by Linda Turner
She wanted to tell him she loved him. The words hovered on her tongue the next morning as they got dressed, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak them. He’d given no indication that his feelings for her were anything more than lust and liking, and she just couldn’t bring herself to put her heart on the line. Not yet. So she kept her feelings to herself and acted as if nothing had changed in her world. Only, she knew that everything had.
“So what are you doing today?” Tony asked as he finished dressing. “Now that you don’t have to worry about some bastard trying to kill you every time you stick your head out the door, you can do whatever you want. It looks like it’s going to be a gorgeous day, and the leaves are changing in the park.”
“Actually, I thought I’d stick around here and work on Angelo’s mural,” she said as she twisted her hair up on her head and secured it with a clip. “It’s really starting to come together and I’d like to get it finished.”
The phone rang then, and Tony said, “That’s probably Angelo. He was going to make his famous strawberry tart for you for breakfast this morning. It’s probably ready.”
Grinning, he snatched up the phone. “We’ll be down in just a second,” he said by way of a greeting, only to frown when he recognized his boss’s voice on the other end of the line. “Sorry about that, Frank—I thought you were my uncle. What’s up?”
“I don’t know if you heard,” Frank growled, “but there’s a nasty stomach virus going around, and it’s wiping us out. I’ve already got six men out, and two others are feeling lousy. I know this is your vacation, and I hate to do it, but I’ve got to ask you to come in today. We’re so shorthanded, we’ve already got people working double shifts and it’s still not enough.”
If anyone else had asked him to give up the rest of his vacation, he might not have done it. But Frank wasn’t the type to panic or exaggerate the circumstances. If he said the department was in a crisis, then it was. “I’ll be in as soon as I change into my uniform,” he promised.
“Thanks, man,” he sighed in relief. “You don’t know how I appreciate this.”
It wasn’t until he hung up that Tony remembered he was supposed to have Quentin for the day. Swearing, he told Lily, “I forgot I’m supposed to have Quentin today. He’s waiting for me to pick him up at a friend’s house, and now I’ve got to go into work. I’ll have to call Janice—”
“I can pick him up for you,” she volunteered, “and bring him back here. He can help me with the mural.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. We have a great time together, and I can use the help. If that’s all right with you…and you don’t think your ex-wife will mind if I pick him up.”
He hadn’t thought of that, but she was right. Sometimes there was no way to predict how Janice was going to react to something, and right now he didn’t want any more problems with her than he already had. “You never know with Janice,” he admitted. “It probably would be better if I picked him and brought him back here before I went to work. Then there won’t be any problems.”
“You won’t be late?”
“My sergeant will understand. Anyway, this is the best I can do.” Pulling her close, he gave her a quick kiss. “I wish I could stay for breakfast, but I’ve got to change into my unifornd get out of here. Will I see you for dinner?”
“I think that can be arranged,” she said with a smile. “Maybe Quentin and I will cook something special.”
“Quentin’s idea of special is beef burritos,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t forget your Tums.”
The police station was usually bustling with activity, but the stomach virus that had made its way through the force had also, apparently, taken its toll on the criminal population. Compared to the usual hustle and bustle that took place during shift changes, the place was like a tomb. No wonder Frank had called him in, he thought in amazement. It looked as if half the force hadn’t showed up for work.
“Hey, Tony! Thank God you’re here. I was just about to call you.”
Tony grinned at Charlie Drake. “Just the man I wanted to see. I wanted to thank you for calling me about Joe Smith. Lily was so relieved he was finally off the streets, she cried.”
“The confession was bogus, Tony. We just found out this morning.”
He didn’t have to ask him what confession. There was only one that mattered. “This is a joke, isn’t it? Quit fooling around, Charlie. The perp confessed.”
“It was a setup,” he said flatly. “Somebody paid him five thousand dollars to hang around in the alley until he got caught, then he was supposed to sing like a canary so you and your lady friend would drop your guard.”
