by Nancy Skopin
Chapter 36
I dressed in jeans and a turtleneck, sliding the Galco holster onto my belt. I checked my purse, making sure I still had the Ruger, kissed Bill goodbye, and told Buddy I’d be back pretty soon. His ears went flat against his head and his tail drooped. Bill told me to be safe as I went out the door.
I trudged up to my car feeling cranky and guilt-ridden. I knew it was only a matter of time before Bill heard about the Rossi killing, and I had no doubt there would be garlic in the wound.
It crossed my mind how ironic it was that Nina’s break from her original pattern of killing child molesters was what had gotten me involved. When she killed Scott’s mom she had set in motion the investigation that would probably lead to her arrest.
I wondered how Nina would react to having a pair of homicide detectives show up on her doorstep. They would know she worked for the RCPD. Would that alter the investigation? Would they contact the Internal Affairs department before questioning her? I was giving myself a headache, so I tried to stop thinking.
I started the car before calling J.V.’s cell number.
“Hiya boss,” he said.
“Hey, J.V. Any movement tonight?”
“I’m in Los Altos on Buena Vista. Ms. Jezek is parked at the end of the street, sitting in her car. Been here about five minutes.”
“Okay. What’s she wearing?”
“Red cocktail dress, high heels, small shoulder bag, blonde wig.”
“She’s wearing a wig?”
“Yep.”
“That can’t be good. I’m on my way. Call me if she gets out of her car.”
I didn’t know Los Altos well enough to find Buena Vista so I used my smartphone’s GPS to plot the fastest route.
My phone rang as I pulled to the curb behind J.V.’s Camry.
“She’s out of her car and walking down the driveway at the end of the street. I can’t see the house from here. You want me to follow?”
“No, I’ll go. You can head on home.”
“I’ll stick around in case you need me.”
I tucked the Ruger into the holster at the small of my back and stuffed my hair up under the baseball cap, for all the good it would do. If I came face to face with Nina, even in the dark, I was sure she would recognize me.
J.V. had his window rolled down and was puffing on a rum scented cigar. I could smell it as I jogged past the Camry.
I slowed to a walk when I reached the long driveway. I had expected a gate, but there wasn’t one. I walked about thirty yards before the ranch-style house came into view. Lights were on in a couple of the front rooms and an overhead light illuminated the front porch. The door was closed. This would be a really good time to have night vision goggles. Nina could be hiding anywhere on the grounds and I wouldn’t see her until she was on top of me.
I drew the Ruger and held it, muzzle down, at my side. I moved off the driveway as I approached the house, stopping about ten yards from the front door and concealing myself behind a tree.
Only moments passed before the door opened and Nina stepped outside. She closed the door behind her and took off a pair of latex gloves while surveying her surroundings. I had a choice to make. Confront Nina, or check to see if anyone in the house was bleeding to death. If Nina was as efficient tonight as she had been in the past, the EMTs would never arrive in time.
She started walking down the driveway. When she was about four yards away I stepped out from behind my tree.
“Nina,” I said. “This has got to stop.”
She whirled in my direction and her hand dove into her purse. I raised the Ruger.
“Hands where I can see them,” I said.
If I kept taking homicide cases I was going to have to invest in a Kevlar vest and a pair of cuffs.
“How do you know my name?” she asked. Her right hand was still inside her purse.
“Hands where I can see them,” I repeated.
“I don’t have much money,” she said. “But you can have all I’ve got.”
“I’m not here to rob you, you idiot. I’m here to stop you, now get your fucking hand out of your purse!”
I was moving slowly toward her and saw recognition suddenly ignite her features.
“Nicoli? What are you doing here?”
“I work for Gloria Freedman’s son. You remember, the woman you killed at Mervyn’s? Now for the last time take your hand out of your purse or I swear to God I’ll shoot.”
“You wouldn’t do that. I’m not armed.”
“Believe me, I will. It’s over, Nina.”
She removed her hand from her shoulder bag and took a step toward me.
“Hands on your head,” I said, thinking I needed to get that purse, and the knife I knew it concealed, away from her.
Nina held her hands out in front of her. Not very good at following directions.
“Put your fucking hands on top of your head, now!” I barked.
My heart was pounding and I was sweating in spite of the cool weather.
I was only a few yards away now, wanting the purse, but afraid of getting in close enough to grab it. Nina raised her hands to shoulder height keeping them out in front of her.
“Drop the purse!”
She lifted the shoulder strap with her left hand and held the purse out to me. As I reflexively reached for the bag she let it fall and lunged at me. I heard a crackling sound and felt the searing burn as every one of my muscles contracted. Then I felt myself slide away.
From somewhere in the darkness I heard a voice calling my name. I struggled through the swamp of unconsciousness and forced my eyes open. J.V. was bending over me, holding my hand, a look of panic on his face.
“What happened?” I asked, the words thick in my mouth.
