by S. T. Abby
“Why is this locked?” I ask, putting my phone away.
“Um…because it’s my house, and I don’t like people walking into my office. What’s your deal?”
He seems genuinely private, but why lock a door when you live alone unless you’re hiding something?
“Do you care if we look around?” Donny asks him, trying to sound non-imposing.
He studies us critically before finally blowing out a breath and rolling his eyes.
“Fine. Fine. But then you leave and leave me alone. I don’t need you barging into my life and dredging up memories better left forgotten.”
He wheels back to the living room, picks up a set of keys, taking his time to do so, and he comes back, unlocking the door. He backs away, and I open it, looking around. I see the computer screen is blank, and my eyes land on the cracked window in front of where there’s a thing of tacks scattered around on the floor.
“Damn it. Not again,” he groans, wheeling by me to the mess of tacks. “You can go now. I need to clean this up.”
I nod to Donny, and we walk out, leaving him to his task. As soon as we’re outside and the door shuts behind us, I glance over, seeing the cracked window.
“Someone is in there with him,” I say quietly when we reach the street.
“Looks like the wind caught the curtain, and the curtain knocked over the tacks to me.”
“That window was closed, along with the blinds, when we came up. There’s a closet in there. Someone was there.”
“Why didn’t you open the closet?”
“Because whoever it is may be our unsub.”
I pretend as though we’re taking our time to get in the car as Jacob shuts the window and closes the blinds once again. We loiter on the street, while I call Lisa.
“How close are you to Jacob Denver’s address?”
“Elise and I are about five minutes out. Why?”
“Swing by and sit on the house. As soon as we see you in position, we’ll drive off. If he leaves, I want you to call me. If he stays, I want you to watch him. Someone is inside, and it may be our unsub. Use extreme caution.”
“Shit. Got it. You be careful too.”
I start to hang up, when she adds, “And by the way, thank you for the roses. They were beautiful.”
My brow creases in confusion.
“I never sent roses.”
“I mean from the hospital. I got them, and realized I never thanked you for them.”
“Lisa, I never sent roses. At all.”
She grows deadly silent. “So it was him? Plemmons?”
I don’t have time to ask questions about a dead man’s motives. “It may have been. Call the flower company and find out.”
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll see if Hadley can look into it,” she says, distant now.
As I hang up, Donny is smirking. “What?”
“Nothing,” he lies, smirking more.
I glare at him.
“Just wondering what Lisa would do to Lana if she got her hands on her. She’s a typical scorned ex—perfectly okay with the breakup until you finally get a new girlfriend that you seem to be pretty head-over-heels for. Lisa is a bitch. Keep her away from your new girlfriend or she may scratch Lana’s eyes out.”
“Lana’s already been subjected to her, in case you’ve forgotten. Lisa didn’t rattle her.” I sound dismissive, but I’m masking how uncomfortable this conversation is.
“We all know what a bitch Lisa can be, and right now, she’s feeling that jealousy most exes do when their ex finally moves on and exhibits signs of true happiness. She’s got a nasty mouth on her, and she may eventually seek Lana out in an effort to ruin things between you two. Just profiling. It’s what I do.”
Fuck.
“I’ll keep them apart. Lisa will eventually forget it.”
“When she finds someone who makes her happy,” he agrees with a mocking grin. “Should only take a few lifetimes.”
I flip him off as he chuckles, and I glance back toward the closed window. Lisa and Elise appear just down the street, parking at the curb.
Donny and I load into the SUV, and we drive away. It’s no time before Elise texts us, telling us Jacob is on the move, heading in our direction in a white van. She sends the plates too, just so we know we’re tailing the right one.
As soon as the white van passes us, I arch an eyebrow. It looks like any good kidnapper’s van.
The driver’s side and passenger side have windows, but the rest of the van looks like a work van. He does do some tech work, according to his file, so it could possibly be his work van.
Donny and I follow discreetly, while Elise and Lisa watch the house.
“See if you can get a look inside,” I say as Donny puts Lisa on speaker.
“Trying to get a warrant to go in, but the judge says we don’t have enough.”
“Just get a look around,” I say vaguely, hinting for her to break some rules. It’s a fucking serial killer we’re after. Sometimes rules need to be broken.
“Got it.”
“Just don’t be obvious,” Donny says to the phone.
“I’m not an idiot,” Lisa snips.
He hangs up, and I keep a safe tail distance on Jacob. We pull up to the curb as he pulls into a parking spot. It takes a few minutes before his side van door slides open, and I watch as he is lowered down with the wheelchair on the motorized platform.
“That explains the van. It’s handicap accessible,” Donny points out.
Frowning, I watch as he sits with a basketball on his lap, and then we watch as he locks up his van and starts wheeling down the sidewalk.
When he reaches a basketball court full of kids, Donny hisses out a breath. Most of the kids are suffering some sort of disability. A few are amputees, some are in wheelchairs, and some seem to be struggling with other physical issues.
“We’re going to hell,” Donny groans as the kids cheer, and Jacob blows a whistle, tossing the ball at them.
They start playing basketball, and he plays with them, laughing right alongside them, making a difference in their day.
