by Mayer, Dale
A couple of times, Brad had mentioned quitting, staying home with Susan because she wanted him to, instead of gallivanting off at a moment's notice. Kali knew Susan had made sacrifices. She'd endured missed birthdays, messed up plans, long absences. These had only gotten worse with Brad's increased drinking bouts.
Kali had always persuaded him to stay. Brad was good at what he did. Very good. The rescue world needed him.
But at what cost to Brad?
Guilt sat heavy on her heart.
Her world would never be the same again.
Sitting there, she heard the crunch of gravel as a vehicle drove in. Stan. At least she hoped it was he; she didn't want to see anyone else.
Getting up, she walked to the front door and watched Stan park his car.
Her spirits lifted at the sight of him...until she saw his expression.
Grief had ravaged his face, wrinkles appearing where there hadn't been any. Skin folds deeper, but thinner, like all the substance had drained from him.
"Kali?"
She teared up. "Oh Stan."
They held each other for several minutes. Holding Stan's frail body, her grief receded as concern for him grew. Stan couldn't handle much more.
She pulled back slightly, gave him a sad smile and ushered him toward the kitchen. "God, I can't imagine not seeing Brad ever again."
"I know." Stan hesitated, as if wanting to ask a question but not daring.
Tiredly, she glanced his way as she automatically gravitated to the coffeepot. "What?"
With a heavy sigh, he asked softly, "I wondered if you had any news, preferably good news, about Julie?"
Kali blinked, her forehead creasing. What was he talking about? Good news. There wasn't any left in this world. "News? Julie? Oh, my God." She spun around. "That's right, you haven't heard."
"What? What did you find?"
"We found the other victim."
"What?" Stan grabbed her by the shoulders. "Where? Was it Julie? Please, tell me it wasn't." Kali, surprised by his outburst, didn't answer fast enough.
"Kali, please. Tell me." Agony threaded his voice.
She closed her eyes. She didn't want to tell him. They had too much pain now. Death surrounded them. "It wasn't Julie."
"Oh, thank God." Stan searched her face, but what he read made his shoulders slump. His arms dropped to his side, while dread hooded his eyes. "Who was it?"
Pain shattered Kali's calm once again. "The FBI people have to confirm it." She took a deep breath. "But I think it's Melanie."
This time tears washed Stan's rummy eyes. "Melanie? Little Melanie Rothschild? She's just a girl. A teenager."
"She celebrated her twentieth birthday a couple of months ago, I think." Kali's voice choked. "Not even twenty-one."
"Oh, my God! Why? What could she possibly have done to this guy?"
Kali had no answer.
Stan stepped through the glass doors into the sunlight shining on the deck one hand over his face, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking. Kali gave him a few moments. She poured coffee and took her time carrying the cups outside. She sat down in her favorite chair and waited. The air was fresh and clean. There was no sign of the horror and pain going on in the world. There was no fear, or sense of threat out here. Maybe, because she knew about the surveillance team...and that she wasn't alone. She didn't believe the killer was after her...yet. But neither did she want Stan to be a target.
Stan turned to face her, one last sniffle sounding. "I saw her at the center a couple of days ago." Stan screwed up his face. "Wednesday, maybe? I can't be sure until I check the schedule."
"Do you remember who else was there?"
Stan wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and frowned. "I remember a class had started, I'd escaped to my office and she stopped in to say hi. Although, I admit my memory is a bit faulty lately."
A ghost of smile kissed Kali's lips. Stan's memory had long been an issue, but particularly this last year.
"Jesus, Kali. What kind of evil has found us? We have to close the center until this is over. He can't have any more of our people. Let's cut off his supply."
"I think it's way past that point. He already knows many of the people. Let's ask Grant about closing the center." Kali dialed his number, hoping to catch him between his meeting with the profiler and his planned nap.
"Ask him about Melanie, too." Stan collapsed on the kitchen chair and rested his head on his hands. "Maybe it's a mistake."
As she waited for Grant to pick up, Kali turned to look at Stan. "What about Melanie's family, wouldn't they have missed her? Have they called her in as a missing person?"
"They've gone east for a couple of weeks. Melanie's in college part-time and didn't want to miss classes."
The mention of schooling twigged Kali's memory. "Right. She'd worked part-time in a vet clinic for years and wanted to become one herself."
"Yeah. I can't believe she's..."
"Let's find out for sure."
Grant's tired but welcoming voice filled her ears, easing some of the hard knots from today's series of shocks. "How are you?"
She understood what he was asking. "I'm okay. I'm adjusting. Slowly. Stan is with me."
"Good, I'm glad he made it. It's better if you're not alone right now. Probably better for him, too."
She glanced apologetically at Stan and moved her conversation into the kitchen. "Did you confirm ID of last night's victim? Was it Melanie?"
