Lethal Affair

by Noelle Hart

  “I have more. Words, that is.”

  “I'm listening.”

  He gazed out to sea, formulating his thoughts. When he looked back at her he was ready to unburden himself of something he'd been holding in check.

  “Kylie, I'm madly, hopelessly, in love with you. I'm never going to let you go.” He laughed suddenly as it struck him. “But only if you're okay with that. I'm not going to stalk you if you tell me to fuck off.”

  Heart melting, she reached over and stroked his face. “I asked Jolene, how do you know when you're in love? She said you just know. Now I know what she meant. I love you too, Will. It hit me hard when I was in the worst physical agony of my life, forcing my legs to keep peddling that damn ten speed even if it meant tearing every ligament in my knees. I knew what Max meant to you, and in turn what you meant to me, and all I could think of was seeing you again and bringing you back your greatest treasure.” She paused, taking in his cache of emotions as they played out over his face. “So, we're officially a couple.”

  He kissed her lightly, but then she pulled him down between the logs into a full body embrace. She felt his reaction immediately.

  “Are we going to get cited for having sex in a public place?” he mumbled between kisses. “Because if you keep this up, I'm going to have to have my way with you right here, right now.”

  Contentment rolled off of her in droves. He loved her, a pure, clean love that had nothing to do with control and everything to do with giving, receiving, being there with a healthy respect for each other.

  In the end they packed things up and made it as far as Will's Jeep where it was parked in a deserted copse of trees at the end of the beach. Anyone walking by might have witnessed how the vehicle rocked and the windows steamed up.

  *

  A week passed and Drew Hammond was no longer the first thing on everyone's mind. Day to day life with its routines and chores nudged aside the worry.

  Crane kept vigil. He had his feelers out both in the city and coordinating with R.C.M.P. field offices up-island, while maintaining Kylie's police protection.

  Tonight, Stacie Hoyle took a turn at protective duty. Settled in the cruiser with the officer assigned to partner her, she watched Lyle Morris drop off Jolene Sparta after her evening shift.

  Hoyle wasn't one for small talk and it didn't help that she was annoyed. She'd been hyped to have an evening off with her husband, maybe order in, watch a movie. Instead she had to fill in for an officer who'd called in sick.

  She wished she'd called in sick. But then she hadn't made Detective by playing the sick card over every little sniffle either. A hard worker, she was proud of what she'd achieved and planned on going places. Next step up: Ethan Crane's job.

  By and by the lights went out in the apartment. It was well after midnight, the witching hour, thought Hoyle bemusedly.

  The rookie officer was close to nodding off.

  “Run up the street and get us some coffee,” she ordered.

  Grumbling, the rookie got out and sauntered down the sidewalk. The all night convenience store was two blocks up; he wouldn't be gone long. Hoyle got out of the vehicle and stretched her arms and legs to avoid cramping.

  An odd flicker of light played across the lawn beside the building.

  Hoyle made her first mistake by investigating without advising her partner or the dispatch operator. Rounding the building she saw nothing in the alley. Suddenly the garbage cans rattled. Shining her flashlight she spotted a raccoon darting into the inky night. Laughing, she relaxed and rolled her shoulders to disperse the tension. It was her second and last mistake as behind her a knife arced, cutting off a scream before it left her throat. The one fatal stroke would have been enough, but the killer's own tension was released into her flesh as his mind roiled with poisonous pleasure.

  The rookie returned balancing two coffees and sandwiches on a tray. He peered into the cruiser and wondered where Holye went. It was against protocol to leave the cruiser unattended without so much as a radio shout-out.

  It was a puzzler that came with a flicker of panic. He tried to raise Hoyle on his radio to no avail. Placing the tray inside the cruiser, he decided to walk around the building to check things out, calling in his intentions to dispatch.

  He found her in the rear amongst the garbage cans, her eyes staring blindly into the dark and rapidly chilling night.

  Drawing his weapon, the rookie spun around, heart pounding, eyes wildly searching the dark alley.

