Ruthless: The Faces of Evil Series: Book 6

by Debra Webb

  “Samson hung out right here, assuming they’d come back.”

  Emotion swelled in Jess’s throat. “Only they didn’t and he just kept waiting.”

  A twig snapped and Jess whirled around, swung her weapon upward, adopting a firing stance. She scanned the tree line and then the gravel road where it rose toward the paved highway.

  “Get down, Jess!”

  Lori’s voiced echoed around her at the same instant the man came into her line of sight… dark hair… dark glasses… tall…

  Jess lunged into the tree line.

  Lori rushed up the gravel road. “Police! Hands away from your body!” she ordered.

  “Damn it, Lori,” Jess muttered, scrambling from the underbrush.

  An engine roared to life and tires squealed as Jess made it to where Lori stood, feet wide apart, weapon aimed on the retreating vehicle.

  “Did you get his license plate number?” Jess was breathing hard. Her feet were killing her and the bastard who’d just scared ten years off her life was long gone.

  Lori shook her head as she lowered her weapon. “He had mud or something smeared across it. I couldn’t get even one digit. Four doors. Dark in color.”

  The road was deserted now as far as Jess could see in either direction. “Definitely not a local looking to cast a fishing line. Not in a business suit.” Jess hadn’t gotten any real details on the face, not behind those dark sunglasses. But that cocky body language of his had her instincts zipping into high gear. “Did you get the make?”

  Lori turned to her and Jess knew the answer before she said a word. “An Infiniti.” Her shoulders sagged in frustration or defeat. “I should’ve taken a shot at his tires. Maybe I could’ve stopped him.”

  “No.” Jess shoved her Glock back into her bag. “You had no compelling reason to take a shot. You didn’t see a weapon and you couldn’t be sure it was the same guy.”

  But Jess was sure. A man matching his general description, dark hair and dark glasses, driving a blue or black Infiniti had aimed a weapon at her just a few days ago. But he hadn’t been wielding a weapon today. Probably didn’t want to get his ass shot sneaking up on two cops like that. It seemed incredible to Jess that the guy would dare to get so close. But then again, he was one of Spears’s followers. He might do anything to impress his pal. Spears’s former protégé, Matthew Reed, had gone so far as having cosmetic surgery to look like his mentor. There were folks in this world who were truly, deeply damaged.

  “Damn that bastard.”

  Jess dragged her mind back to the present. “Did he do something to your car?” Lori’s dad had left her that car. Jess joined her on the driver’s side of the Mustang.

  “He left you a gift.”

  Dread coiled deep inside Jess as she stared at the bouquet of flowers wrapped in tissue paper that lay on the hood. Before Jess could do so herself, Lori donned gloves and picked up the accompanying envelope addressed to Jess, opened it and withdrew the card.

  Love and Kisses, Your Secret Admirer

  “Shit,” Lori muttered. She scanned the highway again. “We have to call this in.”

  “And be stuck here waiting for an evidence tech.” No way. What was the point? She shook her head. “Let’s bag the envelope and card and put the flowers in the trunk. We’ll figure this out later. I need to interview those meter readers today. Supervisor Cagle was good enough to get them all rounded up for a meeting. I don’t want to miss it.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  Dan would throw a fit, but he’d just have to deal with it.

  Jess had an investigation to conduct. Some scumbag sending her flowers wasn’t going to stall her search for the monster who’d taken all those little girls.

  Hoover Medical Plaza, 11:01 a.m.

  Chet flipped through another magazine. Kim, the receptionist, had promised he wouldn’t have to wait long. He hoped she didn’t let him down. He needed this appointment. But he and Cook were wasting valuable time, and as nice as Chief Harris was she wouldn’t be too happy about that.

  Cook, his partner on this task, jammed his cell back into his pocket. “We need to grab lunch after this, man. I’m starving.”

