And what will he do next if he thinks this time he might get caught?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vanzinger stared down at the police report, stunned that his instinct to check Portia Hart’s wallet for fingerprints had paid off. Xavier Greyson hadn’t been satisfied with just taking the life of the rich, glamorous author; he’d had to take the last dollar from her wallet, too. But the heartless con man’s greed might very well lead to his downfall.
“I let him go,” Riley said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I had him…then I let him go free. And look what he’s done…”
Concerned by Riley’s shell shocked expression, Vanzinger reached for her hand and squeezed. For the briefest of seconds, he thought he felt her squeeze back. Then she snatched her hand away, looking over at Nessa with an embarrassed scowl.
“You did what you had to do,” he said, trying to mask his disappointment. “Unlike the bad guys, we have to play by the rules.”
“I should have trusted my gut,” Riley muttered, dropping her eyes. “I knew he was a slime ball the minute I laid eyes on him. I should have trumped up some charges or…or done something.”
Her words hit Vanzinger in the gut. It hurt him to see that the idealistic young woman he’d fallen in love with had become disillusioned over the years. And he hated the fact that his own cowardly behavior had played such a pivotal role. If only he’d handled things differently back then he could have saved her from some of the pain and heartache.
When he’d left Willow Bay without an explanation, thinking it had been the only way to keep her safe from the men who had threatened his life and destroyed his career, Vanzinger had taken her trust and innocence with him. He knew now that no matter what the risks, he should have told her the truth.
But his revelation had come a decade too late. The strained, suspicious look on Riley’s face made it clear that she had come to doubt the world and everything in it, especially him.
Feeling the phone in his pocket vibrate, Vanzinger pulled it out. Alma Garcia was calling. His pulse quickened at the thought she might have more updates from the crime scene.
“We managed to run the fingerprints from Molly Blair’s hot tub,” Alma said without preamble. “And you’re not going to believe this.”
“All right, let me guess.” Vanzinger raised his eyes to meet Riley’s guarded gaze. “The prints in the hot tub are a match to the prints in Portia Hart’s wallet. They both belong to some creep named Xavier Greyson.”
“No fair, Vanzinger,” Alma groaned. “I was hoping to shock you.”
“Oh, it takes more than that to shock me, Alma.”
Riley’s eyes hardened, and she looked away. Vanzinger wondered what he’d said to piss her off this time. After he disconnected the call, he sat back in his chair and crossed his thick arms over his chest.
“Greyson’s prints were on Molly Blair’s hot tub. You add Portia Hart and Miriam Feldman to the mix, and it looks like we got ourselves a serial killer.”
“At least we know who he is,” Nessa said, looking at Riley. “He can’t hide for long now that we know who to look for.”
“Actually, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Riley cautioned. “I never could find a trace of Xavier Greyson in any records or database. At least not the Xavier Greyson I was looking for. So, that could be his real name, or it could just be the alias he was using when we brought him in.”
Everyone in the room seemed to deflate at the thought that the name Xavier Greyson was just another one of the killer’s cons.
“Based on what we know I think we’ve got to assume he’s running some sort of con on these women,” Vanzinger said. “So, he may be using a variety of names and stories to win their trust.”
“It’s a little more serious than that,” Riley said, her eyes blazing. “Xavier Greyson, or whatever his name is, stole Miriam Feldman’s lifesavings and then left her dead body to rot in the ocean. He most likely drowned both Portia Hartman and Molly Blair. He’s not just a con man, he’s a monster.”
Holding his hands up in mock surrender, Vanzinger nodded his head in agreement. He had no doubt that the man who had held Portia Hart and Molly Blair under the water and watched them struggle and die was a monster.
“What I want to know is how he gets these smart, experienced women to trust him.” Nessa banged her fist on the table, causing Vanzinger to jump. “He must run a pretty good game.”
