He looked at his watch for the hundredth time. Twenty minutes. Plenty of time for Greg to say whatever he’d needed to say.
Unless he was hitting on her. Refusing to take no for an answer.
He snatched up the phone and redialed her number. So she would think he was acting like a jealous boyfriend. And Greg would, too. So be it. He had to make sure she wasn’t in some kind of trouble.
The phone rang once, twice. “Come on, Lexi, pick up.” A third ring. He clutched the phone more tightly. She often left it on vibrate, forgetting to turn the ring volume back up after a meeting. If she’d laid it down somewhere and it was still on vibrate, she might not hear it.
After the fourth ring her message came on and he disconnected the call.
He laid down the phone and resumed his pacing. Greg was a cop. As much as he didn’t like the idea of her alone with him late at night, she was as safe with him as she would be with anybody.
So why the sense of dread? Why the persistent feeling that something was horribly wrong?
He froze midstep, his blood turning to ice in his veins.
What if the killer isn’t someone impersonating a cop? What if he is a cop?
What if the killer was Greg?
He grabbed his keys, pistol and Bluetooth and ran for the door, dialing Tomlinson as he went. Judging from the slurred “Hello?” the sergeant had been sleeping. Hopefully the man would wake up fast, because Alan didn’t have the time or patience to ease into the conversation. He backed from the driveway and sped away, leaving a long path of rubber and probably several annoyed neighbors.
“What kind of car does Greg drive?”
“Greg who?” Tomlinson’s words were still laced with the remnants of sleep.
“The detective who’s been working with Lexi. What does he drive?”
“A Jeep.”
“Does he have a second vehicle?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only known him to drive the Jeep. Why? What’s going on?” Tomlinson sounded fully awake now.
“I’m on my way to Lexi’s. I think the killer might be Greg.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally Tomlinson spoke. “Are you sure?”
“Not a hundred percent. But I was on the phone with her and Greg showed up at her house. She was going to call me as soon as he left. That was almost a half hour ago.”
“Have you tried to call her?”
“She’s not answering.”
“I’ll put out an APB on the Jeep and the white Camry. And I’ll send units to Lexi’s. I’m also going to see what vehicles are registered to Greg. Call me as soon as you get there.”
“I will. And call me as soon as you learn anything.”
By the time he pulled onto Lexi’s street, sirens sounded in the distance, screaming ever closer. Moments later, two Auburndale P.D. cruisers followed him into her drive, sirens silenced but lights still flashing.
Alan jumped from the car and ran toward the house.
“Freeze!”
The command stopped him in his tracks and he turned slowly, hands raised. Two pistols were trained on him.
“Alan White, Harmony Grove P.D. I initiated the call.”
Both guns went back into their holsters and the officers approached.
“We were told you were on the way. We didn’t expect you to beat us here.”
He pounded hard on the door. He wouldn’t touch the bell. Greg knew enough to use a knuckle or a gloved hand, so there probably weren’t any prints, but he wasn’t taking a chance. His knock went unanswered.
One of the officers walked to his car and returned with a pair of latex gloves. He tried the door then dropped his hand.
“Locked.”
Locked up tight and lights off.
Just as with the other victims.
“Do you have a key?”
He shook his head. They hadn’t gotten that far yet. In fact, they were just getting started. Lord, please don’t let me lose her already.
He stood back and thrust outward with one foot. The door exploded inward; the strike-plate side of the jamb splintered. Across the entry, a vase lay shattered on the tiled floor, evidence of a struggle.
The kitchen was untouched. So was the living room. Suki sat in the middle of the floor, mouth open in a mournful cry that shredded his already frayed nerves. Itsy waited in the hall, watching him with wide green eyes. Midnight was probably too freaked out to show himself. If only cats could talk.
His cell phone rang and he took the call, moving down the hall toward the bedrooms.
“Are you at Lexi’s?” It was Tomlinson.
“Yeah. I’m inside now. As near as we can tell, she’s gone.”
A heavy sigh came through the phone. “I guessed as much. I got the info on the vehicles, and it’s not good.”
Alan closed his eyes and steeled himself for what he knew he was going to hear.
“There are two vehicles registered to Greg. One is a 2005 Jeep. The other is a 2002 Toyota Camry, white.”
Alan expelled a breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding. If there had been any doubt, the slightest chance that this was all a misunderstanding, Tomlinson’s words shattered that possibility in an instant.
“We’ll find her, Alan. We’ve got law enforcement from all agencies combing the county.”
Alan nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Her phone doesn’t seem to be here. Which means it might be on her. Alert emergency 9-1-1 in case she gets to use it.”
He moved back to the front of the house and stepped out the door. “And check all the wooded areas near Auburndale. If he stays consistent, he’ll take her somewhere nearby. I’ll have the two officers here question the neighbors, see if they saw anything.” Although it wasn’t likely. The houses were all dark.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to look for her.”
His chances of finding one lone vehicle in the dark, probably hidden in the woods, weren’t very good.
But knowing the way this guy worked, he wouldn’t kill her right away. He would wait until she revived. Then he would begin his photo shoot, bruising and bloodying her up a little between each shot. The thought drove a red-hot poker through his heart.
