“Take a deep breath,” Bill spoke in his calm, reassuring voice, “and tell me what’s happening.”
“He broke into the house,” Trish managed to enunciate between sobs, “and threatened me with a knife. I’m locked in the bathroom now, but that lock won’t hold him off long. He’s beating on the door.”
I jumped to my feet and reached for my purse and car keys.
“Have you called the police?” Bill asked as he slid out of the booth after me.
“No,” Trish screamed, so loud I could still hear every word. “I thought you were closer, on your boat.”
“I’m on the way.”
By now, Bill and I were both on the dock, running toward my Volvo.
“Hang up,” Bill told her. “Call 9-1-1 and stay on the line with them until we get there.”
“Hurry, he’s trying to break down the door!”
“Call 9-1-1,” Bill ordered her again and snapped his phone shut.
I reached the car, slid into the driver’s seat and Bill climbed in on the passenger side. Even at high speed, our house was a good three minutes away. I backed out of the parking space, stomped the gas and swerved around an approaching pickup pulling a boat trailer.
Three minutes to reach Trish. A lot could happen in three minutes.
And none of it good.
CHAPTER 19
I broke every traffic law on the books during the mile drive inland, speeding, running stop signs and passing on a double yellow line. I longed for the portable flashing light and siren from my days as a Pelican Bay detective, but made up for their absence by turning on my hazard lights and laying on the horn.
A green-and-white sheriff’s cruiser was pulling to the curb in front of our house when Bill and I arrived. We jumped from the car and ran toward the deputy. In the distance, the siren from the officer’s backup sounded.
“You folks stay back,” the deputy ordered.
Bill showed his ID. “This is our house. We’re both former cops. We’re armed and we can help.”
“Malcolm,” the deputy said with a flicker of recognition. “I’ve heard of you.”
He took only an instant to make a decision. Judging from the faint wail of the siren, his backup was still blocks away. “I’ll take the rear door. You go in the front.”
Bill shoved his ID in his pocket, dug out his keys and raced up the curving walkway toward the front door. Gun drawn, I followed. Bill unlocked the door, removed his weapon from the holster at the back of his waist and swung the door open. He stepped quickly inside, checked the room, yelled, “Clear,” and I joined him.
Together we swept the house, searching for the intruder. We ended in the master bedroom, where the bathroom door was closed but its surface showed signs of abuse.
“Trish,” Bill called, “you okay?”
For a few seconds, his voice echoed in the room, followed by a long moment of silence. I tried not to picture what we might find on the other side of the door.
Then the lock clicked and the bathroom door swung inward. We both tensed, guns ready. Trish stood in the bathroom, her face pale, her body trembling.
“Is he gone?” she asked.
“You’re safe,” Bill said in the same tone he might have used with a spooked animal. “The house is clear. We’ve checked every room. He must have run when he heard the siren.”
“Thank God,” Trish said with a nod and crumpled to the floor in a heap.
Bill holstered his gun, rushed to her and lifted her from the cold tiles. I followed as he carried her to the sofa in the living room, where we met the deputy, who’d come in the back way.
“She okay?” he asked.
I checked Trish for signs of injuries and found none. Her breathing and pulse were steady, and her eyelids flickered as consciousness returned.
“Just scared witless,” I said. “Did you catch the intruder?”
The deputy shook his head. “He left a trail of broken branches where he took off through the backyard. Two other units are chasing him, and I’ve called in the K-9 and helicopter.”
With a low moan, Trish raised herself on her elbows.
“Can you give me a description?” the deputy asked her.
“A tall guy,” she murmured. “He was carrying a big knife.”
“Kitchen knife?” I asked.
Trish shook her head. “Looked like a hunting knife. He wore a ski mask, dark shirt, dark pants. And gloves.”
“No prints, then,” I commented.
“How’d he get in?” Bill asked.
The deputy nodded toward the kitchen. “Cut the glass in the back door, reached in and flipped the lock.”
Trish was sitting up now with her arms wrapped around her. She was shivering and her teeth chattered, so I took an afghan from Bill’s chair and draped it across her shoulders. As annoying as her presence had been, she hadn’t deserved being traumatized.
Bill crossed the room to a low mission-style cabinet beside the fireplace, opened its doors and removed a bottle of brandy and a cut crystal glass. He poured a generous shot of the amber liquid and handed it to Trish. “Drink this.”
Trish didn’t need coaxing. She belted the drink down in one swallow and held out the glass for more. Bill took the empty glass but didn’t return to the cabinet.
“Nothing else in the house appears disturbed,” he told the deputy. “I don’t think robbery was a motive.”
The deputy, Ryker, according to the name badge on his uniform, nodded. “Could have been a sex offender.”
Trish squealed in alarm. “A rapist?”
“He didn’t hurt you, did he, ma’am?” Ryker asked.
“He never laid a finger on me. I was just sitting here watching TV and looked up and there he was. Scared me to death. Although from the way he flinched when he saw me, I think I surprised him, too. I didn’t hang around to ask why. I took off toward the back of the house and locked myself in the bathroom.”
