by Noelle Hart
“The cops are coming back to interview each of you. Give them your full cooperation. We wanna help them nail this creep.”
*
“Oh my God!” Jolene paced her living room with Kylie, Lyle and Will watching her. “I called her a bitch. Is my karma ruined forever?”
Lyle grunted. “Lucky for you I'm your alibi; otherwise you might be a suspect.”
“Crane said she was beaten with gloved hands by someone who could really pack a punch,” said Will. “Cripes, the guy musta been in a blind rage. They pulled fibers out of her wounds and Crane said the lab in Vancouver has to officially confirm it, but his guy here says they're from a common type of gardening glove that's sold all around the city.”
“Crane's not wasting time,” commented Lyle.
Will shrugged. “They searched the diner. Said they weren't even sure what they were looking for, but they had to look.”
Kylie felt sick. Lillian had been killed by a madman using gardening gloves. It felt too close to home in more ways than one. Close to her apartment, close to Jolene's place of work, and front and center in her parent's place of business. Not to mention the gloves' relation to her line of work. Was this connected to her somehow? She tried to shake it off but the niggling idea of it clung and wouldn't let go.
Will scooted over next to her. “You're awfully quiet. What's going through your mind?”
“I'm just wondering if it was a random act or if she was a specific target.”
“There's no way to know that right now.”
“Detective Crane asked me a lot of questions about my personal life. He says everyone and everything is relevant. I told him about Drew following me. Us. In the park and then staking us out here. Will, do you think...”
“Hold on. Back up. Where your mind's going, it's a stretch. If it were him, why would he go after Lillian? He doesn't even know her.”
Kylie glanced at Jolene and Lyle who were huddled in a corner deep in conversation. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “What if he got the wrong girl? What if he was after someone else, someone who's close to me? And my parent's store? How coincidental is that?”
Will's brow furrowed. “Do you think he's capable?”
She gave it serious thought. “When I first started seeing him he was incredibly charming. A perfect gentleman. He didn't want to sleep with me at first, but then I... I kind of threw myself at him. I mean, it didn't seem normal to date for three months without so much as a goodnight kiss.”
Will raised his eyebrows. “He must have incredible will power.”
“When he finally took me up on it, it felt like he was testing himself. Like he was holding something back.” She paused. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“I'm a big boy. I can handle it.”
“Well then. In the heat of the moment he completely tuned out, like I wasn't even there. Does that seem odd to you?”
“It sounds like a red flag.”
“I knew right off I'd made a mistake trying to seduce him in the first place. Then I found out I was pregnant.”
“When you say he was controlling himself, do you mean sexual control?”
“Control as in playing it straight. No rough stuff. Then when I went to his place for dinner he grabbed my arms, hard. It felt like he wanted to hurt me, but then he reigned it in.”
“You agreed to go see his folks and got backhanded for it. Did you tell Crane about that?”
“I did. He's probably at Drew's office interviewing him as we speak.”
“What about your folks? How are they taking this?”
“I haven't told them my little theory. They have enough worry on their plates. My Dad will be opening and closing the store from now on. Won't leave my Mom there on her own.”
“Good. Lyle wants Jolene to stay with him for now. It would mean you'd be on your own here and that makes me nervous. Why don't you stay with me and Max for a while? We'd love to have you.”
She gave him a look.
“You'd have your own room. Strictly friends.”
“If I did that then my parents really would be worried. Not to mention the Drew factor. It's probably a reach that he's responsible for Lillian, but regardless, I don't think you'd enjoy having his car parked outside your place, would you.”
He sighed. “You're right. I have Max to consider. We've got to step up security here at the very least.”
She liked the sound of the “we”. “I think I know just the right company for the job,” she said, and rose in search of Brad Humphrey's card.
*
Jolene refused to leave Kylie on her own. Lyle not only got it but respected her for it. He and Will headed back to the diner to get ready for opening, Jolene's morning training session canceled for the day.
Brad Humphrey sent over his son Jay to oversee the installation of a standard alarm system. It only took a couple of hours and once complete, he ran Kylie and Jolene through the steps of arming and disarming the system that included sensors on all windows and bedside panic buttons.
“If you end up pushing the panic button by mistake it's okay,” explained Jay. “Our motto is better safe than sorry. If you don't mind me asking, is there a particular reason why you're installing a security system right now? My Dad mentioned there's been an area of concern.”
“Yes, there has,” said Jolene. “A woman got murdered just up the street last night. It's like you said, better safe than sorry.”
Jay nodded and handed over a form for signature. “I heard it on our police scanner. Scary stuff. You two ought to take some self defense courses. At the very least watch a few videos on Youtube.”
“Thanks. We'll look into it.”
“Okay then, you're all set.”
“Thanks.” Kylie hesitated. “Listen, I know this probably isn't your area of expertise, but seeing as your Dad is ex R.C.M.P., you wouldn't happen to know a good lawyer?”
“What kind of lawyer?”
“I'm looking into getting a restraining order.”
Jay's smile was politely rueful. “The guy my Dad had a little talk with on your behalf the other day?”
She felt herself flush. “Yeah, one and the same.”
