Perfect Victim

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Perfect Victim Page 6

by Kelley Armstrong


  "And then you think Sheila did the same to Charles Atom? Sent a warning that inadvertently killed his daughter?"

  "It was the same kind of device. That's the critical part. Whoever built one almost certainly built the other."

  After leaving Howard, I met up with Jack and Cypher. We strolled along the marina docks, snaking past tourists waiting for boat trips.

  As we walked, Cypher regaled me with the grand tale of taking Mr. Forrest into the forest.

  "Jungle," Jack said.

  Cypher rolled his eyes. "You have no sense of humor."

  "Set that shit-show up, didn't I?"

  Cypher laughed at that, a boom of a laugh that startled a nearby plover. "I'm just glad the guy didn't really shit. Did piss his pants, though." He shook his head. "Can't believe he bought the B-movie-mobster routine."

  "Usually do," Jack said with a shrug.

  I cut in. "So it seems unlikely that Forrest is our guy. Considering how much you were offering--and threatening--he would have agreed if he didn't mind committing murder. How about Stanton?"

  "Jack made me skip that performance," Cypher said.

  "Required a bit more acting," Jack said.

  Cypher glowered. "You implying I couldn't have pulled it off?"

  Jack looked at me and continued, "Same end result. Not ruling him out completely. But, yeah. Unlikely. Asshole bragging. Like Forrest. Thought it made him look tough. Call Stanton on it? Backs down fast. Says he has an alibi, too. Sex club."

  "A . . ." I began.

  "Sex club," Cypher said. "It's a club where people--"

  "Yes, I get the idea. I was just making sure I heard right."

  "You did," Jack said. "If he's arrested, he has an alibi. Now you? Walling?"

  I told them about my afternoon.

  Cypher nodded. "This Howard guy is on the money. Sheila Walling looks good for it. She's had enough of this Cherise girl, so she tries to spook her. Only her warning shot kills. Sheila starts thinking that wasn't so bad. She got away with it. So she goes after everyone else standing between her and her babies."

  "But why? She's convinced she has a good custody case."

  "That's what she says."

  I glanced at Jack. He caught my eye and shrugged, which meant he didn't have strong feelings either way. We'd discuss it later when we were alone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nadia

  Iwas with Angela again. It was early evening, and while I suspected her workday didn't usually end until later, she'd agreed to let me escort her home and give her house a security check. I'd assured her it'd be quick. And it would because Jack had already performed the assessment.

  I had suggested Angela invite a friend to meet us there so she'd be comfortable letting a stranger into her home, but she'd brushed that off.

  "I know who you're working for," she said. "And I know he hasn't hired you to kill me. No more than I'd hire another lawyer to prepare my case." She gave me a meaningful look.

  I didn't respond.

  "I know who it is," she continued. "He's an overprotective pain in the ass, but I'm not in any danger from him. He's sent you to take care of me . . . and not in the way he usually 'takes care' of people."

  She pulled her car into the drive and hit the garage door opener. "Is there any chance I can see him while he's here?"

  I didn't respond.

  "Is he here?" she asked. "In Honolulu?"

  "I'm glad to see you're using the garage," I said. "In your work lot, always try to park between smaller vehicles, so there's no opportunity for your attacker to slip in beside a big SUV and tamper with your car."

  She sighed. "I'm not getting an answer to my question, am I?"

  "If you have a message you'd like conveyed to my client, I can do that."

  "Okay. For now, business. You saw the checks I performed before I got into the car. That's what Detective Lee advised. Good?"

  "Yes. I'd also like you to talk to your building manager about fixing the card reader lock on the stairwell. I noticed it wasn't working."

  "It hasn't been since we moved in last year, and I've been complaining since then. Even before this, though, I lock the door if I'm there at night."

  "Good. Now for here, I'd like more outward security, starting with a motion sensor light at the garage door. I brought supplies."

  We exited the car.