  “You’re always starving.” Chet closed the magazine he’d thumbed through and set it aside. He stared at the back of the receptionist’s head beyond the sliding glass that separated the lobby from the sign-in desk, hoping she would turn around and notice that he was still waiting.

  He didn’t have time for this… but he had to know. Worry wrapped around his chest and squeezed like a vise.

  “What’s the deal with the uptight coroner lady? Sylvia Baron?”

  If Cook hadn’t said her name as if he were relishing a thick, juicy steak, Chet might have thought nothing of the seemingly innocuous question. But Chet could see where this was coming from and, worse, where it was going.

  He looked to see that the other four people in the waiting room were buried in magazines or their cell phones. “What the hell, Cook?” he whispered. “Dr. Baron is so far out of your league you can’t even smell her perfume.” He made a face and shook his head.

  Cook leaned closer. “No, no, you got me all wrong. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

  Chet lifted his eyebrows. “Don’t bullshit me, Officer Cook,” he said under his breath. “The woman is the daughter of a senator. She was born with a silver spoon up her ass. That’s what makes her so uptight.”

  Cook grinned. “I was thinking it was the absence of a good lay. I’d be happy to take care of that particular problem for her. She is hot.”

  “She is about eighteen, twenty years older than you, bro,” Chet reminded him.

  “I got no problem with that,” Cook assured him. “I love older women.” He looked around as if he feared he’d just been overheard. “Not the chief, of course. I mean she’s hot and all but she belongs to Burnett.”

  Chet shook his head again. “You should never repeat any of that out loud ever again. Trust me, if you want to live, you should keep all that to yourself.”

  He hoped he’d never said anything that stupid when he was Cook’s age. Depression set in on the heels of that thought. God, he was old. Thirty-one this coming weekend.

  Damn.

  “You just wait,” Cook said with all the cockiness of a twenty-three-year-old who didn’t understand how life worked just yet. “If I get the chance, I’ll have the doc loosened up in no time.”

  Chet laughed. “That’s assuming you can get close enough for her to even notice you’re breathing.”

  “I’ll get close enough,” Cook guaranteed. “She’ll be noticing a lot more than my respiration.”

  Fortunately, the nurse popped her head out and called Chet’s name. “I’ll be back.” He hesitated before following the nurse. “We are not here. Don’t forget that.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “And how are you today, Mr. Harper?” the nurse asked, as she led the way to an exam room.

  “Great. Thank you.”

  He hoped.

  After being weighed, having his vitals taken and waiting ten more minutes, Dr. Bolton finally showed up

  “It’s not time for your physical,” she said, surprised to see him.

  Chet was lucky. He never got sick. “Next month.” Now for the touchy part. “I have a question about that surgery I had after Chester was born.”

  “The vasectomy?”

  Chet’s gut felt queasy. “Yes, ma’am. I was wondering what the protcol is for getting it reversed.”

  She studied him a moment. “I see.”

  He felt like a total sleazeball. What was it about having a doctor say I see that made a person feel like they’d done something wrong? Maybe because most of the time they had? What the hell had he been thinking? Worse, how the hell was he going to explain this to Lori? She insisted she wasn’t interested in having kids for now. Didn’t even want to discuss the possibility. But there was a big difference between choosing not to and having the option taken off the table.
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  He should have looked into this before. He’d heard of guys getting the procedure reversed. He’d figured that was what he’d do if the need ever came up. When he’d started doing his research a few weeks ago the possible complications were a big nasty surprise.

  “I met someone and the relationship is progressing and I… need to know.”

  “You haven’t told her?”

  Why was it those four words, far worse than I see, sounded like a death sentence? The thought of telling Lori made him want to throw up. Mainly he just didn’t want to make a mistake by not being adequately prepared for the next step. The other night they’d even talked about the kind of house they might buy together one day. He hoped he hadn’t waited too long already.

  “Well, as you will recall, both the urologist who did the surgery and I counseled you about that. It was a big decision, not one that should have been taken lightly.”

