by Mallory Kane
He gave the pasta sauce a last stir, turned off the burner, and looked at his watch. Where was she? It had been over an hour since he'd called her. She should be home by now.
He stepped over to the kitchen counter, to where a bottle of sauvignon blanc sat breathing. He'd had a devil of a time getting it open. Good wine was a weakness of his, but just then he'd have given anything for a cheap, screw-cap bottle, although he'd have probably had trouble with that, too. His hand was getting stronger, but twisting and grasping tightly were still a problem.
He looked at his watch again. Damn it. If she didn't get here within the next five minutes, he was calling Clint to put out an APB on her car.
The door between the foyer and his living room opened. He listened. Heavy footsteps echoed across the hardwood floors. It was Frank.
The white-haired retired police sergeant appeared at the kitchen door. "Hey, Geoff, I'm ready to go. Need anything?"
He shook his head and held up the wine bottle. "Want some wine before you go?"
"Nah. I'm good. Linda promised me a steak for dinner."
Archer nodded. "How was it today?"
"Not bad. That group of college kids came this afternoon."
"Right. Who took care of showing them the various weapons?"
Frank named a lieutenant from the precinct near the school. "Anyhow, I'd better get home. See you Monday."
"Thanks, Frank."
A few minutes after Frank left, he heard the front door open. Relief washed over him. He had to stop himself from running into the foyer. Instead he took two wineglasses, set them on the table and poured the wine.
When he heard her heels on the hardwood floor, he looked up.
She stood in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen, looking small and thin. When his gaze met hers, a shard of fear ripped through him. Her eyes were wide and dark, and shining with pure terror.
"Resa, what is it?"
She lifted her hand and he saw the piece of yellow lined paper sitting on a tissue. Then she swayed and the paper fluttered to the floor.
He was beside her instantly, wrapping his arm around her and leading her to a chair.
She sat woodenly, her hands folded in her lap.
He pulled another chair up beside her and sat, then picked up a wineglass. "Here," he said softly. "Drink this."
She took the glass in both hands and sipped at it. After a few seconds she set the glass down, squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples.
"Tell me what happened. Are you hurt?"
She opened her eyes and shook her head. Her face was ghostly pale, which made her eyes look enormous.
"No. Archer—the note."
He glanced down at the torn piece of yellow lined paper as fear and fury warred inside him. He grabbed an exam glove from a drawer and pulled it on, then went over and picked up the note. He set it on the table.
"What does it say?" he asked her.
She shook her head. "I don't know. I didn't read it."
He pulled it toward him. If she hadn't read it, he wanted to see it first, before he showed it to her.
Using the tines of a fork to hold it still, he unfolded it with his gloved hand and read it silently.
See, Theresa, I can get to you any time I want. Like right now. You're not my type but you're associating with my sworn enemy, and that makes you very interesting to me.
He cursed under his breath. "Where was this?"
"On my car seat."
"Did you leave your car unlocked?" He heard the hard edge to his voice but he couldn't hold back. He never should have let her go out alone. He should have known the bastard would try something.
She shook her head and sipped some more wine. A little color was beginning to return to her cheeks. "Of course not. He somehow got it unlocked." She took a shaky breath. "How could he do that on an empty street in a ritzy neighborhood like that?"
He didn't bother answering.
"What does it say?"
He turned the sheet of paper so she could read it. What little color she'd regained drained from her face.
"I don't understand. What does he want with me?"
"Just like he says, you're in his way. You're causing him a problem." He took the wineglass and set it down, then took her hand. Her fingers were icy. "He can't hurt you here, Resa. We'll get him."
She squeezed his hand and panic rushed up to clog his throat. What was he doing? He didn't want her depending on him.
He pulled away and stood, ignoring the voice inside him that said You should have thought of that before you brought her here.
"I've got to call Clint. He needs this note to analyze and compare with the others." He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pressed the speed-dial button for Clint's cell phone.
Clint answered on the first ring.
"Clint. Resa received another note. This one was left inside her locked car."
"There on your property?"
"No. Over in West Meade. She was fitting an outfit she'd designed for a country music star."
"Why didn't she call us?"
"I haven't gotten that far with her yet."
"So she got into her car and drove back there? Hell, any trace evidence has probably been destroyed."
"Yeah, well." He glanced at her. She was watching him, her eyes still wide and dark in her pale face. "She came straight back here. Whatever evidence is left, I'd think you'd want to get it ASAP."
"I do. We'll be right over."
"Hey, Clint. Do me a favor will you? Come in unmarked cars. Don't do the sirens and blue lights."
"Okay. See you in a few."
He disconnected and turned to Resa. "How about some pasta for dinner?"
She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."
"Well, you've got to eat or that wine you drank will go to your head."
"Then bottoms up." Picking up the glass, she gestured toward him with it. "I think I'd like to see the world through a haze for a while."
He took the glass from her unsteady hand. "No, you wouldn't. Now sit down and let me serve you some pasta and French bread. I'll get you a glass of water."
