I Can See You

by Karen Rose

  “Then go to bed, honey. I’ll take the couch.”

  “No, I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Rachel and the others.”

  “Not your fault,” he said softly, tilting her chin up. “What happened with Webster?”

  “Nothing.”

  He sat back, brows lifted. “So… did he kiss you yet?”

  His tone was so engagingly nosy, she might have smiled. But the thought of that kiss in the bar, so… proprietary. So necessary. So impossible. Her eyes stung. “Stop.”

  “Stop what, Evie? Stop trying to keep you from making a big mistake? I have seen you through too much to let you hide again.”

  Misery stepped aside for blessed anger. “I am not hiding. Not anymore.”

  “You think just because you’re not holed up in Dana’s shelter anymore that you’re not hiding? Give me one good reason you’ve written Webster off. And don’t tell me it’s because he’s too old, because he’s my age and I’ll have to hurt you.”

  She let out a long, quiet breath. “You know why.”

  He stared at her in contrary confusion, and then his expression changed again to one of devastated understanding. “Oh, Evie. You can’t possibly…”

  “No, I can’t,” she said, twisting his meaning.

  “That’s not fair to Webster, or to any other man who might care about you. He might not even want kids. Especially at his age.”

  “I thought you were his age,” she said quietly.

  “I am. And I want kids. But I would be furious if a woman I cared for didn’t give me a chance because she assumed she knew what I wanted. You think you know people.”

  His words had rattled her, but pride ran deeper than anything else. “I do.”

  “Because you study them? Watch them? You don’t know shit, kid. You have been standing back and watching the world go by ever since Winters sliced you up.”

  She flinched. “You cross the line, David.”

  “Well, it’s about time somebody did.”

  She stood, vibrating with ire. “Like you’re the expert? You, who stood back and watched the woman you loved marry somebody else? You, who’re still standing back and watching as she has baby after baby, building a family with somebody else?”

  David jerked, his face going pale beneath his winter tan.

  “Yeah,” she said bitterly. “I noticed. Did you ever think about telling Dana how you felt all those years? Or did you assume you knew how she felt? What she wanted?”

  The silence hung between them for what seemed like endless minutes. “I knew how she felt,” he finally said. “She didn’t love me. She never did. She lived her life saving other people, doing crazy dangerous things, with never a thought for herself. She didn’t think about herself until she met…”

  Eve felt a sharp stab of regret for the words she’d let fly so heedlessly. “Ethan.”

  He nodded unsteadily. “Then her life became precious to her, because she could see what it would do to him to have lost her. Because she loves him.”

  She felt lower than dirt. “David, I’m sorry.”

  “No. You were right. I did watch her marry somebody else, because I did love her. Still do, I guess. But if Dana had ever given me one indication she felt the same way, I promise you, nothing would have held me back. And if she couldn’t have kids, I would have been sad, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Maybe Webster is just a bump in the road. A practice love, if you want. But just maybe he’s your chance to be happy.

  “Evie, don’t stand back and watch it pass by. You never know if another chance will come. It’s time to trust your instincts. I’m going back to bed. Don’t burn any more pots.”

  She watched him go, hurting. For both of them. But he was wrong. When it came to men, she had lousy instincts. And it wasn’t just kids. It was everything.

  For now, she’d go back to what she’d been doing. Spread across her table were the stacks of usage logs and graphs she and Noah had been reviewing. There had to be something to tell them who the next target would be before it was too late to save her.

  Wednesday, February 24, 4:25 a.m.

  “You should have told me Jack didn’t answer his phone,” Abbott said calmly, his eyes on Rachel’s small house where a small army of CSU and MEs had swarmed.

  Noah leaned against his car, watching the neighbors who’d gathered, wondering if their killer ever came back to the scene to watch. To gloat. “I’m sorry. I should have.”

  He’d called his boss with the discovery of a fourth murder, and it hadn’t taken Abbott long to realize his staffing had been shaken up a little. Abbott had been most displeased.