Furious, Tony swore. “Are you sure? Why’d he recant his confession, then?”
“He swears that was part of the deal.”
“Maybe he’s just messing with your mind and trying to get out of the confession.”
“We thought of that, but the money was deposited in his bank account this morning.”
“So he had someone do it for him so he can get out.”
“This scumbag’s never had that much money in his life,” he retorted. “And we ran the surveillance tapes at the bank.”
A sick feeling of dread spilled into Tony’s stomach. “Let me guess. Whoever made the deposit was wearing a red wig and a pizza-delivery hat.”
Charlie nodded grimly. “We just verified it with the bank. I looked at the film myself. It’s impossible to tell what the bastard looks like.”
Horrified, Tony felt sick to his stomach. “Lily thinks she’s safe,” he said hoarsely. “She doesn’t have a clue the bastard’s still on the streets. I’ve got to call her!”
Grabbing his cell phone, he quickly punched in Lily’s number, but after what seemed like an eternity, all he got was her answering machine. He hung and immediately called Angelo. “Where’s Lily?” he asked the second his uncle answered.
Surprised at his sharp tone, Angelo drawled, “Well, good morning to you, too. I guess I don’t have to ask what side of the bed you got up on this morning. Obviously, it was the wrong one.”
Struggling to hold on to his patience, he growled, “She’s in danger, Angelo. She thought the man who was trying to kill her had been arrested, but it was a setup. She said she was going to work on the mural this morning with Quentin. She’s there, isn’t she? I need to talk to her.”
His tone grim, Angelo swore. “She and Quentin left fifteen minutes ago. They were going to get darkroom supplies.”
Chapter 12
“I can’t wait to see Angelo’s face when we unveil the mural,” Lily told Quentin as they walked out of the camera-supply shop carrying boxes of developer and photographic paper. “He’s going to be so surprised.”
“So will Dad,” Quentin said as he helped her load the supplies in the cargo section of her SUV, then climbed in the back seat and buckled up. “Wait until he sees the pictures I took. Maybe I’ll get a camera for Christmas.”
Chuckling at his enthusiasm, Lily slammed the rear door on her truck and walked around to the driver’s side, grinning at the thought of Quentin hounding Tony until he bought him a camera, then snapping candid photos of him every time he turned around. She couldn’t wait to see them.
Already picturing them as she pulled open the driver’s door, she never saw the man who suddenly appeared out of nowhere behind her. He grabbed her from behind, startling her, and shoved a gun in her side before she could do anything but cry out in surprise. “What—”
“Get in the car!” her abductor growled, jabbing her with the gun again, only this time harder. “In the passenger seat…now! And don’t say a word.”
Terrified, Lily didn’t argue with him. She awkwardly climbed over the console—with the help of a rough, hard hand in her back—and completely forgot that Quentin was in the back seat until he said hesitantly, “Lily? Are you all right?”
“Shut up, kid!” their kidnapper snarled, shooting him a sharp, narrow-eyed look that drained th
e color out of Quentin’s cheeks. “Just shut up!”
“Leave him alone!” Lily snapped, her outrage overcoming her fear. “He’s just a kid.”
Lightning quick, he backhanded her. “When I want your opinion, bitch, I’ll ask for it.”
Stunned, her cheek burning and tears filling her eyes, Lily quickly glanced in the mirror of her visor to make sure Quentin was all right, but he was obviously scared to death. Hugging himself, there were tears in his eyes and he was shaking like a leaf. Don’t! she wanted to tell him. Don’t let him terrorize you. We’re going to get out of this.
But even as his eyes met hers in the mirror and she tried to send him a reassuring look, she was as afraid as he was. She couldn’t, however, afford to let their abductor see that. For all she knew, he was the kind of man who thrived on fear, and she’d be damned if she’d give him that kind of satisfaction.
