Crime Scene Connection

by Deena Alexander

  The screen went black, pulling her from her pity party. Leaving it open, she turned away. Maybe Ron was contacting the powers that be in an effort to honor her request. She sighed and stood. Probably not.

  Jace pulled the car as close to the front steps as he could and left the passenger door open, then left Phoenix in the back seat and jogged up the front steps. “Get in quickly.”

  As she ran down the few steps to the car, Jace locked the cabin door and followed closely behind.

  Once they were all in the car with the doors locked, Addison turned and clipped the seat belt to Phoenix’s harness, then snapped her own seat belt shut. She didn’t know how much longer she could live on the run, constantly looking over her shoulder, in fear not only for her life, but the lives of those around her.

  Jace checked the rearview mirror, then swung the vehicle back, turned around and headed down the driveway. “It’s a good book.”

  A small smile tugged at her. She wrestled down the urge to ask if he’d finished it, what his favorite part was, if he liked the characters, and a hundred other questions her self-doubt begged her to ask. “Thank you.”

  He frowned.

  All her insecurities flooded to the surface. “What?”

  Instead of answering, he lowered the visor against the bright afternoon sun, looked up and down the deserted road, then finally pulled out. After an endless moment of silence, where she mentally rewrote every scene she’d ever had doubts about, he finally glanced at her before returning his attention to the road ahead of him...and the road behind him, and the woods bordering them on both sides. How could he possibly keep his attention so split, yet seem so fully focused on everything?

  “It’s a complex story, a number of characters, plenty of suspects, enough suspense to keep you interested.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Somehow, she hadn’t expected such an in-depth critique from him. Maybe it was the gruff exterior, the rugged strength he exuded without even seeming to realize it.

  He massaged his neck and tilted his head back, then straightened. “But I’m not sure how it helps us. Other than similar appearances, the victims don’t have much, if anything, in common. They don’t share the same activities or lifestyles, don’t frequent the same businesses, don’t share a common interest or hobby, don’t even live in the same neighborhoods or run in the same social circles. How does he choose them? It seems almost random. I haven’t gotten all the way through the book, but there has to be some kind of common thread.”

  Caught off guard by the comment, Addison hesitated. She’d written a synopsis for the third book for her editor but hadn’t worked out all of the more intricate details yet. “I haven’t decided yet. I’ve created extensive backstories and motivations for a number of characters, each of them having not only motive but opportunity and a grudge against the detective, and each of them having crossed paths with the victims at some point. Any one of them could be the killer. That way, the red herrings would seem believable and readers could enjoy trying to solve the puzzle along with the detective. I didn’t want to make a final decision on who the killer is until I reach that point in the writing, but you have to remember, his main motive is revenge against the lead detective. The women he chooses are secondary.”

  “Didn’t you already write book two? Doesn’t he get caught in the second book?”

  “Book two is written and with my editor but hasn’t been released yet.” Addison offered a half smile. “And no, he doesn’t get caught in book two, either.”

  “No?”

  “No.” She glanced over her shoulder. No one behind them. Yet. That had to be a good sign. The urge to flee back to the cabin and hide almost overwhelmed her, and had she been alone, she would probably have done just that, but Phoenix needed to be cared for.

  Jace stared at her, his expression unreadable.

  “It’s a trilogy.”

  “Does he get caught in the third book?”

  “I don’t know. Probably.” When she’d written the proposal for the trilogy, she’d included his capture and death in book three, when he would become The Final Victim. But as she’d finished writing and then editing book two, she’d considered letting him get away in hopes of prolonging the series. At the time, she’d decided to wait and see how book two sold before approaching her editor with the suggestion.

  “I don’t understand how you can write three books where the same killer keeps escaping.”

  “Why not? A lot of authors do it. Besides...” She leaned close and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “News flash. Sometimes, even in real life, the bad guy gets away.”

  He shrugged. “I guess I’m not that into cliff-hangers. I like a clean ending. All the pieces tied up nice and neat.”

  If she hadn’t been looking right at him, she’d have missed his jaw tightening, the flash of pain in his eyes. “I guess you have some experience with the bad guy getting away?”

  He was quiet so long she didn’t think he’d answer, then he sighed and spoke quietly. “My wife, Jennifer.”

  Why the sudden stab of pain in her heart at his mention of a wife? She ignored it. It didn’t matter.

  “She was killed, and her killer got away.”

  “Oh, Jace, I’m so very sorry.” The pain around her heart increased, squeezing, robbing her of breath.

  He nodded, his jaw clenched tight.

  “How long ago?”

  “Almost four years, now.”

  Right around the time of Brandon’s investigation. Surely Jace must have investigated his wife’s murder, even with everything else going on? He seemed like the kind of man who’d have made that a priority. “Do you have any leads?”

  He rolled his shoulders, tilted his head back and forth. A quick glance in his side mirror brought a frown.

  Addison looked behind them at the blur of passing trees on either side but didn’t see anything.