“I’m not sure. I saw Nina drive away and decided I’d better check on you. Found you lying here on the ground.”
“Oh, shit,” I mumbled. “Taser. She hit me with a taser.” I tried to sit up, but my muscles wouldn’t cooperate. I spotted my Ruger lying beside me and was grateful Nina hadn’t taken it. It had been my first handgun and had some sentimental value.
“You want me to call an ambulance?” J.V. asked.
“Not for me, but you might want to see if anyone in the house needs one.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“No, but I will be in a minute. Give me your cigar. I need nicotine.”
J.V. handed me the cigar and moved off toward the house. I rolled onto my side so I could watch. He approached the front door, pressed the doorbell, and waited. I puffed on the cigar and finally managed to sit up. When no one answered, J.V. reached for the knob and pushed the door open. He stood there for a full minute, not moving, then he pulled the door closed again and turned to face me. He shook his head. I knew that headshake. It was the same headshake a surgeon gave family members when someone didn’t make it to the recovery room.
Chapter 37
I was concerned about J.V. missing his flight home and how this whole mess might affect the adoption process, so I suggested he just drive away. I volunteered to tell the responding officers that Nina had hit me with a taser, and when I regained consciousness I checked the house and found the body. J.V. insisted two witnesses were better than one, and besides, his prints were on the doorknob. He had a point.
J.V. called 911, and I retrieved my phone from my car and called Bill. I told him about the murder and gave him an abbreviated version of what I had been doing the last two days.
He was silent for a long moment before asking if I was all right, and it shook me.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible.” He disconnected without saying anything further. I could feel the heat of his anger.
The Los Altos pol
ice department showed up in force—three patrol cars and a pair of plainclothes detectives. The uniforms secured the scene and the detectives escorted me and J.V. off the property and questioned us separately.
Ten minutes into the questioning I saw Bill’s unmarked car approaching, followed closely by the coroner’s van.
Bill waited until I was finished talking with Detective Morris, a tall, slender, dark-haired man in his forties, then he stepped in and introduced himself. Morris shook his hand and took notes as Bill told him about the sex registrants who had recently been murdered in Redwood City, Sunnyvale, and San Mateo. He mentioned the IA investigation currently underway in Redwood City. He and Morris exchanged business cards. Morris said I was free to go and moved off toward the house. J.V. joined me and Bill a moment later, nodding his head grimly, but saying nothing.
Bill asked if I was okay to drive and I said, once again, that I was fine. But I wasn’t fine. I was okay physically, but he hadn’t touched me since arriving at the scene and I was afraid I’d damaged our relationship beyond repair.
“I’m going to stay here for a while,” Bill said, and stalked away.
I walked J.V. to his car and asked him if they had requested that he remain available for further questioning.
“They said I can go back to Seattle tomorrow, but they might be calling me with additional questions. I gave them all my phone numbers. What are you going to tell Scott?”
I hadn’t thought about that. Nina had yet to be apprehended and all I had proof of was that she had killed Jensen. In fact, I hadn’t seen her do that, so there was a chance, with a good attorney, that she’d get off.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’d like to tell him everything, but what if Nina gets away with it? What would you do?”
“I guess I’d wait a bit.”
“That’s what I’ll do then.”
I hugged J.V. for a long time before he got in his car. I needed the warmth of physical contact with someone I cared about, and didn’t expect I’d be getting any from Bill in the near future.
I passed Bill’s unmarked car as I walked to my Bimmer and saw Buddy peering out through the windshield. His tail was wagging slowly, as though he was happy to see me but uncertain about the situation. I opened the car door and hooked him to the leash Bill had left in the back seat, then managed to get Bill’s attention with a wave, pointing to Buddy, so he wouldn’t worry that the boy had been kidnapped.
As soon as I was in my car I looked at the surveillance schedule and called Lily at home.
“Hi, Nikki,” she said. “That house in Atherton was on the news tonight. Anthony Costa’s body was found by his mother who was visiting from Fort Lauderdale. Where’s Nina?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I’m calling. Surveillance is off for the time being. She killed a man in Los Altos tonight. I confronted her when she came out of his house and she hit me with a taser. The police are here. Nina’s probably gone home to pack a few things before skipping town.”
“Should I go to her house?”
“Too dangerous. She’s on the run now. I gave the Los Altos Detectives her address.”
“I can follow her from a distance.”
“No, Lily. It’s too dangerous. Stay home, please.”
Chapter 38
Nina made it to Burlingame in twenty-five minutes. She knew she had a little time before Nicoli regained consciousness and the ability to walk. She’d hastily searched the PI’s pockets for a cell phone, but hadn’t found one. That meant she’d have to crawl back to her car before she could call the police.
She had seriously considered taking Nicoli’s gun, but where she was going she wouldn’t be able to conceal it. She’d thought about killing Nicoli, but still carried the weight of killing that woman at Mervyn’s. Nicoli had called her Gloria and said she was working for the woman’s son—the boy Nina had been trying to save.