"It appears so, but we haven't located her next of kin. Also, I wondered if you knew if she’d been a survivor of some kind? If she had been that would help to cement the link with the others."
"Melanie lived at home, but her parents have gone back east for a couple of weeks. Stan says she was a student here at Rosewood College. As to the other...I’m not sure. Hang on." Kali turned and asked Stan.
Stan’s eyes clouded over and stared at her, thinking hard. Then he nodded. "Oh Shit. In New Zealand. Remember?"
Kali shook her head. “I don’t think I ever heard about it. What happened? And how would the killer know?”
"She’d spoken of it several times. They were caught in a big rock slide. Her family survived, but a couple they were travelling with didn’t. "
She turned back to the phone. "Grant-"
"I heard. Let me talk to Stan for a moment."
"Yes, here." Kali handed the phone to Stan.
With raised eyebrows, Stan accepted the phone, clearing his throat before saying in an almost normal tone of voice, "Grant? What can I do for you?"
Kali slumped in her chair letting the conversation drift around her. Too many shocks too fast. Christ, she hated this. Her neck throbbed as she let her mind wander. She wanted to do something for Brad - and didn't know what. She'd wait until those at the center heard. Brad had been well-loved. Maybe shutting the center down until this craziness was over and the killer caught was the best idea. She couldn't bear it if anyone else was taken. Melanie and Julie were already too many victims.
Stan interrupted her musings. "Kali, they're putting cameras and some men into the center. They're operating on the assumption he's a regular and don't want to close the center in the event it might scare him off. It's been well over twenty-four hours. I know they have Julie listed as a missing person and there's an APB out there, but it doesn't feel like enough."
That made sense. She thought of something she'd meant to ask him before the bad news had chased everything else from her mind.
"Stan, do you know any religious fanatic-types at the center?"
His eyes narrowed in consideration. "No one comes to mind. Don't know about the groupies though." Stan shrugged.
Groupies formed and dissipated on a regular basis. Year in and year out there'd be a half dozen core members and a dozen that rotated between the various centers. For the most part, they were harmless, only wanting to belong, to be cool. To remember them all would take a miracle, as they came and went with regularity. Kali eased deeper into her seat, slowly rubbing
her thigh muscles. Everything ached today.
"What's on your mind?" Stan asked.
She gave him a dispirited smile. "The loss of innocence."
Stan stared. "Huh?"
"We've been naive. Cavalier with people entering and leaving the center at will. Our records are dismal, mostly covering payroll and expenses." She looked over at him. "We assumed nothing could go wrong, that because we worked to help people, we'd be protected. Instead, we've left ourselves wide open for this."
Stan hunched his shoulders. "Grant made a similar comment."
Kali shuddered. She could just imagine. "I don't understand. Why is this guy doing this? It's almost as if he sees himself as an angel of death, correcting the balance like in that movie, Final Destination, where Death comes after everyone who escaped him." Shivers rode her spine to her hipbones, making her consider the theory a little longer.
Stan's eyes widened. "These people are given a second chance by surviving a disaster. Their lives are changed forever. Many suffer the aftereffects every single day." His words burst out as if his frustration and emotion had finally boiled over.
"I know that and you know that, but this guy isn't thinking with a full deck."
The conversation waned on that note.
Kali studied Stan's face, the fatigue, the dullness of his gaze. He'd been through a lot already. Did she dare ask him about something painful? Taking a deep breath, she plunged in. "Stan, I called Susan today to offer my condolences. I've actually called several times, but she wouldn't return my calls." Kali took a steadying breath. "I know she's hurting right now, but she sounded like she hated me. She blames me for Brad's death. I understand that. But something about the phone call, her words, her voice, made me think there was something else going on."
Stan shifted uncomfortably, his glance sliding away.
Uh-oh. Kali frowned. "Stan what aren't you telling me?"
His sorrowful gaze brushed her face briefly before flitting off again. "I don't want to spread rumours, Kali. Brad's dead. Leave the past where it belongs."
"But that's the problem; he's dead I can't ask him. And I'd like to understand her behavior."
He ran a tired hand through his thinning hair. He stayed silent for a long moment, then his shoulders drooped. "Susan believed you and Brad were close, too close."
***
The hacksaw moved back and forth with swift sure strokes. Good thing he'd come prepared. The PVC pipe was just too long. But he would fix that. The cut piece fell to the ground as the blade sliced through the last edge. This time he'd planned ahead. Once again, things had fallen into place. The industrial cardboard box had been tossed in a dumpster close to the center. It was big enough for Julie and yet small enough to carry into the woods. It should be a breeze to bury. Good thing she was a little bit of a thing. She'd be fine for several days in here. And he really did want to visit with her for a while.
