Targeted: A Ray Schiller Novel (The Ray Schiller Series Book 3)

by Marjorie Doering

  “Here. Say hi to your mother. There’s no voice she wants to hear more than yours right now.”

  “Mom, hi,” she said. “Yes, I’m okay. Don’t cry. Really, I’m fine, honest. I love you, too.”

  Ray took the phone from her. “Sorry to interrupt, honey. Laurie’s all right. She’s got some cuts on her hands, but they’re not serious. They’re taking care of her now. Hon, I’ll fill you in on everything when we catch up with you at the Medical Center, okay? You’re there, right? Good. How’s Joey doing? Great. Look, babe, we’ll see you soon. Yes, me too.”

  Hands bandaged, Laurie stayed at Ray’s side as he looked for Officer Pagano. He found him talking with another Belle Plaine officer.

  “Officer Pagano,” Ray said, “I have a couple of things that belong to you. Here’s the first,” he said, handing the cell phone back to him.

  “I almost forgot about that. Thanks. What’s the other thing?”

  “My gratitude.” Ray reached out and shook his hand. “I appreciate your help more than you know. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Hey, listen,” Pagano said, “are you going to need a ride to the Medical Center?”

  “If can give my daughter, my partner and me a lift back to my SUV,” Ray said, “we’ll be able to get there on our own.”

  “Sure thing. Anytime you’re ready to go, Detective.”

  Ray caught Waverly’s eye and signaled him over. “Now would suit me fine,” he said.

  Pagano got behind the wheel a minute later with Waverly next to him and Ray in back with an arm around Laurie.

  “If you’re up to telling me what happened,” he said to her, “start at the beginning, okay?”

  “We were at the Monroes’. I was buckling Joey into his car seat when that woman made take him and get into her car. She had a gun, Dad.” Laurie told them about being forced to drink a doctored hot chocolate after Joey gladly gobbled his down. “That’s all I remember until I woke up at the cabin. It really scared me when Joey wasn’t there, and she wouldn’t tell me where he was. She put me in a chair and taped my hands behind me through the spindles in the back and taped my ankles to the chair legs.”

  Tears formed in Laurie’s eyes. “She didn’t hurt him, did she, Dad?”

  “No. Your brother’s okay.” He withheld the details, refusing to put her through any more than she’d already been through. “You’re both all right; that’s all that matters.”

  He thought hard before adding, “The woman’s name was Nicki Wright. You don’t have to worry about her anymore. She’s dead, honey.”

  “Did you kill her?”

  “No, Laurie, I didn’t. She tried to get away and lost control of her car.” He held Laurie as her body sagged against him.

  “Laurie,” Waverly prompted. “is there anything else you can tell us about what happened?”

  She told them about the homemade contraption Wright had devised; about the window she’d opened; about the towel she’d stuffed under the bedroom door. “I knew she planned to blow up the cabin,” she said at last. “I mean, I am thirteen, you know?”

  Ray’s rage built layer upon layer with every new detail. He stroked Laurie’s hair, part comforting gesture, part reassurance that she was truly safe. “How did you get out, Laurie?”

  Secure in Ray’s presence, exhaustion took over. With her head resting on his shoulder, she kept her explanation simple. “I bumped the lamp off the table next to me and tipped myself over, then cut the tape on my wrists with the broken glass.” She sighed and added, “It was dark inside and I couldn’t find the clock to turn it off, so I just got out. I’m sorry about the cabin.”

  “The hell with the cabin, Laurie.” Ray kissed her forehead. “You did exactly the right thing. You have no idea how proud I am of you, honey.” The question he’d set aside earlier came full circle. “Laurie, why did you hang back instead of showing yourself right away? Do you have any idea what it did to me when I thought you were still inside that cabin?”

  She shrugged and hung her head.

  “Laurie?” Ray raised her chin to look at her. “Why did you do that?”

  “I was… I was waiting to see if you’d come.”

  “What?”

  “She… It’s not important, Dad.”

  “It is to me. Tell me what you meant by that…about whether I would come.”

  “She… She asked me who you loved more, Joey or me.” Tears spilled from her eyes, and Ray felt his heart break.

