Gwen gave the scene another look. Lucas was right. There were vehicles parked in other homes’ driveways, but none she didn’t recognize, and definitely no commercial work vehicles. “He must come in a minute.”
“Hopefully we can get a plate number when he arrives,” Lucas said.
Derek hummed a little note of discord. “Actually, she said he was already here when she got here.”
“Yeah, well no one’s there,” Lucas said.
Marina climbed out of her car, carrying a pair of shopping bags, presumably filled with wine and cake, then headed up the front walkway. She slowed before reaching the door, and looked to the left. “Hello?” she called. “Gwen? Is that you?”
Lucas pressed a palm to the desk, his body going rigid. “She hears something. Come on,” he whispered. “Come around here and show yourself.”
Marina turned back to the door and finished her approach. She rang the bell then knocked. Undeterred by the lack of an answer, she repeated the process. When that didn’t work, she skirted around the shrubs at the front window and pressed her face to the glass, using a hand as a shield for a better view.
“Wow,” Gwen groaned. “She’s really dedicated to this excursion.”
“She seemed like the determined sort,” Derek said.
Marina stumbled out of the flower beds a moment later, catching her coat on the bushes. She yanked it free, then marched around the side of the house, chin held high. “Oh, hello,” she said.
Gwen and the Winchesters stilled, silently willing the man into the frame with their minds.
Marina returned a moment later, got in her car and drove away.
Derek straightened with a huff. “That was underwhelming.”
“Did you at least get a description from her?” Gwen asked, feeling let down, yet again, by something that had seemed so promising.
“Yeah,” Derek said, dryly. “He was tall. She guessed him at my height, then said he was around six foot two or three.”
Gwen blinked. “You’re only six foot.”
“Exactly.”
Ridiculous. Gwen’s hope deflated completely with that hit. When it came to Gwen’s nonexistent love life, Marina remembered every minute detail, but when asked a simple, general question about a man’s height, she had no idea what she was saying. “Figures.”
Thinking of Marina and men in Gwen’s life, something Derek said earlier came back to mind. “Did you happen to talk to an architect named Collin?”
He shook his head. “No. Just the handful of ladies in the front office and your boss.”
Gwen chewed her lip, hoping Collin was still safe, and there wasn’t a reason to worry.
Lucas shoved away from the desk. “We know this guy wasn’t here to upgrade the security system, so let’s figure out why he was here. We can start by making sure there aren’t any signs of forced entry.”
Derek moved toward the back of the house. “I’ll check the patio doors.”
Gwen went from window to window, checking locks while the men assessed the doors, then made a sweep of the perimeter. Everything was still locked up tight.
Unsure where to go next, Gwen made coffee while Lucas called Detective Anderson and brought her up to speed. Derek took a seat at the island and checked his email.
When Lucas made his way to the kitchen several minutes later, his expression was weary. “That woman hates me.”
“Yeah,” Gwen agreed, smiling over the rim of her mug.
Memories of the first time she’d met the female detective came to mind, bringing a new thought with them. She turned to Lucas. “Do you still have the email with the files from the copier?”
“Yes. Why?”
Gwen pursed her lips. “I’d like another look at those photos.”
“What are you thinking?” Derek asked, setting his phone aside to watch her. “You’ve got that look. You used to look just like that before you took all my money in poker.”
She laughed, surprised and pleased by the memory. “You let me win.”
“Yeah, that’s what happened.”
“Here.” Lucas handed her the phone. “What are you looking for?”
Gwen forwarded the email to herself, then hurried to her office. “Give me a minute.”
The men followed her, impatient and eager.
She lowered into her teal, ergonomic chair, then accessed the file on her desktop computer. “I think we should look at all the photos taken at my place while we’re here. Maybe we can use them to find his nest, just like we did at the hike-and-bike trail. Maybe comparing his two nests will give us a fresh lead.”
“What kind of a nest?” Derek asked. “There’s not too many places to hide around here.”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe a tree branch overlooking my yard or an empty home with a view into my bedroom.” She could only hope the last suggestion wasn’t a reality. “Lucas and I jogged the neighborhood a few days ago, but now that we have the photos, they can help us pinpoint where he stood to take the shots.”
She brought up the images and began to sort them. It took several minutes to work through all the photos, moving pictures of her home or property into a separate file.
Lucas hovered while she worked. Derek watched from a few feet away, arms crossed and leaning against a yellow credenza.
“This is it,” she said. “Now let’s see what we can learn.” She flipped through the images slowly, looking for consistency and anything else that seemed relevant. “The angles are all odd,” she said, clicking faster, and shocked she hadn’t noticed the peculiarity before. The photos all seemed to have been taken from somewhere near her home’s perimeter, not somewhere distant and looking in.
Derek cursed. His arms dropped loosely at his sides and he moved nearer, watching as she flipped through the images on her computer screen. “Is he somehow gaining access to your security cameras? Stealing freeze-frames from your feed?”
“I don’t think so,” Gwen said. “My only cameras are at the front and rear door.” She flipped to the feeds from the cameras to show them what she meant. Though, once she looked, she wasn’t sure that at least some of the pictures couldn’t have been taken that way.