She replayed the events of the evening as she shoved clothes into a duffle bag. She had worn the blonde wig, hoping it would make her look non-threatening, and the red dress in case there was blood. The disguise had worked like a charm. Jensen had checked her out through the peephole and opened the door without hesitation. She had asked to use his phone, claiming to have car trouble, and he’d welcomed her into his home. As he turned his back to close the door she’d hit him with the taser, and when he went down she’d jammed the knife into his heart. She took a moment to put on latex gloves so she wouldn’t leave her prints on the doorknob on her way out. Everything had gone like clockwork. How the fuck had Nicoli known where she would be?
When she had packed everything she could carry, Nina took a last look around. She felt sad about leaving her little house. It was the first place she had ever felt safe, the only place she’d ever felt at home.
Before stepping outside Nina peered through a crack in the drapes. The white van was parked on her street again. She’d seen it three times in the last week. Each time the woman had a different hair color, but it was the same van.
Nina dug a pair of binoculars out of her duffle and trained them on the driver’s side window. Tonight the occupant was a redhead and she was looking in Nina’s direction. She quickly ducked behind the curtains as realization struck. The woman in the van worked for Nicoli Hunter.
Nina placed the duffle and her purse next to the back door, withdrew the switchblade from her pocket, and stepped outside.
Chapter 39
It was good to have company on the drive home. Even if I had permanently screwed things up with Bill, at least I had Buddy.
By the time I arrived at the marina the adrenaline had worn off and I was trembling with fight-or-flight withdrawal. I walked Buddy around the grounds long enough for him to water some bushes, then we went to my office.
I locked the door behind me. I didn’t think Nina would come after me, but I was in the phone book and there was no sense taking chances.
I took the Jose Cuervo out of my Pendaflex drawer and poured myself a shot. I took a sip of the tequila, shuddered, and called Jim Sutherland. I spent the next twenty minutes telling my story to Jim and then to Elizabeth who said she would call Jack. By the time I’d finished I was drained, but I had a nice buzz going from the tequila.
I was getting ready to leave when my cell phone rang.
“Nikki, it’s Lily. Don’t get mad, but I decided to check Nina’s house to see if she was there.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, Lily. What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but she got away from me. The bitch slashed my tire. She must have snuck up behind the van. I was watching the house and I didn’t see her come out. I guess she has a back door. Anyway, about ten minutes after I got here she came out the front carrying a duffle bag, got in her car, and drove away. I tried to follow her. That’s when I realized I had a flat. I have to wait for Triple A to come and change the tire. I’m sorry, Nikki. I guess I blew it.”
“You didn’t blow anything, honey. I’m just glad you’re all right.”
I kicked myself for endangering my friends, thinking what else Nina might have slashed if she’d felt cornered.
I locked up the office and Buddy and I walked down to the boat. He leaped down the companionway steps and made a beeline for the stateroom. I followed him into the doorway and froze.
Bill’s guitar case, laptop computer, and an open garment bag were on the bunk, and he was packing the set of work clothes he kept in my hanging locker.
“You’re leaving?” I said in a hoarse whisper. I had expected an argument, but I hadn’t braced myself for this.
“I think we both need some space,” he said. His voice was cold and he wasn’t looking at me. Buddy prodded his thigh, trying to get his attention, and he gently stroked the dog’s head.
“Can we talk about this before you go? I’d like a chanc
e to explain my point of view.”
That stopped him. He turned and looked me in the eye, and I almost took a step back. Bill rarely got this angry, but when he did it was scary.
“Your point of view doesn’t enter into it,” he said. “You made me a promise, Nikki. You broke your word.”
“I promised not to bother Nina. I didn’t promise not to watch her. Is this all it takes to drive you away?” I felt heat behind my eyes and fought it back with my own anger. “I was doing my job, God damn it!”
The line of his mouth hardened. “Clearly your job is more important to you than our relationship.”
“That’s not fair. I would never say that to you.”
“I would never break a promise without talking to you about it first. Tell me something, all the late night bar surveys you’ve been doing, were you actually following Nina? How many lies have you told me, Nikki?”
“I’ve lost count. She’s the fucking killer! Doesn’t that make any difference to you?”
“Of course it does, but it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been lying to me.”
“I hated lying to you, but you’ve got a stick up your ass when it comes to the people you work with. You wouldn’t even listen to me when I told you I thought Nina might be the killer, and I have a nine-year-old client who needs to know why his mom was murdered.”
“What about what I need?”
“Maybe your expectations aren’t realistic.”
Buddy was lying on the floor between us, his head on his forepaws, his eyes shifting back and forth, depending on who was speaking. When the conversation stopped and Bill zipped the bag closed, Buddy stood up next to me, blocking the stateroom doorway, his tail between his legs.
Bill swung the laptop case over his shoulder and hoisted the bag and the guitar case. Buddy and I did not move out of his way.