No Darker Place--A Thriller

by Debra Webb

  Neely shifted in his chair. “You gotta understand, Carl and I didn’t know the person we were dealing with was this serial killer freak. We really thought he was a movie producer.”

  Nick pretended to make a few notes on his pad. “What did he want besides the records?”

  Neely moistened his lips. “He wanted to interview Gwen personally.”

  Nick forced his pulse rate to slow. “Was she willing to talk to this movie producer?”

  Neely made a dismissive sound. “She would never have agreed to it.” He inhaled a big breath and let it go. “So I arranged the meeting.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “I told her about this house I saw. She’s been saving for a house. I knew that would get her attention.”

  What a piece of shit. “What name did he use?”

  Neely frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You said Gaylon Perry represented himself as a movie producer. What name did he use?” It was a struggle to keep the fury out of his tone.

  “Quentin somebody. I can’t remember, but it sounded authentic.”

  “When you discovered Gwen was missing, what did you do?”

  “I called her phone a bunch of times. When I found her abandoned car in the middle of the night, I called Carl. We both looked everywhere and couldn’t find her. It was insane. We had this big argument. He said he’d been doing some research and that this movie guy wasn’t who he said he was. He called the number the bastard had given us, and the guy said a bunch of crazy shit. Carl was real upset. I mean really freaked out. He went home, said he was calling the police. I kept driving around looking for her.” Neely cleared his throat. “Then I got scared so I went home and got high.”

  “This was the morning Carl Evans shot himself?”

  Neely nodded. “You have to believe me, I had no idea who this motherfucker was. We never met face-to-face, just talked on the phone. After I made sure Gwen was headed to the house, I called him and that was the last time I heard from him until Carl called him. I did drive by the house after Gwen got there. She was still sitting in her car.” He shook his head. “The whole thing was fucked up.”

  Nick forced himself to make another fake note in order to get his temper under control; then he lifted his gaze to the fucking idiot seated across from him. “This is very important, Liam. Did you see any other vehicle near the house while Gwen was there?”

  Neely shrugged. “I lived in that neighborhood as a kid, you know. I’m familiar with the streets, so I parked on the next street for a little while to watch. Just to make sure she was okay.”

  “Is this when you got high, Liam?” Nick asked. “Maybe you couldn’t wait until you got home.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I snorted a little coke.”

  Great. “And what did you see?”

  “A black car pulled into the driveway behind Gwen.” He cleared his throat. “A man wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses got out and went up to her car, and the two of them went inside the house. So I left. I figured if she went in with him, he must have been okay. Gwen is nobody’s fool.”

  Except yours, Nick kept to himself. “Can you tell me anything about the car?”

  “It was an Altima. Black four-door Altima.”

  “Were there any decals or a license plate?”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t see any from where I was parked, but it had to be a rental, didn’t it?”

  Nick ignored his question. “Was the car old or new?”

  He made a face as if he were thinking hard. Nick suspected this was something he rarely did.

  “Not brand-new, but maybe last year’s model.”

  “Is there anything else you remember? Did he suggest any other meeting place?”

  Liam moved his head from side to side. “Nothing.”

  “He didn’t mention any other locations?” Nick repeated.

  Neely shook his head. “No. He never wanted to stay on the phone long, like he was always in a hurry.”

  Nick tossed his notepad and pen back into the briefcase and closed it. He stood.

  “Wait! What happens now? When am I getting out of here?”

  Nick shrugged. “I have no idea.” He reached for the door.

  “But aren’t you supposed to figure this out and give me some kind of advice?”

  Nick hesitated. He really should keep going. Before he could stop himself he turned around. He leaned across the table and put his face in the idiot’s expectant one. “Here’s some advice for you, Neely. Bearing in mind what you’ve done, before they haul your sorry ass off to prison—I’m thinking Atmore, a real shithole—do the world a favor and kill yourself.”

  The fool’s irate bellowing followed Nick out the door.

  As he reached the security checkpoint, he stopped.

  Bobbie Gentry and her partner were walking in his direction.

  Seventeen

  Bobbie looked from Shade to the corridor. “Why are you here?” And why was he wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase? A bad, bad feeling temporarily stifled the exhilaration she’d felt only minutes ago. Oh hell.

  “Let’s talk outside.” Shade gave her a look that urged her to listen.

  Newt took hold of her arm and ushered her after Shade. “We’ll be back,” he said to the desk sergeant as they passed.

  Once they were out of the building, Bobbie wheeled on Shade. Was he insane? This was not an episode of some television series where cases were solved by going around the law. What about you, Bobbie? She dismissed the voice. The steps she took were different. “What the hell are you doing here, Shade?”

  He looked from Bobbie to her partner and back. “You’re looking for a Nissan Altima. Black in color. Relatively new, maybe last year’s model. Possibly a rental.”

  “You talked to Neely?” she demanded.

  He dared to walk away. She stormed after him. “I could arrest you right now, Shade. What you did was—”

  He halted. “Like I said, we play by different rules, Detective.”

