Blood Trails

by Sharon Sala

  “I give up. Surprise me.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to do ever since we got in the car, and I think we’re almost there. I see the turn coming up.”

  Bud took the turn onto South Brentwood Boulevard. When he turned into the parking lot of the St. Louis Galleria, she leaned forward.

  “We’re going shopping?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Just let me get parked here, woman.”

  Holly was excited about spending the day with Bud again and had no complaints about the choice of location. But then they parked and didn’t get out.

  Bud leaned across the seat and cupped her face.

  “In all the years I’ve loved you and imagined what this moment might be like, not once did I ever think it would take place in the parking lot of a shopping center in St. Louis, Missouri.”

  “What moment?”

  “The moment where I tell you how much I love you and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Granted, in one respect this is sort of sudden. But from my point of view, it’s been a long time coming. I already know you like making love with me, but would you like to spend the rest of your life with me, too?”

  A huge smile spread across Holly’s face as she clasped her hands against her breasts in sheer delight.

  “I would like that very much.”

  Bud began laughing as she came out of her seat and crawled onto his lap. He cradled her there, cupping the back of her head and pulling her close. The kiss began as a gentle, seal-the-deal moment, but the longer he held her, the harder and more passionate it became, until they broke apart a little flushed and a lot breathless.

  Bud pushed a tumbled curl from the corner of her eye and stroked her lower lip in a slow, sensuous caress.

  “Come inside with me, darlin’. According to the concierge, there’s a great jewelry store in here. We’re about to pick out your engagement ring.”

  Holly was teary-eyed but laughing. “Kiss me one more time for good luck, and then let’s do it.”

  Bud happily obliged.

  Hours later, Holly still couldn’t quit looking at her ring—a white-gold band with a one-carat princess-cut solitaire setting. It was perfect, and the smile on her face was proof of her joy.

  With a recommendation from the jeweler, they were on their way to a special celebration dinner at a place called Tony’s Restaurant, which happened to be on Market Street near their hotel. That it was a St. Louis icon as well as a four-star restaurant was just an added bonus.

  The host who seated them caught on to the fact that they were celebrating, and when Holly flashed her ring, the reason for the celebration became obvious.

  He passed the news to the waiter, who spread the news inside the kitchen. Tony himself came out to greet them personally, carrying a complimentary bottle of champagne.

  The day couldn’t have ended better if Bud had planned it. The horror of the past few days was forgotten in the old-world glamour of the place and the expectation of an exquisite meal.

  Bud couldn’t stop touching her. He took every chance he got to reach toward her, brushing a tendril of hair away from her face, touching her arm before he spoke. A part of him felt as if he were in a waking dream.

  Holly was in a slight state of disbelief herself. Bud took her breath away. He was so open with his feelings now, yet she kept thinking of how skilled he’d been at hiding them. All of this should have been startling, even shocking, because it was happening so fast, but they’d known each other far too long to stand on ceremony.

  And after what had happened to Maria and Savannah, she’d learned the hard way how fleeting life and happiness could be. She didn’t intend to miss her chance.

  When their food came, Holly focused intently on the quiet elegance of the uniformed waiters and the deliciousness of the meal. She began imagining owning her own catering business or even a restaurant one day. Cooking food to perfection was a skill she’d learned years ago at Hannah’s knee, and learning new techniques was a source of delight.

  Once the entrées were in front of them, the waiters stepped quietly away. Finally they were alone. Bud dug into his filet mignon with Chianti sauce as passionately as he’d made love, groaning in happy ecstasy as he chewed.

  “This is one of the best pieces of beef I’ve ever tasted…with the exception of your steak with mush room sauce.”

  Holly rolled her eyes. “Please, I’m competent. This is heaven.”

  “Taste this,” Bud said, as he fed her a bite.

  “Yum,” Holly said, savoring flavors as she chewed. “That is amazing…and so tender it just melts in your mouth.”

  “Sure beats those steaks I burn on the grill back home.”

  She laughed. “They aren’t that bad. We eat them, don’t we? Now you have to try my linguine with lobster and shrimp.”

  She stabbed some pasta, then spun it into the bowl of her spoon before popping it into Bud’s mouth.

  “What do you think?” she asked, absently wiping a tiny droplet of sauce from the corner of his lips with her thumb.

  Bud caught her hand before she could take it away.

  “Hey, I was saving that for later.” He licked the droplet from her thumb without taking his eyes from her face.

  It was instant lust. Holly stifled a soft moan as his tongue slid across the surface of her skin. To save her sanity, she quickly pulled her hand away.

  “You are so bad,” she whispered.

  Bud arched an eyebrow, then leaned over and whispered against her ear, “Then I’ll have to practice some more tonight to improve my skills.”

  Holly shivered, but she wasn’t going to let him get the best of her. Before he knew it, she’d turned her head and kissed him full on the mouth.

  Despite the food they’d been eating, all he could taste was Holly. She was in his heart and his blood, and there was nothing to be done but enjoy it.

  “I love you, Robert Tate.”

  She gutted him. “Love you more,” he whispered.

  Nearly two hours later, they were on their way out with a to-go box of ricotta cheesecake with raspberry sauce and two little plastic forks tucked inside for their convenience.

