by Linda Turner
“Thank God!” Blake breathed. “I was beginning to think you weren’t here.”
“I was in the middle of something,” she said coldly, and nearly snatched the words back when she saw his eyes narrow in surprise. Please, please, let him understand, she prayed, then demanded, “What do you want?”
He took a step toward her, only to stop, his dark brows snapping together when she didn’t release the chain. “I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”
“No,” she said curtly. “Everything we had to say to each other was said last night. I told you then to leave me alone and I meant it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a bath and go to bed. Alone.” Without another word, she shut the door in his face and shot the dead bolt home. Stunned, Blake stared at the closed door in disbelief. She’d slammed it in his face. As if he was some kind of door-to-door salesman who didn’t know when to take a hint, he thought in growing fury. So she wanted to be left alone, did she? Well, by God, she didn’t have to tell him twice. He didn’t push himself on any woman.
Fury and hurt clouding his judgment, he stalked down the porch steps to the curb and climbed into his pickup without once looking back. With a savage twist, he turned the key in the ignition and tore off down the street with an angry squeal of tires. What the hell did she mean, whatever they’d had to say to each other was said last night? He’d made love to her until they were both too weak to move and he hadn’t heard a single word of complaint out of her. In fact, he would have sworn she was as caught up in their loving as he was. Dammit to hell, how could he have been so wrong about her?
Scowling, he was already turning the corner, intending to head back to the Times, when he realized that nothing she’d said had made sense. They hadn’t exchanged cross words last night. In fact the only thing they’d come close to arguing about was Jeff, and that was only because she hadn’t wanted to believe that he was capable of murder. She’d been upset, but not with him. So why was she acting now like she couldn’t stand the sight of him? What the hell was going on?
Replaying the entire conversation in his head a second time, he still couldn’t make any sense of it. She hadn’t even taken the safety chain off! She’d stood there, pale and nervous, and stared up at him through that damn crack in the door as though he was some kind of rapist who was going to force his way in and drag her down to the floor. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn she was scared to death. But why would she be scared of him? She had to know he wouldn’t harm a hair on her head—
But the bastard who had killed four women and promised her she would be his next victim would.
His hands clenched on the wheel at the thought. No! He couldn’t have gotten to her so quickly. He was just being paranoid. If she’d been in trouble, she would have said something, given him some kind of sign.
Everything we had to say to each other we said last night. I told you then to leave me alone and I meant it.
Her words echoed in his head, haunting him, chilling his blood. She’d never told him to leave her alone. Never! So why would she say that unless she was trying to relay some sort of message to him, a message she couldn’t just spit out because someone else was there, listening? He hadn’t seen him or heard so much as a whisper of movement from the other side of the door, but suddenly he knew in his gut that she hadn’t been alone and she was terrified.
God, how could he have been so blind? Swearing, fear clutching him by the throat, he jammed down on the accelerator, uncaring that he was fairly flying down a residential street as he circled the block, his only thought to get to her before it was too late. He’d kill him, he raged. He didn’t care who the son of a bitch was, if he so much as touched a hair on her head, he’d kill him with his bare hands.
Caught up in the fury burning like the fires of hell deep inside him, he turned back onto her street, just in time to see her step outside onto her front porch. With Louis Vanderbilt.
“What the hell!”
Stunned, he whipped over to the curb and jerked to a stop behind a parked car six houses from her place, unable to believe his eyes. Louis Vanderbilt was her stalker? The man who had shot four women in their own homes, then walked away and left them to bleed to death? He was the one who was in love with Sabrina and planned to kill her because she didn’t know he existed?
Dazed, he shook his head. This case was driving him nuts and twisting his thinking. Louis Vanderbilt was an old man who wouldn’t hurt a flea, let alone kill anyone. Especially Sabrina. He was clearly fond of her and watched over her with an eagle eye. He would never do anything to harm her, he assured himself.
Then he saw the gun.
He only caught a flash of it, a glint of metal in the morning sun before Louis crowded close to her, concealing the small pistol between their two bodies as he urged her toward where her Honda was parked in the driveway. Then he was pushing her through the passenger door and making her scoot over the center console to the driver’s seat. Seconds later, her face as pale as death, she backed out of the driveway and drove off in the opposite direction from where Blake was parked at the curb.
He swore and just barely stopped himself from racing after her. He couldn’t do that, dammit, not without taking a chance that the old man would recognize his pickup behind them and shoot her on the spot. But, God, he couldn’t just sit there! Snatching up his cellular phone, he quickly called Sam Kelly, his gaze never leaving Sabrina’s red Honda as it moved slowly down the street.
The unfamiliar voice that came on the line, however, didn’t belong to Sam. It was a secretary who informed him that the detective was currently out of the office but expected back at any moment. Swearing, Blake identified himself. “I can’t wait for him to get back. Page him if you have to, but track him down. The wrong man was arrested for the serial killings.” Rattling off his cellular number, he barked, “Have him call me the second you find him. And hurry, dammit! There’s not much time.”
