“So why do you think Edwards actually set fire to Baker’s house? Do you think it was to keep the police from suspecting your ex of being involved, Ms. Jacobs?”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “You can call me Melissa.” She lowered her voice and leaned over the table. “Have you ever met Jason? Does he seem stable to you?”
Nicki rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ve met him and, frankly, he scared the hell out of me.”
“So you don’t think he might have been tempted to do that all on his own?”
“But why would he, Melissa? Did he have an axe to grind with you or with Baker?”
Melissa looked down at her hands and then shrugged. “No, not really. Not that I know of.”
“Does he have a prior relationship with you that would make him act like a jealous ex?”
Melissa swallowed hard. “Heavens, no.”
Nicki was missing something here, that much she knew. Melissa Jacobs was forthcoming, but something just wasn’t right. Nicki knew it in her bones. But how to get to the core of the truth? That she didn’t know.
And then it hit her. What if this woman were still under her ex’s thumb, fugitive or no, and…? Holy shit. What if she knew where he was?
And how did Nicki ask that question?
She would ask it the only way she knew how—straight and to the point: “Ms. Jacobs…I mean, Melissa, do you have any idea where Michael Sterne might be?”
Nicki imagined Sterne and Edwards camping out at their mother’s place, bullying her into whatever it was they wanted. She couldn’t forget the short few seconds she’d spent with their mother and the disrespectful, antagonistic way Edwards had treated the woman who’d given birth to him. And if Sterne were that close by, surely Melissa Jacobs would know it.
But if she did, she wasn’t going to admit it. “Why would you think I’d have any idea?” Nicki’s pen was poised on her steno pad, but she hadn’t looked down at it in a while. She was glad she hadn’t, because she wouldn’t have noticed the way Melissa’s eyes darted toward the living room. The woman hadn’t done it intentionally, but Nicki was no idiot and had grown proficient at reading body language.
And if Nicki understood her correctly, Michael Sterne was in Melissa Jacobs’s house, right here, right now.
Chapter Eighteen
NICKI WAS AN expert at playing it cool. She had to do it almost every night at work, and hell, she did it with Sean on a weekly basis. She knew she had to keep a level head right now, especially if her theory was correct.
So, if Sterne was hiding out in this house, with or without Melissa’s permission, Nicki was like a doe walking into the midst of a dozen blaze orange jackets on the first day of deer season. It all made sense now, why Melissa had been willing to do the interview yesterday and then reluctant today, not even willing to let Nicki into her house.
Nicki took a deep breath to give herself time to think. How did she leave gracefully, and—more importantly—quickly, without arousing suspicion? She looked down at her steno pad, pretending to jot a note, then moved her eyes over the page and flipping back one, just to give the impression that she was trying to be thorough. As to rescuing this woman, if Sterne really was in her home, she’d ask her editor how he would handle that. Or maybe she could call the stupid detective she’d visited last week. In the meantime, there would be no rescue if she couldn’t remove herself from the situation. “Well, Melissa, I think you’ve answered all the questions I have today. Can I give you a call if I have other questions later on?”
Melissa’s eyes seemed to relax. Oh, yeah, Nicki was right. Melissa was safer if she could get Nicki out, so she was as relieved as Nicki, even though the woman tried to hide it. She pushed her chair out from behind her. “Oh, sure, that would be fine.”
A tall, skinny man with dark hair intertwined with silver strands and darker eyes entered from the living room, a gun in hand. Nicki recognized Sterne from his description. Shit. Not fast enough. And did he look pissed. “I don’t think so.” He pointed the gun directly at Nicki. What did he plan to do? “You’re staying right here until I figure out what to do with you, reporter girl.” He walked over to the door, drawing the gingham curtain aside a few inches and looking out. Then he moved to the windows above the sink to look out the side of the house.
Nicki’s mouth had gone dry, as though she’d just swallowed a cup full of sand. Sterne looked nervous and his moves were edgy, making Nicki wonder if he was tweaking too. She didn’t hang around meth heads, but she’d seen her fair share, and this guy acted like he was on something. She had to think, and she had to keep a cool head. So what did she need to do to get out of here alive?
