehow reassuring at the same time. “Step into my office, and let’s allow the detectives to get on with their work. We want to find your son.”
Taggart swayed on her feet. Before Bobbie could reach her, Newt took her by the arm and ushered her to the LT’s office. As she closed the door, Owens gave Bobbie a knowing nod.
“We have to go.” Bobbie took her partner by the arm and escorted him toward the exit. “I’ll explain on the way.”
“You sure look better today,” Newt offered as they exited the building.
Bobbie stalled and looked at her partner. “She’s right, you know. He’s here for me. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t survived.”
“Bobbie.” Newt took her by the shoulders. “At some point you have to stop blaming yourself. Perry is responsible for everything that’s happened, not you. I wish I could make you believe that truth. It’s time you took your life back.”
Newt just didn’t understand. Her life was over. Stopping the bastard who’d taken it and so many others was all that mattered now.
She hoped like hell she could make that happen before he hurt that child...or Gwen.
Highland Avenue, 11:10 a.m.
Bobbie waited for the convenience store clerk to complete the transaction and for the customer to be on his way with the pack of cigarettes he’d purchased. This place was only blocks from where Gwen’s car had been found. It was as good a place as any to start retracing her steps. She flashed her badge and then showed the photo of Neely she’d taken with her cell.
“Have you seen this guy?”
The clerk studied the image, then he shrugged. “Maybe. I can’t say for sure.”
Newt pointed to the camera near the ceiling in the corner behind the clerk. “You have any other cameras besides this one?”
“There’s two outside, but they don’t work.” The clerk nodded toward the one behind him. “That one doesn’t, either. The owner keeps saying he’s going to get them repaired, but he hasn’t yet.”
“Were you working on Thursday?” Bobbie asked as she tucked her cell at her waist.
He shook his head. “It was Leander Sykes. She pulled a double. When I came in around seven on Friday morning, she was complaining.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s always complaining.”
“How do we get in touch with her?” Newt pulled out his pocket-size notepad and pen.
“She’s overseeing the unloading of the delivery truck.” He pointed to the employees-only door at the rear of the store. “Just walk on through there.”
Bobbie thanked him and followed Newt to the storeroom. The space was larger than she’d expected. An employees’ restroom and a couple of lockers were surrounded by rows of shelves and stacks of boxes. A small overhead door was in the up position. As Bobbie watched, a man rolled a hand truck loaded with boxes through the open door. A woman, presumably Leander Sykes, held a clipboard and was busily checking off items. She looked to be in her midforties. Bottled blond hair was held up by a purple claw clip. Between her big eyeglasses, the high-waist straight-legged jeans and the polka-dot midriff-length crop top, she might have walked off the set of a 1980s television show.
“Leander?” Bobbie approached her. Newt stayed a few steps behind.
“You’re not supposed to be back here,” Leander warned.
Bobbie pulled her jacket aside and showed her badge. “Detectives Gentry and Newton, MPD. We have a few questions for you.”
Newt gestured to the man with the hand truck. “Why don’t you take a smoke break, buddy?”
The guy shrugged. “Fine by me.” He reached for his shirt pocket as he headed for the open door.
“What’s this about?” Leander held the clipboard against her chest like a shield. She blinked repeatedly, the generously applied blue eye shadow drawing attention to her brown eyes.
Bobbie showed her the photo of Neely. “Have you seen this man before?”
Leander stared at the screen for several seconds. “Can you zoom it in?” She tapped the frame of her glasses. “I need a new prescription.”
“Sure.” Bobbie zoomed in on the photo until Neely’s face filled the screen.
Leander nodded. “Oh yeah. That’s him.” She pointed to Bobbie’s phone. “He came in here Thursday afternoon. Well, after the lunch crowd, around three maybe. He was acting all weird.”
“Weird in what way?”
“He said his car quit on him and wanted to know if he could wait inside for a friend. It was damned hot.” She scratched her head with her pencil. “But we’re not really supposed to allow anyone to hang around inside. Worked out okay since he suddenly changed his mind and hurried out the door. I think he spotted the camera above the cash register, and it freaked him out. Maybe he was planning on robbing the place. Thank God he couldn’t tell the thing didn’t work.”
“Did he leave?”
Leander nodded. “As soon as he was out the door he pulled out his cell phone and headed for the street.”
Neely had gotten spooked by the camera. He’d called whoever he’d intended to meet and gone in search of a location without any security, Bobbie surmised.
“Did you see him again after that?” Newt asked.
“He didn’t come back in the store, so I can’t say whether or not he hung around outside. We get a crowd out there sometimes. The police come through every once in a while and the parking lot clears out. I can’t say when he left or if he came back later.”
Before moving on, Bobbie showed her a photo of Perry and asked if she’d seen him.
Leander asked her to zoom in again, and then she peered at the most recent photo taken of Perry before he disappeared last November.