“He was certainly very attractive,” Riley said, “and he tried to ingratiate himself with me when I questioned him. He’s quite a good actor. Luckily, I know the type too well to be taken in.”
“You mean he tried flirting with you?” Nessa was indignant. “I bet you told him where to go.”
Vanzinger swallowed hard at the image of Riley sitting across from a killer. The thought that she’d been face to face with a dangerous criminal scared him, but it also impressed him. No matter how disillusioned Riley might be, she’d never lost her spirit or her will to fight for what was right, no matter what it might cost her.
“What if we broadcast Xavier Greyson’s name on the news?” Vanzinger suggested. “Maybe someone will come forward.”
“I could talk to someone at Channel Ten and see if they’ll work with us on it,” Riley said. “Although we still don’t have a photo to distribute.”
“I plan to ask Alexandra Marsh to work with a sketch artist.” Nessa consulted a page in her notebook. “See…it’s next on my list.”
Vanzinger frowned. Why did Nessa need to keep a separate list?
I’m lead detective on the case, so shouldn’t she be working from my list?
He pushed away the voice in his head that told him she didn’t trust him to solve the case. It wasn’t the right time to listen to his ego.
If Nessa doesn’t trust me now, that just means I’ll have to do something big to earn her trust. I can start by solving this case.
“I’m not sure we’re ready to go public with this guy’s name yet,” Nessa said. “We’d be showing him our cards, and we might end up spooking him. He could go running for the hills before we have a chance to track him down.”
Leaning back in his chair, Vanzinger tried not to show his frustration. He didn’t want to contradict Nessa, but he was worried that leaving Xavier Greyson free to roam around might cost another woman her life. He met Riley’s eyes and saw that she also looked troubled. As if reading his mind, she turned to Nessa.
“I’ll work with Tenley Frost to make sure we have a statement prepared once you give us the okay, Nessa.” Riley stood and began gathering her things. “We need to be ready to take this guy down as soon as possible. I want to nail his ass before he can screw with anybody else.”
Vanzinger recognized the hostility in her voice. He’d had to deal with it himself for the last few months. It was obvious that Riley remembered the man well, and that she was still holding a powerful grudge. An unsettling question sprang to mind.
Does Xavier Greyson remember Riley, too? Was he still holding a grudge?
Chapter Thirty
Lexi stood under the immense oak tree. The sun had disappeared over the horizon, and a blanket of darkness had descended over the neighbor, providing her with cover in the deep shadows along the tree line. Letting the crushed gum wrapper fall from her hands, she moved out of the shadows.
The police cars and crime scene van were gone, as were the throng of reporters and onlookers. Only the yellow strips of crime scene tape remained to mark the tragic events of the day.
Walking north on Kingston Road, Lexi turned into the unlit alley that ran behind Molly’s house and followed the back fence to the gate. As she pushed the gate open, Lexi braced herself for whatever, or whoever, might come at her. But the dark yard was empty. Closing the gate behind her, she scurried up to the deck.
Yellow tape circled the hot tub, and Lexi crept forward to gaze down into the murky water, half-expecting to see Molly’s glassy, lifeless eyes staring back. The dark water was empty.
Lexi
’s stomach heaved as she turned away, and she bent to retch up a small stream of acidic bile. Her throat burned as she stared down at the spatter of liquid at her feet, surprised she had anything at all left in her stomach.
How long has it been since I’ve eaten?
Spitting out the foul-tasting bile that coated her mouth, Lexi stumbled to the sliding glass door and pulled weakly on the handle. To her surprise, the door slid open without resistance. She pushed back the blinds and slipped through.
Blackness enveloped Lexi as she stepped into the chilled air. The crime scene techs hadn’t turned off the air-conditioning, and the temperature inside the house was at least thirty degrees cooler than outside. All the blinds were closed, and Lexi felt along the wall, searching for a light switch. Her fingers finally settled on the switch, and she winced as light flooded the room.
