Going Gone

by Sharon Sala

  Louise wasn’t talking, and he was in a pout. He turned off the television, went back to the kitchen and pulled out his map. The next person on his radar was the person living due west of Laura Doyle, and this time he was going to send the cops into a tailspin. It was time to up the ante and create a little confusion.

  * * *

  Cameron kept delaying the inevitable. He had to leave within the next ten minutes or he was going to be late. He was meeting Tate and Wade at the field office before the trip to Quantico, but thinking of the possibility that Hershel Inman was somewhere in the city, and that he was leaving Laura at that bastard’s mercy, was making him crazy.

  Laura knew he was nervous, and she knew why, but she was ticked that this was happening.

  “Cameron, get that look off your face. I’m fine. I’m buying groceries and then having brunch in D.C. with Nola and Jo. We’re going to Ghibellina’s, and you’re going to an all-day meeting. We’ll see each other at dinner tonight. The end.”

  He laughed as he swept her up into his arms.

  “Nothing is ending between us, damn it. On the contrary, it’s just beginning. But for now, I hear and I obey. Call or text anytime you feel like it.” He put the palm of his hand over the cross hanging between her breasts. “And don’t forget this. I’ll always have your back.”

  Her lips parted instinctively.

  As usual, he worked his magic, driving all thought from her mind but how it felt to make love with him. When he finally stepped back, she sighed with longing.

  He rubbed his thumb along the edge of her bottom lip.

  “Believe me, I totally agree,” he said. “See you this evening. I love you most. Lock the door behind me.”

  She watched until he backed out of the driveway and drove away before getting back to business. She had groceries to buy and a date for brunch. It was time to get busy.

  * * *

  The weather kept getting cooler as the day progressed. By the time Laura got home from grocery shopping, the temperature had dropped dramatically. She turned up the heat before putting away the groceries, and then ran to her bedroom to change clothes. She had a little over an hour to get dressed and drive into D.C. to meet Jo and Nola at one-thirty. Brunch was served from ten to four, and she didn’t want to be late.

  She stripped down to her underwear and then walked into her closet. After a couple of minutes she reached for the gray slacks and pink sweater Cameron had bought for her to wear home from the hospital. She liked wearing something he’d chosen especially for her, and it was a good, warm choice. As soon as she was dressed, she dashed into the bathroom to check her hair and makeup.

  She reached for her hairbrush, then paused, eyeing herself in the mirror. The cold air had put pink in her cheeks, but she didn’t have time to curl her hair. She brushed out the tangles and opted for a small bedazzled headband, giving her a chic, stylish look. After a light touch of lipstick, she added pearl earrings and a pair of gray suede loafers. She stopped in the hall on her way out to get her all-weather coat. This was not a day to assume it wouldn’t rain or snow.

  She grabbed her shoulder bag from the hall table on the way out of the house, and then shivered as the wind hit her face. It felt like rain again, and rain made her think of the Stormchaser, which ticked her off. It wasn’t fair that one man had all this control over their lives. Even though she was nervous, she lifted her chin. Today was not for madmen. Today was for fun and friends. She got in her car and drove away.

  * * *

  Hershel was on stakeout at the residence of his third target. He was watching the man in question maneuver his wheelchair down the ramp to his car. He had to admit it was a testament to Charles Trent’s perseverance and some high-tech engineering that he was able to live alone, practice law and drive himself around town.

  It was unfortunate for Charles that the location of his home tagged him as the Stormchaser’s next target, but it didn’t bother Hershel. His only concern was finding the perfect location to take him out. He couldn’t do it around any of the courthouses Trent frequented, because of too many people and security cameras. It would have to be in D.C. at Trent’s office. The man had a habit of working late. The more Hershel thought about it, the more he knew exactly how it was going to happen.

  Satisfied with the plan he’d made, he decided to grab a late lunch somewhere and then play tourist. He’d never seen the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, the Washington Monument or the Lincoln Memorial. Might as well take time to enjoy some of the sights.

  * * *

  It was one-thirty on the dot as Laura drove down 14th Street NW to Ghibellina’s and then found a place to park. She lowered her head against the wind as she ran toward the restaurant. Once inside, she spotted Nola, who was already seated, and moved through the narrow room with a smile.

  Nola stood up to greet her and gave Laura a quick hug. “This is the best idea. It’s so good to see you,” she said.

  “I know this was short notice, but I’m really glad you could make it,” Laura said as she took off her coat and sat down.

  “Me, too,” Nola said. “Jo texted me a few minutes ago. She’s on her way. She said she had some news.”

  A waiter came by, took Laura’s drink order, then left. Laura picked at the plate of appetizers Nola had ordered and popped a stuffed mushroom in her mouth.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m starving. I didn’t eat breakfast on purpose, just so I would enjoy this.”

  Nola eyed Laura’s expression. She was trying too hard to be happy. She started to say something more, then saw Jolene coming toward the table.