At the end of the street, Sabrina turned right, and within seconds, her Honda disappeared from view around the corner. Muttering a curse, Blake pushed the end button, tossed the phone into the passenger seat and pulled away from the curb in one smooth, quick movement. It seemed to take forever just to reach the corner.
The cross street was a main thoroughfare that ran due north and was usually busy at that hour of the day. Several cars zoomed past before it was clear enough for him to turn right as Sabrina had, and he found himself holding his breath, afraid he’d lost her. But when he turned the corner, making sure to stay a healthy distance behind the car in front of him, Sabrina was nearly a half a mile down the road, but well within sight. Sending up a silent prayer of thanks, he started after her.
His cellular rang nearly ten minutes later, cutting like a fire alarm through the tense silence that filled the cab of his truck. Never taking his eyes from the red Honda in the distance, he snatched it up.
“What the hell’s going on, Blake?” Kelly demanded in his ear. “I was in a meeting with the chief when I got your message, and it was kind of hard for me to explain to him how we could have arrested the wrong man when I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about. What—”
“Just listen,” Blake cut in, swearing as Sabrina turned at the next light and headed west. Where the hell was she going? “Jeff Harper didn’t have anything to do with killing those women—he was set up by Louis Vanderbilt.”
“Louis Vanderbilt?” the other man repeated in confusion. “Sabrina’s neighbor? C’mon, Blake, he’s old enough to be her father!”
“I don’t care if he’s older than dirt,” Blake snapped. “Right now, he’s holding a gun on her in her car and forcing her to drive west on Hildebrand.”
“What? Hell!” Throwing questions at him, the detective determined his location, then growled, “I’ve got three units on the way, Blake. As soon as they get there, I want you to back off and let them handle the situation. And don’t give me a hard time about this,” he added quickly, anticipating an argument. “Y
ou’re unarmed and a civilian. Let my men do their job and Sabrina won’t get hurt.”
Silence his only answer, Blake wasn’t making promises he had no intention of keeping. If the bastard hurt Sabrina, he was going to tear him limb from limb. “They’re turning right on State Avenue,” he retorted. “It looks like they’re headed for Crocker Park. Get your men over there, Kelly. Now!”
“Dammit, Blake, don’t you dare go rushing in there like John Wayne—”
For an answer, Blake pushed the button to end the call and tossed the phone back into the passenger seat. When it immediately rang again, he ignored it, his gut tightening as he, too, reached the intersection with State Avenue and turned right. Crocker Park lay less than a mile down the road. A popular recreation spot for families on the weekends, it wasn’t nearly as savory a place during the middle of a workday. Occasionally, you might come across a mother with young children playing on the swings, but more often than not, the only occupants of the park were people who, for whatever reason, didn’t want to be seen. They sat in isolated parts of the parking lot in cars with darkened windows, doing God knows what. Drivers using State Avenue to cut through the park seldom spared them a second glance, nobody but an occasional park ranger took an interest in what was going on, and no one seemed to care.
Wishing there were more than two cars between him and Sabrina, Blake followed cautiously, checking his rearview mirror every few seconds for the police, but there was no sign of them. Dammit to hell, where were they? Any second now, Sabrina was going to be in even deeper trouble than she was now, and the only thing he had that resembled a weapon was a tire iron. And while he’d like nothing better than to brain Vanderbilt with it, it wasn’t going to do a whole hell of a lot of good against a gun.
Racking his brain for a plan, he abruptly ran out of time ten seconds later. Sabrina turned into the park entrance, and there was no way he could follow her. With so little traffic, Vanderbilt would spy him immediately. Swearing, he had no choice but to drive on past the entrance.
Daring to slow to a crawl, he cast a quick look through the park entrance as he passed and saw the red Honda disappear into some low-hanging bushes near the creek that marked the park’s western boundary. When he was a teenager, it had been a popular necking spot for teenagers. Now it was deserted, with the nearest car nearly a hundred yards away. Vanderbilt could do anything he liked to Sabrina there, out of sight of prying eyes, and the few other occupants of the park wouldn’t notice a thing.
God, he had to do something! The police were never going to get there in time if he didn’t.
His heart slamming against his ribs, he waited until he reached the far end of the park and pulled into the parking lot of the church across the street. The need to hurry ate at him from the inside out, but this was no time to go rushing blindly in like a fool. He had to think! Grabbing the tire iron from behind his seat, he was just stepping from the truck when his cellular rang again. Muttering a curse, he almost ignored it. He had to get to Sabrina, dammit! But if it was Kelly, he needed to let him know exactly where Vanderbilt was holding her.
Answering it, he said, “Kelly? I’m at the church parking lot at the end of the park. Do you know where the old lover’s lane is?”
“At the south end of the park?” the other man asked. “Opposite the main entrance?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Vanderbilt’s got Sabrina back there in the bushes. I’m going in.”
“Dammit, Blake, I told you to sit tight!” Kelly snapped. “My men’ll be there any second. You rush in there now, you just might get Sabrina killed.”
“And if I don’t, that just might get her killed, too. Don’t ask me to sit on my hands on this, Sam. I can’t. I’m going in, and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me.”