  "We want to establish a standard route," I said as we walked through the garage. "You'll use one door and only one door and go the same way every time. You won't open any other doors or any windows while you're in the house."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  She locked the garage door behind us. I scoped out the area and said, "Good, you have a side door right here," as if I hadn't already known that from Jack. "This is the door you'll use. Only this one. You'll stay out of the backyard. I know that will be inconvenient."

  She gave a wan smile. "I haven't used the yard since Dexter."

  "Your ex. I heard someone fired a shot at him in the yard."

  "Actually, Dexter was my dog. I miss him more." She glanced over. "Is that an awful thing to say?"

  "Considering your ex's asshole move? Not at all."

  "Having Cliff--that was the boyfriend--walk out just showed what I already suspected. That he wasn't the one."

  "Does Cliff have your keys? Security codes?"

  She shook her head. "I couldn't get those changed fast enough."

  She pushed open the side door and led me in.

  "I'm sorry about your dog," I said. "I have two."

  "Better than a boyfriend?"

  I chuckled. "No, I have one of those. A good guy."

  "Lucky girl." She shut the door. "That will be my new dating test. If a psychotic client threatened me, would you (a) offer moral support or (b) say 'Sorry babe, I'm outta here'?"

  "The correct answer is both a and c."

  "C?"

  "Offer to buy me a gun and offer to escort me to work, but don't be offended if I say no to either."

  She grinned. "Exactly. I do have the gun."

  "And now you have the escort."

  During my fake walk-through, I made suggestions, like telling her to keep the blinds shut at all times and have multiple lights on at night so she didn't leave a trail of illumination, showing where she was in the house.

  As we walked into the kitchen, I said, "The killer seems to like explosive devices, which is, unfortunately, the most frightening scenario. It could be anything you open. A door, a box . . ."

  "A backyard grill . . ."

  "Exactly. Plus there's the possibility of tripwires. I'm sure you've been told not to accept packages, here or at the office."

  "All my mail goes through the police."

  "Perfect. But while bombs seem to be the new modus operandi, we know it's not the only way this killer operates. He did fire those shots at your ex. So I have a few suggestions for home security. Yours is good--it's not foolproof."

  "Just tell me what I need."

  "I will. And while home security is great, the best defense against break-ins is your neighbors. I'm guessing they're on high alert? Told to report suspicious activity?"

  She nodded. "They've been great."

  "Good. Your backyard, though, is another matter. May I see it?"

  She took me outside. I pretended to poke around while I called her attention to the issues Jack had already observed.

  "Motion sensors are the big one," I said as we walked to the back fence. "There's no way to stop people from coming into your yard, no matter how high your fence, and backing onto unused property makes security tough. If you can't stop them, the next best thing is to know when someone's there. You have sensors already but . . ." I waved toward the rear deck. "Would you stand over there, please? I'm going to hop the back fence and try to get in without activating those sensors."

  I climbed the fence and started experimenting. After about five minutes, she said, "Okay, I see the problem."

  "Yep. If we're dealing with a tot
al amateur, he's likely to stumble into range of your sensors. But if he can see them, like I do, and"--I started toward her--"he can get all the way to--"

  Something whizzed past Angela.

  "Down!" I shouted.

  She didn't question. Didn't even look around. She dropped to the ground. I raced over just as another projectile flew past and hit the dirt by my feet. Then I bustled her inside.

  "What was it?" she said.

  I caught my breath. I knew what I'd seen--a bullet in the dirt--but I didn't tell her that. I didn't want to panic her when I had a strong suspicion panic wasn't required.

  "I'm . . . not sure," I said. "I saw something fly past you. Did you see it?"

  She shook her head.

  "I'm going to take a look around." I squinted at the treetops. "It might have just been a squirrel dropping a nut or something silly like that."

  "We don't have squirrels, but there is a mongoose."

  I nodded. "That might be it. I'm going to be paranoid, though, and do a walk around. I'd like you to stay inside. Find a room without windows. Lock the door behind me. When I come back, I'll text, so you'll know it's me."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nadia

  From the angle of the bullet, I knew the direction of the shooter. I also knew the shot had been taken from an elevated position. Not surprisingly, that angle led me to the empty lot behind Angela's house.