  “Next time you call out one of my detectives without my explicit permission, I’m going to kick your ass into next week,” Abbott continued in the same calm tone.

  “Fine. Just don’t blame Olivia. She was only trying to help.”

  “I won’t. I’m blaming you. When were you going to tell me that Jack’s been late to scenes for three weeks? Or has it been longer?”

  “Off and on, longer. Depends on the woman in his bed. The women go their own way, and then Jack is back.” Noah shrugged uneasily. “Tonight, with him not showing up at all… That’s abnormal.”

  “He’s on his way. He claims you didn’t call him.”

  Noah blinked. “What?”

  “That’s what he says,” Abbott said.

  “He’s pulled that one before, too. ‘Oh, my cell phone has bad reception,’ ” Noah mimicked. He brought up his cell outgoing call log. “I called his cell and his home line.”

  Abbott scanned his phone’s screen. “Your fingers did a lot of walking tonight, Noah.”

  Noah snapped his phone shut, annoyed. “It’s been an eventful day,” he said tightly.

  “That it has. I want you to brief me, then go home and sleep. It’s going to take CSU the better part of the night to process the scene. Tell me what happened.”

  So Noah did, starting with Eve’s discovery that her red-zone, Rachel Ward, was not where she was supposed to be, finishing with his and Olivia’s grisly discovery. At this point he was reciting facts, his voice flat and expressionless from fatigue.

  “We found his setup in the basement. He’d covered the windows so no one would see the flames. Smoke detectors, disabled. He let the fire lick up the stool he’d tied her to. She’s got third-degree burns, feet and legs. Micki called the fire investigators.”

  “Okay,” Abbott said. “I’m up to speed. Go home, Noah. You look like hell.”

  “Okay.” It was testament to his exhaustion that he obeyed without argument. He started for his car, then stopped as Jack’s car coasted to a stop in front of his.

  Noah waited with Abbott as Jack approached, his cover-boy face haggard. And hung over. Noah recognized the look. He’d seen it in his own mirror enough times.

  “Abbott said you called me,” Jack said with no trace of humor. “I never got the call.”

  “I called you six fucking times.” Ignoring the guilt in his partner’s eyes, Noah went on. “The first call went out at 2:25. Rachel Ward may have still been alive then.”

  Jack shook his head in denial. “I swear to God I never got your call. I fell asleep.”

  Noah stepped closer, dropped his voice to a whisper. “After you drank how much?”

  The guilt in his eyes gave way to anger. “One. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “No, not my business. But Rachel might think it was hers. She was busy dying while you were sleeping off your one drink.”

  Jack’s cheeks grew dark. “You sonofabitch.”

  Behind them Abbott cleared his throat harshly and Noah stowed his temper. “Olivia spotted a car leaving this neighborhood at 3:15,” Noah said. “The license plates were registered to Axel Girard’s wife.”

  Jack’s eyes flashed. “I told you he was the one. But you said it didn’t make sense.”

  Noah had to take a step back, appalled that his hand had actually closed into a fist. He swallowed back the f
ury and managed to say nothing at all.

  Jack flicked a glance down at Noah’s clenched fist “Where is Girard now?”

  “In lockup,” Noah said. “I called the car we had parked in front of his house. They said the Girards appeared to have been in bed. But on the off chance that somehow Axel sneaked out to another car, killed Rachel Ward, then teleported himself home in half the time it should have taken him to drive, I had him picked up.” He turned to look at Abbott. “Eight a.m. meeting?”

  “Make it nine. Jack, I expect you to have a new cell phone, forthwith.”

  The ME techs came out of Rachel’s house, pushing the gurney that held the body bag. Jack swallowed hard before turning, getting into his car, and driving away.

  “I should feel bad about what I said,” Noah murmured, “but I don’t.”

  “Jack’s on a bad track,” Abbott said. “You can’t save him from himself. Only he can.”