  The moment they walked out of the restaurant Bud shifted into protection mode, scanning the area as they waited for the valet to return with their car. Even after they were back inside the hotel, he didn’t operate under the assumption that they were safe. He paid close attention to anyone who came close to them as they made their way up to the room. It wasn’t until they were behind a locked door that he let himself relax.

  “At ease,” Holly said, as she tossed her purse onto the table and kicked off her shoes.

  “What?”

  “I saw you scoping everyone out.”

  He put his arm around her waist and then planted a swift kiss beside her earlobe.

  “I didn’t come here for my health. I came for yours.”

  And just like that, reality returned. Holly had two sisters in hospitals in two different cities, because people had tried to kill them.

  She cupped his cheeks. “You made today so special, I almost forgot why I’m here.”

  “You make every day special for me.”

  “Thank you, Bud, for waiting around for me to grow up.”

  “I would have waited forever.”

  He tilted her chin just enough, then kissed her—softly at first, and then with increasing fervor.

  “No more waiting for either of us,” she said, then gave her ring yet another look. “And this is so special. You have amazing taste.”

  Bud slid his fingers through her hair, then touched his forehead to hers.

  “Yes, actually I do. That’s why I fell in love with you.”

  A group of people passed outside their doorway, talking loudly. It was enough to break the mood and the moment.

  “How about we change into comfortable clothes and watch some television?” Holly said. “I need to let my meal settle a bit before we tackle that dessert.”
/>   “Definitely,” Bud said, and reached for the remote as Holly began digging in the dresser for her sweats.

  Bud tweaked her nose in a quick teasing manner as he headed for the bathroom. Holly smiled, knowing there was more than teasing behind that look in his eyes. Just thinking about making love with him again made her shiver.

  She took off her good clothes and put on the sweats, then crawled up in the middle of the bed and began flipping through the channels.

  All of a sudden she saw the name Savannah Slade flash across the bottom of the screen in a crawl and fumbled at the remote to turn up the volume as she began screaming, “Bud! Bud! Come here quick!”

  He bolted out of the bathroom on the run, ready to fight, and found her on her knees in a panic, pointing at the television. She was crying and talking all at once, and he couldn’t understand what she was saying.

  “What, honey? What?”

  She leaped off the bed, still pointing at the screen, just as Savannah’s name scrolled past again.

  “Look! Look, there’s Savannah’s name. They’re saying Savannah died in an explosion. They’re referring to her as Gerald Stoss’s love child. That means she’d finally filed the papers with the court. Oh, my God, look what happened. They got to her again, and this time they killed her. I can’t believe this is happening. Please, God, please, this can’t be real.”

  She was sobbing hysterically when Bud took her in his arms. The joy of their day had just been shattered. It was his worst nightmare come to life. He couldn’t think beyond the wave of grief that swept through him as he pulled her close against him.

  All of a sudden Holly’s cell phone began to ring.

  She threw herself on the bed, too distraught to talk, so Bud picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Bud? It’s me, Judd. You need to know that despite anything you might hear, Savannah’s okay. You didn’t already see anything, did you?”

  Bud stood and reached for the back of a chair to steady himself.

  “Thank the Lord…?. And unfortunately we did, which explains Holly’s sobbing in the background. Hang on. Holly! Sweetheart, Savannah’s okay.”

  Holly rolled off the bed and bounded toward him, wiping the tears as she went. Bud pulled her close and gave her a quick hug. “Holly’s here,” he said into the phone. “She needs to hear her sister’s voice.”

  “Hang on a minute.”

  Bud could hear Judd calling to Savannah, and he handed the phone to Holly.

  “Here, darlin’, Savannah’s coming to the phone.”

  Holly waited anxiously. There were other voices in the background, as well as the sound of a television, and all of a sudden she felt light-headed and leaned over onto the desk.

  “I need to sit.”

  Bud grabbed a chair and pushed it behind her.

  “Thank you. Going from absolute grief to pure joy in less than a minute is a little difficult to handle.”

  He kissed her cheek, then started to walk away, but Holly stopped him. “I put the phone on speaker so you can hear, too.”

  Then Savannah was on the phone, the pitch of her voice high with anxiety.

  “Holly? Holly? Are you there?”

  Relief flooded through Holly. “Yes, I’m here. Oh, my God, you nearly scared me to death! What’s going on? They said you were dead. It’s all over the news.”

  “I didn’t know about the report until just a few minutes ago. It’s a long ugly story, but the bottom line is, my lawyer and the police have released this fake story to make the Stoss family think they’ve finally accomplished what they’ve been trying to do since I got here.”

  “Are you sorry you started all this?” Holly asked.

  “No.” Now Savannah’s voice was full of anger. “They’re responsible for murder, as well as for trying to kill me. They even killed my grandmother, who I just met, because they were afraid I’d told her something. I want them to pay. Are you okay? You haven’t raised any red flags about your past?”

  “None that I know of,” Holly said, and then her voice softened. “I’m so sorry about your grandmother. That’s awful.”