  “No, no leads, once I pulled myself out of a bottle long enough to investigate.” Disgust twisted his features. “I developed a drinking problem during the mess with Brandon. Had I not, I might have been able to save Jennifer.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly, unsure what else to say, yet wanting so badly to offer comfort.

  “I’m sorry.” Guilt poured off him in waves. “I can’t... I just can’t talk about it.”

  “Oh, no, I’m sorry.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  He looked down at her hand but didn’t shake it off. “No, it’s okay. It’s just... I haven’t spoken with anyone about it, pulled away from everyone I knew at the time. I’m pretty sure Jennifer’s death had something to do with Brandon, though I haven’t been able to prove it. To be honest, I just didn’t know who I could trust. So I trusted no one. Not even Connor, who had been a brother to me my whole life.”

  She squeezed his arm, then lowered her hand to her lap. She could certainly understand why he hadn’t trusted anyone. Hadn’t she done the same thing? “What happened between you and Connor?”

  He shrugged. “Connor and I lived next door to each other when we were kids, and we were the best of friends, inseparable. When I was sixteen, my parents were killed, murdered by a street thug for whatever little bit of cash my dad had in his pocket—cash he’d have handed over if the man had only asked. Instead, he killed them, searched my dad’s pockets, grabbed my mother’s purse and ran. Connor’s family took me in, and we became brothers in every sense of the word.”

  “Did they catch the man who killed your parents?”

  “No. Despite the security camera footage of the attack, the man got away.”

  Addison closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, past the lump in her throat. No wonder he liked nice, clean endings. He’d suffered enough cliff-hangers to last a lifetime.

  “So I decided then and there that I’d be a police officer, help people, ma
ke sure nothing like that happened to another child’s family.” He scoffed. “And look how that turned out.”

  “Thanks to Brandon Carlisle. And Maris’s story.” Because she had no doubt now. Maris had been wrong about him. No way had Jace been involved in Brandon’s crimes. “I don’t—”

  A loud pop cut her off.

  The car’s back end swung around, and Jace wrestled the wheel. “Down!”

  Phoenix followed the command, instantly dropping to lie on the back seat.

  Addison slid down as much as she could, bracing herself and keeping her head low. “What’s happening?”

  “Someone shot out the tire.” Jace hit the unlock button as he skidded to a stop on the shoulder. He reached across her and swung the passenger door open. “Go. Stay low.”

  * * *

  Addison released her seat belt and slid from the car, then shoved the front seat forward, crawled in and released Phoenix’s belt.

  Jace scanned the ridge while he waited. He’d seen the flash from high on the left side of the road, a small outcropping of rocks. It would take the killer time to scramble over and come after them, but not that much time.

  As soon as Addison had Phoenix out and crouching beside the back tire, he half climbed, half dove over the center console and passenger seat and onto the ground. Using the open passenger door as cover, he pulled his weapon and searched the road and shoulder. No one. “Go. Into the trees.”

  “But—”

  “I’m right behind you. Go!”

  Keeping low, Addison ran.

  Jace kept his gun trained on a small opening in the trees, the spot the killer would most likely emerge from if he took a direct route from the rocks.

  Phoenix whined at his side.

  “Quiet, boy,” he whispered, knowing Phoenix would understand the command.

  The big dog went on alert, his ears perked up, hackles raised.

  As soon as Addison crossed into the tree line, he followed with Phoenix at his side. He entered the woods exactly where she had and found her using a tree trunk as cover, her eyes wide, and a thick, long-dead branch clutched against her chest in a white-knuckled grip. He bit back a grin. No time.

  “Now what?” Her teeth chattered as she waited.

  With the front tire blown out and the rim most likely bent from his wrestling the car under control and onto the shoulder, the car was useless.

  Connor had been adamant—no police, though Brandon Carlisle’s reach was most likely limited to the SCPD and maybe the surrounding areas. Jace doubted he would have any influence over a department all the way in upstate New York in a small town like Shady Creek. Of course, Connor hadn’t known they’d have to run, either. Still, even if he did call 911, they couldn’t wait like sitting ducks for the cops to get there.

  A shot ricocheted off a nearby tree, forcing his hand.

  “Go,” he whispered and gestured deeper into the woods. “Slow. Quiet.”

  Addison nodded, slipping into the brush.

  Phoenix followed her.

  Jace backed up with them. If only he could get a glimpse of the guy, maybe take him out before they had to run.

  Another shot rang out.

  The guy was good at camouflage, he’d give him that.

  “Will the game end now, Addison?” The killer’s laughter echoed through the forest.

  Unable to pinpoint his location, Jace continued to back up with Addison and Phoenix, covering them as they retreated. The killer had made it to this side of the road, that much he could tell. Could the guy track? Jace didn’t know, but had to assume he could.

  “Are you ready to become the final victim?” the man taunted. “If you do, no one else will die.”

  Jace whirled just as Addison peeked from behind the cover of the tree behind him.

  A bullet whizzed past his ear.

  She clutched her shoulder and went down.