Lucas headed for the door, and Derek followed.
Gwen worked to steady her breaths. Apprehension weighed heavily on her heart, anchoring her temporarily in place. If her stalker had access to her security cameras, then she’d never really had any protection against him at all. She’d trusted her system. Believed in her cameras. Believed she’d been safe inside her home.
She forced herself upright, then willed her feet to move. Just like that first time back on campus. One foot in front of the other until she was outside.
Derek stood on a large rock near the garage and shined a pocket-size flashlight at the soffit. “The walkway, mailbox and street sign were all visible in a photo of you getting the mail,” he explained upon her approach. He extended an arm in a diagonal, pointing across the yard, creating an invisible line that intersected those three things. “The photo had to be taken from here.” He climbed down, dissatisfied, then trailed his hands along the downspout. “But anyone standing here would’ve been seen.”
Lucas stood in the mulch outside her front window and beside the door, running his fingers over and behind the camera. Muttering to himself as he worked.
“Ha!” Derek cried, turning her back in his direction. “Got it.”
“Got what?” she asked, hurrying to his side. “What is that?”
“Camera,” he said, raising a small, white item on his palm.
Gwen stared, a shiver of dread and realization coursing through her.
Lucas whistled, turning her around once more. He, too, held something on his palm. “He’s not using your cameras. He’s planted his own.”
The men traded a look, then jumped into action,
pocketing the uncovered devices and pressing their hands to her house. They traced every inch of soffit, spouting and white vinyl trim they could find, searching for additional camouflaged cameras on the perimeter. In the end there were two more. Hidden in plain sight, but blended seamlessly into their surroundings. Just like their owner in his ghillie suit.
So, it was true. He’d been watching her from her own house. Probably conveniently receiving the feed through his cell phone like she did. Being alerted to her and anyone else coming or going. He’d known the moment she’d arrived home or left and with whom. He’d known when she received packages and what food she liked to have delivered. He knew everything. And the blow hit harder than any fist, because it shattered her last notion of safety.
Even in the one place she was sure no one could reach her without invitation. He’d been watching. And he was probably watching right now.
Chapter Nineteen
Gwen thanked Derek for his help and hugged him goodbye. Being in his brotherly embrace felt just as safe this time as it had before, and she smiled as she waved. Ironically, she’d seen more personal healing in the days since the new reign of terror had begun than she had in years. No thanks to her stalker, but big thanks to her willingness to step away from her self-imposed quarantine and back into the lives of people who knew and cared for her. She suspected her coworkers would accept her, too, violent past and all, if she gave them the opportunity. It was the kind of epiphany she wished she’d had years ago, but was thankful to have had at all.
She powered her garage door up and smiled at her little sedan. Not a big tough pickup truck, and not a fancy sports car, but the simple base-model four door had never let her down. Derek’s chauffeuring services weren’t needed after all.
She grinned as Lucas folded himself into the passenger seat. His long legs bent sharply between his torso and the dashboard. “You can move the seat back,” she suggested.
He patted around and pulled a lever, and the seat rolled back two inches.
She laughed.
“What is this? An airplane seat?” He tried again and managed a little more room, then adjusted the lumbar for comfort.
“You miss your truck already?” she guessed. “I’m sorry she was his latest casualty.”
Lucas winced. “She’s not a casualty. She just needs tires, a windshield and a paint job. That’s like, new shoes and a makeover. She’ll be just fine.”
Gwen rolled her eyes at the analogy, then reversed out of her garage. She powered down the door. “I can’t believe there was a camera right there and I never noticed it.”
“I know,” Lucas said. “Speaking of, I guess I’d better give Detective Anderson a call. We can drop these cameras off to her on our way out of town. If I had my truck I could’ve at least stored them in evidence bags.”
“You don’t think she’ll like the freezer bags I had in the pantry?” Gwen teased. “They came with labels.”
He shot her a flat expression as he worked the cell phone from his pocket, knees trapped against the dash. The phone rang in his hand. “That’s weird,” he said. “She’s calling me.”
“Perfect,” Gwen said. “Maybe it’s good news.”
“It’s never good news,” he mumbled, then pressed the phone to his ear. “Winchester.”
Gwen pulled onto her street then headed out of the neighborhood.
“I was just about to call you, Detective Anderson,” he said. “We’ve got—” His words failed midsentence. “When?”
Gwen stopped at the next intersection and cast a curious look in Lucas’s direction. Her heart pounded as the air thickened between them. Something else had happened. Something bad.
Lucas let his head drop forward, grunting occasionally as Gwen drove on.
Eventually, he disconnected the call and raised his head once more.
“What happened?” she asked. “Are we still going to the station, or should I go somewhere else?”
“We should probably head over to the county hospital,” he said softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anderson’s there now. Collin Weinstein was attacked last night, and he hasn’t woken up.”