Turning on him with fierce eyes, she prayed he couldn’t hear her heart slamming against her ribs. “Who are you? What do you want from us? I don’t have any money—”
“I don’t want your damn money!” he growled as he threw the SUV into gear and jerked the vehicle out into the traffic. Driving with one hand, he pointed the gun right at her heart. “I want you dead.”
His words were eerily familiar. Horrified, Lily stared at him searchingly. Who was he? She would have sworn that she’d never seen him before—surely she would have remembered his thin, sharp features and beady eyes—then it hit her. “I remember you,” she said hoarsely. “I was taking pictures in front of Angelo’s Italian Restaurant, and you stopped and talked to me about photography. You wanted to know what kind of camera to buy your girlfriend.”
“I wanted to see how close I could get to you,” he sneered, “to see if you recognized me. For a photographer, you don’t have much of an eye.”
Confused, she didn’t understand why he acted as if he knew her. If they’d met some other time before he spoke to her on the street that day, she didn’t remember it. What did he want from her? And why did he want her dead? Was he just trying to scare her so she’d do what he wanted? That had to be it, she decided. It was just a coincidence that his words were so similar to those of the man who’d been trying to kill her for weeks now.
But even as she tried to convince herself her imagination was just playing tricks on her, she had a sick feeling that there was no such thing as coincidences. And somehow, she knew deep in her gut that this was her tormentor, her nemesis, her would-be killer. He was the same one who’d tried to run her down in the park, the man who’d trapped her in her apartment and set the attic on fire. And he had a gun.
Oh, God, she thought, swallowing a sob. How had he gotten out of jail?
“You’re supposed to be in jail,” she said hoarsely. “Tony said you confessed.”
He laughed sharply. “Someone did confess, but it wasn’t me. It’s amazing what people will do for money, isn’t it? All I had to do was find an addict on the street and he was willing to say anything I wanted him to. I imagine your friend Tony and the rest of the pigs he works with are finding that out just about now.” Pleased with himself, he said smugly, “Idiots. They don’t have a clue who I am and I plan to keep it that way. That’s why I’m getting rid of you.”
“But why?” she cried. “Who are you? Why would you want to kill me? I don’t even know you. What could I have possibly done to you to make you hate me so much?”
“You took my picture!” he snapped. “Right after I killed a hooker in the park. No one else but you can place me at the scene. So make your will, sweetheart. You’re dead just as soon as I can arrange it—and so is the kid. I can’t afford any more witnesses.”
Confused, Lily frowned. “I took your picture? When? I’ve never even seen you before.”
That was the wrong thing to say. In the blink of an eye, he was . “Bitch!” he screamed at her, backhanding her again. “Don’t lie to me! I saw the damn picture hanging in a gallery right around the corner from your apartment!”
Stunned, Lily pressed a hand to her stinging cheek. He was the runner in the mist, she thought, horrified. He hadn’t been jogging in the park on a rainy day, as she’d thought. He was running from a murder!
“But I didn’t even look at your face!” she cried. “I was concentrating on the light and taking the picture at just the right time. I didn’t see you. I just saw the overall image. I couldn’t have picked you out of a lineup if my life depended on it.”
“Yeah? Well, it looks like the joke’s on you,” he taunted. “Because now you can identify me and so can the boy. Say your prayers. You’re both going to die.”
Terror nearly choking her, Lily wanted to scream at him, to cry and plead and beg and completely give in to her fear, but she couldn’t. Quentin was just as scared as she was, and he was depending on her to somehow rescue him from this mess. She couldn’t just sit there and let this maniac drive them to their deaths. She had to keep her head, had to think! There had to be a way.
Racking her brains, she shifted slightly in her seat and felt something hard poke her hip bone. Her cell phone! she thought, relieved. She’d shoved it into the right pocket of her jeans when she’d gone into the camera store. Now she just had to find a way to use it to signal for help.