But it also lifted a touch of his despair. The killer could take as much time as he wanted.
Because as long as she was alive, there was hope.
*
Lexi squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the pain throbbing through her head. If this was what it felt like to wake up after a night of wild partying, she didn’t see the appeal. No amount of fun was worth this.
But she hadn’t had any fun. Not that she could remember anyway. So why did she feel so rotten?
Her hip hurt. So did her upper arm. She was lying on something. She tried to shift her position and a moan escaped through her nose.
Sounds nearby filtered into her consciousness—the rustle of clothing and the crack of twigs. Her eyes fluttered open. She wasn’t home in bed. In fact, she was outside. Pine needles lay all around, providing little cushion for what she now knew were exposed roots.
“Well, well, well.”
The familiar male voice sent awareness crashing down on her, as violent as a landslide. Panic spiraled through her, constricting her throat and making it hard to breathe. The killer was Greg. Lysandra had said his name was Gary. But she also said she wasn’t sure. Gary…Greg. She was close.
“I’m glad you finally decided to come around. It’s no fun without you.”
She tried to sit up, but couldn’t move her arms. Ropes cutting into her wrists told her that her hands were tied behind her back. Her ankles were restrained, too, and something covered her mouth. Duct tape, she guessed.
Greg leaned over her and she shrank away from him. But instead of hitting or kicking her, he pulled her to a seated position. She looked around, trying to determine her location. A three-quarter moon shone bright white in a sparsely clouded sky. Trees st
ood all around, mostly scrub oaks and pines.
He stepped back and moved slowly around her, like a lion circling its prey. He was dressed in jeans and a red polo shirt, and a camera hung around his neck. The uniform he’d worn with the other victims hadn’t been necessary. She’d let him in without it.
How could she have been so gullible? She was trained. She had good instincts. She had interacted with Greg over and over and never once suspected anything. She had been careless, blind and stupid. And it might cost her her life.
Stop it! Berating herself was accomplishing nothing. She needed to focus her efforts on staying alive.
“You just had to keep pushing, didn’t you?” He continued to circle her. “You couldn’t just let it go. I was ready to call it even. I was only halfway through my list, but after almost getting caught, I decided to consider the price paid. I can do that, you know. I have the authority to mete out the punishment, and I have the authority to offer pardon, to declare the debt paid. That’s what the uniform is all about. Justice.”
Dread trickled over her at his words, so eerily reminiscent of the ones he had spoken at the station. He stopped pacing to stand over her, blocking the moon from view and intensifying her sense of vulnerability.
“It would have been all over. No one else needed to die. I even gave you the perfect out, someone to pin the crimes on and declare the case solved.”
He’d given her the perfect out? What was he talking about? He hadn’t had anything to do with Wendell’s arrest.
Her eyes widened as realization slammed into her. Greg had nothing to do with the arrest, but he was involved in the investigation, which gave him the opportunity to plant the chloroform. That was why it had taken him so long to get back after picking up lunch and dropping off Jeff —he’d made a trip home first.
And when he got back to Wendell’s, he’d gone straight to the bathroom to wash his hands. That was when he’d slipped the bottle under the sink.
Greg began to pace back and forth in front of her. “I gave you every opportunity to back off. I even warned you. Twice. And you ignored me.” He looked over at her, shaking his head, his expression scolding. “Not a wise decision. Because look where it got you.”
Yeah, bound and gagged. Helpless. A wave of despair threatened to engulf her, and she fought to hold it back, clinging to a sliver of hope. Alan knew she was with Greg. He would have tried to call her. And when she didn’t answer, he would have figured out Greg was the killer. By now, he would have alerted all the agencies. There was probably already a massive search under way.
Greg stepped back and lifted the camera to his face. The next moment the flash blinded her and she flinched.
“It’s all good, though. I’m getting to kill two birds with one stone.” He gave her a devious grin. “Pardon the pun.”
He moved to the side of her and she followed him with her gaze.
“Look straight ahead. I’m trying to get a side shot.”
Her eyes widened and she continued to stare at him. He was expecting her to pose for his photo shoot? He was nuts. But he snapped the picture anyway and again started to pace.
“Anyway, as I was saying, it’s all working out beautifully. Good things come to him who plans.” He smiled at his twist of the well-known proverb. “Not only will I get you off my back, but I’ll have the satisfaction of once again seeing justice done. Nothing gives me greater joy. It’s why I went into law enforcement. To see wrongs atoned for. Tonight you’re paying for Lysandra’s sins.” He tipped his head back and spread his arms. “Justice. Oh, sweet justice.”
A chill swept over her, seeping into her bones. He was nuts. His warped sense of right and wrong wasn’t justice. He was a vigilante, but worse, because he preyed on the innocent.
When he looked back down at her, his smile faded instantly. He narrowed his gaze and took a threatening step closer. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. Because I’m not. This has been done all through the ages—the innocent sacrificed so someone else can live. I’m sure you know the stories. The people offering a young virgin to the dragon so the village can have peace and protection. Children being sacrificed to appease the gods. That principle is even at the foundation of Christianity—Jesus Christ dying for the sins of the world.”