  When he headed for his car once more, Bobbie would have followed but Newt stopped her. “He gave us a lead. Let’s not waste time arguing the law with him.”

  Her partner was right. She watched Shade drive away. “Are we still talking to Neely?”

  Newt harrumphed. “You think he’s going to talk to us now?”

  “Damn it!” Bobbie loaded into her Challenger. What the hell had Shade been thinking? “If he screwed up any chance we had of learning something from Neely—”

  “I’m thinking he may have given us a hell of a break.” Newt tapped a few keys on his cell. “We can start with Alamo and work our way through the alphabet.”

  Bobbie set a course for the address Newt spouted off. They’d barely gotten a mile when her cell rang. She pulled it from her waist and groaned. “It’s Owens.” Bobbie hit the accept-call button and braced for questions she couldn’t answer. “Gentry.”

  “Detective, what the hell is going on over there? I just received a call informing me that Liam Neely is screaming something about being harassed and questioned under false pretenses. Have you and Detective Newton questioned him?”

  “No, ma’am. We got a tip and decided to follow up on it first.” Bobbie glanced at Newt. It was one thing for her to risk damaging her career and entirely another to jeopardize his. He gave her a confirming nod. “Newt and I never made it into the interview room. When we first arrived the desk sergeant said Neely’s attorney was with him. Then we got this tip and we’re following up now.”

  Owens sighed, the sound conveying her frustration. “I won’t ask for the source of your tip, but I would like to know what this lead is.”

  “It’s possible Perry may be using a rental car. A black Nissan Altima. We’re hitting the rental agencies now
.”

  “I want an update every two hours.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Bobbie ended the call and tucked her cell away. “We’re off the hook for now. But—” she glanced at Newt “—the security video at the jail will show the make-believe attorney who visited Neely was the same guy who went to the hospital with me last night. I don’t want Shade dragging you into trouble, Newt.”

  “Don’t worry about me, girlie.” He relaxed into the seat and flipped the sun visor down. “I was busting heads as a beat cop when Owens was still wearing cheerleader skirts.”

  Bobbie sent him a surprised look. “Owens was a cheerleader in high school?”

  “She was. My mother was a member of the Christian Ladies League, and she heard about one of the cheerleaders needing a little help. So she bought the girl’s uniform and paid the fees related to her participation.”

  “They don’t make them like your mom anymore, Newt.” Bobbie lost her mom when she was only twelve. Cancer sucked. Life sucked. She just wished she could have been a better mom.

  Maybe she could be a good cop for a little while longer.

  Long enough to get this son of a bitch.

  Gardendale Drive, 7:58 p.m.

  Bobbie backed into her driveway. Her surveillance detail parked at the curb. She locked the car and headed for the front door. She and Newt had hit every car rental agency in the city, including those at the dealerships and at the airport. No one had rented a car to anyone who matched the Storyteller’s description—the old description or the new one.

  A total of thirteen Altimas had been rented. Ten of those were definitely legitimate, the other three were unconfirmed. She shoved the key into her lock. There was always the chance Perry had stolen the car and it hadn’t been reported yet. Cars went missing on the larger car lots and often weren’t noted for days. Newt had requested the names and addresses of everyone in the county who owned a black Altima manufactured in the past two years.

  She opened the door and cleared her mind. She listened and inhaled deeply, confirming the sounds and smells of her place hadn’t changed. Once inside with the door locked, she went through the house and performed the usual checks. Clear.

  She flipped on the living room light, stripped off her jacket and tossed it on the sofa. As she reached for the weapon at her waist, a knock echoed from the back door. Palming her weapon, she eased in that direction. She stood well clear of the door and cracked the blinds shielding the window nearest the rear exit.

  “It’s Nick Shade.”

  She drew back from the window. How was it he always knew when she was looking at him? An educated guess? Coincidence?

  After releasing the dead bolt, she opened the door. “Is there something wrong with my front door?”

  He came inside, closed the door and locked it. “After what I did today, you might not want to be seen with me.”

  “Neely is threatening to sue the department.” Bobbie tucked her weapon back into its holster. “They printed a shot from the surveillance video, but it’s difficult to see your face. I’m guessing you’ve done this before.”

  The dim glow creeping toward them from the one light she’d turned on as she came in allowed her to see what might have been the ghost of a smile. Then again, she might have imagined it.

  “I may have taken a similar opportunity once or twice.”

  “Lieutenant Owens and Special Agent LeDoux have the person on the security video footage figured for an ambitious reporter. They’re on the lookout for you, Shade.”

  “Should I be concerned about your loyalty?”

  She hesitated, mostly to see his reaction. He kept whatever he felt to himself. “No, and I don’t think they’ll be able to identify you from the video.” Getting to what she assumed was the point of his visit, she said, “We got nothing from the rental car angle.”

  “Neely sold an interview with Gwen to Perry for ten thousand dollars. He never met Perry in person, but he saw him in the driveway of that house where Adams’s car was found.”

  “Yeah.” Bobbie had already heard. “He copped a plea two hours ago. The DA dropped the potential accessory to murder charges in exchange for his full confession. They’ve got him on suicide watch now. Apparently, someone suggested he take his life before he got sentenced to Atmore.”