Her eyes began to fill up with fear again.
"Hey." He gently turned her head back toward him. "If you're good, I'll let you have another glass of wine after you eat. Deal?"
She gave him a watery smile and nodded. "Deal."
By the time Detective Banes and his team were through processing her car for evidence, Resa was a nervous wreck. Archer's pasta was delicious, but she couldn't manage more than a couple of bites. And those stuck in her throat.
Then Banes came in to take her statement. He whispered something to Archer and Archer muttered a reply, glared at him and left.
"Can't he stay?" she asked.
Detective Banes gave her a reassuring smile. "He's taking a look at what the crime scene unit found. Why don't you tell me what happened?"
He didn't want Archer interfering with her questioning. Resa described what had happened as succinctly as she could. She told him about the car she'd spotted, and the house three doors down where someone had been running a lawn edger. Otherwise the street had been deserted.
"So you got there around twelve-thirty?"
"Right. I looked at my dashboard clock."
"And you were in the house until three?"
She nodded. "When I finally got into the car, it was 3:05."
"And you never went outside? Didn't have to get something out of your car? Didn't look out a window?"
"No. We were doing the fittings in my client's bedroom suite on the back of the house."
"Did you leave your car door unlocked? Or your window cracked a little?"
"No."
"Be sure, Ms. Wade. It was hot. Maybe you lowered the window just enough to let some air in while you were inside."
Resa raised her chin slightly. "I didn't."
"Okay. I've got someone searching the newspaper archives, but back in December when your sister was attacked, was your
picture ever in the paper? Any newspaper in any town?"
"Not that I know of. Why?"
"I'm just trying to get a feel for how the Lock Rapist found you." Detective Banes rubbed his chin and studied her. "Have you been here in Nashville ever since your sister's attack?"
"Yes. I mean—I've spent a lot of time at my mother's, helping her to take care of my sister."
"Your sister isn't doing well?"
Resa shook her head. "She had a breakdown after the attack. She's not eating, not sleeping. Hardly communicates at all."
"I'm sorry. So how much time would you say you've spent at your mother's? And where does she live?"
"She lives in Louisville, Kentucky. I've probably spent more than half my time up there in the past six months."
"Are you still splitting your time between here and there?"
"No. I told my mother I couldn't continue to spend weeks at a time up there. I'm a fashion designer, and I have commissions for a country music awards ceremony coming up in August."
"So you haven't been back to Louisville since—"
"Just over two weeks ago."
Banes raised his eyebrows. "And you bought a gun."
She nodded. His level gaze made her feel like a criminal. Her pulse sped up. He was going to ask her why she bought the gun, and right now she didn't have an answer to that question. She couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't tell anyone. They'd label her a wacko.
"Why did you buy the gun, Resa?"
She looked down at her hands. "I don't know." To get close to Archer. To find out how he was coping with what the Lock Rapist had done. To ask him if he wanted to kill the rapist.
"Yes, you do."
She didn't look up. "I needed to protect myself."
Banes leaned back in his chair. She felt his eyes on her, felt his frown.
"Did you buy it because you'd noticed the car following you?"
She grimaced inwardly. "No. As I told you, the first time I noticed the car was two Tuesdays ago."
Banes made a note on his pad, then turned a couple of pages back. "The date on the gun's invoice was a week prior to that." He raised his gaze to hers. "So you bought a gun and a week later someone started following you. Can you explain that?"
"Is that how it happened?" She looked at her hands as she tried to remember what was going through her mind as she filled out the paperwork to purchase the gun.
"I came back from Louisville. My mother was mad at me for leaving her to cope with Celia alone. But my mother can be very stubborn. My sister needs to be in the hospital under a psychiatrist's care, but Mom won't hear of it."
She shook her head. "I understand Mom's point of view. Celia is her daughter. She ought to be able to take care of her. But—" Resa stopped, seeing the impatience in the detective's face.
"I'm sorry. I'm rambling. When I got back to Nashville, I was nervous about staying alone at night. So—"
Banes's eyes studied her. "You told me you'd never touched a gun before you bought the Glock."
"That's right."
His brow furrowed and his kind blue eyes sharpened.
He doesn't believe me. What else could she say to convince him?
Just then she heard the front door open and close.
"Detective?"
"In here."
A young woman in jeans and T-shirt a with the letters CSU emblazoned across the front appeared at the door to the kitchen. Crime Scene Unit. "We're done here."
Banes nodded without taking his eyes off Resa. "Great. Has Impound been called?"
"Wait," Resa said. "You're impounding my car?"
"This is the closest we've ever gotten to the Lock Rapist. Your car is evidence."
"But—" She knew it would do no good to argue. But how was she going to work without her car? She'd lose her commissions—and probably her reputation.
Both Banes and the crime scene investigator looked at her.
"I'll—rent a car," she said meekly.
"Impound should be here within a few minutes, sir," the young woman said.
Banes nodded and turned his full attention back to Resa. "You were saying you'd never touched a gun before."
His tone made it clear that he knew she was hiding something.