He snapped a third picture and continued to talk. “What’s really nice, though, is that, thanks to your expert sleuthing, all these women are learning that others have died for their actions. They’ll carry that knowledge all the way to their graves. That’s the sweetest revenge of all.”
He leaned over her again, but this time he drew back a fist and slammed it into her left cheek. The blow came so suddenly, she didn’t have a chance to prepare. It knocked her to the side and she rolled onto her back, panic pounding up her spine. Pain throbbed through the side of her face and faded spots of light seemed to dance in the sky above her.
It was all starting. The abuse that each of the other victims had experienced. The gruesome photo shoot. Then strangulation. And more photos. But she wouldn’t be there to experience them.
God, please help me.
She struggled to quell the rising panic. Alan was looking for her. So were others, people who cared for her and would do everything in their power to find her before it was too late.
But no one knew where to look. She didn’t even know where she was. The wall of despair rolled closer.
“Sit up.” His tone held an icy edge.
When she didn’t respond immediately, she was rewarded with a boot in the ribs. A half moan, half grunt escaped through her nose.
“I said sit up.”
She struggled to comply. He circled behind her to put two hands under her arms and drag her backward. Something caught for a second, an object in her back pocket. Once he had propped her against a tree, she slid her bound hands over the curve of her bottom, where they met a hard rectangular object. Hope surged through her and her heart began to pound.
Greg hadn’t taken her phone. Since it was on vibrate, he probably didn’t even know she had it. And he wouldn’t feel a need to check. Constantly under his watchful eye, she wouldn’t have an opportunity to use it. Even if she did somehow manage to call 9-1-1, she wouldn’t be able to speak.
The hope that had sprung up flickered and died as thoroughly as a candle in one of central Florida’s downpours. The phone may as well be a Nintendo Game Boy for all the good it was going to do her.
Greg stepped back to study her, then raised the camera to take another picture. “That’s a start. But we’ve definitely got some work to do.”
When he approached her again, she braced herself for the second blow. It didn’t help. Her head slammed backward into the tree and pain exploded across her mind. Almost immediately the side of her lower lip filled with heat and started to swell against the tape. Blood seeped into her mouth, warm and coppery. Clouds drifted over the moon and her vision blurred.
He moved away to amble back and forth in front of her, posture relaxed. “Don’t worry about the appointment tomorrow evening. I’ll be happy to keep it.”
She blinked several times, trying to clear her thoughts. His words made little sense. She was floating on a sea of pain, her mind refusing to grasp the simplest concept. Appointment? What was he talking about?
A name rose to the surface and she cringed. Ashley Rittman. She had secured the appointment and then given Greg everything, right down to her home address. But Greg couldn’t hurt Ashley. If he did, all fingers would be pointed at him.
“It would have been easier if I could have convinced Tomlinson to let you do it. As it stands, I’m supposed to be going along with Ford. But I’ll figure something out. The department will be reeling with the news of your death. No one will think anything about the eager newbie heading off alone, determined to solve the case. I’ll make sure I leave thirty minutes early. I’ll even bring back all of Ashley’s old pictures…after I remove the ones featuring a pink tutu.” He stopped pacing to glare down at her. “Do you have any idea h
ow humiliating that was? No, of course you don’t. You beautiful, spoiled, popular women who play your games and watch the guys flock to you. Then when we’re totally drawn in, you throw us away without any regard for how you’ve ruined our lives.”
Lexi stared up at him, trying to follow his train of thought. Who was he talking about? Lysandra and her friends? Or the girlfriend who dumped him three years ago? Was that what triggered his need for revenge?
He clenched and unclenched his hands several times, cold fury running just beneath the surface. “Trust me, it was humiliating. But you got a real kick out of it, didn’t you? You just had to mention that pink tutu in briefing and hear the snickers go around the room. Ten years later and I’m still being laughed at. But now it’s your turn.”
He snapped another picture and studied the display. He would probably be happy with the result. Already her left cheek was beginning to swell. She could feel it every time she blinked.
Finally he let the camera dangle against his chest. “Those beauty-queen looks of yours are fading fast. This is much more satisfying.”
He moved closer and her heart began to pound. Although she tried to twist away, the third blow landed solidly on her right cheek, sending renewed pain flooding through her. Darkness encroached from all sides, creeping inward before once again retreating.
Greg pulled something from his back pocket and eased to the ground in front of her. He would wait long enough for the redness and swelling to appear, maybe even some bruising. Then he would take another picture and hit her again. He wasn’t in any hurry. He had all night.
And hopefully he would take it. The longer he stretched out the ordeal, the greater the chance that Alan and the others would find her.
She closed her eyes and let the image of Alan’s face fill her mind: his warm blue eyes, his teasing smile. Except now he wouldn’t be smiling. He would be driving around, handsome face contorted with worry.
And praying. Yes, he would be doing a lot of praying. The thought gave her a small measure of peace, and for the first time, she understood the comfort that Alan seemed to get from his faith.
God, please. I’m not ready to die tonight. Please send help.
Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced AllianceOut for JusticeNo Place to Run Page 39