  “You’re lucky you’re not on anyone’s radar. Try and keep it that way. Let the police do their job, and you get yourself home.”

  “I’ll go, but not until I find out what happened to my mother. I’ve been having terrible dreams. I’m pretty sure that as a child I found out that my father was killing people. I think I told my mother, and I believe that’s why she wanted me out of St. Louis so fast. She was afraid of what he would do to me. Sending me away got her killed. I’m sure of it.”

  “Oh, honey…I’m so sorry,” Savannah said. “Is Bud still there with you?”

  “Yes, I’m here,” Bud spoke up.

  “I’m so glad you’re there, Bud. After all that’s unraveling, it’s not safe doing this alone.”

  “I’m pretty glad he’s here, too,” Holly said, absently rubbing the underside of her engagement ring with her thumb. “There are lots of things happening that we didn’t plan, but not all of them are bad.”

  “Like what?” Savannah said. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh…I’ll tell you all about it when we all get home.”

  “Okay, just be careful. I love you,” Savannah said.

  “I love you, too,” Holly echoed, then disconnected.

  “You didn’t tell her,” Bud said, pointing at the ring.

  Holly shook her head, and then put her arms around his neck.

  “I’m feeling a little selfish about you and the engagement. Once everyone knows, they’ll be all in our business, asking questions, wanting answers as to when we’re going to get married, all that stuff. I want you to myself, at least for a little while longer.”

  “Then that’s how it will be,” he said.

  Thirteen

  Whit Carver’s day started off on a positive note when he came to work and found a note on his desk. Someone on the task force had found the name of the past owner of the wholesale company, along with an address and phone number. According to Whit’s information, the old man was in an assisted living center in Little Rock, Arkansas, near one of his children.

  Whit headed for the command post in case he needed quick access to additional information, then made the call.

  “Whispering Pines Retirement Center. How can I help you?”

  “I need to speak to Kenneth Parks.”

  “One moment, please. I’ll put you through to his room.”

  “Thanks,” Whit said, as he was put on hold. He was just getting past the fact that the music in his ear was Elvis Presley’s “All Shook Up” when it stopped.

  A gruff but shaky voice said, “Kenneth Parks speaking.”

  “Mr. Parks, my name is Whitman Carver. I’m a detective with the St. Louis Police Department. I understand you’re the past owner of Parks Wholesale House, and I was hoping you could help me with a case we’re working on.”

  There was a brief moment of silence, then a faint cough.

  “Did you say you were a detective?”

  Whit frowned. This might turn out to be a long conversation.

  “Yes, sir. I work cold cases. You know…cases that were never solved.”

  “I watch television. I know what cold cases are,” the old man muttered.

  Whit’s frown shifted to a smile of amusement. Point taken. “All right, then. So, the questions I have for you are in regards to Parks Wholesale, the business you used to own here in St. Louis.”

  “I may be old, but I’m not senile. I remember I owned it, too, sonny. What about it?”

  Whit stifled a chuckle. He’d found himself quite a character. “Yes, sir, sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m trying to map out a specific route that one of your old employees used to make. It pertains to a series of murders that happened nearly twenty years ago and—”

  “You wouldn’t be meaning that serial killer, the Hunter? Is that the case you’re working? It’s about time you people got that solved
.”

  “Yes, sir, that is the case, and we’re definitely trying.”

  “That was awful. My wife, God rest her soul, used to play cards with the mother of one of those victims. I’ll do anything I can to help. Which employee of mine are you talking about?”

  “The employee’s name is Harold Mackey. Do you remember him?”

  “I remember Mackey. Odd duck.”

  “How so?”

  “Kept to himself. Didn’t socialize with anyone. Did his job just fine, but people oughta be friendly once in a while, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, sir. Now, about Mackey’s route, would you by chance remember any of his delivery stops or know someone who would?”

  “I’ll do you one better. You got a map of the city there close?”

  “Yes, sir, I do,” Whit said, and moved over to the murder board, focusing on the record they’d made of Mackey’s truck route.

  “I owned that business for forty-seven years. I remember everything about where my trucks went and who was driving them. So find the elevenhundred block of Market Street on your map, and we’ll go from there.”

  “Eleven-hundred Market Street,” Whit repeated, and motioned for one of the detectives to start marking.

  “Yes. Eleven-oh-seven was his first stop on Mondays.”

  Whit began repeating each address that Kenneth gave him, and one of the other cops made sure they went on the map. One by one, the old man went down a mental list of every stop on Harold Mackey’s route for the entire week, until he was through.

  “And that’s the last one,” Kenneth Parks said.

  “You’re sure that’s everything? I’m not questioning your memory. I just need to make very sure this is the entire route.”

  “I’m a hundred percent sure,” Parks said. “And if this means what I think it means and you suspect Mackey of being the Hunter, it damn sure fits his personality.”

  “Why do you say that?” Whit asked.

  “As far as I know, he never missed a hunting season. He saved up all his vacation days so he could take off and go hunting or fishing or some such endeavor. I told you he didn’t talk much, but the only thing I ever heard him brag about was that he liked collecting trophies. I was never in his house, but I heard him mention more than once that he had the big kills mounted and hanging on his walls.”