  “It’s what my wife wanted.” Why couldn’t he just have an answer? “I was trying to save my marriage.”

  Dr. Bolton didn’t say anything to that. She didn’t have to. The marriage had fallen apart anyway.

  “Okay,” she finally said. “There is a procedure, as I’m sure you know if you’ve done your research, for reversals. It takes several hours of surgery to reconnect the plumbing, so to speak, and then some time in recovery before you can go home. Usually, if there are no complications, you can be in and out in a day. There’s considerable pain and some downtime from work. A day or two. Sexual activity can be resumed in about three weeks.” She gave a little shrug. “If you’re asking me can it be done, the answer is yes.”

  “What’s the success rate?” According to his research, since it had been only three years there was a higher success rate.

  “Considering the short time since your original surgery, there’s a good chance. Fifty percent or better in most cases. There’s a test to see if your body has started producing sperm antibodies. If it has, then the likelihood of success is very poor.” She placed his chart on the exam table they wouldn’t need today. “There are risks involved with any surgery. We would need to get you in to see a good surgeon and have him discuss those issues with you, work up the necessary labs before moving forward. The surgeon who did your vasectomy is retired, but there are several others I would recommend.”

  “How soon can we do that?” He was anxious to learn all he could so he and Lori could talk about this. He didn’t want to tell her until he knew what they were up against. The idea of her finding out before he told her scared the hell out of him.

  What really terrified him was the possibility of her being hurt because he kept this from her. To keep a secret from the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with was just wrong.

  “I’ll have Kim take care of it.” Dr. Bolton hesitated before moving on. “Chet, you’re a good man, and if this woman is the kind of woman who deserves you, you need to be completely honest with her. There is no other bigger killer of relationships than deceit.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Bolton. I’m going to make this right.”

  Back at the desk and feeling like a cad, he waited for the appointment to be made and paid his copay. Cook wasn’t in the lobby. That made him nervous as hell. By the time he was out the door, Chet was sweating bullets. He found Cook in the parking lot near the car talking on his cell.

  Instantly, Chet’s heart rate doubled. He’d had to silence his phone. He slid it from his pocket to ensure Lori hadn’t called.

  She hadn’t. He managed a breath. Damn, he didn’t like this sneaking around. He didn’t see how guys cheated.

  When Chet walked up, Cook ended the call. “I called in lunch over at Pete’s Subs. He’s holding a table for us.”

  Chet shook his head as he climbed into the driver’s seat. How nice it must be to have just one worry—when he would eat next.

  “Guess who eats at Pete’s Subs every Thursday?” Cook dropped into the passenger seat.

  “You’re kidding.” This guy had it bad. Maybe food wasn’t his only worry.

  “At twelve thirty on the dot with her boss.”

  Chet started the engine. “Did you ever consider that maybe she’s already getting what she needs from her boss? Leeds is rich. Being the county medical examiner gives him some amount of power in the community. Ladies like Baron go for old guys like that.”

  Cook harrumphed. “No way. He’s gay. I checked.”

  “I don’t even want to know how you check to determine another man’s sexual preference.”

  “I have friends who are gay and bisexual,” Cook informed him. “Now who’s uptight?”

  “Just making you aware of how a statement like that can be misconstrued,” Chet pointed out.

  “Did you get your shot?”

  Chet had told Cook he needed a tetanus booster. “Good for another ten years.”

  He just hoped the plumbing was still good for more than shooting blanks.

  Garage Cafe, Tenth Terrace South, 12:52 p.m.

  Dan hadn’t been to the Garage in ages. Most of his lunches involved work, and the Garage didn’t fit the bill when it came to the necessary atmosphere for dealing with Birmingham’s political hierarchy. A little bohemian and a lot funky, the place was perfect for guys like Corlew.

  His nemesis had taken the little table way in the back, in the corner, of course.

  Some things never changed.

  “Well, well, Danny boy, how’s the Magic City’s top cop?” Corlew mouthed off as Dan pulled out a chair.