Her heart in her throat, she glanced over at their abductor to discover that he was too busy weaving in and out of traffic to take his eyes off the road. This was her chance. With agonizing slowness, she silently pulled the phone out of her pocket and slid her hand between her seat and the passenger door so that she could soundlessly hold the phone out behind her to Quentin.
For a minute, she didn’t think he understood what she needed him to do. Take it! she silently urged. Find a way to call for help!
When his fingers suddenly closed over hers, clinging for a moment, she wanted to cry. Poor kid, he was scared out of his wits, and all she wanted to do was crawl in the back seat with him, give him a fierce hug and assure him that everything was going to be fine. But that was out of the question at the moment. All she could do was squeeze his hand again and pray that he knew she needed him to call his father or Angelo or 911, anyone who could save them.
When he took the phone and released her hand, she realized that she had to create some kind of distraction so that their abductor wouldn’t hear him punching the buttons on the phone. “Why don’t you just pull over and let us out,” she said loudly to him. “You’re not going to get away with this, so why don’t you cut your losses and make a run for it. We’ll give you time to catch a plane and fly out of the country before we call for help. We don’t even know your name—the police won’t know where to look for you.”
“Yeah, right,” he laughed, his tone ugly. “Like I’m going to believe you. I wouldn’t even be out of sight before you’d be on the phone calling for help.”
“No, we wouldn’t! I give you my wor“Shut up!” he snapped. “Do you really think your word means anything to me? You’re dead, lady! And so is the kid. It’s just a matter of time. Accept it!”
Halfway across town in her office, Janice frowned when her cell phone rang, and she almost didn’t answer it. She’d told her secretary to hold all calls, but she’d forgotten to turn off her cell. She’d just let the answering service get it, she decided. She had too much to do to chat on the phone with every Tom, Dick and Harry that called. Whoever needed to speak to her could wait for her to call them back later.
But what if one of her clients had an emergency…?
Not even looking up from her computer screen, she reached for her cell phone. “Janice Coffman,” she said coolly. “Who’s calling, please?”
“Why are you getting on the beltway if you’re going to kill us? What’s wrong with the park? Isn’t that where you killed the other lady?”
Surprised, she frowned. What the devil! That was Quentin—or at least it sounded like him, but he seemed to be speaking from a long ways away. Shaking her head, she reminded herself to speak to him about calling her at the
office. She didn’t know what kind of joke he was playing, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to disturb her when she was working.
“I told you to shut up, kid, and I meant it. When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
Straining to hear the cold, angry words, Janice stiffened. She didn’t know who the man was who spoke to her son like that, but she knew it wasn’t Tony. He’d never spoken to Quentin that way in his life. What was going on? she wondered. Whatever it was, she didn’t like the sound of it. And she damn sure wasn’t going to tolerate anyone talking to Quentin that way.
Opening her mouth to tell Quentin just that, she couldn’t have said later why she hesitated. Something—a sixth sense, her angels—warned her to be quiet and listen. Her heart suddenly racing, she pressed the phone closer to her ear and held her breath, listening.
“At least let the boy go,” a woman pleaded. “He’ll cause you nothing but trouble and his father’s a cop. You don’t want Tony coming after you. He’ll search heaven and hell for anyone who harms his son. You don’t need that kind of complication. Let him go.”
“No!” the man shouted. “Both of you shut up or I’ll kill you right here! Do you hear me? I don’t want to hear another word! Do you think I give a flip about the boy’s father? He can’t hurt me—he doesn’t have a clue who I am. And I don’t plan to leave any evidence with your bodies. Not that he’s going to find you,” he added smugly. “You’re going to be spending eternity at the bottom of a deep, dark, abandoned well.”
“Where?” the woman asked hoarsely. “We have a right to know where.”
“Yeah, I guess you do,” he replied with a mocking chuckle. “How does Arlington sound? Arlington, Virginia,” he added, “not the national cemetery. There’s an old well on my grandmother’s place. It’ll be perfect for the two
“And do we get to know the name of our killer before we die? We’re entitled to that, if nothing else.”