Elise calls me, and I answer. “Nothing is in this house. The office closet is empty too. I’m sealing it back up so he doesn’t know we were ever here.”
“So it’s empty, and this guy is a paraplegic coach helping disabled kids. He survived losing his mother at a young age, his best friend and boyfriend as a teenager, and he’s paralyzed now. Yet he’s the male version of Mother Theresa,” Donny states dryly. “And we’re accusing him of helping a murderer. I repeat: We’re going to hell.”
“Check his van,” I tell him, frustrated. My gut tells me something is up. There was someone in that house, and if he’s not there now, then he’s in the van.
Donny curses before getting out, drawing his weapon as he goes to the back of the van. He reaches out with one hand, testing the door, as I shift my gaze between him and Jacob.
He opens the unlocked door, and I frown. I could have sworn Jacob locked the van.
All that’s in the back of the van is a box marked MEDIA. The entire back is empty other than that.
Donny arches an eyebrow at me, and I wave him back, rolling my eyes. He shuts the doors and gets back in, and we drive away.
“Forget him. Even if he does know who the killer is, there’s no way he’s involved,” Donny says on a sigh.
I drive away, irked. My gut has always been the driving force, and rarely ever do I feel so strongly about something and end up wrong.
Jacob doesn’t even notice us as we pass him. He tosses the ball into the air, getting it to a one-armed little boy on the other end who scores.
By the time I make it back to the office, Hadley is ready to pounce, but I ignore her in favor of moving toward Leonard. “Hey, I need you to pull everything you can find on the Robert Evans case. Let’s see if we can start there, and find out what that damn town is hiding. Somehow, it’s all linked to that. It’s the first domino that set all the others in place.”
> He nods, gesturing to his laptop.
“Already working on that. There are so many inconsistencies in that file that it’s ridiculous. Essentially the only thing that convicted him was the DNA at the crime scenes, and even that seems compromised, due to the poor chain of custody the evidence went through. I’m not sure how he got convicted, other than the fact the judge pretty much ignored all the laws set in place to keep things fair and honest.”
“And we know how the Godfather worked things,” I add. “See what you can dig up. Find out why the killings stopped, or even if they stopped. If the unsub successfully framed Evans, he may have just moved towns and changed his MO enough to frame someone else.”
“On it,” Leonard says, going back to work.
I almost run over Hadley when I turn back around.
“Why that look? What’d you find out on Jacob Denver?” she asks me.
She’s wringing her hands, anxious for info. I guess we’re all in knots.
“Nothing. My gut told me there was more to him, but I was apparently wrong.”
“That gut thing gets tricky,” she says, frowning. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Hey, Lisa said she was going to have you look in on someone sending her roses from me?”
“They weren’t from you,” she says immediately.
“I’m aware,” I tell her, confused by how odd she’s acting.
“I mean, there was never anything to state it was from you. Just a dozen roses sent with no card. I guess she just assumed it was you.”
Shaking my head, I look down at the file in front of me.
“Can I go? I’m exhausted and no new leads have come in. I also sent all the forensics I’ve been able to sift through. Some of the rest of it will need a few days to run through the lab.”
I nod, waving her off, and she practically sprints out.
Can’t say I blame her. I don’t enjoy spending so much time here either. Lana has been away on business most of the week, but I finally get at least a little time to myself with her tonight.
As for this case, Delaney Grove people are going to be the end of me.
Chapter 9
If it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul.
—William Shakespeare
LANA
I hid in a closet from my boyfriend after stupidly spilling a bowl of tacks. I then crawled into a tiny media box in Jake’s van, and hid there for an hour while he did his weekly basketball excursion with his kids that I help fund a special program for. I was stuck there because the box wouldn’t open from the inside.
The prick did that on purpose to teach me a lesson, and I’ll kick his ass later for that.
I’m exhausted and just ready to curl up on the bed until Logan can break away, when I round the hotel hallway and see Hadley glaring daggers at me, waiting by my door.
I wish she’d leave this hotel.
“You!” she hisses.
“What’d I do?” I ask, confused.
“Roses ring a bell?”
I smirk as I push open the door, and she barges by me, ramming her shoulder into mine on the way.
“Want to come in?” I ask dryly.
The door shuts and she whirls around, pointing an accusatory finger at me.
“Don’t get cute, Lana. You sent roses to Lisa. I know it was you. You let her think Logan did it, and now that she knows he didn’t do it, she’s nauseated, certain it was Plemmons.”
I guess Hadley’s humor is on the fritz, because that shit’s funny.
“The Boogeyman is dead, and what makes you think it was me or that those were ever my intentions?” I muse, hiding my smile.
“I know it was you. The roses were paid for with a prepaid Visa. Plemmons was done with Lisa, but she’s Logan’s ex, and you chose a poor way to fuck with her.”
“She actually fucked with me first. I just sent her some roses,” I say with a coy grin.
Her face gets redder. “Don’t fuck with my team, Lana. You have too much too lose to play games with us.”
“Us? I’m not playing games with anyone but her, and she started it. She did everything but piss on Logan. And the roses were ages ago. It’s not even a good joke if she doesn’t get it when the guy is still alive. In case you’ve forgotten, I sort of killed him, so she has no reason to be afraid…unless she’s scared of serial killer ghosts.”