Standing in the familiar surroundings of Molly’s kitchen, Lexi felt as if she was in a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. It seemed surreal to Lexi that the indomitable woman who had governed her life for the last year was suddenly gone. If she hadn’t seen Molly’s dead body with her own eyes she wasn’t sure that she would believe it.
Memories of the first time she’d met Molly filled her mind. At first the woman had seemed glamorous and larger than life, with a fancy car, expensive clothes, and a body sculpted to perfection with the help of multiple plastic surgeons.
Only after Lexi had come to know the real Molly had she seen the ugliness within. All the clothes, make-up, and surgery in the word couldn’t give Molly what she lacked. She’d also seen the damage that years of hard living had left behind. The smoking, drugs, and excess left their mark on Molly’s face like a curse, and were reflected in her dull, listless eyes.
As Lexi looked around the room at what remained of Molly’s life, she thought she heard a soft shuffling sound. Whirling around, she saw that the blinds in the sliding glass door were swaying in a gentle breeze that blew in from the still open door.
Closing her eyes, Lexi allowed the breeze to wash over her face, relishing the respite after the heat of the long, hot day. Taking in a long, deep breath, she decided she was ready to finish her mission.
The secret panel was in Molly’s study. Lexi crept down the narrow hall until she reached the little room. She stood in the doorway and felt unsuccessfully along the wall for the light switch. She finally pulled out her cellphone with a shaky hand. She’d use the light from her phone to guide her way.
Aiming the beam toward the wall, she saw that the panel was already open, displaying the starkly empty interior. The army of pill bottles and piles of bags she remembered were all gone.
Crushing disappointment engulfed her, and Lexi sank to the floor, not even trying to hold back her frustrated tears.
Now what am I going to do? How am I going to get through the night?
She looked down at the phone in her hands, noting that the battery indicator was showing red. She likely only had enough power to make one last call. But who would help her after everything she’d done?
She’d already lost the trust and respect of her friends, and her mother was the only family she had left. Unfortunately, her mother was living on the other side of the state.
And she probably moved there to get away from me and my problems.
So, who else would be willing to help a stranger? Who could she turn to that wouldn’t arrest her or judge her?
Shoving a small hand into her pocket, she pulled out the paper with Frankie’s number on it. She looked at the wobbly handwriting first with trepidation, then with hope. Maybe he’d really meant what he’d said. She’d seen compassion in his eyes, or at least thought she had. What other choice was there?
Tapping in the number before she lost her nerve, she held the phone to her ear. Frankie answered on the first ring.
“Barker and Dawson Investigations.”
Lexi hesitated, surprised by the greeting.
“Is this Frankie?”
“Yep, and I bet this is Lexi, right?”
Swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, Lexi tried to speak. Her throat was dry and sore, but she eventually managed to force the raspy words out.
“Did you really mean it? Will you help me get into rehab?”
“Yep, I meant it.” The relief in his voice matched her own. “So, you still at home? I can come get you now if-”
“Hold on,” she said, turning toward a sound in the hall.
“What’s going on?”
Frankie’s voice faded as she held the phone away, trying to hear. Was that the wind in the blinds again? She should have closed and locked the door. What if then cops were patrolling the place? Maybe they’d noticed the open door and were coming to check.
“Lexi, are you okay?”
Frankie’s worried voice sounded far away. She lifted the phone back to her ear, still frowning into the blackness beyond the hall.
“Yes, it’s just I…thought I heard something.”
Moving into the hall, Lexi headed back toward the kitchen. The blinds swayed in the breeze, and Lexi’s allowed herself to breath.
“It’s fine,” she said into the phone. “I went back to Molly’s house, which I know was a big mistake, but I’m ready to go now.”
She braced herself for Frankie’s wrath, suspecting he would be outraged that she’d returned to the scene of the crime, but the other end of the line was silent.
“Frankie? Are you mad?”