* * *
GWEN DRAGGED HERSELF into Lucas’s house, after spending hours at the hospital waiting for Collin to open his eyes. He did, thankfully, but never for long, and because she wasn’t family, she wasn’t allowed to see him. According to Detective Anderson, and the details Gwen gleaned from the doctor providing updates to Collin’s family, he was beaten in a way that mimicked her first run-in with the stalker, minus the rape. Detective Anderson suspected the similarities were meant to be a message to Gwen. Attacking Collin was direct retaliation for his perceived involvement with her, so the punishment had fit the crime.
She could only imagine what would happen to Lucas if the psychopath got ahold of him. She’d only had dinner with Collin. She’d been engaged to Lucas and was currently sleeping in his bed. Which she assumed her stalker knew, because he seemed to know everything.
It was after nine when Lucas pulled a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and looked at Gwen. “Do you still drink? And if not, do you mind if I do, because holy hell.”
“Make mine a big pour,” she said, sloughing off her coat and leaning heavily against the counter. “Wine has been one of my most cherished indulgences these last few years.”
“Thank goodness.” He poured two wineglasses nearly to the top, leaving only a small amount in the bottle. He tucked the bottle under his arm. “We’ll take it with us so we don’t have to come back. To the study?”
She turned without answering. She loved his study, and she was beginning to realize she still loved him. Wine would help her process that possibility, along with the three major disasters of the day. A vandalized truck. Discovery of surveillance cameras attached to her home. And poor Collin, who’d literally done nothing wrong, and his life was on the line anyway.
He hadn’t spoken more than a few incoherent words before they left the hospital, but Gwen had faith for a full recovery. If she’d survived, Collin would, too, and she owed him everything when he did. His pain was on her. Like so many other things. Her silence about her past hadn’t helped anyone.
Lucas flipped on the overhead light, then set the bottle on the coffee table. “When this place is done, I plan to have a wine cellar. I’ve even thought of planting grapes and erecting an arbor out back.”
“I like that idea.” She took a generous sip and sank onto the couch. “Wine is fascinating, delicious and it unwinds me. Something I need right now.”
“Agreed,” he said, taking the seat beside her. “I prefer mine with some food, but I haven’t had much time to get to the grocery store lately. Feel like ordering in?”
Gwen tapped her glass to his. “Yes, and cheers.”
Lucas took another sip of his wine before setting it aside and breathing deeply. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your friend.” His expression turned tortured at the statement. “I was jealous of him when we spoke by phone, and now I feel like an enormous jerk.”
“You were jealous?” she asked. “Why?” The notion didn’t make any sense, and Lucas was always sensible. More than that, he wasn’t a jealous person. Two of her favorite things about him.
“He’s an architect. Young. Successful. And he’s in your life, a place you forced me out of.” Lucas rubbed his palms together, clearly ashamed and heartbroken. “I wanted that life. Any life. With you.”
Her heart gave a heavy thud at the possibility. Could she still have a life with him? “Lucas,” she started, her mouth hanging open, then snapping shut, unsure what to say in response. What were the right words to express complete joy?
He groaned. “You know what? Let’s put a pin in this and order that takeout.” He grabbed his laptop and opened it on his legs. “How about something from O’Grady’s? We can place the order online, then see if we can find
the Bellemont social media pages with photos from your freshman year. If memory serves, the school newspaper keeps dedicated web pages with highlights from every year. Maybe you were caught in some of them.”
“‘Bellemont Bests,’” Gwen said. “I forgot about those. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at them.”
“Me neither, but they came to mind while we were waiting at the hospital.” He opened the O’Grady’s website. “What sounds good for a very late dinner?”
“Something simple,” she said. “Salad and breadsticks?”
“How about salads and potato skins?”
“Perfect.”
Lucas ordered two of O’Grady’s grilled chicken salads and a family pack of loaded potato skins. “Now, we’ve got thirty minutes to kill. Let’s see what’s on the ‘Bellemont Bests’ pages from your first two years.”
Gwen braced herself, unsure she wanted to travel back in time when the present was complicated enough, and wishing they’d finished the conversation about a possible future with Lucas. She sipped her wine and focused on the screen as images from her freshman year appeared. All candid, and a few with captions. According to the About section, students were encouraged to send in their photos throughout the year for inclusion. Photos were vetted for appropriateness and added to the collection until finals, then the year was wrapped and it was a few weeks before the next year opened for photos. Meaning there were hundreds of pictures to wade through and very possibly for nothing.
Lucas ran his cursor over a small navigation menu and dropped a list down. “We can search by event or department of study. Maybe the psychology department commemorates its grad students’ projects.” He scrolled quickly to the right selection and clicked. A group of familiar faces stared back at her.
“That’s us,” she said, astounded. She marveled at the youthfulness of the faces in the photo, then jolted into action. “We need the list Dr. Bloomsbury made.” She dug in her pockets, searching for the small page she’d nearly forgotten. “Got it.”
She moved through the list of names on the page, comparing them to the list of names on the screen below a photo of the hotline staff taken on training day. She didn’t remember sitting for a group photo, yet there she was, smiling brightly at the camera, with no idea what was to come.
SVU Surveillance Page 15