I grab a flashlight and shine it under my chin, and Hadley’s eyes narrow to slits. She seriously needs a sense of humor.
“This is crazy stuff. You know that, right?” she snaps.
I roll my eyes, cutting the flashlight off. “No, crazy is being his ex and getting all bitchy toward me. And you said I couldn’t kill anyone who didn’t truly deserve to die. You never said I couldn’t send roses to a girl who was an utter bitch to me.”
“Don’t downplay this,” she hisses. “You sent those roses to terrorize her. Mind fuck her even. The guy carved an actual word into her arm while she was conscious, and he damn near killed her and Elise before Lisa managed to get a few shots off.”
“And missed him,” I remind her. Who can’t shoot a guy that size?
“Grazed him,” she corrects.
“Missed him,” I say again, smirking at the funny little shade of red she continues to turn. “I didn’t miss him. And, again, the guy is dead. The joke isn’t funny now. How ungrateful is she to just now be thanking Logan for the flowers she arrogantly assumed he sent?”
Her mouth opens and closes, and I half wonder if her skull is going to blow off like it does in the cartoons.
“It’s not funny at all! It’s cruel. And wicked. And—”
“Lisa your bestie?”
“No,” she says, frowning.
“Saved your life or something?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you even like her?”
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t respond to that question.
“I’ll take that as a no. So why the self-righteous, indignant act over me poking a little fun at a bully bitch? I couldn’t outright put her in her place, so yes, I fucked with her head a little. And it wasn’t even a good head-fucking because she caught onto the joke too late. No harm. No foul.”
“It’s the fact you targeted one of our team members, and you don’t even realize how sick and twisted your joke was.”
My smile vanishes. “I could have sent her a pig’s heart or something, if you want sick and twisted. I could have sent a bouquet that spelled KEEP. I could have sent her the twisted Russian song of the Boogeyman. I sent her roses, Hadley. A tiny little mind fuck, as you like to call it. That’s all. I spared her, if you really think about it. We both know I could be a lot colder.”
Her look pales a little.
“No,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “That was not me threatening to kill her.”
She drops to the bed, running a hand through her hair. “This is too much. You’re too much.”
“You’re overreacting to some roses. Calm down, Hadley. If you didn’t want the truth, you shouldn’t have searched for answers.”
She looks up, and genuine exhaustion shines in her eyes.
“Logan’s morals aren’t as skewed as mine, Lana. If you really love him, you’ll stop this quest for revenge. Let us try to figure out a way to take the others down. We can—”
“Take down an entire police force? Take down rapists whose word will be against mine? The daughter of a convicted serial killer who was wrongly profiled by one of your own?” I deadpan.
“Logan knows the profile was wrong,” she says, shocking me.
She studies my face.
“This is the first you’ve heard of it, isn’t it?”
I nod, slowly lowering myself to the seat.
“You really don’t ask him any questions about your case, do you?”
I glare at her this time. “If I wanted to know what you all knew, I’d have Jake hack the cameras. I don’t need to use my boyfriend or betray him like that. I hate lying to him as
it is.”
“No more games on my team members,” she says, frustrated.
“Only if she leaves me alone,” I tell her, watching her as she thinks that over.
“Nothing so morbid.”
I shrug, grinning. “I have a morbid sense of humor. And I’m territorial. At least I didn’t piss in the roses before sending them.”
She studies me; I grin at her.
“You’re so confusing, and I stupidly think you really do love him.”
“I do love him,” I tell her on a long sigh.
“Nice to know.” Logan’s voice has us both screeching, and Hadley actually drops to the floor.
Logan grins at her as she bounces back up to her feet. If he’s grinning, then he missed all the important bits about me being a killing psycho, right?
“How long have you been standing there?!” Hadley demands, looking every bit as guilty as a killer herself.
“Long enough to hear a confession I don’t think I was meant to hear,” he says, his smile turning into a smirk as he looks at me with heat in his eyes.
Yeah, he totally missed the part where I’m a killer. I need to be more cautious.
“Confession?” Hadley asks, all the color draining from her face.
This girl could never be a killer.
“Yeah,” Logan says, his attention focused on me as he stalks forward.
“Logan, this isn’t what it looks like. She—”
Her words thankfully die when Logan grabs me at the waist and pulls me to him, crushing his lips to mine. I almost climb up him, making it easier to kiss him without so many tiptoes and bending getting involved. Hadley makes a strangled sound, and I kiss Logan harder to distract him from the leaky sink she is.
No wonder the Boogeyman duct taped her mouth shut.
“Right,” Hadley says as Logan continues kissing me. “I’ll just go now.”
He doesn’t even acknowledge her as he kisses me harder, pushing me back against the window that overlooks the city. My mouth stays fused to his, needing this so much after the week of little face-to-face time.
“I’ve fucking missed you,” he says against my lips, still kissing me stupid.
I can’t even respond, because he doesn’t let me break my mouth apart to reciprocate. Instead, he starts tugging my pants down, pushing me harder against the glass.