by Kelly Irvin
Justin turned to Leyla. “Hey, kiddo, how’s college treating you?”
“Not a kid and it’s law school.” Leyla didn’t care for Justin’s brother-slash-uncle routine any more than Teagan did.
“You should tuck yourself in bed and stay safe until we catch this guy.”
“I have plans.” Leyla grabbed the Angry Orchard from the table and headed for the doors. “My evening will be far more enjoyable than yours.”
“Watching old Chris Pratt movies and mooning over him?”
“I have a date.” She pranced from the room. “An old married guy like you probably can’t remember what dating is like.”
“I’m blessed. The woman I married made me forget about dating. Dating stinks. I feel sorry for people who are still dating.”
“Don’t. I’m still young enough to enjoy it, unlike some people I know.” Leyla sashayed from the room with the same pizzazz she’d employed to enter it. “Ta-ta. Au revoir, buenas noches.” Her voice floated after her.
Justin plopped into a chair. The smell of cigarette smoke mingled with the more enticing aroma of pizza. When had he started smoking? The Justin she knew in high school would never have despoiled his athlete’s body with nicotine. He and Billy had been all-American kids who played basketball, ran track, dated cheerleaders, and made the honor roll.
To have that innocence back. A person couldn’t put the genie or the memories back in the bottle. “How is Lilly?”
“Pregnant.”
His deadpan delivery made Teagan rerun his response to make sure she’d heard him correctly. “You’re going to be a daddy?”
With all his practice playing brother, he would be a stellar father. Teagan’s elation fizzled. Another child in the world who would grow up worrying about whether daddy would come home at night. On the flipside, he had a gun and he knew how to use it. Having children in this world took blinders to the horrific mess humans had made of it.
Her fears were her own. She stood and held out her arms. “Congratulations.”
He rose and accepted her offering. “Thanks. Lilly will be a good mom. We’ll see how I do.”
“You’re a shoo-in for Father of the Year. Don’t be so modest.”
“Thanks for that, pip-squeak. You’re not so bad yourself. You should try it—you might like it.”
No way would she discuss her issues regarding motherhood with Justin. How did Lilly get through the day, knowing she might end up a widow at any given moment? “Where have you been, besides picking up pizza?”
“It’s my mother’s birthday.”
She’d totally forgotten. Justin’s mom had been a single mother who worked many night shifts as an ER nurse while raising her son. “How is she?”
“After a day that included a massage, manicure, pedicure, and haircut paid for by yours truly, I believe she’s having dinner with a gentleman friend from her church.”
“Good for her. I suppose you ran a background check on him too.”
“You bet your behind I did.”
“I’m glad you take care of your mom. She took good care of you.”
“She did and she does. She deserves to be spoiled.” He spun a pen around and around on the table. “So are we talking about what happened downtown?”
“It was absolutely not necessary for you to tell my father about that.”
“Billy and I agree you shouldn’t be relying on Max for anything. The man’s got obvious problems.”
“Max knocked me to the ground and covered my body with his. What more do you want from him?”
“To be able to distinguish between an imagined threat and a real one.”
“Not fair.”
“Not fair is getting taken out by a murderer because your boyfriend is in la-la land.”
“Why do you have to be such a jerk?”
“I’m just trying to protect a friend’s—”
The first notes of a Lady Gaga song floated from his shirt pocket. Still looking as if he might spit nails at her, Justin dug his phone from the pocket, tapped it, and stuck it to his ear. “Chamberlain.”
Teagan only caught his side of the conversation, but Justin’s morose expression spoke volumes. He hung up and took a swig of his beer. “That was Siebert. He’s trying to find other killers in Bexar County who might fit the pattern better than Slocum. We really need for you to go through your files.”
Much safer ground. “First thing in the morning.”
Dad stalked back into the office. “While I pay Chase Slocum a visit.”
“I want in on that.” Teagan took the paper plate he offered and set it on the table. The thought of food made her jaw clench. “Don’t go without me.”