“Here in this province it's called a peace bond. You go before a judge and explain why you need it, then the person you want to get it against has a chance to explain their actions. If the judge thinks it's warranted, he or she will grant it for up to one year. So you see, it's a process. Still interested?”
The wind died in Kylie's sails as she realized the legal process might mean facing off against Drew in court. The whole thing just made her feel worn out.
She offered Jay a wan smile. “Thanks. Think I'll sleep on it. Can I call you?”
“Anytime.”
*
Detective Sargent Ethan Crane sat in Drew's plush corner office overlooking downtown Victoria and the Inner Harbor.
He took stock of Hammond. The man was impeccable from head to toe, perfectly groomed and oozing sophistication. The kind that could fool a woman into thinking she was safe. He paid particular attention to his hands. They looked soft, manicured, trauma free. Certainly not the hands of a weekend gardener. According to Kylie Lambert, Drew Hammond thought nothing of hitting a women. But was he a killer? At this stage of the game that old cliché about everyone being a suspect applied.
Drew's insides were as loose as jelly. He felt like dashing for the washroom. Surely they hadn't connected the dots already. “What can I do for you, Detective Crane?”
“It's come to my attention that you've recently been stalking a woman by the name of Kylie Lambert. Is that true, Mr. Hammond?”
So that was it. Deep breaths.
“Is that what I am to her now, a stalker? She's pregnant with my child and has been avoiding me. To be perfectly frank, she blew me off.” He sighed theatrically. “Says she's not in love with me. So that's that. I won't be bothering her again.”
Crane observed the nuances of Hammond's speech, his manneri
sms, his word patterns. The man was lying about taking Kylie's rejection on the chin so lightly; his calm exterior waged war with a nearly undetectable deceit that glimmered in the depths of his eyes.
Was there a connection between Kylie and Lillian? Unraveling the complexities would come next.
“This is why you're here?” Drew asked, feigning boredom. The jelly solidified as his confidence grew. Kylie had a thing or two coming to her for sicking this dog on him. The idea that she was probably suffering right now over the loss of her roommate satisfied his ego.
Crane ignored his question. “You met with Miss Lambert at the Dancing Pig last evening. She left before you did and according to the staff you left about an hour later. You'd had a considerable amount to drink. Where did you go afterward?”
A jolt passed through him. This guy had done his homework. It took all of his will power not to visibly swallow. “I went straight home and stayed there until leaving for work this morning.”
“I see. Is there anyone who can corroborate that for you?”
“You mean, did I pick up anyone at the bar?”
“If you prefer.”
If you prefer. What a snob. Easy, man. Don't let him get to you. “I did not. I live alone and was there alone. Why would I take home a stranger when I'd just been dumped by my girlfriend?”
“It's what men do sometimes. You know, to ease the pain.”
Was that some kind of innuendo? Drew couldn't tell. Play it cool, he thought. “What's the problem? Did something happen to Kylie last night?”
“No, not Miss Lambert, but to someone connected to her.” By a thread, but connected. “A woman was brutally murdered last night. The crime took place outside of her parents' hardware store.”
“Oh?” Drew picked up the discarded business card Crane had handed him earlier and examined it. “You're homicide. You think I had something to do with the murder?”
“Did you?”
The question came quick and hard. Like a slap.
“As I said, I was at home. Who got murdered?”
Drew wanted to relish the answer, however privately. But Crane's next statement knocked him for a loop.
“Lillian McFarley. Name sound familiar?”
There was a hairline hesitation, a slight blanching of Hammond's skin. His recovery was award winning, but Crane was good at picking up on fractions of errant emotion. It was what made him so efficient at his job.
“No. Never heard of her.” That much was true. “What happened to her?” Drew asked, feigning avid interest while his mind tried to catch up with Crane's statement.
“Someone used her for a punching bag.”
He let that hang in the air, gauged Drew's reaction. He didn't disappoint.
Drew felt the blood drain from his face and couldn't do anything to stop it. Those had been Kylie's exact words, that she was nobody's punching bag. A part of him felt deep shame. Another part felt delicious pride. Inwardly both sides warred with one another while Drew struggled to keep his demeanor neutral.
God, but he was good at this. He may have missed his calling. “That's a terrible shame. But what does this woman have to do with me?”
The connection was loose but he threw it at him anyway. “She was training for a waitress job at the same place Kylie Lambert's roommate works. You do the math.”
“Doesn't add up for me I'm afraid.”
I can practically see him patting himself on the back, thought Crane. His cop sense was prickling like a woolen sweater. This could be our guy. I just have to prove it.
Crane got to his feet and Drew followed suit.
“I'll be in touch, Mr. Hammond.”
“Oh? Of what further service can I be to you? Surely I'm not a suspect.”
Cocky bastard, aren't you? He let the question lie.
“I'll see myself out.”
He left and immediately Drew's inter-office phone buzzed. His secretary informed him that he was to report to Stanley Hammond's office at once.
Annoyed, Drew thought, what now?
Riding the elevator to the penthouse floor, Drew digested the fact that he'd screwed up. He'd killed the wrong woman.