  “Oh, here’s Jo.”

  Jo slung a navy blue pea jacket across the back of her chair and sat down just ahead of the waiter, who appeared to take her drink order, as well.

  “Hot tea, please,” she said, then reached across the table and clasped Laura’s hands. “So how’s our little bride-to-be?”

  “Worried I might not make it to the altar,” Laura said.

  Jo frowned and lowered her voice.

  “Don’t say that. We don’t even know if Inman’s alive, much less that he killed those women or that he would target you, although I know he’s as loony as they come. Even if it is him, there’s no way to predict what he’ll do next.”

  Laura leaned forward and lowered her voice.

  “I know that, but I’m not taking any chances. I asked you both to lunch because I need you to tell me everything you can think of about Inman that might help me, should the need arise.”

  “You first,” Jo said, pointing at Nola.

  Nola began to retell her story, from witnessing him murder three of her neighbors to being attacked at the Red Cross shelter, then getting thrown out of the motorboat into gator-infested waters right before the boat blew up with Inman in it.

  Nola’s eyes narrowed as she thought back.

  “I’m thinking he’s got to be in his mid-sixties by now, and he’s about five-ten in height. But being shorter, his center of gravity is lower. He’s also deceptively strong for his age.”

  Laura stared at Nola in quiet awe. She was so matter-of-fact.

  “Didn’t all that do a number on your head?” she finally asked.

  Nola shrugged. “Well, sure, but time has a way of taking the edge off.” Then she grinned. “Tate did the rest.”

  They looked at each other and giggled.

  “You next,” Nola said, looking at Jo.

  Jo nodded. “My involvement was different. Nola was the witness he wanted gone. When I became a part of the team who was after him, it ticked him off. From the start, he kept saying I didn’t belong. He has some kind of sick attachment to the guys because they were in on it from the beginning. After I showed up, he took it as an affront, as if an uninvited guest had shown up for his party. When he failed to kidnap me on the first attem
pt, he decided it was because my addition to the team had jinxed him. So he revamped his plan of attack and was successful. He’s sly and smart. What you need to know is that he hears his dead wife, Louise, talking to him. For a while after he kidnapped me, he actually thought I was her. I used that to my advantage. They were faithful churchgoers before the flood, and evidently Louise chides him for the sins he’s committed.”

  Laura was listening intently, committing everything to memory. When the waiter came back to deliver Jo’s hot tea, he stopped to take their orders.

  “I’d like the Napoli pizza without capers,” Laura said.

  Nola pointed at the menu to pane tostato. “This, please. French toast with all the good stuff.”

  The waiter smiled and then looked at Jo. “And you, ma’am?”

  “I’ll have the frittata, and would you please ask the chef to add some cheese to the onion and potato that comes in it?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and hurried away to turn in the order.

  Nola grinned. “Since when do you add ingredients? You’re usually the one asking to have something left out.”

  Jo blinked away a film of sudden tears.

  “Since I’m eating for two,” she said.

  Nola’s mouth dropped, and Laura’s eyes widened. They both knew Jo and Wade had lost a baby a few years back, so this would be a seriously emotional pregnancy for them.

  “Oh, Jo! That’s wonderful news!” Nola said.

  Laura gave Jo’s hand a quick squeeze. “Best news ever,” she added. “Is Wade eating for two, as well?”

  “Isn’t he always?” Jo said.

  The joke was not lost on any of the women. Food never went to waste around Wade Luckett. He was always hungry and frequently scavenged from someone else’s plate.

  * * *

  By the time Hershel came out of the restaurant where he’d stopped to eat lunch, the weather had changed for the worse. He gave up the idea of checking out the monuments and decided to go home. He would rather be inside watching television where it was warm.

  He had just braked for a red light when he glanced over at the car in the lane beside him, then did a double take.

  It was Laura Doyle!

  The shock of seeing her so close left him stunned. She seemed focused on the light and the traffic passing in front of them, which gave him time to check her out a little more closely. She looked different, but it was clearly her.

  Her hair was much longer than he remembered. It had been short when he’d worked at the Red Cross shelter there in Louisiana, and she looked thinner.

  He glanced up at the light. It was still red. When he turned back, he caught her looking at him. She seemed embarrassed and quickly glanced away, but it bothered him. Now he was wondering if he seemed familiar to her in some way. What if this chance meeting alerted her to his presence? That might mean changing up the plan. Before he could come to any conclusion, the light turned green and she went straight through the intersection as he turned left.

  His anxiety increased as he drove home. He had two more clues to leave before he got to her, but this chance meeting might make it necessary to accelerate the process.

  * * *

  Laura was thinking about what to make for dinner as she braked for a red light. A moment later she sensed that she was being watched. She looked toward the car on her left, but the driver was staring up at the light.

