by Joanna Wayne
He punched in Jodie’s number again. This time the phone rang a dozen times but there was no answer. Apparently she hadn’t gotten his message to wait on him or else ignored it. Good.
She would be much safer at a party surrounded by friends. He dialed Lydia’s number. A busy signal droned in his ear. He’d try it again in the next few minutes. He needed to warn Jodie that her stalker was still on the loose.
A stalker whom Jodie would trust with her life.
“THESE PECAN PRALINES all but melt in your mouth, Selda. I’d love to have the recipe.”
“It’s easy as making candy.” She laughed at her own joke. So did everyone else within hearing distance.
Jodie leaned back on the quilt she’d spread in the yard. Blake and Blair were right beside her, in their double stroller munching on slices of banana. Lydia’s school-age youngsters had served as entertainment committee, pushing them around the yard and pointing out each design in the spectacular light display.
The first weekend in December had arrived and the weather was perfect. Light sweaters were the uniform of the evening and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Lydia’s guests had feasted on home-cooked specialities, brought to the party in stuffed picnic baskets and casserole dishes.
Fried chicken, smoked hams, potato salad, baked beans, yams, fall squash and even a pot of chicken and dumplings. All washed down with pitchers of iced tea and pots of strong coffee and followed by banana pudding and chocolate cake. And of course, Selda’s pecan pralines.
The leftovers would have fed another group of the same size. Home cooking and plenty of it. It was the way of the south. Even Butch had shown up a few minutes ago, leaving his duties long enough to stop by for a bite of food. Hyped as he was, he’d only eaten a bite or two. It was Natchitoches’s big night. The local police surely had their hands full.
But things were quieting at Lydia’s. Everyone had gathered into clusters of friends and families, waiting for the fireworks to start. The only thing missing was Ray. Jodie’s heart settled like lead in her chest.
“Jodie, telephone,” Lydia called from the distance, just as she started to put the boys on the quilt beside her. “You’ll have to take it in the house. No telling where the cordless phone ended up with this bunch of people. I think it’s been off the hook half the evening. My husband said he tried to get us for hours.”
“Can you keep an eye on the boys, Grams?”
“We’ll watch them, Miss Jodie,” Selda’s grandkids chimed in before she had a chance to answer.
“And I’ll help them,” Selda assured.
Jodie hurried to the phone, her traitorous heart racing. Maybe it was Ray, calling to say he missed her already, as much as she missed him. Calling to say he didn’t want to live without her.
“Hello.”
Her greeting was met with silence.
“Hello. Ray, is it you? Hello.”
Nothing. The caller hadn’t hung up. There was no dial tone. She waited, then tried again. “If someone is there, say something.”
Apprehension crawled her skin. She counted to ten, forcing her breathing to steady and her pulse to slow. The stalker was in jail. She was safe. She couldn’t let the past torment her this way.
Finally, she pasted a smile on her face and walked outside, down the back steps, over the grassy yard that sloped toward the river.
The first fireworks of the night took to the sky, crashing above her in fiery splendor. Reds and greens and touches of gold. She made her way through the guests, all with their heads back, their gazes glued to the sky.
Finally she saw Grams. Selda was right behind her. So were Lydia’s two children.
“Where are the boys?”
Another crash, another spray of colorful stars in the sky.
“Where are the boys?” Her voice rose with the panic that twisted inside her.
“They were right here a minute ago.” Selda jumped up from her quilt and ran over to Jodie.
Jodie’s gaze swept the area, cold fear strangling her breath from her body, clawing at her insides, tearing through her mind in waves of horror.
The stroller was down the hill, at the edge of the river. For a second her legs were watery worthless limbs, too numb to move. Then she ran, her feet flying, her lungs burning.
She fell to the ground beside the stroller, tears stinging her eyelids. The boys sat calmly, still buckled into place. She picked up one and then the other, holding them to her chest, rocking them in her arms.
Selda and Grams stopped beside her, panting from the fastest they’d walked in years. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, the boys are fine.”
“I guess one of the kids around here gave them a ride while I was staring at the fireworks. I’m sorry, Jodie. I should have been watching closer.”
“It’s okay. No harm done.”
The two women started back up the hill. Jodie bent down to fit Blake back into his seat. Something was stuck to the back of the stroller. She hadn’t noticed it in her initial excitement over finding the boys, but it was there, shining in the glow of the fireworks that were building to a crescendo in the sky over their heads.
A note.
No. It just couldn’t be. Her brain screamed the denial, but even as she lifted the note closer to her eyes, she knew the nightmare had returned. Shaking, she read the words inside the red heart. I’ll be waiting for you at the Coxlin place. Come alone.
MORE THAN AN HOUR had passed by the time Jodie maneuvered through the traffic and reached the drive that ran from the highway down to the old Coxlin place. She slowed, driving through dark shadows and whispering pines to her rendezvous with a killer.
Somewhere in the blackness that surrounded her Butch Deaton’s car should already be parked. He had responded to her call to his beeper number immediately, trying to persuade her not to come here tonight and then finally agreeing to carry through on their previous plan. He had called her back on her car phone just minutes ago, assuring her the plan was in place.