  “Laurie—”

  “It’s okay, Dad. I told her you loved us the same, but I know I’ve been a real pain lately. I’m glad you went after Joey first. Honest, I am.”

  “Laurie, honey… ” Ray held her to him in a powerful, one-armed hug. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead. “I didn’t choose Joey over you; I wasn’t given a choice. You’ve got to understand something. The woman who took you hinted at where I could find Joey, but refused to give me a clue where you were.” Ray’s voice cracked. “You, Laurie…you’re bright and resourceful. Joey’s just a little boy; there was no way he could save himself. That’s why I had to go after him first. I put all my faith and confidence in you—your self-reliance and initiative, your determination and intelligence. Do you understand? I had to believe you’d use those great qualities to pull through. And you did. My God, you did.”

  Ray dried her tears and then his own. “You, Joey and Krista are all so different from one another, but that’s part of what I love about each of you. You’re all equally special to me.”

  “It’s okay, Dad, I get it.”

  Drained physically and emotionally, he struggled against an unyielding need for sleep. “As for your behavior lately…”—he smiled and gave her a noogie—“Yeah, that could use a little work.”

  Sleep claimed him.

  56

  In the two day that followed, Ray and Waverly had time to review the case. The “how” was clear enough, but the “why” still needed to be resolved. On their way to Abbott Northwestern Hospital, they ran through it again.

  “Working backward it’s easy to see how Nicki Wright pulled it off,” Ray said. “Hugh Conley’s trip coinciding with Jessica Hall’s party must’ve seemed like a godsend. At some point she got ahold of Conley’s cell phone, then slipped rohypnol into Amy’s drink at the party before taking her home. While she was there, she sent the email to Conley. On her way to put in another appearance at Gatsby’s, she must’ve left the door unlocked so she could let herself back inside again before he arrived.”

  “Right,” Waverly said. “And while Conley was on his way back, Nicki got his gun, loosened a couple of bulbs in strategic locations, then slipped into Amy’s robe and a wig to pass herself off as Amy in that darkened bedroom.”

  Ray nodded. “All she had to do next was to hit Speed Dial on Conley’s cell phone as he walked to the bedroom, then wait until he called out Amy’s name before shooting him.”

  “Right,” Waverly said. “The next day, Gary Bartlett heard the whole thing play out on his answering machine and got the investigation rolling.”

  “Yeah,” Ray said, “it all fits. And now that the Belle Plaine police found Wright’s .38 Rossi at the accident site, that ties her to Christine Wald’s murder.”

  “And the attempt on Amy Conley’s life at your place,” Waverly said.

  “Right, but we still don’t have the damn motive.”

  “Either we’ll have to research it to death,” Waverly said, “or maybe we can catch a break and get some answers while we’re at the hospital.”

  Ten minutes after their arrival at Abbott Northwestern, Liz Dunham looked up at Ray and Waverly from her hospital bed as she continued to supply much-needed answers.

  “I had no idea Nicki was so…broken.” She sniffled and pulled herself together by sheer willpower. “It’s hard to believe she was capable of killing Hugh. That and trying to kill Amy is awful enough, but taking your son and daughter… ”

  “But she did,” Ray said, “without any qualms.”


  “I still can’t believe you suspected me.” Liz put her hand to her chest in a gesture of shock and horror. “I mean, I know I can be pushy and maybe even a little abrasive now and then, but for you to think—”

  Waverly shook his head. “It was about the evidence, Ms. Dunham. Everything pointed in your direction.” He smoothed his mustache and said, “Why did you lie to me about being at work the night Hugh Conley was murdered?”

  Liz tossed her used tissue dead center into the wastebasket at the edge of the bedside table. “Now that you know I wasn’t involved, I don’t see why it’s any of your business.”

  Waverly said, “Considering I’m the one who found you bound and gagged in Nicki Wright’s apartment, it would be a nice ‘thank you’.”

  “Well, I guess I do owe you for that.” Adjusting her covers, she said, “I had a date with a certain good-looking doctor in obstetrics.”

  “Of the married persuasion?” Waverly asked.