  “First step,” Noah said quietly, then realized he’d said it aloud. He’d never revealed his alcoholism to anyone on the force, never even spoken of it to anyone besides Brock and Trina, until he’d blurted it to Eve. And she hadn’t flinched. Now he turned to his boss, whose expression was not judgmental. Noah sighed. “You know.”

  “I’ve always known,” Abbott chided. “I told you, it’s my job to know my staff.”

  “Which is why you get paid the medium-sized bucks.”

  Abbott’s mouth curved, but his eyes didn’t smile. “Go home and sleep. That’s an order. See you at oh-nine. And tell Eve I said thank you. She almost saved the day.”

  From under the carport in an empty For Sale house half a block away, Harvey put down his binoculars. “Webster nearly hit Phelps.” He turned to Dell, who’d just arrived, his car parked down the street from Harvey’s Subaru.

  Still observing through his zoom lens, Dell smiled. “A crack in the blue wall.”

  Dell’s tone had him frowning. “What do you know, son? What have you done?”

  Dell shrugged. “Just gave an already shaky relationship a little push, that’s all.”

  Harvey was quiet for a long moment. “Phelps was really late getting here tonight,” he finally said. “You told me the boys were on the move an hour ago.”

  “It appears Phelps slept in,” Dell said cheerfully.

  Harvey considered the circuitous route Webster had taken, the look of weary panic on the man’s face when he’d stopped at the mailbox store. He’d been racing against a clock for the past hour and here they sat, less than a mile from Phelps’s home.

  A shiver ran down his spine. “A woman died here. Tell me that matters to you.”

  “What matters to me is that V is dead,” Dell said bitterly. “That matters to me.”

  “I know that,” Harvey said softly. “I know that every minute of every day.”

  “The men who killed him walk free. Do you know that every minute of every day?”

  Harvey leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes. “What. Did. You. Do?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.” Then Dell gasped when Harvey’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar of his parka and twisted, cutting off his air.

  Harvey leaned across the gearshift, furious. “You will tell me. Make no mistake. I am your father. I brought you into this world. I can—”

  “Take me out,” Dell sneered, his eyes flashing hate. “You know what? I’m not five years old and peeing my pants in fear of you anymore. V’s not here to take my licks, so I’ll take them myself. So hit me, old man. If you think you can.”

  Harvey hesitated, feeling a grudging respect for his younger son, who might have finally grown up. He released him with a shove of disgust. “Just tell me what you did.”

  “I’ll get as old as you waiting for these cops to fuck up on camera. So, I decided to take control of the situation. I got us a… Trojan Horse.”

  “Make some sense, boy,” Harvey snapped.

  “I got someone on the inside, a woman. She’s cuddled up to Phelps, made him think she’s got the hots for him. But she watches him, for us.”

  “And tonight? You said Phelps overslept.”

  Dell shrugged. “She doctored his whiskey bottle a little bit. Just to make him sleep. Obviously not too much, because he actually showed up this time.”

  “He hasn’t shown up other times?”

  “He’s missed a few days. His partner’s pretty pissed with him. I figure another few episodes like tonight and they’ll turn on each other like the dogs they are.”

  What were you thinking, boy? If Phelps had been awake an hour ago, that woman might have lived. “So how have you known when they were on the move?”

  “She keeps Phelps’s phone on vibrate,” Dell said, “and waits for a call.”

  “That’s how you knew they were going to the Brisbane woman’s on Sunday. You told me the GPS beeps when they move their cars.”

  “It does, but she’s a little extra insurance. Sometimes I sleep through the beep.”

  “So instead of telling Phelps, she calls you.”

  “Yeah. Then she erases all of Webster’s messages and calls from the incoming log. I guess somebody must have called him again after she left, woke him up.”

  “You dumb fuck,” Harvey gritted. “If they check with the phone company, they’ll prove Webster called. Then they’ll be on the alert that somebody is fucking with them.”

  “They might. They’re so mad right now, they probably won’t. If they do, it won’t matter, because she says Phelps does it himself half the time. Pretends like he hasn’t gotten Webster’s call, that he has no bars. Guy’s a fuckup. I just sped it up a little.”

