A sippy cup.
His heart leaped in his chest and that’s when he heard it. A whisper…or a song?
I got the joy joy joy joy down in my heart…
He could barely make it out. He flicked his torch beam under the table and saw a tiny foot. He dropped to his knees, not caring if they were in the blood. He shone the light into the corner and saw her.
The child. Not more than five years old. She blinked at him with wide, dark, frightened eyes.
“Hey,” his voice was soft. “Hey, sweet girl…hey. Don’t be scared.”
The girl was dressed only in a vest and underwear. Soaked with blood. He held out a hand for her to take. She stared at it and pushed herself further into the corner. He smiled at her kindly.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m a police officer. Do you know what that is?”
Still staring at him, she nodded slowly. Then his heart gave a lurching twist as he saw her arms. Slashes at her tiny wrists. Every emotion came then: anger, rage, heartbreak. Tenderness. He smiled at her again.
“Will you come out for me, sweet girl? Come let me see your hands, make them all better?”
He didn’t know why she came but she did – she crawled, albeit slowly, towards him and didn’t protest when he swung her up into his arms. She was a tiny little thing, dark brown hair, skin lighter than the dead woman”s. He would have bet the farm that the father was long gone if the woman had even known who he was. The girl stared up at him, his dark brown skin shining in the torch light. She touched his face as if she couldn’t believe he was really there.
“What’s your name, sweet girl?”
Her mouth moved but he didn’t hear anything.
“I’m sorry I didn’t hear what you said. Would it help if I told you my name?” He wasn’t sure if she understood him now. He pulled his identification card from his pocket and showed it to her. She touched the picture then his face and he nodded, smiling.
“That’s right, that’s me. My name is George G-E-O-R-G-E. George. My last name is Madrigal, like the song. Do you know your name, sweet girl?”
She nodded slowly, bent to his ear and whispered. George smiled at her.
“I’m very glad to meet you…,” He brushed some hair out of her eyes.”…very glad indeed, my sweet girl Sarah.”
Now…
When Sarah closed her eyes, she could still see him. Smell the blood. See his intestines, his organs, his lungs torn out of him, dripping ooze and gore onto the linoleum.
Now, covered in a white sheet, his face “repaired” by the mortician, she stared down at the face of the only father she’d ever known. She volunteered to formally identify George’s body so no-one else would have to see him torn apart like that. She wasn’t allowed to touch him but she bent down and whispered “I’m sorry” into his ear.
She felt Isaac’s big hand warm against her back. “Sweetheart?” she turned and he gathered her against him. She couldn’t cry anymore, her eyes were red raw, her throat tinder-dry but the feeling of Isaac’s arms around her gave her comfort. She felt his lips pressed against her forehead.
“Let’s go home, baby.”
She nodded and soon they were back at his apartment. He made her take a hot bath then go to bed, stretching out beside her, stroking her face until she fell asleep.
The Mariners were losing. Finn shifted in his seat, wishing he could concentrate on the game. He and a couple of his colleagues from the city were off getting hot dogs and beer, the Safeco crowd at capacity.
Finn pulled his cap over his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sarah. She had been so hurt, so devastated it twisted in his gut when he thought about it. He’d just wanted to hold her and make it all okay for her, but Isaac had been there, and it hadn’t seemed appropriate. Weird how that worked. Sarah was his sister, his family and now there was someone in her life who filled every role for her. As long as she was happy, Finn shrugged and let out a long breath. Beside, now he had his own family to think of.
After he’d gotten home from the long hours of work, after George’s murder, Caroline had been smiling, almost giddy. Pregnant. Jesus, how the hell did that happen? He’d slept with Caroline twice in the last year. Both times, he had too much to drink. Jesus. Finn swore under his breath. He just wasn’t ready for a kid yet, not like this, not with her. Pregnant. Did he believe the baby was his? Not really. And he didn’t care if Caroline was unfaithful – he knew for a fact that she had been many, many times. Still, he couldn’t walk away knowing the child could be his. It wasn’t in his blood to abandon family.