  Rather than comment on her obvious accusation, Shade said, “A neighbor near the Highland Avenue house saw a man in a black car, possibly an Altima, driving around the neighborhood Thursday afternoon. He parked on the street. She couldn’t remember the full license plate number, but there was a JDHS sticker on the bumper.”

  “Then it’s not a rental. JDHS is Jefferson Davis High School. The owner has kids in school.” Bobbie quickly sent Newt a text with the information. She studied Shade for a long moment. “Why didn’t we find this woman when we canvassed the neighborhood?”

  “She left Friday morning to visit her daughter in Huntsville. She only returned home today.”

  Bobbie rubbed at her forehead. She was so tired. “Thanks. I hope you’ll keep me informed of anything else you find.” She reached for the door. The sooner he was out of here, the sooner she could do a little research of her own on him. If the FBI knew about him, others did, as well. She’d been a cop long enough to have a few friends in high places. Like the US marshal she’d once worked with. He was in New Orleans now, but she could call him. His son was about the same age Jamie would...

  “I’ll be on your couch,” Shade announced.

  He walked past her as if her permission wasn’t required.

  Bobbie closed a mental door on the memory of her baby and concentrated her attention on the moment. “Wait just a minute, Shade.”

  When he turned back to her, her cell rang, cutting off whatever he might have said. Bobbie snatched it from her waist and stared at the screen.

  She froze.

  The number was her home number... The house where she and James had lived with...their child.

  She slid a finger across the screen, tapped the speaker button and held her breath. “Hello.” The single word was so hollow she barely recognized the voice as her own.

  “Mommy? Please come get me.”

  A volatile mixture of emotions exploded in her veins, at once red-hot and ice-cold. “Who is this?”

  “Mommy, I’m scared.”

  Her heart kicked in her chest. The voice wasn’t Jamie’s, but it definitely belonged to a male child around the same age.

  “Aaron?” Bobbie’s heart rose into her throat. “Is that you, Aaron?”

  “Come home, Mommy.”

  Sobs echoed across the line.

  The call ended.

  “I think that was the missing boy... Aaron.” Her gaze locked with Shade’s. “He was calling from my house.”

  Shade was ushering her toward the front door before she remembered taking a step. He grabbed her keys and they rushed out the door. When they reached her car, he guided her to the passenger side.

  “I’m driving,” he said.

  There was no time to argue. While he drove, she alerted Newt, who would send word up the chain. Unless there was a unit in the area, she and Shade should arrive first. Whatever was waiting at her house, she wanted to find it first. The surveillance detail was right behind them, so they had some measure of backup.

  Bobbie calmed her breathing and cleared her mind. If the voice was Aaron’s, that meant he was still alive. She wanted him to be alive and safe. She glanced at the speedometer and then out the window. Five minutes. They would be there within five minutes.

  Not soon enough.

  She hoped the son of a bitch was waiting for her, but intellectually she comprehended that he wouldn’t make such a foolhardy mistake.

  Bobbie stared at her cell for a long moment before tucking it back at her waist. Be there, you bastard.
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  Ryan Ridge

  Shade made the turn into the subdivision and shut off the headlights. The surveillance detail did the same. No other cruisers appeared to be in the area. Shade stopped a block from her house. Dusk had fallen, making it more difficult to surveil the area.

  “I’m getting out here,” he said. “I want you to pull into the driveway and wait in the car until I tell you it’s safe to get out.”

  “Sure.” He was clearly out of his mind. Bobbie wasn’t waiting.

  He hesitated before opening the door. “Listen to me, Bobbie. Don’t go inside until I’ve checked out the situation.”

  “Right.” She didn’t look at him. Instead, she focused on the dark house that had been her home for five wonderful years.

  Now it was nothing more than a headstone for her dead life.

  Shade disappeared into the encroaching gloom. Bobbie scooted across the console and shifted her car into Drive. She turned the headlights on once more and slowly rolled the final block to her house. The turn into her driveway made her stomach sink. She shoved the gearshift into Park and shut off the engine.

  The cruiser stopped on the street and waited.

  Any minute now a full onslaught of official vehicles would arrive. LeDoux would likely show up and they would all trample through the painful memories of her life.

  Bobbie started to shake. She couldn’t watch that scene play out. She needed to have a look now so she could stand back when the evidence techs and feds prowled through the place. She couldn’t be part of that. She just couldn’t do it.

  “To hell with you, Shade.” She didn’t take orders from her partner; she sure as hell wasn’t taking any from him.

  Her weapon palmed, she made her way to the front door. On second thought she decided to go through the garage. She moved around to the side of the garage and unlocked the door. She flipped a switch, and fluorescent lights blinked to life, gleaming against the charcoal BMW that was her husband’s birthday present from her four months before he died. It wasn’t one of the really expensive models, but it was the best she could do on a cop’s salary. The decade-old black Subaru was hers. She walked between the two, her heart aching at the sight of the matching car seats, one in each vehicle.