All she could think of was one thing…that she had her cell phone in her pocket, and that could be her savior. It was already on and silent, so how could she use it to her advantage? She’d had friends who could literally send texts without looking at their phones—they could even do it in their pockets, and they were usually ninety-nine percent accurate (except that one time Brandy meant to type cute boots and instead typed cute boobs. Nicki had thought her old friend had decided to switch teams and that was her way of telling her until they had a good laugh about it later). Nicki didn’t feel that adept at texting, but she had to give it a shot. One hand was already in her lap, so maybe she could try…
In the meantime, Sterne was pacing back and forth behind Melissa. He had the butt of the gun pressed up against his head as though it were an icepack and he had an injury. He was muttering through clenched teeth, but Nicki couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. She used the opportunity to slide her phone out of her pocket. She didn’t know if dialing 911 would do any good. Would the cops be able to figure out where she was and what was going on in time? And would they be able to do it before Sterne got wise? Or would they hang up, thinking it was just another dumbass butt-dialing?
She didn’t trust them to do the right thing. Sean had seen to that.
But Sean…Sean she trusted. She pulled up her text window, her eyes darting from her hands under the table up to Sterne and then to Melissa, whose eyes were fixated on anything but Sterne or Nicki. For now, she was staring at the salt and pepper shakers on the table, and her eyes weren’t budging.
Sterne stopped and turned, looking straight at Nicki. Had her eyes given her away? Nicki slid the phone back into her pocket and hoped her fingers would remember the right buttons to push. She already had Sean’s number locked and loaded, the message ready to send; she just needed actual words in the message. She didn’t know if she was glad right now that she’d never purchased a phone with a full keyboard or not. She didn’t know that she’d be able to do this if she had a full keyboard, so she decided she was glad. She had to trust that her brain and thumb could make this work. In the meantime, though, she had to focus her eyes on crazy, crazy Sterne.
His eyes seemed even bigger than before. He pointed the gun at her again, his arm fully extended. He was across the table, though, so Nicki couldn’t have grabbed it if she’d wanted to. Melissa could have, maybe, but Nicki didn’t expect that. Sterne had stopped muttering, but his teeth were still clenched. “You that bitch that visited my brother last week?”
Well, Edwards had certainly called her a bitch, and she’d gone to see him. Visit, though…that sounded like a friendly word, and their exchange had been far from friendly. But this was no time to be a smart ass. “I had gone by his residence and tried to interview him. Last Thursday, I believe.”
His anger didn’t diffuse, but he did seem satisfied with her answer. “So why are you trying to track me down, bitch?”
She felt a film of perspiration spread out over her upper lip. The message was almost done. She just had to remain cool. She swallowed the nonexistent saliva in her mouth and then answered. “I’m not. Really. I’m just trying to report the facts for the readers of the Tribune.”
He moved around the table to get closer. She stopped punching buttons and sat still. He dropped his voice. “Then why you ask my old l
ady if she knows where I am?”
What could she say now to help him chill out? God knew. She could only try a half-truth, but she didn’t want to get Melissa in trouble by telling him exactly what had triggered her question. “I don’t know. I just thought maybe she would know.”
“And why you think your readers need to know that shit, bitch?”
Nicki gulped again. “I guess they don’t. I guess I was just curious myself.”
“Fuckin’ stupid.” He started muttering and pacing again. Nicki punched the last button. She allowed herself to glance at the phone to make sure everything looked okay, then pressed send.
But that was fuckin’ stupid, to use Sterne’s words. He saw that she was preoccupied. “What the fuck you doin’ over there, bitch?” He stormed back over to her chair. “Whatever you got in your pocket, take it out now.” She took the phone and her car keys out and set them on the table. He grabbed the cell phone. “So help me, bitch…” He started pressing buttons, Nicki figured to check out the last calls she made. She felt overwhelming relief that she hadn’t dialed the police, because she was certain that would have been the last call she’d ever made. Not that texting Sean would make this guy happy.