  “But this time, Phelps didn’t do it himself, and this time a woman died. If they check his phone records, this whore of yours will be the first person they haul in. And if you don’t think you’ll be the first person she implicates, you’re dumber than I thought.”

  “She won’t talk and I’m far from dumb. I have it all planned out.”

  Harvey stared at his son, wondering how Dell had veered off course. He needed to drag his son back on task. “I’ll let this go, this time. But nobody else better die because of you. That’s not the way to fix this and I’m not going down with you. I’ll stop the whole operation first.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Dell said agreeably. “Gotta go.” He hopped out of the Subaru and into his own vehicle and, stomach churning, Harvey watched him go.

  Wednesday, February 24, 5:15 a.m.

  Noah disobeyed Abbott’s order to go home, stopping by the holding cell where he found Axel Girard, pacing frantically. Girard looked up, wild-eyed with panic.

  “I didn’t do anything. You’re ruining my life.”

  “I’m trying to save it. I need to talk to you. Will you stop pacing and listen to me?”

  Girard stopped, but his body still vibrated with pent energy. “What do you mean, save it?”

  “Another woman was murdered tonight,” Noah said. “A car with plates registered to your wife was seen driving away.”

  Girard paled. Blindly he sank to the edge of the cot in his cell. “Why?”

  “Damn good question. Why do you think someone would target you? Does anybody hate you? Have you pissed anyone off lately?”

  Girard pressed his knuckles to his lips. “No. I get along well with my patients, with my neighbors. I don’t have any enemies. How long will you keep me here?”

  “I don’t know. I need to find some connection between you and a killer.”

  “Oh God,” Girard said, the panic returning to his eyes. “My wife and boys.”

  “The plainclothes detectives are still watching your house. Your family is safe.” Noah left holding, finding Abbott standing in the hall outside, frowning. And waiting.

  “I had to talk to him,” Noah said. “Had to find out what he knows.”

  “And?”

  “He says he doesn’t know anything. I’m inclined to believe him. Well, that he doesn’t know he knows, anyway.
He’s a squeaky clean guy who couldn’t have made it from the crime scene back to his house before we had him dragged from his bed.”

  “Did you tell him another woman was dead?”

  “Yeah. He looked shocked. I bought it.”

  “Okay. I was going to talk to him, too, but I’ll leave him to ruminate on his nonexistent enemies for a few more hours. Now go home. Go to bed.”

  Wednesday, February 24, 5:15 a.m.

  He was clean now, the smell of smoke gone, the clothes he’d worn tonight already decomposing in the pit. Carefully he placed Rachel Ward’s shoes next to the men’s Nikes he’d placed there earlier that evening. He adjusted Rachel’s left shoe, making sure it was completely straight, then tilted the round spectacles he’d placed inside one of the Nikes so that it better caught the light. That’s better. He liked things… precise.

  They were already at Rachel’s house, the cops. They’d find nothing there that he didn’t intend for them to find. He’d been precise in his execution of Rachel.

  He’d thought it all through and concluded that other than speeding up his timeline, nothing terrible had really occurred tonight. The Hats knew about Shadowland. They knew about the participant list. Neither of those things gets them even close to me.

  However, Eve’s knowing about Rachel was getting too close. It didn’t matter though. His sixth of the six would be a dark horse. Not on anyone’s list. Not on anyone’s radar.

  Still, Eve’s involvement had sped things up too quickly. The press hadn’t caught up to what the police knew, and importantly, what the police did not know. There had not been enough time for the headlines to roil, for police failures and public frustration to mount. The Hat Squad wasn’t close to being ruined. He’d have to let them spin their wheels for a few days. Give the reporters time to close the gap.

  In the meantime, he needed to rest. Although he was in good shape, he wasn’t as young as he once was. Pulling this off twenty years ago would have been a piece of cake. Now… Well, he’d need to pace himself. Cut back on the physical and ramp up the mental. Focus on Eve. She was indeed a challenge. He did enjoy a good challenge.