“We’ll go to the courthouse first, then pay Slocum a visit.”
“Neither of you is a principal on this investigation.” Justin paused in his effort to slide a slice of meat lover’s pizza from the box without losing the melted cheese. “Dillon, you don’t have any authority to interview potential witnesses or suspects. Teagan, you’re a potential victim.”
Fierce anger whirled in a tight, black funnel in her like her own personal tornado. “Do not call me that. I am not and have never been a victim.”
“You know what I mean—”
“I’m not planning to interview him in any official capacity,” Dad intervened. He opened the other pizza box, plopped a piece of Canadian bacon and pineapple pizza on a plate, and set it next to his beer. “I’m writing a book on serial killers.”
“His father technically isn’t a serial killer—not in terms of the legal system.”
“And he won’t be if they catch him and nail his behind to the jail cell wall,” Teagan added. “The more information we collect, the more pieces we can put together.”
“Don’t you think the guys in the Valley have already spoken to him?”
“They have their own agenda.” Dad laid a piece of vegetarian supreme on a plate and handed it to Teagan. She averted her eyes and fought the urge to pinch her nose against the smell of food. “Besides, I’d like to have Teagan’s impressions. She’s an astute observer, and a woman might help Chase Slocum feel more comfortable.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Eat your pizza.”
“I can’t.”
Understanding followed by empathy warmed Dad’s blue eyes. “It’s been a long day. Do you want to turn in?”
“I may never sleep again.”
“I’m sorry about your neighbor.”
“Thank you. She was a sweet lady and a good neighbor. I’ll miss her.”
A look of satisfaction on his face, Justin belched and patted his chest. Some things never changed. “Fine, the two of you can interview Chase Slocum, but it’s not official police business.”
Never in her wildest imagination had Teagan considered working with her dad on a murder case. But then she’d never imagined a scenario where a serial killer stalked her friends and family.
She would need every bit of Dillon O’Rourke’s expertise. And then some.
16
The darkness seeped away. The pain refused to go with it.
Eyes closed, Max heaved a breath, then another. He opened his eyes. The truck lights illuminated a crazy, tilted view of thick juniper branches dripping with green pollen. The cracked windshield made the entire view seem like a piece of abstract art.
Gradually, night noises resumed. Crickets chirped. Mourning doves cooed. Strangely idyllic sounds that didn’t jive with the pain in his head, chest, and arms.
Adrenaline shook his body. Was this why some people chose speed as their drug of choice? Talk about loss of control.
He eased forward and tried to turn off the truck’s engine. His hand shook so hard he couldn’t get a grip. “Come on.”
With two hands, he managed. “Okay. Okay. Easy.”
Talking to himself aloud seemed to help. He was still alive. His voice shook, but no one could hear his semi-panic except himself. And God.
“Thanks, Go
d.”
Warm liquid dripped from his lip. It tasted salty. He touched his fingers to his nose. It might be broken. More blood slid into his left eye. He felt his forehead. A cut over his eye. The disadvantage of an old truck was the lack of air bags. But the truck had a solid metal frame. There was that. Ribs, maybe broken, or just bruised. He worked his way down. Nothing else major.
The shaking subsided enough for him to unbuckle his seat belt.
“Moo-o-o. Moo-o-o.”
Come again?
Pain sliced from temple to temple. He eased around to look out his window. A sooty brown cow stared back. Behind him, his cohorts gathered. A crowd of staring, bewildered cows confronted him.
Did that make them a herd? He might be from Texas, but Max was a city boy. “Sorry, guys, I didn’t mean to crash your party.”
“Moo-oo-oo.”
“I get it. I really do.” Please God, tell me I didn’t hit one of them. I didn’t kill a cow, did I? “I’ll be out of here as soon I can.”
With deference toward the pain that swept through his muscles, already aching from the contact sports of the past two days, he gingerly reached up and turned on the overhead light.
