by Carolina Mac
After stripping off his wet shirt and tossing it in the dumpster, he pulled on the too-small hoodie and zipped it up. Zach stuffed the wallet in one pocket of the hoodie and the phone in the other. He tossed the drugs he’d found in the same pocket as the phone onto the ground beside the kid’s body, then knelt down, picked up the knife and slit the kid’s throat for good measure.
“WELL, CHIEF, what have we got?” asked Jesse.
Chief Randy Calhoun, a large man wearing a snug Texas Ranger uniform looked up from the file on his desk. Bright blue eyes twinkled behind silver-rimmed reading glasses and his lips curved into a smile. “Got to say, Jesse, we got us one dangerous motherfucker running loose. One victim at the hospital, and how many more before we find him? Hate to think of the body count Mr. Fisher is going to leave in his wake.”
“We better grab him quick,” said Jesse, “before he butchers up the whole city.”
Two taps on the door and Blaine stuck his head in. “Travis lost him at the river. Guess Fisher went for a swim.”
“Water’s cold in the Colorado,” said the Chief. “Maybe he drowned.” There was a hint of hope in the Chief’s voice.
“Are the dogs still on him?” asked Jesse.
Blaine nodded. “Running the bank and trying to pick up his scent wherever he comes out of the water. Lily and Mary are out front getting a piece ready to run in the Statesman. What do you think about an announcement on TV, Chief?”
“Hate the blood sucking media, but it’s the quickest way to get help from the citizens. I’ll have one of the girls set up an interview and a hotline number.”
“I’ll leave the announcement in your hands, Chief,” said Blaine, “I want to go home and dig into Fisher’s past a bit deeper. We need to get a read on where he’s gonna go, or who he’s gonna run to. It’ll take me a couple of hours, but in the end, it might be faster than running around blind.”
“All units are cruising the streets for him already, Blacky, doing a visual. Go do your thing.”
CHAPTER THREE
DECLAN SAT on a bench in the Fashion Mall waiting patiently for Annie to finish shopping. Her undercover gig required her to frolic with the rich and famous, and even though she was extremely rich and moderately famous, she never flaunted it and rarely dressed the part. Annie was a cowgirl. A cowgirl he was so in love with, it was dizzying.
With most of his adult life spent obtaining his medical degree and taking care of his patients, there had not been much time for a personal life or a hot romance. After all the time he’d spent at Coulter-Ross Ranch, working for and with Annie, it seemed a natural progression to love her with all his heart and soul. Knowing their current hot affair was fueled by her recent heartbreaking divorce, didn’t deter him in the slightest. He’d take any intimacy Annie offered. Any time, any place. If that made him needy and pathetic—so be it.
“There you are, sugar pop. Ready to have lunch?”
“I am ready. It made me hungry watching all the women rushing by with their shopping bags.” He stood up and offered his hand. “Here, let me carry some of your purchases.”
“Wait until I model for you tonight. I bought something I think you’ll like… a lot.”
Declan laughed. “Can’t wait. I don’t think a woman has ever spoken those words to me before this moment.”
ANNIE’S CELL RANG, and she set the rest of her bags down at her feet to answer the call. “Hey, Lance. How are you?”
“Fantastic, Annie, and a little excited, I have to admit. I took your advice and I’m seeing someone. I wondered if you’d be open to coming to the Gold Mine for dinner tonight and meeting her?”
“Couldn’t keep me away. What time?”
“How about seven. I’ll book a private dining room for us.”
“Seven is great. I’m playing later in a big game.”
“No problem, I won’t take up your whole evening. Funny you should mention poker, Kristal plays too. She says it supplements her income.” He laughed, and a tingle ran up the back of Annie’s neck.
Have I met a player named Kristal? I don’t think so.
“She’s a lucky lady to be dating you, Lance. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“See you at seven.”
BLAINE SETTLED into his office with his laptop, a roast beef sandwich Carm had made him, and a coffee. He needed to get into Fisher’s past to see what was driving him forward. Sifting through the police file, Blaine started with the crime that sent Fisher to the state hospital years before.