He turned around to the sink and dropped the phone in the glass of water. Had the message even made it out into the airwaves? There was no way to know. “Nice try.” He strode back over to where Nicki sat, pulled back the fist with a gun in it, and hit her across the cheek. “Don’t fuck with me.” He started pacing again. He was trying to come up with a plan, Nicki thought. She just hoped it took him a while to figure out and that Sean had his phone on. More importantly, she hoped he knew what she meant by her message: help. at m jacobs house
But, since it was unlikely that Sean would ever get the message, she needed to figure out a way to stay alive and get out of there.
Chapter Nineteen
NICKI BEGAN TO feel like a stressed-out meth addict just watching Sterne pace a rut in Melissa Jacobs’s kitchen floor. In the past few minutes, Sterne hadn’t said anything, had just continued muttering under his breath.
Finally, he sat at the table, legs splayed, hand gripping the gun as tight as a nervous mom might hold her three-year-old’s hand in a crowded mall at Christmas. “We’re gonna sit it out for a while. Once I’m sure the bitch didn’t call the cops, we’re outta here. You better pray you didn’t, bitch, ‘cause now you’re a hostage. If you did call the cops, you’ll probably be a dead hostage.” Sterne said probably as though it only had two syllables, prah-bly, but he pronounced bitch perfectly.
She’d already figured out that her life was in danger. She’d assumed she was either immediate victim or long-term hostage. At least being a hostage, she had the chance of getting out with her body parts intact.
When she looked down, she could see that her cheek had swollen. It hurt like hell. She had been asking herself why she’d thought becoming a reporter was such a great idea. She’d just thought it would be fun to see her name in print, to read her writing in the paper, have people around town talk about her insights. She hadn’t stopped to think that she might actually be putting her life in danger or making people angry on a weekly basis. No one had warned her about that possibility. Then again, if the person training you is the Features reporter, she would have no reason to warn you about that. The worst thing that happened to the Features reporter was either getting bombarded with questions from kids at the school about what you ate for lunch or being bored to death by old people recounting their lives when they were young and cool. So Diane Glick couldn’t have possibly prepared Nicki for this scenario. Diane’s most dangerous day happened when she broke the heel on one of her shoes while reporting firsthand about the Boy Scouts building a new hiking trail by Cedar Creek.
Melissa had mentioned that she had sons there to worry about. Nicki wondered if the woman had made that up when she was trying to get Nicki to leave or if she really had kids and, if so, were they here? If they were, they were quiet.
Sterne kept pacing, pacing, pacing, and if Nicki hadn’t been nervous before, she was now. The guy had a ridiculous amount of pent-up energy. The energy sparking off him could rival the Hoover Dam. Nicki knew, though, that he’d burn out at some point and then crash. Too bad that was far off in the future.
Not once since Sterne had entered the room had Melissa looked up from the table. It was as though she were afraid to make eye contact, even with Nicki. Then again, had she looked at Nicki, Sterne would probably think they were communicating somehow. Nicki knew it was safer if they didn’t look at each other. But that also meant that Melissa would be no help. In fact, she’d probably side with Sterne if it came down to it.
As the minutes ticked by on the worn white dusty clock on the wall, Nicki wondered if Sean had received her message. She had to assume that he hadn’t…which meant she needed to figure a way out on her own. If she just got up and walked out, she had no doubt that Sterne would kill her. He had buck fever, and Nicki would be his target if she decided to run. No, thank you. She’d try another way.
Surely Sterne hadn’t always been this psycho, but drugs could push a person there. Maybe, though, Nicki could try to tap into the rational part of Sterne. She could talk to him and perhaps get him to think straight.
Nicki took a few deep breaths, trying to think of a calm way to engage Sterne in conversation that could be productive. She decided to start with the most logical.