She nodded.
"So how did you end up here?"
And here they were. Right where Clint Banes had been heading the whole time he'd been questioning her. It was the same question Archer had asked her. Why Archer's range?
"I heard about the range, and figured since it was owned by a former police detective, it would be a good place to learn to shoot."
"Yeah. I don't believe you, Ms. Wade."
A surge of fight-or-flight adrenaline heated her cheeks and neck. "Well, I'm sorry. It's the truth. I felt vulnerable, since the rapist probably saw my face that night. So I wanted to protect myself."
"Oh, that I believe. But you're lying about why you came here."
She felt her cheeks growing even hotter.
"Here's what I think. I think you are afraid of the Lock Rapist. You know he saw you, and you're afraid he's going to come after you." He paused and watched her for a few seconds.
Resa tried to stay calm, but the longer he was silent the more agitated she became. She felt as if he was looking right through her.
"I think you came here because you wanted to meet Geoff. You hoped he had a plan to go after the man who destroyed his life. You figured that's why he built the firing range. You were planning to be around when he caught the rapist. You want to be absolutely sure that he gets him. Then you can feel safe."
He leaned forward. "And you were shocked and disappointed when you found out that even after all this time, he can't shoot with his right hand."
A movement behind the detective caught Resa's eye. Archer was standing in the kitchen doorway. How long had he been there? "That's not why," she whispered.
But the damage was already done. Archer's eyes turned dark.
"Don't mind me," he said, stepping into the kitchen and heading for the refrigerator. "I just live here."
His voice dripped with bitterness.
Banes glanced in Archer's direction, but he kept talking to Resa. "You bought your gun not so you could protect yourself against the Lock Rapist. I think you bought it to use as a reason to come here. You wanted to be here when Geoff caught the rapist. You wanted him to exact the revenge you didn't think you could."
"I didn't—"
"Your glimpse of the Lock Rapist that night was kept out of the papers. So he had no way of knowing who you were, except as the latest victim's sister. You're the one who said he didn't start following you until after you showed up here."
"But that means—"
"He's been watching Geoff."
Resa's blood ran cold. "Then he saw me coming to and from here." She intertwined her fingers together in her lap. "He saw me and recognized me."
"I think that's exactly what happened."
Archer moved on the edge of her vision. He opened a bottle of water and leaned against the kitchen counter, openly eavesdropping.
Detective Banes shot him a glowering look, but to Resa's surprise, he didn't tell him to leave.
"But why? Why was he watching Archer?"
"I think he's obsessed with him. When Geoff took over the case, he shut down the media coverage. Like many serial offenders, our guy craved the attention."
"And that's why he went after Archer's wife."
Detective Banes nodded.
"But why is he still watching him? Why didn't he turn to you when you took over the case?"
"Hey, I'm supposed to be asking the questions."
"Oh, that's right." She smiled at him. As probing as his questions were, he was kind and considerate. He was obviously very good at putting people at ease. She looked at Archer then back at him. What a difference between the two men.
Banes could coax a suspect into a feeling of security. Then, when the suspect got friendly and talkative, Archer could swoo
p in for the kill.
They must have been formidable together.
"Still, I'll try to answer your question. I think that's what obsession is. The rational thing—if anything a person like this does can be called rational—would be to transfer the blame to whoever is in the line of fire. In this case, the new lead detective on the case. But this guy apparently is fixated on Geoff. I have a feeling nothing short of killing Geoff would satisfy his need for revenge."
Archer didn't say a word, but his face grew darker and darker.
"And since you showed up at the range, you've become part of his obsession. I have no doubt that he'd use you if he could to lure Geoff into his trap. Which is why I want to get you out of here as soon as possible."
Archer straightened. "Hold on, Clint. I thought you said you didn't have anybody to guard her."
Resa glanced at him. Another reminder that he'd only agreed to let her stay here because he had no other choice.
"I will have someone within the next couple of days," Clint shot at Archer, then turned back to her.
"Okay. Listen to me. You stay here. Do not go anywhere alone. Don't leave the house unless Geoff is with you. Understand?"
She nodded. "But why would he come after me? It doesn't make sense. Archer told me about the type of woman he targets. I'm totally not his type—I'm nothing like my sister or the other victims."
Banes rubbed his chin. "Like I said, he's obsessed with Geoff. He attacked his wife in retaliation for cutting off his media attention. If he thinks Geoff cares for you, then you will be his next victim."
Chapter Six
Earl took a long swig of beer and opened another bag of pretzels. He was sitting at his kitchen table, gloating to himself over how easy it was to manipulate people. He'd slipped the note into Theresa Wade's car in only a couple of seconds. His only regret was that he hadn't been able to hang around to watch her find the note.
He closed his eyes and took another swig of beer. She'd probably looked around to see if she could spot anyone leaving the area.
He'd waited on a side street to see what she would do. He speculated on her actions. His best guess had been that she'd call Archer. If she did that, Archer would call the police and Earl would soon have heard sirens.