  The alarm from Kylie Lambert's apartment went off! Yelling into his shoulder microphone, “Officer down! Need assistance! I need backup, now!” the rookie took off around the front of the building and ran up the stairs to the apartment above.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Drew had been educating himself. He'd had huge time slots to burn while his face healed and he'd used them well. Thanks to his new best friends Google and Youtube; he could learn about anything he wanted. Alarm systems for one, and how to disarm them.

  Kylie Lambert.

  To his mind, his ultimate nemesis. She'd forced him to hit her in the stomach. Was she still pregnant? Hard to say, looking at her from a distance. She'd be a few months along by now. Surely her belly should be bulging a little.

  He considered paying the good doctor Lydia Barrymore a visit and prying Kylie's current information out of her. Before he killed her. Or not. He could be forgiving. He could overlook the fact that the old bitch was promoting single motherhood on her web site. He'd watched her videos counseling young mothers on how to take care of a baby on their own. What a crock. He might have to do her anyway, just because.

  Speaking of bitches, he'd honed in on another, more blood-boiling one. Fat ass Stacie Hoyle, whose mocking tone and accusing eyes had dared to defile his place of residence, his couch, the very air that he breathed. Who was she to question him about stupid things that had nothing to do with anything? I can re-bandage it for you; I'm trained in medical emergencies. Like he was going to let her come anywhere near him with her pudgy cop fingers and her beady-eyed stare.

  The web had supplied him with a police scanner too. It had just been a matter of time before opportunity had presented itself.

  A part of his mind banged on the closed doors of his conscience. The doors remained tightly shut. He was a new man now, one who would live, truly live, the way he'd always wanted to. This new version, 2.0, was so much more fun than his old, party-pooper self.

  Good. Stacie Hoyle's side-kick was leaving. Probably going for donuts. He snickered to himself at the time worn joke. His new self appreciated humor, however cliché.

  Emerging from his hiding spot behind the garbage cans, Drew positioned himself and turned on his flashlight, playing the light along the grassy path that ran alongside of the building.

  Time to lure out his newest prey.

  Kylie was dreaming.

  She walked a forest path. Blood red roses adorned massive tree trunks while small pine cones crunched underfoot. She reached into her apron – not Gretel's but instead Alice In Wonderland's, her subconscious mind realizing the incongruity – and pulled out bread crumbs, tossing them onto the path behind her.

  A massive web shaped like a dome with a trap door at the bottom appeared before her. The colorful flowers muted to gray and curled in on themselves, turning to dust. The web door slowly opened...

  ...suddenly she couldn't breathe!

  Gasping for air, she wanted to claw at her throat but found her arms immobilized. Her eyes popped open. This was no dream! In the dimness of her room she came fully awake and tried to take in oxygen, a terrible weight on her chest.

  No! Not possible!

  Drew was on top of her, his eyes gleaming like burning coals in the darkness, his lips a sneer. He wrestled her wrists together over her chest and tied them with another of his plastic ties, then pressed his thumb against her larynx, cutting her air intake in half. In his other hand he held a knife, a twin of the one the police had found at the
cabin.

  “Hello sweetheart,” he whispered, staring into her terror stricken eyes. His face was a twisted mask of scar tissue and angry glee. “I've missed you. Have you missed me? Never mind, I see the cat's got your tongue. I'll do the talking.”

  With one hand still on her throat, he pulled up her nightshirt and lowered the knife to her belly, making swirling motions with the tip against her skin. “Where shall I make the first cut, hmm? Here?” He poked and she gurgled a whimper. “How about here?” Another jab, this time enough to break through the first layers of skin.

  Kylie wanted to scream. Even if she could it would bring Jolene running into the room and she wouldn't risk it. Would he kill Jolene anyway, after he was done with her?

  Drew was intent upon his mission. “A little C-section? Get the baby out, while the getting is good? I must say, my pet, all that running you do pays off. Your belly is quite flat. Is there even a baby in there at all?”