She took another deep breath and cleared her throat. Sterne had walked to the door and looked out the window again, making sure the curtain covered the glass when he was done. Nicki said, “Mr. Sterne, would you feel better if I interviewed you? You would be able to tell your side of the story. I wouldn’t disclose your location or how we met; I’d just—”
Sterne knelt over so that his nose was close to hers. She saw that one of his front teeth was chipped. His voice was low, but she had no problems hearing him. “Are you fuckin’ crazy? Do you really think I want to tell you anything? Do you think I want to share with the good citizens of Winchester just how I feel?” He exhaled. “The readers of your paper can go fuck themselves.”
Tell me how you really feel. Well, it was obvious after spending this much quality time with Sterne that he and his brother Jason Edwards were definitely of the same stock.
And Nicki figured out in no time that the appeal to reason tactic wouldn’t work. Sterne didn’t care what people thought. Still, she wasn’t able to let it go yet. “I was just thinking that if you’re ever apprehended or if you were to turn yourself in and you went to trial, by having already told people your thoughts and feelings, you might have a sympathetic jury…which could translate into less jail time, maybe a reduced sentence.”
“Were you not fuckin’ listening, bitch? That’s a stupid idea.”
Nicki shrugged, trying not to let her fear show. That gun was too close, and she wasn’t at an angle where she could even try to grab it. “Just a suggestion.” Man, where was Carlos when she needed him? He’d already pulled this guy’s psycho brother off her. But she knew Carlos was no doubt back to his own part of the world, possibly involved in gang activities as Sean had suggested.
No, Nicki was on her own now, and appealing to Sterne’s logical side hadn’t worked. She wasn’t ready to give up, though. Sterne had resumed pacing back and forth, and Melissa was even more withdrawn. “Look, you know I didn’t call the cops on you. Just let me go. You don’t want to add murder or kidnapping to the list of charges the police have against you, do you? If you kill me, they’ll lock you away for a long time, even if I’m not anyone important.”
Sterne stopped pacing and seemed to consider her, but Nicki knew better when she saw the glint in his eye that wouldn’t go away. Something was just not right about this guy. “That’s if they know who did it. Why would they even suspect me?”
He had a point there, and Nicki could bluff, but she imagined that in this case a bluff would be more dangerous than the truth. She decided to just let it go. Ob
viously, this guy wouldn’t listen to anything resembling common sense, so Nicki had to start thinking of another way out of this situation. How could she distract him so that she could find a way to escape? She knew she’d only have one chance. If she fucked that up, she’d be as good as dead.
Sterne resumed pacing until someone rapped on the door. Sterne stopped the exact second he heard it. He glared at both women and held the gun barrel up to his lips to indicate they’d better stay quiet. Nicki debated if she should yell, but again she sensed that Sterne had nothing to lose.
The person at the door knocked again. Sterne took a deep breath and approached the table. Melissa continued to stare at nothing, but his gaze alternated between the two women just the same. His voice was barely above a whisper. He hunched over so that Melissa had no choice but to look at him. “You’re gonna answer the door and get rid of whoever’s there. And not like you did with this fuckin’ bitch.” Nicki was sure Melissa was afraid, but the woman hid it well. “Got me?”
She nodded and stood. Sterne stood behind the door, pointing the gun toward her, out of sight of the person at the door. Melissa opened the door a crack and looked out. She didn’t say anything, but Nicki heard a voice that sounded sweeter to her than any other sound she’d ever heard. “By any chance, is Nicki Sosebee here?”
Chapter Twenty
I’LL BE DAMNED. Sean had made it. Even if she hadn’t put that man on a pedestal, he was her knight in a white t-shirt today. She wanted to shout out at him, but she knew better. Sterne would kill Melissa, Nicki, Sean, or even try for all three if Nicki was stupid enough to do that. Right now, Sean’s best chance was putting two and two together. Nicki’s car was outside and, now that Sean was here, he knew it.
Melissa didn’t know what to say. She was the proverbial doe in the headlights, scared, pumped full of adrenaline, and paralyzed. There was no “fight or flight” in this woman. She was frozen. After what seemed like hours, though, Melissa managed to swallow whatever fictional lump in her throat had stopped her from being able to speak. Her voice squeaked, but she said, “Uh, Nicki who?”
Got the Life (A Nicki Sosebee Novel) Page 10