  “Only for another month. We’d just started seeing each other, but neither of us wanted that to make its way onto the hospital grapevine. A lot of rotten fruit there.”

  “Got it,” Waverly said. “About the trunk in your spare bedroom…”

  “That was Nicki’s,” she said.

  “I know; she told us. But what was it doing at your place?”

  “She had to move to a smaller apartment and didn’t have room for it. She asked me if I’d keep it at my place for her.” Liz plucked a fresh tissue from the box. “I think Nicki used the trunk as an excuse to drop by. She did. Often. Poor Nicki. We talked on the way when she forced me to drive us to her apartment. I learned things about her I didn’t know before, like why she was so…needy.”

  “Mind filling in the blanks for us?” Waverly asked.

  Liz gazed out the hospital window as she spoke. “Nicki’s mother had a son by her first husband, but they divorced shortly after he was born. Nicki’s father was one of her mother’s subsequent boyfriends. His last name was the only thing Nicki ever got from him; he didn’t stick around long.

  “Her half-brother was already four by the time she was born. When he was only six months old, her drunken mother was carrying him down the stairs and dropped him. His leg was injured so badly it left him with a permanent limp.”

  “Brad Cole.” Waverly groaned. “Her half-brother was Brad Cole, Ray.”

  He said, “Amy told me you’d lost your son, Ms. Dunham. I thought that—”

  “That he was my son? No. My son Michael died fifteen months ago. Brain cancer. He was only twenty-three years old.” She turned away, hiding her tears.

  “We’re very sorry for your loss, Ms. Dunham,” Ray said.

  “Thank you. I decided to move here and start fresh. After I got the job at Abbott Northwestern, I began working with other cancer patients. I’m happy to say my daughter’s doing well. My first grandchild is due in July.”

  “Congratulations,” Ray said. “That’s terrific.”

  “Thanks.” Liz dabbed her eyes and crushed the tissue in her hand. “Anyway, you wanted to know about Nicki. She told me her mother doted on Brad, but the way she described it, it sounded more like she smothered him.” Liz looked at them from under raised eyebrows. “Guilt over the accident, I imagine.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first case of that,” Ray said.

  “Anyhow, Nicki got the short end of the stick, but Brad took her under his wing. She loved him for it. The way she talked about him was like idol worship. She spoke about him in glowing terms, but saw herself in the opposite light.”

  Liz stopped for a sip of water before asking, “Did you see her photos in the last yearbook, Detective Waverly?”

  “No,” he admitted. “My attention was on Brad Cole, Amy and the other two girls—the ones whose pictures were circled.”

  “Well, chances are you wouldn’t have recognized Nicki in those pictures anyway,” Liz said. “Overweight, glasses, drab brown hair, and braces. She started high school a year after Brad and Amy graduated. Sometime between then and now, she changed her looks completely. Even if Amy knew her before, it’s no wonder she didn’t recognize her when Nicki tracked her down a year ago.”

  “Okay,” Ray said, “but what reason did she have to single Amy and the other two women out for revenge?”

  “I’m sort of piecing things together here,” Liz said, “but I think the poor thing was practically brainwashed. Nicki’s mother insisted that Amy and the other two were responsible for Brad’s suicide—that they’d rejected him because of his physical defect and that it had broken his heart.”

  “What a crock,” Waverly said. “They dumped him because his mother had him tied to her apron strings with a double knot.”

  “That sounds more like it,” Liz said. “Anyway, Nicki made it clear she blamed Amy more than the other two for Brad’s suicide.”

  “Why?” Ray asked.

  “The timing. He killed himself shortly after she and Hugh got married.”

  “Amy doesn’t even know he’s dead,” Waverly said. “Well, at least now we can give her some answers.”

  Liz folded her hands in her lap and shook her head. “I wish I’d known how hurt and alone Nicki felt.” She shook her head more vehemently. “When I think of the lengths she went to… The move from Glencoe to Minneapolis; finding an apartment and a job near Amy; joining the same gym to get closer… It’s amazing. Nicki was determined to get revenge at any cost. But to abduct your children, Detective Schiller….” Liz shuddered visibly under her covers. “I still can’t get over that.