Leander nodded slowly. “You know what, I have seen him. He was in here that same evening. A little later. But...” She made a face as if she was uncertain.
Pulse pounding, Bobbie said, “Look closely at his eyes and nose. Are you sure it was him you saw?”
More of the nodding. “Definitely. Except he was bald.” She patted her head. “You know, slick as a baby’s butt bald. And he wore glasses. They were too big for his face.” She wrinkled her nose. “He kept pushing them up the bridge of his nose.”
Bobbie exchanged a look with Newt.
“What time would you say he was here?” Newt asked.
“Around five thirty or six. I came on at two. Yeah.” She hugged her clipboard again. “I remember because I was complaining about the assholes—” she pressed her hand to her mouth “—pardon my French. These two young guys had come in here showing their tails and being disrespectful.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why people don’t teach their kids how to be respectful anymore.”
“What did this man do or say?” Bobbie asked, hardly able to restrain the urge to shake the woman and tell her to focus.
“Oh, he was real charming.” She blushed. “He called me by my name.” One hand went to the name badge she wore. “He was just nice, you know.” Her smile couldn’t get any wider. “A real gentleman.”
Bobbie opted against asking her if she ever watched the news. She steeled herself and went straight to the important questions. “Did you see what he was driving?”
Leander frowned and then made a face. “Sorry, I sure didn’t. I got busy after that and I di
dn’t even notice when he left.”
“Was anyone else working with you that day?” Newt asked.
Bobbie’s heart started to race as she waited for the woman’s answer. No wonder Perry hadn’t been spotted. He had shaved his head and wore big glasses. They’d expected he would disguise himself somehow. This was an important break.
“Yeah,” Leander said. “Shelley was here, but she’s pregnant and she has to run to the bathroom constantly. Between me and you—” Leander leaned a little closer to Bobbie “—I think she goes in there and gets on her phone. The woman is addicted to Facebook.”
“Can you remember what he was wearing?” Bobbie pressed.
Leander hummed an uncertain note. “A shirt. Not a T-shirt. A shirt that buttoned up the front. I thought it was a little odd cause it was so hot and he had the damned thing buttoned to the neck. Sorry. I can’t remember anything else.”
“Do you recall what he purchased?” Bobbie moistened her lips and struggled to be patient.
Leander considered the question a moment. “A couple of bottles of water and some of those deli snack packs.”
Food and water for Gwen and the boys. Bobbie looked to Newt once more, then back to Leander. “Do you remember anything else about him? Have you seen him since that day?”
The clerk shook her head. “No, ma’am. If either one of them has been back, I wasn’t on shift.” She looked from Bobbie to Newt. “What’d they do, rob a bank?”
“The bald man,” Newt said so Bobbie wouldn’t have to, “is Gaylon Perry, a serial killer. If you see him again, as soon as it’s safe, you call this number.” He handed her a card.
The woman went on and on about how she couldn’t believe she’d been that close to a serial killer. As soon as she paused to drag in a breath, Bobbie said, “You’ve been very helpful, Leander. Thank you.”
On the way back through the store, Newt showed the Storyteller’s photo to the man behind the counter and left a card.
Outside, the temperature was rising almost as fast as Bobbie’s heart rate. She had to pass the update along to the LT now. LeDoux and his team needed to be alerted to the changes in his appearance.
Newt settled into the passenger seat of Bobbie’s Challenger. “If Neely met with Perry in person...”
Bobbie was thinking the same thing. Since Neely didn’t live in this neighborhood, it was the only explanation for the two appearing at this convenience store the same afternoon. “He could describe the car he’s driving,” Bobbie finished for her partner.
Owens had said to lean on Neely. The trouble was, what were they going to have to promise the jerk to get him to talk?
“We need to talk to him,” Newt suggested.
“We do.” Bobbie headed for the jail. Neely’s bail arraignment wasn’t until later today so they had a reasonable shot at strong-arming some information out of him while he was still desperate for his freedom.
After a few miles of silence, Newt announced, “I talked to my wife last night.”
“You talk to her every night, don’t you?” Bobbie said as she made the next turn. She was pumped. The clerk had positively ID’d the Storyteller.
“Ha-ha. I talked to her about you,” Newt clarified. “We’re in agreement that you shouldn’t be staying alone at your place right now. We’d like you to stay with us.”
Bobbie cleared her head of the whirling thoughts and glanced at her partner. “I appreciate it. You tell Carlene I really, really do, but I can’t do that.”
“Bobbie—”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the chief—I’m not making anyone else a target.”
“Your face is all over the news this morning,” Newt challenged. “There are those who think you should be run out of town so Perry will follow you. If we don’t find the other two victims alive, this could turn nasty for all the wrong reasons.”
Yeah, she’d gotten a glimpse here and there of the news. The people who were saying those things were afraid. Fear made people say and do things they wouldn’t otherwise do. She worked hard to keep that in mind.