  I skirted her yard, coming out about a hundred meters away, in thick woods . . . or jungle . . . or rainforest. I hadn't exactly done my geographic research, so I could only say that the tree cover was dense, the ground choked with thick vegetation.

  I was looking for a shooting perch. The trees here weren't sturdy enough for that, though, which meant that the shooter must have been on a rock along the mountainside. A rock that would provide a clear shot into Angela's backyard. After a sweep of the area, I found the one I wanted.

  That's when I heard someone in the forest.

  Someone fleeing the forest.

  I ducked behind a bush. Heavy footsteps thudded off to my left. Angela's house was behind me on the right. The shooter must have waited a few moments to avoid being spotted fleeing right after the shots.

  I took an educated guess about my target's flight path. Then I retreated to the street and ran along the sidewalk. I passed an elderly couple, gardening in their front yard, but they only looked over idly, as if accustomed to joggers.

  When I reached the corner, I veered toward the forest. An SUV sat at the end of the road. I raced to it and hopped onto the hood.

  Two minutes later, a figure emerged from the forest. He saw me sitting on the hood and stopped short.

  "Nice night for a walk," I said. "You mind giving me a lift back to my hotel?"

  Cypher dug keys from his pocket and resumed his approach. "I was finding a place for tonight. I've decided to stand guard."

  "Uh-huh. Well, you dropped this." I held out the bullet I'd retrieved.

  "Where'd that come from?"

  I gave him a hard look. "You fired it into Angela's yard."

  "What? Fuck no." He turned around, his hands raised. "You see a gun?"

  "Where'd you stash it?"

  "I don't carry a gun. And I don't lie. Ever."

  "Must make things tricky, in our occupation."

  He shrugged. "It adds challenge."

  "You are so full of shit."

  "Ask Jack. Ask Evie. I don't lie. Now, if you're asking whether I've ever used a gun, yes, I have. That's unavoidable. But the last time I picked one up was yesterday, when I got yours and Jack's. I haven't touched a firearm since."

  "There is no possible way you just happened to be behind Angela's yard when someone fired a shot at her."

  "It's not the first time that's happened, right? He's probably been out there, waiting for another chance." Cypher met my gaze. "There's a psycho who wants Angela dead, Dee. That's who you need to focus on. The person who just tried to kill her."

  "No one tried . . ."

  I trailed off. Then I looked down at the bullet in my hand. It was ice-cold. Had been since I scooped it up.

  "This bullet has never been fired from a gun."

  Cypher squinted at it. "You sure?"

  "Oh for God's sake. You really don't know firearms, do you? What did you do? Throw it at her?"

  "That'd be kinda weird."

  I glowered up at him. "Did you throw this bullet at Angela, Tyrone?"

  He met my gaze. "No, I did not."

  Jack walked out of the forest, holding something aloft.

  "Is that a . . . slingshot?" I said as I took it. I turned to Cypher. "Seriously, Tyrone? You slingshot bullets? Are you crazy?"

  "Probably. That's the general opinion, anyhow."

  I thrust the slingshot at Cypher. "Take your bullshit and go. We're done." I started walking away.

  "Whoa, wait!" Cypher lumbered in front of me. A look from Jack made him lift his hands and move aside a little. "Just hold on. When you say done . . ."

  "Job terminated," I said. "We'll repay you for expenses if you want to press the point, but I wouldn't recommend it." I advanced on him. "I came here in good faith, to protect a woman who deserves protecting, and who am I protecting her from? The asshole who hired me."

  "I slingshot a bullet. At your feet."

  "Sending us into a panic--"

  "Panic? Angela never even noticed, and from the way you marched out here, you already figured it was me."

  "I don't know what your game is, Tyrone, but I'm not playing it. Angela is actually in danger and--"

  "And that's my point. She's in danger, and she's too damned stubborn to leave her house and go somewhere safe. You're supposed to talk her into that."

  "No, I'm supposed to stop whoever is trying to kill her. That's objective number two. Number one, obviously, is keeping her alive."