She'd made it easy for him. Almost too easy. No challenge. Of course she hadn't appreciated his efforts. No, she'd screamed at him something fierce. He grinned. The fighting spirit might keep her alive longer than his other victims. None of them had presented a challenge. Melanie had been docile and David, well, he'd gone out like a light after that blow to the head, never even whimpered. He frowned. Unexpected, that. Something must have been wrong with David in the first place. The guy had really let himself go.
At least it made it easy to send him home. If he'd been conscious and in a fighting mood, David had been wiry and strong enough to have caused him hell. Instead, he'd collapsed after one blow.
Not like Julie. She was a fighter.
He picked up the large PVC pipe sitting off to one side. At six feet long, the pipe would deliver air from the surface directly inside the box to Julie. The bottom of the pipe had been cut off at a long angle to let in lots of air at the bottom.
Turning his attention back to where Julie lay unconscious and trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey, he repositioned her head where she'd have instant access to the fresh air. Closing the heavy lid, he snapped the interlocking tabs in place then used the commercial staple gun to secure them closed. With the pipe positioned inside, he cut a hole on the top of the box. Perfect. He secured the pipe to the box with duct tape, letting it stand straight. Julie moaned from inside her makeshift coffin. He grinned. Her voice was barely audible now and with a hill of dirt on top she'd never be heard.
That ought to give them some time together. And give Kali a chance to figure this one out. Not too long though. Maybe, a day or two? Julie would hold for that long. He could even up the ante. Another phone call maybe? How about a letter? Or another gift? He doubted that she'd appreciated his last one.
With one last look around, he started shoveling dirt on top of the box. Julie moaned again. He smirked. A perfect time for her to wake up. She'd understand what was happening. On cue, the box shifted slightly as Julie struggled inside. A kick resounded at the bottom end then another. But with both hands and feet tied, her attempts weren't doing much. He laughed.
What was that old saying, do what you love and love what you are doing? Yes. He'd finally found a service that he could enjoy.
Perfect.
With a light-hearted whistle, he lifted the next load of dirt.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Too close? As in more than friends close?" she asked cautiously, trying to wrap her thinking around Stan's words.
Stan's wrinkles scrunched before relaxing in defeat. "Yeah."
"But we weren't...we never...I mean...It wasn't like that between us." Outrage sparked. "Stan, we were friends and coworkers but nothing more."
Stan held up his hands. "Kali, I believe you. But I doubt you'll convince Susan."
"But why? We were never...never," she leaned forward and emphasized, "lovers."
Stan squinted, considering her words. "Did you really not know how Brad felt?"
Memories crowded in on her. Brad finishing her sentences. Brad delivering coffee when she'd hit exhaustion. The caring hugs during emotional overwrought times. The constant comforting presence at her side.
"I loved him," she whispered, hating the paradigm shift in her world. "Like a brother."
"And he loved you."
Stan said it simply, eloquently and Kali accepted the truth. How could she not have known? How well had she known him, really, on the inside where it counted? Her chest hit lockdown. She couldn't breathe. Brad had cared, he'd wanted more from her and she hadn't noticed. She closed her eyes against the tears threatening to fall and slumped back. "I didn't know. Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Brad."
For several moments, Kali couldn't speak as regrets clogged her throat. Finally, Kali leveled her gaze at Stan. "How did Susan find out?"
"I think she probably suspected something for a while, but Brad asked for a divorce before leaving for Sacramento."
"He what?" Kali straightened in her seat. She needed the shocks to stop. "He never said a word to me. I knew they had some trouble but not divorce-sized trouble."
"He wanted to wait until everything had been finalized. Susan had said no, not wanting to change the status quo in her life."
"Status quo?" Kali blinked. What an odd thing to say. "Didn't she love him? Want her marriage to work?"
"Brad told me before he left that he needed time away and his wife needed time to think, to decide what to do. She'd asked him to stay home this trip and work things out. But he left - with you."
"Poor Susan. Oh, Stan. I never wanted to break up their marriage. I was happy for them. Proud to know someone in this day and age who could make marriage work."
"That's why you felt safe getting close to him."
Confused, Kali glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
"Kali, you haven't had a serious relationship in - what, five, six years - or dated for at least eight months. You've been emotionally locked down since Mexico," he said, talking right over her spluttering, "Brad shot to the top of your best friend list years ago because he was married and wanted not
hing more from you. He was safe."
Kali winced. "Ouch."
"Brad understood, particularly how you'd changed these last six months. He felt that, once freed of Susan, he'd slide into a 'more than friend' relationship."
"Crap." Kali's mind bordered on overload. Safe and complacent, yup that was her motto. Except in Brad's case, she'd been blind and stupid.
"No wonder Susan won't talk to me." Kali struggled to compartmentalize the new onslaught of guilt. She'd failed everyone lately.