No response. Her heart sank. She’d gone too far, and now she’d ruined her only chance to get help. Lowering the phone, she checked the display to see if he was still on the line. The phone was dead.
“Shit!”
Jamming the useless phone back in her pocket, Lexi strode across the room. She would go home, charge her phone and pack a bag. By the time Frankie got to her house, she would be ready to go.
Without warning, two strong hands reached out of the shadows and grabbed Lexi by the throat. The hands were followed by the man from the stairwell. This time he didn’t wear a hoodie, or a mask, or sunglasses. This time she could see his cruel, handsome face, and his cold, remorseless eyes.
The man slammed Lexi against the wall hard enough to make her teeth rattle. As she slid to the floor with a whimper, he grabbed a handful of her hair and banged her head against the tiled floor. She felt blood spurt from her nose as he lifted her head to stare into her dazed eyes.
“Who have you told about me?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Have you talked to the cops? What about Riley Odell?”
Unable to form the words, Lexi tried to shake her head instead. She felt the room spin around her as the man put a tight hand around her throat and squeezed.
“Sorry…about this,” he gasped out as he knelt over her, “but I can’t…have you testifying…against me, now can I?”
Willing herself to fight back, Lexi lifted a weak knee, but the man blocked it with his lean, hard thigh.
“It’s not personal you know,” he muttered with grim resolve as he raised a big fist. “It’s just part of the game.”
Lexi raised her eyes toward the door in a last desperate hope that someone would come looking for her. But she saw only the killer’s hateful face over her before everything went dark.
Chapter Thirty-One
Gracie’s tail wagged with joyful abandon as she followed Hunter through the parking lot. She stopped next to his black Audi sedan and waited for him to open the door. The big white Lab had only been living with him for a few days, but Hunter felt as if the cheerful dog had always been by his side.
As Gracie jumped into the passenger seat, Hunter wondered what he was going to do once Finn moved on. How could he give up Gracie, again? He still remembered the pain of leaving her with Jordie the first time. But he’d had no choice. Both he and Gracie were suffering from PTSD and needed care. Luckily for Gracie, Jordie had been there to help her recover.
It had taken Hunter a bit longer, but he’d also found his way through. And now they
were whole and back together, but he knew it couldn’t last. Finn needed the dog more than he did. The boy had lost his father. Hunter couldn’t ask him to give up his dog as well.
After securing the seatbelt around Gracie’s solid body, Hunter started the car and sped out of the lot. He was restless, so he rolled down the windows and steered the car toward the highway, wanting time to think, and giving Gracie a chance to enjoy the breeze.
Speeding through the city, his mind filled with worries about the stations’ financial difficulties and guilt that he hadn’t been straight with Veronica. His thought about Veronica Lee didn’t improve his mood. His guilt over misleading her about the station wasn’t the only thing that bothered him.
The knowledge that he was growing too protective of his newest reporter, and dangerously close to being emotionally involved, had been eating at him. Switching lanes and stepping on the gas, Hunter wondered when things had changed.
Somewhere along the way Veronica had stopped being the green, weather girl he’d hired, and had become a truly talented reporter. She’d also started showing up in his thoughts on a regular basis, and he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind for long.
Maybe I should start dating again. Perhaps a distraction will help.
He pictured Tenley Frost’s beautiful face. Now that he was no longer her boss, and she worked for the City of Willow Bay, there was no ethical reason to prevent him from asking her out on date. He was pretty sure she would be willing since she’d made it crystal clear over the years that she found him attractive.
But he’d made it a point never to cross the line with his employees, no matter how willing they might seem, and it had never been a problem to resist the temptation before.
So, why am I tempted to cross that line with Veronica, now?
What was it about Veronica Lee that was different? Of course, she was attractive, but he’d dated many beautiful women in cities around the world. Sexy, smart women that had never really known him, and had never managed to touch his heart.
Her Last Summer: A Veronica Lee Thriller Page 17