Twelve years earlier, shortly after Fisher was discharged from the army, he’d killed his wife and two of his neighbors at a backyard barbeque. A psych evaluation showed he’d had a psychotic break brought on by an unknown event, but the diagnosis didn’t define the cause of the breakdown. The only thing certain was Zach Fisher was unfit to stand trial for triple murder. The long and the short of it: Zachary Fisher was diagnosed as mentally ill with no hope of recovery—incurable. He was broken and couldn’t be fixed. The State had taken care of him ever since.
One brother lived in Dallas—no other relatives listed. Blaine picked up the phone, found McIntyre’s card and called. “Doctor, this is Blaine Blackmore, we met this morning.”
“I’m fully aware of who you are Mr. Blackmore, and what you do.”
You didn’t seem to be this morning.
“I have a question for you, sir. Did Mr. Fisher’s brother, Tommy, ever come to visit him while he was in your care?”
“Let me think. Uh huh. He did. Two or three times, but not lately. Not in the last couple of years.”
“And was Mr. Fisher happy to see his brother, can you recall?”
“Zach rarely registered any emotion accept anger, so I can’t be sure.”
“But he wasn’t upset by the visits?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Blaine ended the call and called Chief Calhoun. “Do you have something set up for the media?”
“Four o’clock. They’re coming here to film it.”
“Okay, good. One other thing. Fisher has a brother in Dallas. We need a squad to advise the brother of the escape and keep an eye on the brother’s residence.”
“Send me the address and I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, Chief.” He pressed end, and it rang in his hand. “Lopez, what up, Detective?”
“Shit, Blacky, why are you sounding so fuckin cheerful?”
“Was I? Must have been a mistake.”
“Just a question. I’ve got a body in an alley downtown and I’ve talked to narcotics and the gang squad and the victim isn’t ticking any of my drug-related boxes. Are you guys working on anything I don’t know about?”
“Yeah, a guy broke out of the State Hospital this morning. Killed a woman with a butcher knife on the way out. Where’s your scene?”
Lopez gave him the address. “I’ll meet you there.”
He called Farrell. “Bring the dogs to this address. We’ve got a corpse.”
“Meet you there, boss.”
WHEN BLAINE ARRIVED, Detective Lopez, of Austin homicide, was already in the garbage-strewn alley with the medical examiner. He stood up and shook Blaine’s hand. “Could be drug related, although I doubt it. Very small amount of drugs left behind.”
His shoes and top are gone,” said Blaine. My guy was in the river and needed dry clothes. Probably him. Is the wallet gone?”
Lopez nodded. “Yep, no ID on this kid.”
“Okay, let’s say, Mr. Fisher has dry shoes, a dry top and a wallet full of drug money. Where would he go first?”
“Food?” asked Lopez. “Did he eat breakfast before he broke free?”
“Nope. It was earlier than that.”
“Okay, I’ll have officers canvas every establishment around here,” said Lopez.
“I’m waiting on Travis and Farrell,” said Blaine, “Maybe the dogs can pick up something familiar.”
Blaine’s cell rang, and he strode to th
e end of the alley, away from the noise and chatter to take the call. “Misty, I haven’t had a chance to call.”
“Oh, no? Is something horrible going on?”
“You know it.”
“Any time for dinner?”
“Maybe, I’ll see how we’re doing.”
“I’m missing you,” she whispered.
“Same. I’ll call you in an hour.”
You wouldn’t be missing me so much if you’d moved in with me when I asked you to. Too late now. I’m not begging.
FARRELL PARKED his Red Silverado at the end of the alley and he and Travis leashed the dogs and brought them to the scene.
“Almost ready for y’all,” said the medical examiner. “I’ll just zip this kid up and be on my way back to the morgue.”
“Thanks, Doc,” said Farrell. He was on a first name basis with almost everybody from Austin PD.
The crime scene techs leaned against the brick wall of the building with their kits at their feet. Farrell turned to Sue Jacobson and said, “Won’t be a minute, Sue. Need to see if our runaway crazy guy was the one who did this. The dogs will know.”