The house was in front of her now, the steep pitch of the roof silhouetted against the moon, like it had been that Halloween night so long ago. Haunted, her friends had said. That night they had been wrong. Tonight they would have been right. Haunted by a madman.
She pulled the car to a stop. No sign of anyone, but that didn’t mean the killer wasn’t inside waiting for her to enter. Trembling, she opened the car door and stepped onto the soft earth. She forced her lungs to breathe, forced one foot in front of the other as she crossed the overgrown path that led to the house.
The bottom step creaked at her weight, and her heart slammed against her chest. He was here, like he said. The door was open, and a figure stood just inside, his large frame backlit by a flickering glow.
As she watched he stepped back into the shadows.
She gulped in a ragged breath and took the last few steps to the open door.
“Come in, Jodie. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Butch.” A quick surge of relief crashed into a shudder of disappointment. “Why are you in here?”
“I came to meet you, Jodie, the way you wanted me to.”
The dark tone of his voice drew gooseflesh to her skin. She looked past him. Logs in the fireplace were beginning to blaze and flickering light from a dozen candles danced along the shadowed walls and crept into the far recesses of the room.
Evil accosted her senses. Thick and tangible, dark and choking. “He’s somewhere near, Butch. I can feel him.” Her voice was a raspy whisper.
“Very near.”
“You have to hide quickly. If he sees you he’ll run like he did before.”
“Not this time.” He stepped closer, out of the shadows and into full candlelight.
“Come upstairs with me, Jodie.” He extended a hand.
But something was wrong, dreadfully wrong. Butch’s dark eyes were glazed over, his voice a hoarse slur.
“You’ve been drinking, Butch.”
>
“No, Jodie. I’m perfectly sober. Completely in control.”
She backed toward the door.
“I asked you to come upstairs with me, Jodie.”
“No. You’re drunk. I’m getting out of here.”
He grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her. Pain shot through her in mind-numbing stabs. She struggled to break away. His arm flew up, and the blow struck her across the side of the head.
“Don’t fight me, Jodie. Just do what I say so I don’t have to hurt you again. I don’t like to hurt people, not even bad girls like you. I’m a gentleman.”
She stared at him, her brain slowly absorbing the unflinching truth. “You, Butch. You’re the stalker, the man who murdered Max.”
“Does that surprise you? It shouldn’t. I’ve always liked you, Jodie. Even in high school, you were the prettiest girl in the class. Thin and lithe, your skin smooth as silk. And you always smelled so clean and wholesome. You were a good girl then.” His finger traced a shaky line from her forehead to her lips and then slid down her neck to the rise of her breasts.
“Why are you doing this?”
“You made me do it.” He shoved her toward the stairs. “That’s why I have a surprise waiting upstairs for you.”
“Don’t do this, Butch,” she pleaded, her voice scratching against the dryness of her throat. “I’m a good girl. I saved myself for you, just like you said.”
“No. I thought you were different, but you’re like the others.” His voice rose, the accusing tone of a mother scolding a child. “You were with Ray Kostner. You let him touch you. His smell is all over you, defiling you.”
He shoved her again, pushing her up the rickety stair steps. She tried to think. This was not the Butch she knew. His mind had slipped into a black chasm, his body following its dictates as if in a trance. Somehow she had to get to the man beneath the veil of insanity.
“I’m your friend, Butch. I can help you.”
“You were never my friend. You used me. That was all. Even in high school you thought you were too good for me. You let me take you out, but it was Ray you let kiss you on the lips. You broke a date with me so that you could go to the prom with him.”
“That’s not true, Butch. You broke the date. You’d been in a fight. Your nose had been broken. It was swollen and bruised.”
“It doesn’t matter. One kiss from Ray Kostner and you dumped me. You’re like the other women. I should have known it last year when I visited you in New York. You flaunted your body in front of me, a hussy in a little black dress that was made to drive men wild.”
“It was just a dinner dress, Butch. People dress up more in New York.”
“Don’t beg now, Jodie. It’s too late. You knew I wanted you, but you pushed me out the door. But I couldn’t quit thinking about you. I wanted you so badly. That’s why I looked you up again. All alone with your babies. I wanted to save you. You wouldn’t heed my warnings.”
“No.” Her voice wavered. She bit her lip hard, determined not to give in to tears or weakness. But how could she reason with a madman?
One by one, he forced her up the stairs, his mouth at her ear. “You only want a man for one thing. You and the others. All beautiful, all bad. That’s why you have to die the same way they did.”
“What others?”
“The other women like you. Flaunting themselves like cheap whores. But they didn’t want a decent man. They pushed me away just like you did. So I watched them and waited, until the time was right.”
“And did you send them gifts, too, and write them notes?”
“A few, not as many as I did you. You were special. I gave you chance after chance, but you kept going to Rayinstead of me. I tried to stop you. I told you that you were making a mistake. You wouldn’t listen.”
They reached the top of the steps. He took her arm and pulled her down the narrow hallway.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.” He stopped at a half-open door that hung precariously from broken hinges. “Close your eyes, Jodie. That way you can enjoy the surprise.”