“He didn’t say anything?” I asked.
Trish thought for a minute, then nodded. “But it didn’t make any sense.”
“What did he say?” Bill prompted.
Trish shook her head. “Something like ‘you’re not Kimberly.’”
Bill and I exchanged a long look. My gut had apparently been right. Someone really was out to get Kimberly Ross, aka Wynona Wisdom.
“When I was locked in the bathroom,” Trish continued, “he kept beating on the door and yelling ‘where is she?’”
“Are you sure it was a male?” I asked.
The brandy had apparently had a relaxing effect. Trish, who’d ceased shivering, snorted. “You ever hear of a female rapist?”
The deputy was eyeing me with skepticism, but I pressed ahead. “Could the person who broke in have been a tall, muscular female? Did the voice give any clues?”
Trish shrugged. “The voice was deep. Angry.”
“What about build?” Bill asked. “Any visible curves?”
“You think you have a suspect?” the deputy asked.
Not wanting to implicate Tonya McClain without proof, I shook my head. “Old habits die hard. As former detectives, we’re just covering all the bases.”
“The guy’s clothes were baggy,” Trish said. “I couldn’t tell anything about his physique, except that he was tall. Not that I was checking,” she added with a frown. “I was too busy getting away.” She looked at Bill. “I need another drink.”
He shook his head. “My guess is that you haven’t eaten, have you?”
“I had coffee for breakfast,” she said.
The crime scene unit had arrived and were processing the kitchen, where, unless they were lucky, I doubted they’d find anything. Gloves meant no prints, ski mask meant no loose hairs and the dry bricks of the courtyard meant no footprints.
“As soon as CSU is finished in the kitchen,” Bill said to Trish, “I’ll fix you something to eat.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to eat. I want to go home.”
“Hom
e?” I didn’t have the heart to remind her that she no longer had a home.
“I don’t feel safe here,” Trish said. “Especially by myself.”
The deputy went into the kitchen to talk to the crime techs. I sat in a chair across from Trish, but Bill remained standing, one elbow propped on the mantel.
“You won’t have to stay alone any longer,” he said.
Hope flared in Trish’s green eyes. “You’re moving in?”
Bill shook his head. “You’re flying out this evening for Seattle. Melanie will meet you at the airport.”
“But—”
Bill cut her off. “It was wrong for me to let you stay here. In our business, Maggie and I run into all kinds of dangerous people who wish to harm us or our clients. That’s what happened today. Someone was looking for one of our clients and thought she might be staying here.”
Trish’s mouth gaped in horror. “You mean things like this happen often?”
“Not often,” I said, “but they’re always a possibility.”
“And I can’t in good conscience keep you in that kind of situation,” Bill added. “You’ll be safe in Seattle with Melanie. She’s agreed to help you.”
“Help me?”
“Find a house, a job. And you’ll be near the grandchildren.”
At the mention of her grandkids, Trish’s face softened, and I knew at that moment that getting her on the flight would be no problem.
I stood and motioned for Bill to join me. We stepped outside onto the front porch.
“I’m going to my condo to check on Kim. You can fill the deputies in on our case, if you like, but as soon as I know Kim’s okay, I’m calling Adler.”
Bill nodded. “We’ll need a new safe house for her, one not connected to either of us.”
“Which raises the question, how did the intruder know about this address?”
“Good point,” Bill said. “My guess is that since we’re no longer cops, the recent purchase of this house went into the public records when we bought this place. If someone was looking for us, this address is under our names on the tax rolls.”
“Call Darcy,” I said. “The intruder may try the office. Tell her to close up and go to her mother’s until we give an all clear.”
“I’m on it.”
“What about your car?” I asked.
“I’ll ask one of the deputies to drop me off at the marina to pick it up.”
I nodded. “Be careful.”
“You, too. Call me when you get home.”
I gave him a quick kiss and hurried to my car. I’d purchased my condo while I was a cop, so it wasn’t listed on the public records, but a few casual questions around town could have pointed Kim’s stalker in the right direction.
I broke a few more traffic laws driving home.
CHAPTER 20
All appeared normal when I reached my condo, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I drew my gun before unlocking the front door and eased inside with caution.
A heavy blow to my calves nearly brought me down.
“Roger!” I shouted. “You scared me to death!”
Unrepentant, Roger didn’t miss a beat in his canine happy dance, making me feel mean for yelling at him. A quick survey of the downstairs revealed no signs of intrusion.
“Maggie,” Kim called from the upstairs spare room, “is that you?”
“Hey, Kim,” I shouted up the stairwell. “Don’t let me disturb you if you’re working.”
“I have one more letter to answer, then I’ll be down.”
I relaxed for the first time since leaving Bill at the other house. All was apparently safe and quiet on the home front. “No hurry. I have some calls to make.”
I went into the living room, grabbed the handset and dialed Bill’s cell phone to let him know I’d arrived and that everything was okay. Then I called Adler.
“I have some activity on your sniper case,” I said when he answered.
“Not another murder, I hope.”