Bluetooth and OnStar had not been invented when this truck slid off the production line. His phone no longer lay on the vinyl seat. He listed to one side until he could reach the glove compartment and grab his flashlight.
The dark recesses under the seat yielded his phone. And something else.
A thin, folded sheet of paper lay on the floor mat. The creamy beige stood out against the black rubber.
Just leave it there. Don’t touch it. It’s evidence.
Read it.
He could do without the competing lawyers in his head.
With his fingertips he raised the letter to the seat and let it drop. Then he rummaged through the glove compartment until he came up with a pen. With a delicate touch, he opened the sheet enough to see the now familiar script:
Dear T,
Max was a good Christian boy. He’ll go to heaven. That’s what you believe, isn’t it? Why are you sad then? Truth is, he didn’t have the guts to kill himself, so I did it for him. Killed two birds with one stone. Your friend gone before you had the guts to admit you have the hots for each other. I bet you wonder who’s next. I’ll let that be my secret. Just know that it will hurt just as much, maybe more, if I’m lucky. That’s right. You don’t believe in luck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, T. I expected more coverage from our media friends by now. Perhaps you should let your reporter friend in on what’s going on.
Your friend William Quinones
Another fictional character, obviously. Teagan would know. The urge to wad up the paper and toss it out the window blew through Max. He jolted back and focused on his phone instead. GPS indicated he was on a Bexar County ranch. Just barely. A few more yards and he’d be talking to Medina County sheriff’s deputies. He called 911. After requesting an ambulance and a sheriff’s deputy, he asked them to get a message to SAPD Detective Justin Chamberlain. Call your buddy, Max. Regarding what? Regarding a killer who’d murdered two people and almost made it a third in twenty-four hours?
To call Teagan was a luxury Max couldn’t afford. Her sweet voice would be a balm that soothed his pain, but it would be selfish. She had to be protected at all costs.
The minutes dripped by slower than ketchup from an old-fashioned glass bottle. Finally, his phone warbled a tune that told him the caller wasn’t in his contacts.
“What do you want?” Justin didn’t sound any friendlier than he had the previous evening. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“Somebody cut my brake lines. And there’s something in my truck you should see.”
“Where are you?”
He gave Justin the information and hung up.
Less than ten minutes later a Bexar County sheriff’s deputy showed up right behind an ambulance. The deputy insisted on nosing around the crash before returning to question Max under the lights of the ambulance.
“Did you fall asleep?”
“No. My brakes failed.”
“What is that—a seventy, seventy-one?” The deputy shoved his hat back and scratched his forehead. “How many miles on it?”
“Seventy-four. Ford F-100. The odometer turned over before I bought it from a guy in Grandview. It has sixty-five thousand miles on it now.”
“So when did you last have it serviced?”
“I did the work myself after I bought it.” Another form of therapy. Keeping his hands busy proved helpful. Sitting in the house in front of a TV did not. “Shocks, hoses, tires, sparkplugs, brakes, everything.”
“Could you have messed up something?”
“I think I would’ve noticed before tonight.”
The EMTs insisted on loading him onto a gurney to transport him to a hospital for X-rays and a CT scan. The deputy ordered a blood draw for alcohol when it became apparent Max would not be able to perform simple field sobriety tests. Max’s explanation that he’d been driving home from AA didn’t faze the man.
“I’m not leaving until Detective Chamberlain gets here.”
“That’s up to the EMT.” The deputy nodded at the EMT, whom he apparently knew. “I can get a tow truck out here after it gets light. We’ll want to take some photos. I reckon the property owner will want that too. We’ll get him out here first thing in the morning.”
“Don’t touch anything. Detective Chamberlain will let you know what he wants done with it.” Like towing it to the PD impound lot as evidence. “It’s super important—”
“I get it. This detective is a big shot, but this accident scene is in the county, which makes it our scene.”
