by Debra Webb
“Where is he now?” Nick demanded. Time was his enemy. Fletcher could save the walk down memory lane for his next stop.
“I told him to let it go,” Fletcher went on, evidently choosing the scenic route to get to the answer Nick wanted. “But he just couldn’t do it, man. He said he had to fuck that bitch cop one more time before he finished her off.”
Nick restrained the need to beat the worthless scumbag to a pulp. “I need a location.”
“He stayed here for a few months.” Fletcher frowned as if he were considering what to say next. “He cut out about two weeks ago. Said it was time to finish the bitch’s story. I haven’t heard from him since.”
Frustration expanded inside Nick. “Did he leave any maps or notes? Maybe he used your computer.”
“Nah. He’s too smart to do something that stupid.”
“Maybe I should make that call while you try to think of something useful,” Nick suggested.
“Wait! Do you know what he’s driving?” Fletcher asked, looking far too cocky for a guy about to pay the price for his crimes, whether to the justice system or to his maker.
“Do you?” Nick countered.
“His mother’s gray Prius. It’s a couple years old. About a month ago he took a bus back to Nebraska. Perry’s old man gave him the car and some more cash. Final payment for his silence.” Fletcher shrugged. “He changed the license plate before he left, so I can’t tell you what it is.”
Nick had to ask, “Why would his father need Perry’s silence?”
“Let’s face it,” Fletcher said with a laugh. “Most of us don’t get this way without a little help from the family. Perry’s old man horsewhipped him about every day of his life. He carved symbols and shit on his flesh—told him he was the devil’s spawn. Fucked him up big-time. His momma didn’t do shit about it. She was too afraid.” He made another of those raspy chuckling sounds that warned he’d smoked too much for too long before deciding to quit. “Eventually Perry got the bastard back, though. Right before he went off to college his old man started beating on his momma again and Perry half killed him. He told him if he ever laid a hand on her again, he would finish the job. Perry was real protective of his mother.”
“Is that right?” As much as he hated to admit it, Weller had been right so far. Then again, what had he expected? Dr. Randolph Weller was the foremost authority on serial killers alive today...maybe because he was at the top of the evil scale himself.
“Oh yeah.” Fletcher nodded. “Jealous, too. His mother had another baby when Perry was about nine or ten. Another boy. He couldn’t stand that the baby took all the time she used to give him. He said the baby was always sick so when he suffocated it no one seemed surprised to hear it had died. His baby brother was his first kill. Like Cain and Abel, man. Really fucked up.”
“The infant brother died of pneumonia,” Nick argued, but even as he did he knew Fletcher was right. There was the missing male victim. That his first reaction was an urgent need to share the information with Bobbie took Nick aback.
“If the reverend said it died of pneumonia,” Fletcher countered, “who was going to challenge him? According to Perry, back then no one would dare defy the reverend. He was a big deal, still is to the old-timers.”
“Why would Perry tell you all of this?” Nick didn’t actually doubt the specifics. Fletcher had basically confirmed Weller’s conclusions.
Fletcher shrugged. “Since I’m stuck in this chair I spend a lot of time in psychology chat rooms. I wanted to know what made me the way I am.” He shrugged. “I learned how to get people to talk. How to read ’em. For example, I knew you were here for me the second I looked into your eyes.”
Nick wasn’t convinced on that last part. If Fletcher possessed such well-honed insight he would have shot first and offered the jumper cables later. The idea that this scumbag could have stopped Perry made Nick want to use the stun gun until his black heart ceased to beat. Have you felt it yet? Nick pushed the intrusion away.
As if Fletcher sensed a shift in Nick’s tension, he offered, “If you really want him, make him come to you. He’d do anything to get to that cop.”
Nick balled his fingers into fists and restrained the fury building inside him. “Goodbye, Mr. Fletcher.”
“If the cop’s not an option, his mother then.”
Nick hesitated and Fletcher grinned. “Yeah, that would do it. Dig the bitch up and tell him if he wants her to rest in peace he’d better come get her. Trust me—he’ll go bat-shit crazy.”
Nick had to give the man credit, he was creative. “Before I go, do you have what you need?”
Fletcher gave a nod. “Shotgun propped by the bed.”
“You have fifteen minutes before I make the call to the authorities.”
Fletcher was already wheeling out of the room as Nick left through the back door. Before he reached his car, he heard the blast of the shotgun.
One less case to clog the justice system.
Nick started the car. He needed to get back to Montgomery...to Bobbie.
Twenty-Four
St. Charles Avenue, 10:30 p.m.
Ted Peterson raised up on one elbow. He stared down at the beautiful woman in the bed next to him. Her rich dark skin against the cool white sheets made him want her again. She was the most amazing woman he had ever known. Intelligent, beautiful, like-minded. She completed him in ways he hadn’t known were possible.
Guilt nudged him, but he couldn’t help how he felt.
“What’re you thinking?” she asked as she trailed a rich red nail down his chest.
“How very much I want to repeat the last hour again and again. Right now. In the morning. The day after that...”