Damn it. He leaned forward, trying to stop the bottomless ache in his heart. A copy of the Seattle Times was wedged under the seat in front of him. A photo caught his eye. He yanked it free. A headline. Brutal Slaying of Seattle Undergrad…Finn read the story quickly but his eyes kept being drawn back to the photo. Dark eyes, dark hair. She looked just like Sarah. Finn felt a wave of nausea. You’re losing it, man. But he tore the page from the rest of the newspaper and shoved it into his pocket. The nightmare scene at George’s place, the smeared blood on the walls. You are next. Someone was targeting Sarah and he was damned if he’d let anything happen to her.
“Dude, you sleeping?” Hank, one of the city cops, banged his shoulder. “You’re getting old, man.” Finn gave him a wry smile and took the beer he offered.
The whole community turned out for George’s funeral a week later.
Sarah held the wake at the house. Kept busy with the catering and tending to the guests, it wasn’t until late that she managed to get a moment to herself. She snuck out the back door and, kicking off her shoes, sat on the steps of the porch. She leaned against the railing and shut her eyes. The pounding grief made her chest ache. The last few days had been horrific. George’s home had been cordoned off and crime scene investigators were everywhere. The Varsity had been full of customers wanting to know what happened, all well-meaning but wearing. A few times, she had hidden out in the backroom while Molly dealt with some of more emotional ones.
From inside, she heard Isaac asking Molly if she had seen Sarah and smiled.
“Out here, baby.”
He’d been her rock, her protector this last week, through the constant questioning of the homicide detectives. Do you know any reason why someone would want to kill George Madrigal? Would want to kill you? Why didn’t you report the letters?
She thought about that now, staring over at the trees that led down to the cove, the dark boathouse at the edge of the water. So much loss. She brushed a tear away.
Isaac sat down next to her, pulled his tie apart and undid his collar. He winked at her, reaching out and running his hand lightly down the back of her head. She leaned into his touch.
“How are you holding up, darling?”
She nodded again. “Okay. What about you?”
“Same.” He gave her a sad smile. “You did well though, lovely service, nice wake.”
“Least I could do.” Her voice had a catch in it.
Isaac frowned and leaned his face closer to hers. “Hey.” She looked at him. He put his head on the side and smiled. “It’s not your fault.” He slid his hand onto the back of her neck. There were tears in her eyes. She brushed them away as they dropped down her cheeks. Isaac pressed his lips against her temple. “I love you.”
She leaned into him for a moment. “And I, you.” She looked at Isaac, sleek in his dark suit and smiled.
“You look handsome in a suit.”
He grinned, cocky. “Oh, I know.” They both laughed softly then he pressed his lips to hers. “I’m so, so sorry, Sarah. I can’t imagine what this has been like for you. I wish I had gotten to know George a little better.”
Sarah smiled. “He was the sweetest man, the sweetest person I ever met. Honestly, you won’t find anyone with a bad word to say. You would have loved him too, Isaac. There wasn’t anyone he wouldn’t have helped, or tried to make their lives better.”
Her expression turned somber.
“I
can’t begin to imagine how much you miss him.” Isaac’s hand on her arm.
“I do miss him. Every day.” She turned to him, her eyes serious. “I just wish I had reported the letters but they seemed like such a petty little thing, I didn’t want to make a fuss.”
Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “And I hate myself every day for that. It’s just…” – she sighed heavily – “It’s not fair, he should still be here.”
Isaac studied her face for a long moment. “You think you should have been the one to die, instead of him.”
She nodded. Isaac shifted across the step and put his arm around her shoulders. “There’s only one person to blame and that’s the psycho who’s doing this.”
She smiled weakly. “What I don’t get is… why not just kill me? If I’m the one he or she is after, just kill me.”
Isaac blanched at her words. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again, Sarah. Ever. Jesus.”