Bluebelle and Red sniffed around and Bluebelle alerted right away. She turned and tugged on Travis, wanting to go through the alley to the street.
“I’m moving,” said Travis into his earwig. “Bluebelle has him.”
“I’m right behind you,” said Blaine. “See where she goes.” By the time Blaine exited the alley, Bluebelle was sitting at the bus stop on the corner. “Oh, fuck, he got on a bus.” Blaine scrolled to information, found a number for city transit and found out the route originating at that stop. “Take the truck, Farrell. If he stays on to the end of the route, he’s going to get off at Woodward Street Park.”
“I’ll go straight down there, boss,” said Farrell.
“Maybe the Chief can spare a few units to cruise the route from here to there.”
ZACH SAT half way back in the bus, close to the rear exit doors. He hadn’t ridden on a bus since he couldn’t remember when. Maybe he never had. Sometimes his memory played tricks on him. He leaned back in the seat, hummed a song and closed his eyes. Exhaustion encouraged him to sleep, and he had drifted off when a noise he didn’t recognize woke him with a start. He listened, and decided the noise was coming from his pocket.
The kid’s phone.
He pressed the talk button. “Hello?”
“You should have been back by now.”
“Back to where?”
“Don’t mess with me, you asshole.”
“Sorry, I got lost and forgot the address.”
“Are you using again?”
“Using what?”
“Six fifty Carlton, off East Cesar Chavez—how in hell could you forget? Hurry up and bring my money. I’ve got another route for you to cover.”
“Be right there,” mumbled Fisher.
Maybe this jerk has food and a bed, so I can lay down.
Zach hopped off the bus at the next stop and asked a guy on the street corner for directions to East Cesar Chavez. The guy waved his arms around and pointed, “Not far. A couple of blocks that way and then turn left. Easy.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Mary had a…” Zach sang as he walked the two blocks, the tight red shoes pinching his feet. He couldn’t wait to take them off and lie down for a couple of hours.
Hope the kid’s buddy has nice soft bed.
Twenty minutes later he found Carlton Street and reached the address. A row house—third one in on a long row of rundown units. He opened the front door and walked into a dark, narrow hallway. Nobody was around, and he didn’t hear anybody else in the house. On his left was a small room with a TV and a brown sofa with rips in the fabric. He sat down, took off the tight shoes then stretched out and closed his eyes.
BLAINE DROPPED BY DPS at ten to four and watched the Chief film his bit for the six o’clock news. Chief Calhoun ended with a picture of Fisher and a plea for help from the citizens of Austin. A special hotline number would be rolling across the screen during the entire segment every time the local stations ran it.
“That should start the calls rolling in,” said Blaine. “Too bad most of them will be useless.”
“We just need one, son. One actual sighting and we can nab him and take him back home.”
“Guess the hospital will be his home forever.”
The Chief nodded. “Incurable. That’s what it means.”
“McIntyre said Fisher was doing so much better.”
“Bullshit,” said the Chief. “The doc is on an ego trip. I’ve read the file. Incurable is just that. Fisher is a lunatic who kills without provocation and without remorse. He’ll be nuts for the rest of his days.”
“We’ll get him tomorrow.” Blaine left headquarters and headed to Misty’s for dinner.
ANNIE DRESSED in one of her new outfits, a little over the top for dinner with her might-have-been father-in-law, but perfect for the high-stakes game later in the evening. The snug black sheath, hugged every one of Annie’s curves and was further highlighted by a rhinestone-trimmed vee in front, plummeting to provocative depths.
Declan raised a dark brow as she did the runway walk in front of him. “Amazing, darlin. Do I want other men drooling over you in that get up?”
“Sure, you do. They can only look. You have other privileges.”
“I’ll exercise my rights later.” He gave her his best leering look and she laughed.
Declan is so good for me after everything that went wrong.