  His sing song voice and glazed eyes were a testament to his mental state. Had he lost touch altogether with reality?

  “Don't fret, precious girl. I'm not going to kill you just yet. You and I are going for a little night stroll. I'm taking you to a nice secluded spot where we can take up where we left off. It's going to be so much fun for both of us. I can be a pretty good date. Isn't that right, sweetheart? I can show you a good time.”

  How the hell had he gotten in? Her mind was in a frenzy, her own words coming back to slap her in the face. Never give up. Find your way out of a predicament.

  And then it came to her.

  Using all her strength and surprising them both she surged up against Drew's body, knocking him to one side. With her hands tied, she threw her weight onto the bedside alarm and pushed down hard. It went went off with a shrill, her screams joining in harmony.

  When she twisted around again, Drew was gone.

  *

  “Complacency costs lives,” said Crane as he pondered the window ledge where Hammond had broken the glass, making a quick exit down the fire escape.

  He looked down at the cluster of garbage cans where Stacie Hoyle's rookie partner stood vigil until the medical examiner arrived. The man was clutching his stomach, trying not to vomit.

  “Hey Calhoun,” Crane shouted down. “If you're going to lose it, don't do it in my crime scene!”

  Rookie Calhoun waved weakly and sucked it up, partially turning his back on the victim. As Crane watched, reinforcements came in and they began to cordon off the area and set up lights.

  He turned back to Kylie and Jolene. “You didn't hear anything?” he asked Jolene.

  “Just the alarm,” she told him miserably.

  Kylie couldn't stop shaking, her face ghostly pale. “He was going to take me somewhere to finish what he started,” she mumbled.

  Raised voices sounded from below where a cop stood guard. Crane's radio erupted with indecipherable static.

  “Send them all up,” he instructed.

  Will, Lyle, Rita and Joe rushed into the room.

  Searching Kylie's eyes, Will saw angry fear. “Are you hurt?”

  “Just a nick.” She ran a hand over her belly. “He doesn't know I've lost the baby.”

  Rita took a blanket from the couch and wrapped Kylie in it while Joe asked Crane, “How did he get in?”

  “Overrode the security system. Didn't know about the bedside alarm though.”

  “If he overrode the system, how did the bedside alarm work?”

  “It's on an independent circuit,” Kylie supplied, inwardly thanking Jay Humphrey for the extra effort he'd gone to.

  Joe was spitting mad. “There's a dead police officer downstairs and my daughter has been through enough hell to last her a lifetime! What are you people doing about this?”

  Crane bristled but reeled it in. “We people,” he said succinctly, “don't take lightly any killer, but one who takes one of our own...” He trailed off, thinking. “Stacie Hoyle was one of our best, but she made a mistake that got her killed. I'll be holding a staff meeting in the morning. This won't be repeated.”

  “Damn straight it won't,” Will stated angrily. “Why don't you girls pack up whatever you need? You can't stay here tonight.”

  “Kylie's room is off limits until forensics are through,” admonished Crane.

  “You can borrow some of my stuff,” Jolene told Kylie. All three women left the room.

  “How about I take Kylie off island?” Will asked Crane.

  “He'd follow you. Keeping her on the island reduces our perimeters. Hammond's obsessed. He'll stay close. We have a better chance of closing in on him here.”

  “Like she's bait? Look what happened here tonight. If he'd wanted to kill Kylie he could have done it!”

  Crane chose to ignore the hysterics. “Bring Miss Lambert into my office tomorrow, Mr. Delaney. I'll need her full statement.”

  “Don't worry, your bureaucratic needs will be met,” Will spit out. “Tell me Detective, how much paperwork will Stacie Hoyle's murder involve? Plenty, I'm sure.”

  “While I don't appreciate the sarcasm, Mr. Delaney, I understand it. When I'm done here, I have the unfortunate duty of informing her husband of her death. I don't think he'll care much about the damn paperwork either.”

  Will nodded, his lips a twisted line of commiseration as the women reappeared dressed and with bags in hand.