“The hell I can’t. I’ll arrest your ass—”
Without another word, Blake ended the call and shut off the phone’s power. Stepping out of his truck, the tire iron clutched in his hand, he soundlessly eased the door shut. Across the street, the park was deserted except for the handful of cars parked in isolated spots under the trees. The freeway was on the far side of the creek and screened out by the thick stand of oaks there, and downtown was just over the hill to the south. Still, if you hadn’t known better, you could have easily sworn you were miles from the hustle and bustle of the state’s third largest city.
The quiet grating on his nerves and setting his heart thumping in his chest, Blake tightened his grip on the tire iron and jogged across the street and down into the creek bed that meandered all the way to the spot where Vanderbilt had Sabrina hidden among the trees. There, out of sight of the park’s occupants and anyone else who might be watching, he began to run.
Chapter 12
“This is all your fault,” Louis lashed out as he forced Sabrina out of the car and dragged her through the bushes to a small clearing that was totally cut off from the rest of the park. “I loved you! Do you know how many women I’ve said that to in my lifetime? Just you.” His eyes tortured behind the lenses of his glasses, he glared at her accusingly. “You’re the only one. The only one I ever wanted, the only one I ever dreamed about, the only one I wanted to share my life with. But you didn’t even know I was alive.”
Her gaze locked on the gun he was waving wildly about, fear churning like a storm in her stomach, Sabrina struggled not to panic. If she could just get him to drop his guard—and the gun—for a second, she might be able to escape into the bushes and lose him. It was a long shot, but the only one she had. No one knew she was here or in danger. If she was going to get out of this alive, she had to do it all by herself.
Facing him in the middle of the clearing, she fought to remain calm, but it wasn’t easy, not when she could see the madness in his eyes. “That’s not true,” she said quietly. “I always knew you were just next door if I needed you—”
“But you never did,” he cut in harshly. “The only thing you ever needed me for was to fix a leaky faucet or give your car a jump when your battery was low. You didn’t need my arms about you or the security of knowing I was there beside you in the middle of the night. You didn’t need anything but your job.”
“I had to work, Louis. I have bills to pay just like everybody else.”
“But you didn’t have to love it!” Anger tightening every line of his body, he said bitterly, “You didn’t have to drop everything and go running to it in the middle of the night just because some idiot beat up his girlfriend or a convenience store was held up. You shouldn’t have been darting around town chasing stories at all hours of the day and night, putting yourself in danger and worrying me to death. You should have been home, with me, where you belong, talking about our future, planning children. I’m not too old to have children, you know. I used to dream about the babies I would give you….”
A loving smile playing about his thin mouth, he described the children he’d planned to have with her, the two boys and a girl that she would stay home with and take care of like a good, dutiful wife and mother, and Sabrina could do nothing but stare at him. How could she have lived next door to this man for years and not realized that he was totally and completely out of his mind? How could she have been so blind?
“Louis…”
He blinked, his expression changing from dreamy to angry resentment in a split second. “But we’re never going to have those babies, are we? We’re never going to have anything. Not children. Not a home together. Not a future. Because of you.”
Bitterness twisted his mouth. “God, what a fool I’ve been. You don’t want me. You never did. You never will. All you want is Nickels.”
She didn’t have to justify herself to him, didn’t owe him any explanation about her private life. But he was so close to snapping, she had to do something before he went completely ballistic. “Blake and I are friends—”
He snorted. “Is that why your face lights up like a Christmas tree every time he comes anywhere near you? Damn you, I’m not blind!” His thin fac
e flushed with fury, he turned on her, brandishing the gun in her face, the haunted look in his eyes wilder than ever. “You love him,” he snarled. “Oh, you might not think you do, but I know you. You don’t give your heart lightly, and you’ve given it to Nickels. And that can’t be tolerated. Not after all that I’ve done for you.”
What had he done for her except kill four innocent women? she wondered in confusion. The coppery taste of fear thick in her throat, she said, “Please, Louis, you’re twisting this all out of proportion—”
“So this is all my fault? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No!” she said hastily as his silky tone slid over her, making her skin crawl. “I’m not saying anything of the kind. We’re just both upset. Why don’t we go somewhere and get a cup of coffee and discuss this rationally? I’m sure we could work it out if we could just—”
The sudden snapping of a branch in the bushes was as loud as a gunshot. For a second, neither of them moved, then quick as a striking snake, Louis whirled, his eyes crazed as he searched the surrounding brush for an intruder. “He’s out there,” he said, half to himself. “I can feel him. Go away, Nickels! Leave us alone!” And with no more warning than that, he fired into the bushes.
Sabrina screamed. “Louis, no!”
Hidden in the thick undergrowth, Blake threw himself behind a tree just as the bullet whizzed past his shoulder. Cursing himself for not watching where he was putting his feet, he leaned against the tree, waiting for his heart rate to slow. He didn’t think for a second that Louis had seen him—the surrounding brush was too dense and he’d been careful to keep out of sight as he’d worked his way toward where he could hear them talking—but the old man was obviously paranoid where he was concerned. And not so crazy after all if he knew that he would eventually come after him for Sabrina.