They took a cab across town and arrived at the Gold Mine precisely at seven. Lance Ogilvie greeted them with enthusiasm in the lobby. He embraced Annie and shook hands with Declan. “Kristal is waiting for us upstairs.”
“You look good, Lance. She must be doing something right.”
He laughed. “Too soon to tell. It’s only been a few days.”
“Does she live here in Vegas?” asked Annie.
“Not permanently. She came down with the intention of relocating to a more moderate clime, rented a house for a month and she’s been out looking at condos with several realtors.”
“Where’s she from?”
“Chicago.”
“Uh huh.” Annie took Declan by the hand and followed Lance into the elevator. “Now that she’s met the irresistible Lance Ogilvie, she’ll be putting her house-hunting into high gear.”
“We’ll see. I’m not jumping into anything. I haven’t dated anyone in years.” They stepped out on the second floor and Lance led the way. “In here.”
At the back of the high-end Gold Mine Steak House there was a private alcove almost hidden with potted palms. At the table sat Kristal Ducharme, a tall bottle-blonde with a sprayed-on tan and a silicone chest bulging out of a too-small sequined top. She appeared to be forty-something, about twenty years younger than Lance.
Jesus, Lance. What the hell are you doing?
Declan rolled his brown eyes as he pulled out Annie’s chair for her.
Lance introduced them, and Kristal beamed smiles all around. “Let’s have a drink, shall we?” Lance waved the waiter over to their table.
“Sure,” said Annie. “I’d love a beer.”
“White wine for you, Kristal?” asked Lance.
“Thank you, darling,” she said in a husky voice. She reached out and ran a manicured finger down his cheek.
All through dinner, Annie watched Kristal carefully. The woman was a fake—and not even a good one. A fake that Lance seemed to be totally taken with. Any questions that came Kristal’s way in polite conversation, she hedged around the answers, never revealing anything about herself or her background. The woman gave Annie the shivers.
How to warn Lance off without hurting him—that would be a big challenge.
After coffee and dessert, Annie and Declan said their goodbyes. “Lovely meeting you, Kristal. Hope we meet again soon.”
“You too, Annie. Never dreamed I’d ever have dinner with Annie Powell.”
> Annie smiled and steered Declan out of the dining room. “Glad that’s over,” she whispered. “I’ll have Blaine or Lily do some serious checking on that woman.”
Declan chuckled as they crossed the lobby of the casino. “I could tell you didn’t like her much. The frosty vibes she emitted from her pouty pink lips sent a chill up my spine.”
Annie didn’t even smile at Declan’s attempt at humor. “I don’t care who she is or what her agenda is, I won’t stand by and let Lance get hurt on his first outing.”
“Lance Ogilvie has managed for over sixty years on his own, darlin. It’s his call who he sees.”
“Is that your polite way of telling me to mind my own?”
“Take it any way you want.”
ZACH WOKE with a start when he heard the door open. The room was dark, and he didn’t have a clue where he was. A light came on and he sat upright on the sofa, still half asleep and trying to get his bearings.
“Who the hell are you?” A short black man with frizzy hair as big and round as a beach ball, stood at the end of the sofa pointing a gun at him.
“Zach Fisher. Who are you?”
“Don’t matter who I am. This is my house and it ain’t yours. I’ll give you one chance to beat it before I shoot you in the head.”
Zach catapulted off the sofa and hurled himself bodily at the guy. Grabbing fuzzy hair in a football tackle around the waist, he knocked him to the floor. The gun broke free and skittered across the floor. Zach snatched up the gun, aimed and pulled the trigger. He shot the guy through his left eye at close range, then laughed. “That’s what you get for waking me up, motherfucker.”
He jerked the guy’s boots off his feet, then dragged him down the hallway to the first doorway he came to. He shoved the body into the closet and closed the door. “Stay in there until I tell you to come out,” he growled.
Zach let out a big exhale, ambled into the kitchen and checked out the contents of the fridge. He chose a package of sliced meat and a container of mustard, set both on the counter and found half a loaf of bread. He sang as he made himself a thick sandwich and poured himself a glass of milk. “Mary had a little…”