  *

  Olivia knelt between rows of green beans on their trellises and dug into the soft dirt with her trowel, unearthing errant weeds. The garden was located at the rear of their property away from the prying eyes of the police officers parked out front. There was nothing conspicuous about them; good gossip material for the neighbors no doubt.

  The sunlight was milky at best; soon her garden would stop producing and she would yank out the withering vines and remaining plants with their final offerings. Drew had been right, she would donate the vegetables to the soup kitchen for the homeless at the downtown Cathedral.

  Drew was never far from her mind. Nor from her heart. Lord help her, she still loved him despite his recent undertakings. Unconditional love wasn't called unconditional for nothing.

  Swiping a gloved hand over her brow, she left a streak of soil behind.

  A voice, Drew's voice, came from behind. “You've got dirt on your forehead.”

  Olivia nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled around and came to her feet, holding her trowel defensively.

  He stood at the end of the row of trellises with a benevolent expression on his face. His ruined face. Behind him was a solid wall of moss and lichen covered rock. How foolish, she thought, for the police to assume it was a deterrent for intruders.

  Her fear must have been visible.

  “Don't worry, Mom. I'm not here to do you harm.” He took a step closer and she saw he had one of her monogrammed hankies in his hand. He waved it at her. “I see you've been visiting our girl Kylie. Left this behind in her apartment, didn't you? Guess you're pretty chummy these days, what with all the action lately. So tell me Mom, is she still pregnant with my child?”

  She was trembling. He looked... psychotic. His eyes shone with it, and fear washed over her in waves. She was afraid of her own son! How terribly sad was that?

  “Oh Drew,” she managed, feeling the weight of it on her shoulders, “what's become of you?”

  He stepped closer and his expression darkened. She took an involuntary step back. Recognizing her fear he suddenly slumped, a whoosh of air going out of him. The psychosis faded and she glimpsed her real, true son at last.

  He hung his head. “Mom, I love you. Please remember that. No matter what happens, you have to know that I've always loved you.” He raised his eyes to hers and she saw stark misery. He whispered, “I just don't love myself.”

  She broke. Tears streamed as her entire body shook with tremors. In an instant he was holding her, crying into her hair. “There's something inside me. I can't control it. It won't leave me alone. It wants to be me, only it's not me!”
/>
  Hugging him back, Olivia uttered, “I love you too. No matter what I'll stand by you. You've got to give yourself up, Drew. This thing, whatever it is, it's got to be stopped. You need help...”

  She felt the switch in him instantly. His body went rigid with it and he abruptly released her. He was glaring at her now, the muscle in his jaw going wild. “Like hell! You didn't answer my question, Mom. Is the little bitch pregnant or not?”Witnessing his complete about face, renewed fear sliced through her. He was terrifying like this! Detective Crane had told her that if he called – they'd tapped her phone line – and asked if Kylie was still pregnant, to say yes. That the tactic might buy them some time. A moment ago she might have told him the truth. Now she knew she couldn't.

  The lie that slipped off her tongue tasted bittersweet. “Yes, she's still pregnant. What are you going to do, Drew? Please, don't hurt her. She doesn't deserve...”

  He was on her in a split second, gripping her arm painfully. “She deserves everything I'm going to give her,” he snarled through clenched teeth. “The brat too.”

  Releasing her, he turned and disappeared down the row of beans. She watched as he traversed the rockery using a rope to climb back up the way he'd come down. When he reached the top he pulled the rope back up and looked down at her. Once upon a time he'd made quite a striking figure, but even at this distance his cocky stance and malevolent expression were a testament to a damaged mind.

  Letting out a long breath, Olivia went inside to get the cell phone she and Stanley hadn't told the police about.

  Stanley answered on the first ring. “What's happened?”

  “He was here. He came down the rock wall out back while I was working in the garden.”

  “Is he still there? Can I speak with him?”

  “He's gone. He wanted to know if Kylie Lambert is still pregnant. I said what Detective Crane told me to say.”