At that moment Justin pulled into the makeshift parking lot where Max had destroyed the rancher’s fence. The cars blocked the exit of the cattle, most of whom had heeded the shooing of another deputy afraid they would make a break for it and end up hamburger on the highway.
Justin wasn’t alone. Teagan raced across the lumpy, weed-covered terrain and shoved between the deputy and the EMT. “Max?” She grabbed his hand and squeezed so hard her grip hurt.
“Easy.”
“Your face looks like you got the knockout punch in the tenth round.” She picked up steam with each word. “I told you an old truck with no air bags was a bad idea.”
She chose anger to keep her fear of loss at bay. Teagan worried about air bags, food poisoning, snake bites, drowning. She didn’t let reality keep her from living life, but she made no secret of the fact that she’d like to wrap everyone else in a cotton cocoon for the duration.
“You know I have a superhard head.”
“We’re taking him to University Hospital.” The EMT tugged at the gurney. “You’re welcome to meet us there.”
“Hold your horses.” One hand on the gurney, Justin interceded. He flashed his badge. “I’d like to interview this man first.” He did like to throw his weight around.
The EMT didn’t seem inclined to listen. He and his partner kept moving. The deputy held up his big, dark-brown hand. The EMT muttered under his breath, but the stretcher remained stationary.
“I left the letter on the truck seat.” Woozy, Max leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I barely touched it.”
“You shouldn’t have touched it at all.” Justin snapped his pen open and shut. “Details.”
Max ran through his evening. When he arrived at the part about the AA meeting, he hesitated. Anonymity was the heart and soul of those meetings.
“There was someone new at the meeting.” He danced around the details. Lives were at stake. His and, more importantly, Teagan’s. “That person said something that seemed odd at the time.”
Justin frowned. “So who was this person? What did this person say?”
“I can’t tell you much. It’s called AA for a reason. The thing is, this person claimed to have a sponsor of the opposite sex. That’s frowned upon. But no way this person tampered with my brakes.”
&n
bsp; “It’s got to be a woman.” Annoyance in her voice, Teagan’s nose wrinkled. She hadn’t let go of his hand, which was good. “That’s really sexist. You don’t think a woman could tamper with brakes?”
“This person was inside during the entire meeting. Before and after it, a whole swarm of people congregated in the parking lot smoking. She’d have been seen.”
“Either way, we have no last name. I think Teagan’s right. Your mystery guest is a woman.” Justin clicked his pen again. An annoying habit. The guy was full of them. “What did she look like? This woman may be a killer. She may know our killer. AA or not, Max, you have to help us out here. For Teagan’s sake.”
Max couldn’t contain a groan. The EMT grabbed the gurney. “Wait, wait. Okay. Charity. Thin. Shorter than me. Fair complexion. Kind of cute. Long brown hair and brown eyes. She said she was a student at UTSA, the main campus, getting her master’s in some strange psychology thing.”
Teagan and Justin exchanged glances.
“What?”
“Sounds like the woman who ordered the flowers for her ‘boyfriend.’”
Not being able to take people at face value sucked the life from a person. “Being a fake would explain why she didn’t know that AA doesn’t allow members to have opposite-sex sponsors.”
“Which gets you off the hook on the anonymity thing. She’s probably not an alcoholic at all. CSU is on its way. I’ll take a look at the letter.” Justin cocked his head toward the ambulance. “Y’all can go ahead and take him.”
“Whoa.” Max struggled to sit up. Head spins knocked him back against the pillow. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’ll walk home if I have to.”
“We’ll be the ones with whiplash,” the EMT groused. “You’re strapped in, buddy. You’re going.”
Teagan clung to his hand. Her soft, smooth skin felt good against his. She kept up with the moving gurney. “Can I ride with him?”
“No room, ma’am. Meet us there, okay?”
Teagan squeezed his hand again and let go. “I’m sorry about all this.”
“Not your fault.”
“He came after you because of me.”