His rough hand swept over her face, covering her eyes for her when she didn’t do it on her own. A final shove and she was inside. He dropped his hand, brushing it across the front of her body.
“All for you, Jodie.”
She gasped and stumbled backward. The room was filled with red roses, their fragrance gaggingly sweet. Nausea welled up inside her.
“For your funeral.”
Her funeral. The thought melted the shock that was destroying her will. Her gaze spanned the room, searching for anything that might serve as a weapon. Reason was out of the question. She had to fight for her life.
And she damn well would. Blake and Blair depended on her. She would not let a madman take her away from them. She would not let a murderer win.
“If you kill me, you will go to jail. Ray will not rest until you do.”
“But Ray won’t know I killed you. You made it so easy for me, Jodie. The personal ad, the place, the timing.”
She stiffened. A minute ago, she’d almost felt sorry for Butch, felt as if some demon had taken over his body. But he knew exactly what he was doing, had orchestrated this whole encounter with the skill of an artist.
Butch was not possessed. The evil was all his own. She knew now he was capable of anything.
“Why did you kill Gloria Bigger? You did kill her, didn’t you?”
“So you finally figured that out I killed her because I had to. She saw me that night when I went to the florist shop. I made a mistake. A bad mistake. I should never have used Max Roling’s credit card in Natchitoches. But I did it without thinking. The training in New York was over, and I was so desperate to contact you, to let you know I was on my way back to you.”
“So you went to the florist shop that night to steal her copy of the ticket. But all it took was one phone call from Ray to find who had sent the flowers.”
“I didn’t count on Ray. I thought you would call the police. I would have handled everything myself. That’s why I didn’t send you anything in Natchitoches until I was on my way back from the final training session. I had to be sure no one else was assigned to your case.”
“You planned everything so well.” She took a step closer to a glass container of roses. A second is all it would take to lift it over her head and bring it smashing down on his. But she’d have to find a way to divert his attention elsewhere. She needed to keep him talking while she thought of a foolproof plan.
“You even attacked Parker Kostner without getting caught.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him. It was his son I meant to kill.”
“Then why did you hurt him?”
“It happened so fast. I was waiting in the dark. When the door opened, I swung the chair. I didn’t kill him. He didn’t deserve to die.”
“You didn’t kill him because you heard Ray coming. And you had lost the knife.”
“You’re wrong. I didn’t even realize I had dropped the knife until after I’d left the building. I never kill without reason.”
“You are a very smart gentleman,” she said, inching still closer to the heavy crystal container.
“Very, very smart. That’s why no one will ever catch me. I walk into hospitals, apartment buildings, even business offices without anyone objecting. Just a policeman doing his duty. No use to kick doors down like they do in the movies. We have tools that open doors faster than you can with a key.”
“So that’s how you got inside my New York apartment?”
“Of course. Your neighbors saw me and smiled. So nice to have a policeman checking on you and keeping you safe from your stalker.”
He laughed, low and mocking, and the sound echoed through the cold room, chilling her to the bone. “Even your grandmother was cooperative, inviting me in for tea and leaving me alone to pay visits to your bedroom. The bedroom where you entertained Ray Kostner.”
“Greg Johnson didn’t take the pictures of me
, did he, Butch? You took the pictures.”
“He took the ones that were on his bed. The others were mine. I watched you from an empty apartment just across from yours. Watched you through a lens that magnified every curve of your body. Watched you rub lotion into your skin, smooth, sensuous strokes up and down your legs, between your thighs. You did it to torment me.”
“No.” She eased backward, slowly. “You know I’m a good girl, Butch. And it’s late. I need to go home now and check on my sons. You need to go home, too. You’re a policeman.”
She stressed the word, praying to get through to the man who had sworn to protect.
“Policemen protect the world from women like you. I’m doing my job.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.
“Policemen don’t kill.”
“Of course, they do. They kill the people who deserve it. That’s why we have guns. But we’ve talked enough, Jodie. Now I have my last gift for you.”
One arm wrapped around her, his fingers digging into her shoulder. With the other hand he reached into his pocket and fished out a plastic bag. His gaze remained fastened on her as he slipped a syringe from the wrinkled plastic. “Just a shot, Jodie, quick and simple. Your heart will speed up, faster and faster until it bursts from the pressure. Then it will all be over.”
“You won’t get away with this.”
“Ah, but I will. I always do. Time and time again. The autopsy will show a heart attack. You came here and found this roomful of flowers and it frightened you so badly you went into cardiac arrest.
“Some people will even wonder if you put the flowers here yourself. You thought someone was stalking you, and you let it drive you crazy.”
Jodie trembled. Her last chances were slipping away. A few more moments and the needle in his hand would be plunged into her flesh. If she was going to die anyway, she would go down fighting.
In one jerking movement, she lowered her head and buried her teeth into the hand that dug into her shoulder. Butch yelped in pain, but his grip tightened. She struggled, heaving her body toward the vase.
She never reached it. Instead his hand wrapped around her throat. She gasped, fighting for air as life ebbed away. Finally, she collapsed against him. Only then did he release his hand on her throat and push her onto the floor.