  "Yeah, and how about we increase those odds by getting her out of that goddamned house?"

  "No point," Jack said.

  Cypher glanced over, as if he'd forgotten Jack was there.

  "Where you gonna put her?" Jack said. "In a cell?"

  "I'd like to," Cypher muttered.

  "Can't. So what's the alternative? A hotel room? An apartment? Someplace we can't control access?"

  "Her house is a known quantity," I said. "We have complete control over it, and we can do anything we want to it, which we can't with a rented room. Honestly, with the police here at night, the chance of her being targeted at home again is minimal. It's much higher at work."

  Cypher glowered at me. "That does not make me feel better."

  "You know what will make you feel better? Catching this bastard. Which is what I'm trying to do . . . when I'm not dealing with idiots throwing bullets at us."

  "Slingshot. Throwing it would be stupid. It'd just bounce off the ground."

  I pitched the bullet at him and walked away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jack

  They were on their second drink. Mai tais, which Jack had never had before, not being much of a drinker, and definitely not one inclined to anything that came with an umbrella. He'd been missing out. These were good. Strong, too. Which meant Nadia had relaxed and was no longer muttering about new places to shove Cypher's slingshot.

  They sat on their hotel room balcony, overlooking the beach, Jack having grabbed the drinks from the poolside bar and then gone for seconds when they finished those. Nadia had hesitated--both of them knowing not to drink too much on the job. But Cypher was watching over Angela tonight as were the cops, and Nadia's only "work" involved a laptop and pages from Angela's office. So she'd accepted the second drink along with a bowl of macadamia nuts.

  She'd also changed into her bikini, a new purchase from this morning. They'd popped into a store, and he might have said, "Those are nice." She'd hesitated. Nadia really wasn't the bikini type. But then she'd said, "What the hell" and tried on a few, and while he doubted she'd wear it farther than this balcony, he was just fine with th
at.

  Hawaii had never been on his list of post-retirement trips. Lazing around the beach wasn't his style. It wasn't Nadia's either. They liked doing things, exploring, discovering. But he had to admit, this was pretty damned close to perfect. Warm evening, a strong drink, Nadia lying beside him in a bikini while he enjoyed the scenery, his new sunglasses ensuring she didn't notice exactly where his attention lay.

  When she reached over absently for more nuts, he caught her hand and squeezed it, and she smiled at him. Then he twisted the cheap gold band on her finger.

  "I like this," he said.

  Her smile returned. "You do, huh?"

  "I do."

  She opened her mouth, as if to say something, and then stopped short, and he knew she'd been on the verge of teasing him about getting a real one, and that wasn't possible. He hadn't used his real name in years, no longer had any ID under it, couldn't risk getting it. Which meant marriage wasn't an option. So she just squeezed his hand with a softer smile, before saying, "It's past dinner time. You getting hungry?"

  "Soon. Got any feelings about room service?"

  "I am very fond of room service, especially if it means I don't have to dress and go out."

  "Then we're eating in. Find anything there?" He pointed at the pages.

  "I'm working on it. Give me another twenty minutes, and then we'll order dinner and talk."

  "No rush," he said and settled into his chair, watching that gold band wink in the sunlight as she typed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nadia

  I am not a detective.

  I needed to write that on sticky notes and plaster them everywhere. The deeper I dug into this case, the more keenly I became aware of my overreaching. Yes, I'd solved crimes before, but only because they landed in my lap and, in every case, either no one else was investigating, or I had information the police did not. In other words, I'd had an advantage that overcame my shortcomings.

  That wasn't the situation here. This was a high-profile case, being investigated by a capable metropolitan police force with the help of an equally capable private investigator. If the Honolulu Police Department and Howard Lang couldn't solve it, how the hell could I?

  I'd bitten off more than I could chew, and the worst was that I'd blithely accepted Cypher's offer without even stopping to consider that.

  Nadia Stafford, the professional killer who is mostly at peace with her job, but every now and then, must appease her niggling conscience with tasks that are beyond-any-doubt righteous.

 

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