  His profile was vaguely familiar, but on second look she decided she didn’t know him. Suddenly she realized he was looking straight at her. He’d caught her staring. How embarrassing! She looked away, and when the light turned green she drove on as he turned, and by the time she got home, she’d forgotten all about it.

  Brunch with the others had given her plenty to think about, and in a good way. She didn’t feel as unsure of herself as she had before. She’d known the killer first as Bill Carter, a congenial, helpful volunteer. But the others had firsthand information about the man behind the alias, and now, thanks to their willingness to share the hell they’d gone through, she knew something about Hershel Inman, too.

  It was a little after four when she began prepping for dinner. Cameron sent her a text telling her he would be home around seven. That gave her plenty of time to bake brownies and put on a roast. It was a big one for two people, but she’d chosen it on purpose so there would be plenty of leftovers to use later in the week. She loved nothing better on cold days than homemade soup made with leftover roast beef and fresh vegetables.

  She put the brownies in to bake and then got the roast ready to go in when they were done. The aroma coming from the kitchen began to permeate the house.

  * * *

  As the day turned to night, the gaslight in the front yard came on, a beacon for Cameron as he turned the corner and drove down the street. The lights behind the windows welcomed him as he parked. He paused long enough to gather up his briefcase, then headed inside, glad to be home.

  Laura heard the key in the door and went to meet him. The cold air blew in behind him as he entered.

  “Welcome home,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His face was cold, but his lips were warm.

  “Mmm, you taste good, and the house smells amazing!” he said. “Do I have time to change?”

  “Yes. Get comfortable, honey. I’m still finishing up.”

  He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her to him again, like an addict needing one more fix. Her lips were soft and yielding, but when she leaned into him, he felt the demand for more.

  “My sweet Laura, I do so love you,” he said softly, as he finally pulled away.

  “Love you most,” she said.

  He grinned. That was his line. “Back in a few.”

  She paused to watch him go, admiring the slight swagger of a man comfortable in his own skin, and then allowed herself a delicious little shiver before returning to the kitchen to finish the meal.

  * * *

  They were down to coffee and brownies à la mode when he said, “Hey, honey, I haven’t asked, but did you have a good time with Jo and Nola today?”

  She nodded. “I did. We had the best food. I ordered pizza.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s the place that serves it whole at the table and you cut it with shears rather than a knife, right?”

  “Yes. The crust stays much crispier that way. It’s pretty much spoiled me for eating pizza anywhere else.”

  He liked seeing that light in her eyes. He didn’t know what else they’d talked about, but whatever it was, it had done her good.

  Laura didn’t mention the fact that she’d grilled them about Inman. It would serve no purpose to introduce his name to a very nearly perfect meal.

  They finished in near silence, and then she laid down her spoon and leaned back.

  He caught her watching him and smiled.

  “What? Do I have ice cream on my chin?”

  “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  She grinned. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You know whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

  “I want you to teach me some basic self-defense moves.”

  The smile froze on his face.

  “Don’t be upset,” she said. “This is me being assertive, Cameron, not afraid.”

  He sighed. “Yes, I can see that.”

  “So? Will you?”

  He nodded. “Of course, but, please, not tonight. I’m so full that the kid down the street could take me down with one well-placed blow to my belly.”

  She laughed.

  “I’ll take you to our gym so we’ll have some padded mats to work out on,” he said.

  She arched an eyebrow. “Great. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

 
He laughed out loud.

  She frowned. “And because you laughed, you get to help me do dishes.”

  The mood seemed lighter as they began to clear the table, but the challenge had been issued, and it was a hard one to ignore.

  * * *

  Lucy Taft was at the dinner table when she heard a car drive past the house.

  “Home early tonight,” she muttered as she sliced herself a bite of prime rib and glanced up at the clock, making a mental note of the time so she could record it later.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. Did you say you wanted the horseradish sauce?” Mildred asked.

  Lucy looked up. “Splendid idea, Mildred. Yes, I would like some horseradish sauce.”

  The maid hurried out of the room as Lucy popped the bite in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

  * * *

  Hershel grabbed his bag of Chinese takeout as he got out of the van, unaware he was on Lucy Taft’s radar. He was halfway up the stairs when Louise screamed in his ear. It startled him enough that he dropped the sack. It fell between the steps and down onto the concrete below.

  “What the fuck? Look what you made me do!” he yelled, and then looked nervously toward the house as he went back down the steps and began gathering up his food.

  Go home! Go home!

  “I am home,” he muttered as he picked up the little cartons one at a time.

  None of them had come completely open, but he could only imagine what a sloppy mess they were now. Sauce was dripping between his fingers, and some rice spilled out onto his shoe as he put everything back in the bag. By the time he walked into his apartment, he was in a fit of pique. He could control everything in his life but Louise. How could you argue with someone you couldn’t see coming?

  That man is helpless. You just can’t do that.

  Hershel lined the cartons up on the counter and opened them, then got a plate and began spooning out food from the dripping boxes.