She smiled and reached up to stroke his jaw. “I must say, you outdid yourself, Ted.”
He leaned down and kissed that lush mouth of hers. Every day he struggled not to touch her at work. On the job they had to be Chief of Police Theodore Peterson and Commander of Major Crimes Lieutenant Eudora Owens. But after hours, every chance they got, they were lovers and best friends. She was the one person he could talk to about the things he didn’t dare say to anyone else.
“One day we won’t have to sneak around like this,” he whispered against her throat. He drew back and searched her dark eyes. “I want to introduce you to the world as mine.”
She sighed and looked away. “You know we can’t do that. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
“I’ll be retiring in a few years,” he reminded her. He was sixty-two, more than a decade older than her. Once he was retired, the job would no longer interfere. Lately he’d wondered why he waited to retire, and then he remembered the other reason they couldn’t be together.
“Work isn’t the only issue we have to think about.” She hugged his chest to her breasts, making his body stir with desire once more. “Be that as it may, I am very happy with things just as they are,” she promised.
He wasn’t so sure that was true, but he also knew Dorey would never pressure him to ignore his other obligations. She was too good and kind. Too selfless.
“I can’t keep asking you to put your wishes aside for my obligations.” He didn’t deserve her. He traced her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Dorey scooted out of his arms and reached for her robe. “Did you visit her on Sunday?”
His dear, dear, sweet wife. He sat up, reality collapsing onto his shoulders. “Not this time. With the Storyteller case, I couldn’t get away.”
“Of course.” She smiled sadly. “Her condition continues to decline?”
Ted nodded. He and Sarah had married right out of college. They had never been blessed with children and then, a decade ago, she had developed early-onset Alzheimer’s. She rarely even recognized him anymore. Still, he visited her every Sunday unless there was serious trouble at work that re
quired his attention. Whatever she needed for the rest of her life, he would go to the ends of the earth to ensure she received. As hard as he had tried to remain faithful, a part of him had started to emotionally disengage the day her illness took her from their home. It was the only way he could let Sarah go.
He had needs, too. He’d gone many years with those needs unfulfilled until one particularly late night at work he and Dorey had lost control. It had taken another six months before either of them felt comfortable making regular arrangements. Still, here they were a year later sneaking every possible moment together where no one could see. What started as a need had turned into something far more...far deeper. He loved Dorey. He loved her with all his heart. He was so tired of hiding those feelings.
To prevent saying more and sounding as if he were feeling sorry for himself, he turned his attention to more immediate concerns. “I’m worried about Bobbie,” he confessed, dragging on his discarded boxers. “She’s pushed me away completely the past few months. The only relationship we have at this point is that I’m her superior, and even that one is strained.”
They both preferred not to talk about work when they were together, but that distinct break was not always possible to maintain.
“Newt’s watching her closely.” She reached for his hand. “Let’s have a glass of wine.”
He placed his hand in hers and followed her down to the kitchen. This grand old historic home had been Sarah’s dream home. He should sell it and find something more manageable. All these years it felt wrong to sell it as long as she was alive. Funny how he couldn’t bear the idea of that perceived betrayal and yet he in no way saw his relationship with Dorey as being unfaithful. Two years ago on one of her rare lucid days, Sarah had urged him to move on with his life. She had pleaded with him not to die along with her. He’d ignored her words for as long as he could and still he second-guessed his decisions.
Time to stop overanalyzing the subject.
“What do you know about this so-called serial killer expert who keeps showing up with her?” he asked as Dorey gathered stemmed glasses. “He was there when the Rice child was rescued, and then I saw him again at the hospital.”
“I thought he was a friend of Newt’s.” Dorey frowned. He reached out and traced the lines on her brow with his finger. Her frown relaxed into a smile. “He and Bobbie certainly seemed close at the hospital.”
“As far as I can determine he’s a private citizen who hasn’t broken the law. Agent Mason sidestepped the subject when I asked about him, but I got the impression they were familiar with Shade. Newt insists that’s the case.” Ted had found nothing on the man—no criminal history, no credentials. “I can’t exactly drag Shade in for questioning. At least not until I have cause.” Ted heaved a sigh. “I want to trust Bobbie’s judgment, but she’s been through so much. If her involvement with this man proves a mistake...” He shook his head. “I keep hoping the day will come when she can smile again. When she’s happy again.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Dorey drew him into the circle of her arms. “You’re looking for the old Bobbie to come back. The one thing I can personally guarantee is that the woman you knew before won’t be back. She’s gone forever. Trust me on that one.”
Ted held her tight and closed his eyes against the truth in her words. “I just can’t bear to see her keep hurting.”
Dorey drew back and gave him a sad smile. “I’m afraid you can’t protect her from the pain...not as long as Perry is out there. She’s not going to allow herself to begin the process of healing until he’s no longer a threat to her or anyone else, and then, for her, the real work will begin—rebuilding her life alone.”
That was the part that worried him the most.
Twenty-Five
11:45 p.m.
Gaylon lifted the drowsy nurse from the waste bucket and dragged her back to the mattress. He carefully lowered her facedown and secured her wrists and ankles. She moaned and whimpered with every move. He despised allowing a piss break once he’d begun the story.