“I won’t run from him, Newt. Not again.”
“I just want to be able to sleep at night, girlie,” he confessed.
Bobbie gifted him with a sad smile. “Sorry. But I have to do this my way.”
He nodded. “I had to try.”
She parked and they entered the jail. All they needed was one lead to get them on the right track. Just one. Neely could provide that lead. Anticipation hummed in her blood. She didn’t care what she had to promise him to get him to talk. Legally, she couldn’t promise him anything. Hopefully he didn’t know that.
The sign-in sergeant stopped them as soon as Bobbie announced who they were there to see.
“Take a seat, Detectives.” The sergeant gestured to the short row of chairs across from his desk. “Neely’s meeting with his attorney right now.”
Damn. Just their luck.
Newt chatted a while with the sergeant. Bobbie took a seat. As much as she appreciated and respected the Constitution, it annoyed the hell out of her that even scumbags like Neely were entitled to representation. She hoped he had the worst lawyer in the city. He sure as hell shouldn’t have the best.
The low hum of Newt’s conversation had her eyes drifting shut. She hadn’t slept more than an hour or two at a time in months. Even if she never slept again she had to keep going. She had to finish this.
Last night had been particularly difficult. She hadn’t wanted to sleep with Shade under the same roof. Besides Newt and the chief, she hadn’t slept under the same roof with a man since...before.
She hadn’t been able to get comfortable. Her mind kept going to the idea that he was in the house and that she really knew nothing about him. Yet she instinctively understood that he could help her somehow—even if she didn’t want to acknowledge it. Maybe being under the same roof with her had made him uncomfortable as well since he’d been gone when she got up.
She closed her eyes and blocked thoughts of him.
Only one thing mattered...stopping the Storyteller.
Sixteen
12:28 p.m.
“You’re sure there’re no cameras or recording devices?”
Neely was nervous. Understandable. Nick hoped he endured far more discomfort before this was over.
“You have my word, Mr. Neely,” Nick assured him. “Our conversations are completely private and fall under attorney-client privilege. You may speak freely and no one, other than myself, will ever hear what you have to say.”
“It was Carl’s idea,” he said as he leaned forward and braced his elbows on the marred tabletop. “He wanted to save his kid, you know? I had to help him. It was the right thing to do.”
“What occurred between you and Carl Evans is not the FBI’s highest priority, Liam. May I call you Liam?”
“Sure.” He frowned. “If that’s true, then what am I doing here? That crazy bitch read me my rights like I was a criminal. I was just trying to help a sick kid. Anybody with a heart would have done the same thing.”
“I completely understand.” Nick restrained the contempt mounting inside him. “Any parent would understand.”
“You have kids?” Neely asked hopefully.
“I do,” Nick lied. “I would do exactly what you did for them.”
Neely relaxed back in his chair. “Good to know. So, how do you get me out of here?”
“Before we take any steps,” Nick began, “it’s imperative I understand any and all issues that might present a problem in our case.”
More of those frown lines deepened on Neely’s face. “What do you mean, issues?”
“Anything you did that the authorities might discover in the course of their investigation. It’s always better if I’m prepared to contest anything th
ey throw our way. All you need to do is start at the beginning and tell me everything you did as it relates to Ms. Adams and those files.”
Neely tapped his thumb against the table. “It’s your job to be on my side, right? You won’t like—” he shrugged “—get all judgmental or anything.”
“I have a responsibility to the court to represent you to the best of my ability.” Nick opened the briefcase he’d brought along and removed a pad and pen. “My sole purpose is to listen and determine the proper avenues for navigating any legal obstacles that arise.”
“Okay.” Neely nodded. “Okay. About a week and a half ago I heard Gwen and Carl arguing. She flat-out refused to give him the records. Since she’s a nurse at the hospital and with home health, she has access to all their records.”
“Did she tell you what Carl wanted?”
“Nah. I asked him myself.” He picked at his fingers. “At first he wouldn’t tell me. Eventually he opened up. The guy who wanted them was some big movie producer from out in LA. He wanted to do a movie about what happened with that Detective Gentry. He offered Carl a hundred grand for the records. I told Carl for ten I would get them for him.” He looked from his fingers to Nick and back. “I’ve been out of work for a while. Ten grand went a long way toward getting me back on my feet.”
Nick nodded. “I noticed you made an additional deposit.” MPD and the bureau didn’t have Neely’s bank records just yet, but Nick did.
His eyes went wide. “How do you know that?”
“The police have your bank records.” He picked up a manila folder from his briefcase. “They had to turn over any evidence discovered so I can properly prepare your defense.”
Neely groaned. “Oh man. I knew I shouldn’t have deposited any of that money. But the car dealer wouldn’t sell me the car without a cashier’s check.” He laughed. “Since when did people stop taking cash? Anyway, the bank wouldn’t issue the cashier’s check unless the money was deposited in my account first.”
“Where did the additional money come from?”