“Not yet.” I gave him the details on the break-in at our place and the intruder who had accosted Trish. “Sheriff’s deputies have a manhunt ongoing.”
“You think they’ll find him?”
“They’re using helicopter and K-9 units, but my guess is, if the intruder had any sense, he left a car nearby and is now long gone.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” Adler said. “First thing I’ll do is call CENTCOM and see if Tonya McClain is working today.”
“I’ll be moving Kim to another location ASAP,” I said. “Apparently, she was the target of our intruder, and he or she is hot on Kim’s trail.”
“Where will Kim go?” Adler asked.
“I’ll check with Abe. He may be able to put her up at his house, at least until we can find somewhere else. It can’t be any place connected to me or anyone at Pelican Bay Investigations. Abe’s not officially on the payroll, so his place should be safe.”
“How did the shooter know where to look for her?” Adler said.
“Good question. And the answer will tell us a lot we don’t know now. Let me know what you find out about McClain.”
“Will do.”
I ended the call with Adler to find Kim standing behind me, obviously shaken, her eyes round with fear, her face pale.
“You heard?” I asked.
She nodded. “I was beginning to think maybe you were right, that Sister Mary Theresa’s death was a random sniping. But the intruder at the other house asked specifically for me, didn’t he?”
“He asked where Kimberly was,” I said, “no last name. But we’d be foolish not to assume he meant you, under the circumstances.”
“You think ‘he’ might have been Tonya?”
“Detective Adler’s checking out that angle.”
“What do I do now?” She had the frantic, desperate look of a cornered animal and latent hysteria edged her voice.
I decided a no-nonsense approach was best. “We’re moving you to a safer place, so you’d better start packing.”
Kim nodded and turned to leave.
“Wait,” I said. “I need some answers first.”
She turned back and sank into a wicker rocker as if the muscles in her legs had failed. “What do you want to know?”
“Who have you talked to at your office since you moved in here?”
She thought for a second. “Just Cindy and Gerry.”
“And you didn’t tell them where you are?”
Kim shook her head. “You said it was important that I didn’t, that everything go through Pelican Bay Investigations. I made all the calls on my cell phone, so your phone number wouldn’t show up on caller ID.”
“Call your office now,” I said, “and see who’s there.”
She removed her cell phone from the pocket of her denim shorts and punched a few numbers. “Hey, it’s me,” she said when someone answered. “Who’s working today?”
She listened to the voice on the other end of the line, then said, “You’re sure nobody took off early?”
She listened again, then flipped the phone shut. “Everyone’s still in Omaha, so you can rule out my employees.”
“Even Steve…what’s his name?”
“Steve Haggerty. He’s still on vacation, so it couldn’t have been him. He’s in Alaska photographing grizzly bears. Denali National Park.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded. “Cindy says he checks in with the office every day.”
“Why would he do that?”
She squared her shoulders in a defensive posture. “He is my chief assistant, after all. He feels responsible for keeping the office running smoothly. And he’s been concerned for my safety since Sister Mary Theresa was killed.”
A question popped into my mind, one I kicked myself for not asking before. “What happens to the ‘Ask Wynona Wisdom’ column if you die?”
Kim smiled. “She’ll keep on giving advice. I’ve arranged to transfer the rights to Steve. He did such a great job before when
I was out sick, I think he’d keep the column going without a problem.”
“If Steve owned the rights, he could make a lot of money, couldn’t he?” I asked. “As much as you have?”
“Sure, but—” She shook her head. “What are you implying?”
“When I asked who stood to gain by your death, you told me the beneficiaries from your will. You didn’t mention the rights to your column.”
“I didn’t think of it. That’s a separate transaction that includes a key man insurance policy. Besides, it’s irrelevant. Steve wouldn’t hurt me. We’re friends. We work great together, and he’s well-compensated, too.”
She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself as much as me.
“You have any hard proof Steve is actually in Alaska?” I said.
She shook her head. “Just the telephone reports of his adventures that he gives the office every day.” Her expression brightened. “He e-mailed me some photos he took in the park.”
My skepticism was one of my best detecting tools. “Was Steve in any of them?”
With a sigh and a frown, Kim shook her head. “If he’s taking the pictures, he wouldn’t be in them.”
“But he could have taken the photos off the Internet?” I knew only enough about computers to be dangerous, but even I was familiar with the process called cut and paste.
“Why would he do that?” Kim insisted.
“To establish an alibi.”
Her mouth hardened into a thin, tight line. “I don’t believe it. Steve’s been my friend for too long. He wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Not even for the money?”
“Not even—”
The starch went out of her posture, and she slumped like a rag doll. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
“He asked to borrow a large amount of cash before he left on vacation.”
“Did he say why he needed it?” I asked.
Kim squirmed and the wicker in her chair creaked. “I promised I’d keep his secret.”
“Someone tried to kill you this afternoon,” I reminded her. “If you’d been at the other house instead of here, you could be dead now. If Steve’s need for money isn’t related to your stalker, his secrets are safe with me.”
Storm Season Page 13