  Jace scrambled through the brush, covered her body with his. Now what? Pinned down by a killer, Addison injured—no clue how badly—and nowhere to retreat, except deeper into the forest, if Addison could move. “How bad?”

  “I’m okay,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Not bad, just stings.”

  “Okay, all right. Stay put.”

  “Wait.” She sobbed softly and scrambled to regain the branch she’d dropped when she fell. “Where are you going?”

  “It’s okay. I’ll be right back.” He had no choice but to leave her to go after the guy. Keeping low, he crept forward, just a little.

  Phoenix belly-crawled to Addison’s side and lay still.

  “Phoenix, stay.” He pulled out his cell phone. Okay. Five bars. He dialed Connor.

  “Come out, come out, or I’ll come after you,” the killer taunted. “I know you’re not dead. Yet.”

  Voice mail. No further need for stealth, since Addison had already given away their position when she’d peeked from behind the tree—a decision he’d be sure to discuss with her later, once they were safe and he’d tended to her wound. Jace raised his voice, hoping the echo would keep the killer from pinpointing the exact tree he’d hidden behind. “She won’t die today, but you will if you come any closer.”

  Silence. Jace waited, giving his opponent time to consider his options. If he was smart, he’d run. Jace dialed Connor again. Still no answer. He shifted and scanned the woods. A dark patch moved behind a thick stand of pricker bushes. Without being able to see clearly, no way could he take a shot.

  “This can end now.” The killer’s teasing tone was gone, replaced by anger. He’d probably been watching the road, the most logical route in and out of the area, after he’d lost them the last time. Maybe he didn’t realize Jace would still be with her, or that he’d be armed. Or maybe he’d cast Jace in the role of the detective’s partner. Either way... “All you have to do is come out, Addison, and it’ll all be over.”

  Tears streamed down Addison’s cheeks.

  From what Jace had seen of her so far, he had no doubt she’d give herself up to save the others she felt responsible for. “You said yourself the killer in your book was lying. What’s to say this one isn’t, too? He probably won’t stop killing even if you do go out there.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed tight and nodded.

  Jace dialed 911.

  Before he could hit Call, the sounds of someone crashing through the forest in the opposite direction made him pause.

  Go after him or stay with Addison and Phoenix? He lurched to his feet, barreled through the small patch of woods they’d retreated into.

  A car door slammed.

  Jace hit the street running.

  A silver sedan shot from its hiding spot not a hundred feet down and rocketed onto the road, fishtailing as it headed straight for him.

  Jace dove to the side, rolled over the hood of his own car and came up in a crouch, gun aimed steady at the retreating vehicle. Too far for a clean shot. Ugh... Frustration pounded in his head. No sense dwelling on what he couldn’t change. He turned to go back to Addison.

  She stood not five feet away, the thick branch she’d been clutching held over her bleeding shoulder in a firm two-handed grip. Battered, bleeding and ready to defend him and Phoenix and herself to the best of her ability. His warrior.

  Yikes! Where had that come from? He shook off whatever it was that had gripped him in that instant. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” She lowered the branch but didn’t loosen her grip. “I don’t even think the bullet hit me. I think it ricocheted and a piece of bark or something hit my shoulder.”

  “Still, why would you stick your head out? You told me he’d probably keep on killing even if he won.”

  “And I believe he would.”

  “Then why leave your cover?” With his adrenaline rush ebbing, anger crept in.

  Her eyes went wide. �
�I didn’t mean to get shot. I just thought maybe I could reason with him.”

  Jace just closed his eyes, shook his head and offered a quick prayer of thanks that she hadn’t been killed and the killer had taken off. He patted Phoenix’s head. “Good boy.”

  Phoenix licked his hand.

  “So...” Addison looked up and down the deserted road, then back at the disabled car. “Now what?”

  “Now you and Phoenix stay hidden while I change the tire. Then we go back to the cabin.”

  “What about the dog food?”

  He petted Phoenix’s side, pulling him close. “Looks like tonight, Phoenix gets to eat people food.”

  “Do you think he’ll come back? The killer, I mean?”

  Jace chewed it over. The last time he’d spoken, the killer had sounded angry. He’d obviously realized he’d lost that round, since he’d fled. So now what would he do? “I have no idea. What do you think?”

  “Me?” She looked off in the direction the man had gone. “How would I know what he’ll do next?”

  He shrugged. “Give it some thought. The best way to catch a monster like this is to get in his head, which you should be able to do. Look at your killer’s motivation, think about what makes him do what he does, decide how he chooses his victims. Maybe this killer is trying to mirror that as best he can without knowing the full story.”

  She nodded and backed to the edge of the woods, then sat.

  Phoenix lay beside her and dropped his head onto her lap.

  Staring off into space, keeping her branch close, she absently stroked Phoenix’s head.

  He’d taken a liking to her, Jace realized. Phoenix, that was, not Jace. Though he had to admit a certain amount of respect for her and maybe something more, something he wasn’t ready to examine, would probably never be ready to examine. Jace left her to her thoughts and shot Connor a quick text to bring dog food and coffee.