  “You know,” she continued, “I suspect Nicki was genuinely fond of Jessica and me. That’s probably why she came down so hard on Jessica over that photo business. She’d disillusioned her, and then I went and did the same thing by rummaging through her trunk. I’m surprised I didn’t wind up in the morgue instead of tied up and gagged in her apartment.”

  “Why did you open that trunk in the first place?” Ray asked. “Curiosity?”

  “Puhleeze,” she said, slumping against her pillow. “Give me some credit, would you? I’m not a snoop. There was more to it than that. I’d seen pictures from the party at Gatsby’s. Nicki was one of the few women there, who dressed casually—jeans, a sweater and her Nikes. They were her favorite, most comfortable shoes. Unless she was at work or gussied up, they were the only shoes I saw her wear. That’s what got me wondering.”

  “What do you mean?” Ray asked.

  “Well, after we heard about the shoeprints you found on Amy’s storage bench, I never saw Nicki wear those shoes again. Later, something occurred to me. The birthday cake showed up in a lot of the party photos. I heard it hadn’t been cut until quite late. I realized Nicki didn’t show up in any of the pictures after the cake had been served. Between that and the shoes, I started to wonder.”

  “So you were looking for her Nikes,” Waverly said.

  “Yes, and they were there. The yearbooks, too, but I didn’t pay much attention to those.”

  “Let me guess,” Waverly said. “When she came by Friday night, she found something out of order in her trunk, and that’s when the shit hit the fan.”

  “Close, but no cigar, sweetie. Nicki never opened the trunk that night—didn’t have to. I’d found a partial bottle of antidepressants in there. From the date on the label, I realized she hadn’t been taking them for quite a while. That’s not a good thing. I meant to put them back, but—”

  “But you forgot, and she saw them,” Ray said.

  “You got it, hon. Before I knew it, she pulled a gun out of her purse and made me get in my car to drive us to her apartment. Once we got there, she tied me up and gagged me. She left me there and took off with my car keys and money.”

  Ray sighed. “She was driving your car when she fired those shots into my house, Ms. Dunham.”

  “No wonder you plastered my picture all over TV. I’m never going to hear the end of that, you know.”

  “Sorry,” Waverly said. “We needed help loca
ting you and/or your car. We had no way of knowing you were tied up in her apartment. Gotta give her credit. After she tried to shoot Amy, Nicki dumped your car off in her building’s basement garage and switched back to her own vehicle again.”

  “She used your Impala to set you up,” Ray explained. “When she showed up outside my house in Eden Prairie in your car, she knew we’d be looking for you. It bought her some time. Nobody was looking for her. Nobody. She must’ve taken a cab back to your place to pick up her own after she ditched yours.”

  Eyes narrowed, he glanced at Waverly. “I’d still like to know how the hell Nicki Wright found Amy.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ray saw Liz Dunham bow her head. “I told her,” she said, wringing her hands.

  “What? How did you know where Amy was?”

  “Jessica told me.”

  “Wait a minute,” Ray said. “Explain that.”

  “Well… Oh, she’s going to be so mad at me.”

  “Who is?” he asked.

  “Amy. She phoned Jessica from your place to apologize about that picture snafu. It’s not really Amy’s fault, Detective Schiller. She didn’t let on where she was. Jessica heard you and your wife talking in the background and put two and two together. She knew I was worried about Amy and called to let me know what she’d found out. And I… I…”

  “And you called Nicki Wright to let her in on it,” Ray said.

  Liz nodded. “Don’t blame Amy.”

  Ray’s jaws clenched. “You’ve got to be kidding. I told her the apology would have to wait. That stunt she pulled jeopardized—”

  Waverly clamped a hand on Ray’s forearm. “Easy, buddy. I know. I know. Count to ten… or a thousand. Whatever it takes, okay? Just chill out.” Trying to redirect Ray’s attention, Waverly pointed to Liz’s head. “When did Nicki do that to you, Ms. Dunham?”

  Liz’s hand went to the gauze taped over her right ear. “She didn’t. I fell over trying to get loose and bashed my head on the TV stand. Dehydration and a knot on my head… Not too bad, considering.”