  “I might bother with an answer if I thought you actually cared.” Dan waved off the waitress who started their way. “But I caught most of your interview with Gerard Stevens the other day. Since bashing the department and me appeared to be the crux of the broadcast I’m relatively certain you couldn’t care less.”

  “You should order.” Corlew motioned for the now-confused woman to come on over. “The food here is like fine wine—it’s gotten better with age.”

  “You would know.” Dan silently chastised himself for stooping to this guy’s level.

  “Bleu cheese burger, medium rare, and a Bud draft.” Corlew gave her a wink. “My friend here will have the most expensive bottle of water you have in the house. And he’s picking up the tab.”

  “You got it, Buddy.” The young lady gave him a big smile and a nice view of her hips swaying as she sashayed off.

  When she was gone, Corlew’s smile disappeared. “What’s the deal, Daniel? You have something you need to say to me?” He shrugged. “I don’t know, like I’m sorry for being a dick or something?”

  “Keep dreaming, Buddy.” Irritation worked its way into his voice, and Dan hated that Corlew could so easily rile him. It was like being back in high school again and facing off after a pivotal football game. “We need to talk about the Man in the Moon case.”

  Corlew laughed. “I gotcha. You heard I’ve been retained by some of the parents who would actually like someone to find out what happened to their children.” He held his arms out in a search-me gesture. “I got nothing to hide. I did my job when those last two kids went missing.” He dropped his hands back to the table. “Can the BPD say the same about all its detectives? I don’t think so, or this case would’ve been solved years ago.”

  Oh yeah. The guy still had a hard-on for making the department look bad. “It’s been a long time, Corlew. Four years.” Dan leaned across the table, his frustration getting the better of him now. “You fucked up and I did what I had to do. Drinking on the job, dragging in late, failing to file reports, shall I go on?”

  Corlew said nothing, just stared straight at him as if Dan hadn’t said a word.

  “If you genuinely want to help those parents, then you help them. But don’t use those people for your own selfish agenda.”

  Fury flared in Corlew’s eyes. Oh yes, he’d hit a nerve with that one.

  “You’re a politician, Dan. Politicians see what they want to see. Say what they think folks want to hear.” He did the leaning ac
ross the table this time. “Problem is, you’re not a liar and a cheat like most politicians. You’re one of those people who wants to believe the best in everyone—except me, naturally—so you see what you want to see. That’s gonna be your downfall, Daniel. Mark my words.”

  Like he gave one shit what this jerk thought. “Just don’t make this about you,” Dan warned. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a department to see after.”

  Corlew grabbed his arm when Dan would have pushed back his chair. “I’m through waiting for you to do the right thing, Danny boy. This freak’s decision to start digging up bones is a sign, my friend. I’m paying attention. Are you?”

  Dan stared at him for a long moment before pulling his arm free. “This city and the citizens who live here always have my full attention.”

  “And what about Jess? With all your attention on work, can you take care of her too?”

  Dan reached across the table and grabbed Corlew by the shirtfront. He jerked him close. Stared straight into his eyes to make sure the man got the full intent behind his words. “If you do anything,” he snarled, the urge to do more than warn this asshole a living, breathing urgency inside him, “to hurt her or upset her in any way, I will hunt you down and beat the hell out of you like I should’ve done a long time ago.”

  Corlew didn’t flinch. “Jess and I go back a long way. She knows she can count on me when the chips are down. We’re cut from the same cloth, me and Jess. You’ll see. She won’t turn on me.”

  Dan smirked. “Jess knows what you are. You’re trying to play her just like you did back in high school. It won’t work. Save yourself the trouble. Stay away from her. Do we understand each other?”

  “Hell, Danny boy.” Corlew laughed. “I didn’t know you still had it in you.”

  Dan shoved him away. “You remember what I said and we won’t have a problem.” He stood and dropped a twenty on the table. “Enjoy your lunch.”