He might as well end his work for the evening. His shoulders were tired from stooping over. He should have found a way to elevate the mattress from the floor. The working conditions were less than optimal. He wasn’t nearly as organized as usual. Certainly his choices in tools and other assets had been limited.
A sigh escaped his lips. “See how much trouble you’ve been, Bobbie.”
“She’s going to kill you.”
Gaylon spun around to stare at the agent secured facedown against the filthy wood floor.
“That’s right,” LeDoux said. “She won’t let you get away this time.”
“The way you have so many times?” Rage burgeoned before Gaylon could tamp down the nuisance. “Do you think she’ll swoop in just in time to save you and my other lovely guests?” He laughed. “We’ll see, Agent. We’ll see.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh my.” Gaylon turned his hands up. “I’ve lost all track of time. You’re been here an entire twenty-four hours, and we’ve hardly shared any quality time.”
Gaylon walked over to the table and surveyed his tools. He picked up the hammer. “This will do nicely.”
LeDoux’s respiration sped up as Gaylon approached him. The reaction sent a thrill through him. He’d considered many times that someone needed to pound some insight into the agent’s thick skull. Since Gaylon had other plans for him, a less vital part of his well-toned body would have to do.
He knelt next to the agent’s long, muscular legs. “I’ve watched you run on a number of occasions. You’re quite the athlete.”
LeDoux’s body stiffened.
Gaylon smiled. “I’ve often considered popping in to visit your lovely wife, but I fear Giselle is not my type. Far too self-centered and quite lazy.”
“Stay away from my family, you son of a bitch!”
“Now, now, Agent, there’s no need to get nasty. I wouldn’t fuck your bitch wife with your dick.” Gaylon braced one hand on LeDoux’s left calf and swung the hammer with his other.
The small toe flattened like the proverbial pancake. Gaylon grinned at the spurt of blood. LeDoux howled between clenched teeth.
“Come now, Special Agent LeDoux—is that the best you can do?” Gaylon swung the hammer again. The fourth toe flattened. Blood spurted. Another wounded howl issued from LeDoux’s throat. Gaylon flattened the middle toe. This time LeDoux screamed long and loud. “Now that is a healthy scream.”
After a few minutes of enjoying his whimpering, Gaylon left him be. There was plenty of time for more fun and games. He gathered his tools and put them away. The agent’s warning regarding Bobbie played over and over in Gaylon’s head. He looked forward to the fight. His body stirred with excitement.
Very soon she would be his.
The time was near.
Perhaps his detective needed another reminder that he was waiting and that three lives depended on her cooperation. LeDoux’s abduction hadn’t resonated with her as Gaylon had hoped.
Fury fired in his belly once more. It was the dark-haired man. He was shielding her somehow.
Very well. Gaylon picked up LeDoux’s credentials case.
It was time to remind her that she could not avoid what was coming.
Her story was his to finish.
Twenty-Six
Gardendale Drive,
Tuesday, August 30, 1:30 a.m.
A sound whispered across her senses.
I will find him.
Bobbie’s eyes opened, and she bolted upright. Her fingers went instinctively to the Glock under her pillow. She tried to filter the sensations and images before they faded. She’d been dreaming. She was back in the hospital after she’d tried to take her life. Newt and her uncle Teddy took turns holding vigil at her bedside. The sounds of their pain—tears, whisper
ed words begging her to come back—whirled in her head and then vanished. Come back, Detective Gentry. I will find him.
Who had said those words?
The sound—the one that awakened her just now—came again. The knock at her back door echoed through the house.
Relief loosened her muscles. Someone was at her back door. It had to be Shade. She threw the covers off and walked through the darkness, the Glock in her hand. She hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning. He’d called, which had felt strange, but she had to admit she’d been relieved to hear his voice. She’d known him all of three and a half days. Didn’t matter that he’d made her feel something for the first time since her life was taken from her. She understood that he was standing between her and the Storyteller.
In the kitchen she went to the window and checked. As he always did, Shade looked directly at her as if he knew she was watching him. With a deep breath, she released the dead bolts and opened the door. All she had to do was tell him to go and to stay gone this time.
His gaze roved slowly over her face as if he sensed trouble. “Have there been new developments?”
“We found Gwen’s necklace in the fountain.” Bobbie pushed the hair back from her face. It was the middle of the night. She supposed she could wait until daylight to tell him he had to go. “Which didn’t really give us anything useful.”
“Nothing new on LeDoux?”
“We backed up the video footage from one of the cameras that overlooks the fountain.” She still couldn’t believe the audacity of the bastard. “Perry drove right up to the fountain in that black Altima and tossed the necklace. Then he looked up at the camera and blew a kiss.” The image made her sick. “LeDoux was in the backseat. We couldn’t see enough to determine if he was dead or alive, but he was in the car.”
Shade seemed to consider the news for a moment. Then he said, “We should get some sleep.”
Wait just a damned minute. “What about your source or sources? You came back empty-handed?”