He pulled away from her and got up. She watched as he paced around the porch then looked down at her. “Do you honestly think I could go on without you? You are my love, Sarah, my life. Nothing is going to happen to you.”
He sucked in a deep breath then held out his hands. She took them and he pulled her to her feet. “Promise me,” Isaac said softly, “that we’re in this together. We’ll fight this together.”
She pressed her lips to his. “I promise, Isaac. I love you.”
He took her back to the city that night. Sarah had told him she didn’t want to be near the island for a few days and with Molly, they’d agreed the Varsity should close for a week. Sarah had insisted on paying Molly more than double for her enforced vacation but Molly had waved her away.
“No way chuckles. This is family time. We need this.”
As the elevator ascended to Isaac’s penthouse, they kissed, tenderly, gently at first then as they walked into the living room, Sarah began to unbutton his shirt, her breath hitching in her throat. Isaac grabbed her hands to stop them, searching her eyes with his intense gaze.
“Are you sure…?”
Sarah stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips firmly against his. “Make me forget, Isaac, make this night about love, and happiness, and…”
She never finished the sentence. With a groan, Isaac pulled her into his arms, kissing her fiercely as he stripped her before sweeping her up into his arms and into the bedroom.
Finn looked up and out of the window. His mood worsened when he saw Caroline walk to their car and get in. Probably off to see one of her playthings. He really, really, didn’t care.
“Go ahead and leave me,” he muttered to himself. “I don’t want anything from you.”
He saw Caroline swing the car around and head across the island.
He closed his eyes. The last few weeks had taken its toll on him; worrying about Sarah, grief over George’s murder. Who the hell would do that to another human begin? And why for the love of god would anyone want to hurt Sarah? Sarah who never had an unkind word for anyone (except Caroline, Finn smirked to himself, but his wife’s constant antagonism made her fair game). Sarah, who had finally, finally found someone who was worthy of her love, her good heart. Finn liked Isaac Quinn very much. After Sarah had found George, he and Isaac had worked together to hold her together, get her out of there, home, safe. And now someone wanted to kill her. Why?
He pushed a thought away. It’s because she’s beautiful, dumbass. It’s a matter of possession, obsession, and madness. No. No. Something, a scintilla flashed across his mind.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out the newspaper story he’d ripped from the paper He looked at the girl in the picture. Young, pretty Asian American girl, stabbed to death in Seattle. No apparent motive. A thrill kill, the police said, a sex crime. Finn knew he was clutching at straws but he flicked on his computer and started a search. He’d done this so many times since Dan had disappeared, each time finding nothing on the guy but each time hoping there would be something. A lead. A clue to where he was and where he’d been. Had Molly been right? Had he come back? You’re reaching, buddy. Finn gritted his teeth and turned to the screen.
He started a nationwide search. Sexual assaults, harassment cases. Finn considered for a moment and added “murders.” He knew he was being unreasonable, that his dislike of Dan was mostly because of the way the man had treated Sarah, but he decided if he was going to search anyway.
Victim profile: Female, twenty to thirty-five, petite build, long brown hair, brown eyes. Asian-American.”
He set the search going and reached for the phone. Time to start at the beginning. Dan was from Louisiana – according to what he’d told Sarah, anyway. Tapping out the number, he waited.
“New Orleans Police Department, how may I direct your call?”
She felt his fingertips drifted gently down her spine and smiled. She opened her eyes to see Isaac beside her, propped up on his elbow, smiling down at her. She rolled onto her side, stretching her aching limbs before leaning over to kiss him.
“You okay?” His voice was so full of love that she luxuriated in it a second before answering.
“As long as you near, I always will be.”
He traced a line around her lips with his finger. “Sarah, love, can we talk about our future? Seriously? I’m trying to hold back from dragging you to city hall right this minute and marrying you…,” he grinned as he said that and she laughed, “…but I do want us to move forward now. I love you and I would like it if we lived together.”
Sarah smiled and burrowed into the crook of his arm. “I would like that too. Even after this short time, this feels right, doesn’t it?”