But wow, what a kick! He'd never felt such power, such glory! It had placated the need inside him. For now.
Stanley sat in his imperialistic seat behind a huge mahogany desk. The view from up here was stunning, the Olympic mountains a purple haze on the distant horizon above the cityscape.
“You just had a visit from a homicide cop. What's that about?”
“A girl was murdered in the Village last night. Someone beat her to death. Apparently she's a work mate of Kylie's roommate. They wondered if I knew her, that's all.”
“And did you know her?”
“No.”
Stanley stared at his son. He was fidgeting, nervous. Trying to hide it.
“You're sure.”
“Yeah, yeah, I'm sure.”
“Alright then. Back to work.”
Drew slunk off to the elevators relieved that the interrogation had been short. If there was one man who could still intimidate him it was his father.
Stanley sat at his desk staring into a blast from the past. Drew as a six year old child, pulling wings off of flies. Beating the petals off of his mother's roses with his plastic baseball bat. Then almost turning the bat on the neighbor's cat before his mother interceded and took it away from him.
There had been other, more alarming incidents throughout his adolescence.
Stanley formed a steeple with his fingers and stared into his own past. He had his regrets, now that he was older. Wiser.
He also had a finely honed sixth sense when it came to his son. The boy was hiding something. Of that Stanley had not one doubt.
* * * *
CHAPTER TWELVE
A summer heat wave hovered over Victoria turning the greenhouses into saunas. The work was grueling, sweaty as hell. Kylie's morning sickness added to her own personal misery, and so she was glad when the weekend finally came and she'd have two whole days off.
Drew had not shown up again at her place of work, nor had he harassed Margie. When she looked out of her apartment window, there was no sign of his car within her line of sight.
With luck, she reasoned, he was probably tired of being rejected and didn't want anything more to do with her after Detective Crane's visit to his office.
A woman could hope.
Lyle had taken Jolene to work so she'd left her ten-speed at home. Kylie decided the afternoon was too lovely and the apartment too stuffy to stay put. A ride to Willow's Beach might pick up her lagging spirits.
She tried on her cut-offs and found them a little snug but still usable. Soon she'd have to give in to spandex. She donned a cap and sunglasses and studiously locked all the windows and set the alarm. Between a killer in the neighborhood and Drew's obsession with her, it felt prudent.
Riding through the light Saturday traffic along the main drag of the trendy Village area, it seemed surreal that a murder had taken place within its wide streets. Boutiques, restaurants and all manner of businesses lined the walkways where towering chestnut trees extended their limbs to connect with their counterparts across the street, forming a tunnel-like haven.
It was a small slice of heaven. Not a murder site.
She veered off down long residential streets lined with majestic Victorian homes, coming out to Beach Drive and the Oak Bay marina. Yachts and other vessels bobbed gently on the water while the cry of sea birds and the pungent odor of seaweed cleared her jumbled thoughts.
Locking Jolene's ten speed onto a bike rack, Kylie wandered down a length of pier admiring the various vessels. She reached the end and sat, feet dangling over the edge. Taking off her cap and sunglasses she raised her face to the sun, absorbing its warmth.
Sunlight danced on wavelets of cobalt water, dazzling her. In the distance a barge chugged, and further still, an oil tanker slid into purple haze. The sky overhead was postcard blue, with infant puff-ball clou
ds heading out to sea.
Kylie breathed deep and found a measure of peace.
It didn't last long. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she twisted around, expecting to find someone standing behind her.
No one.
The feeling persisted, intensified. Despite the heat, goose bumps rose like a rash across her skin. She swiveled fully around and scanned the area off the dock through narrowed eyes.
There. A man, standing in the shade of an elm tree near the road, the deep shadows partially obscuring him. The stance, the cocky tilt of hip, hands in the pockets of his shorts; it was all Drew.
Kylie's heart bucked. What the fuck!
Moving fast, she jogged to the bike rack, unlocked and yanked out the ten speed, hopped on and rode off, aware that Drew had moved from his spot and was now invisible.
Kylie cursed herself for having forgotten her cell phone. She left the main drag and wove her way through side streets, catching glimpses of sunlight sparkling off of silver a block behind her. Peddling madly, she reached the familiar landmarks of the Village area.
Instinct had her heading for the Village Diner. They were doing a brisk business serving the lunch crowd with a small line waiting to be seated. Kylie shoved the bike into a rack out front, locked it and pushed her way inside.
Jolene was run-off-her-feet busy and didn't see Kylie come in. She asked Eileen if Will was in his office. Thankfully he was so she headed straight up the stairs taking them two at a time.
Dino announced her arrival with a friendly bark and Will looked up from his desk where a stack of paperwork vied with his computer for attention.
Pleasant surprise lit his features, followed by a frown. “Did something happen?”
Winded, Kylie flopped into the easy chair near the window and leaned forward to look down at the street. There was Drew's car at the curb.
“Don't tell me,” said Will, “you've got a shadow.”
Kylie took off her cap, shook out her sun-kissed hair, ran a frustrated hand through it. “He's like a damn pebble I can't shake out of my shoe.”