Isaac smiled. “Hell yes. So, geography. I obviously have to have a base here but I’m happy to live on the island; really, anywhere is fine.”
They talked for most of the morning without ever deciding anything concrete but that didn’t matter – between exhilarating love making and talking, it was nearly three o’clock before they got dressed.
“How about we go into the city, grab the late editions, and commandeer a table at this bar I know?”
“God, that sounds perfect.”
Isaac high-fived her. “Then, later, we’ll go find some dark alleys and…”
“You are such a dirty boy,” Sarah giggled as he caught her by the waist and spun her around. “Come on, Don Juan, let’s go drink ourselves silly.”
The call to New Orleans had yielded nothing but the guy on the phone had promised to ask around. Finn sat down heavily at his desk. Damn it. The screensaver on his computer had activated and he flicked the mouse in irritation. And saw the results of his search.
A sense of dread, of certainty, settled over him as he read down the screen. The breath froze in his lungs. San Francisco. Auburn. Wilmington. Colorado Springs. A dozen more places across the country. All of them looked like the dead girl in the city. Like Sarah. Finn could feel his heart beat pounding, the blood roaring in his ears. There was no proof, no logical reason to think Dan would have had anything to do with the killings, that he was any kind of criminal at all. But Finn stared at the crime scene photos of the dead girls. Almond shaped eyes, long dark hair, and luminous golden skin. But even that wasn’t the reason Finn felt his whole body weaken with shock. He’d seen this before, the horror, the savage way these women died. He’d seen it in the home of his good friend, George Madrigal.
Finn almost made it to the bathroom before he threw up.
Molly was exhausted by the time she’d herded the kids to bed. Mike, her ever reliable husband, had helped out but was now slumped into his armchair, the game on the t.v., but Mike was snoring gently. Molly smiled fondly and closed the door to the living room. For the first time in days, she had time to herself but all she could think of was sleeping. Every bone in her body ached. She got up to make herself hot chocolate and glanced out of the window, across the street to the silent Varsity.
“Shoot,” she said softly. One of the windows to the backroom was ope
n – how the hell had they missed that. Molly, muttering to herself, pulled on her sneakers and headed out of the door.
At the Varsity, she quickly shut the offending window and turned to go back home when she heard it – or rather, felt it. A rolling, a vibration beneath her feet. Molly frowned. Earthquake? No, she thought, as she glanced again out of the window. She didn’t think anything else was shaking. Something was definitely making the floor tremble. She padded over to the kitchen door, unlocked it and went into the dark coffee house.
The espresso machine was juddering and spilling dark brown liquid onto the floor. Molly switched on a lamp and cursed to herself. She pulled the power cord out of the wall and grabbed a cloth, dropping it into the puddle of coffee and soaking it up. How in the hell had coffee machine had been left on? Molly rinsed the cloth and cleaned the floor.
From the other end of the coffee house, the sound of a table scraping across the stone floor made her heart stop.
Molly’s head shot up and she stared into the murky darkness. Chest thumping, she squinted towards the sound. Through her fear, she couldn’t tell if she was imagining someone else breathing or whether it was just her own shaky, nervous gasps. Then she heard it. A low laugh. The table moved again and she was running, slamming the door behind her. She darted up the stairs then cursed when she realized her door had locked behind her. She looked back down the stairs. There was no lock between the backroom door and her stairs. She crept back down and unlocked the back door. As she slid out, she thought she heard the backroom door open.
She didn’t look behind her as she ran, half slipping in the freezing snow. She ran down the alleyway at the back of the Varsity, skidding to a halt when she saw a shadow pass along the end. Her breath was coming in sobs now as she considered what to do. Turning back along the alley would mean she was out of sight of Main Street for longer as the alley passed along the back of the coffee house and its neighbors. But then, she could see clear space at the end and at least it was well lit. Molly, barefoot and freezing, skittered back along the alley.
The Midnight Club Page 92
