The Steve Williams Series Boxed Set

by J. E. Taylor

  Pulling into the driveway at six-thirty in the morning, he grabbed the suitcase and headed inside, exhausted. He dropped his bags in the foyer and closed the door. Heading to the couch in front of the bay windows, he sprawled on the soft cushions and instantly fell asleep.

  Chapter 76

  Steve was quiet on the drive home. He had been so preoccupied with Jennifer’s visions that he hadn’t looked into finding the receivers for the cameras. He flipped the phone open and pressed redial. “Jack?”

  “I’ve been trying to call you. The coffin was empty.”

  He pulled to a stop in front of the garage. “Empty?”

  “Yes, empty. You were right. Kyle Wisnowski is not dead—or at least not dead and buried where everyone thought he was.”

  Steve closed his eyes. Jennifer’s gaze bore into him from the passenger seat and he took a deep breath. “That’s not the reason I was calling. I need the houses and hotels within a one mile radius of the cottage searched, or at least approached.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s the radius of the transmitters in the cameras Matt found.”

  ”I’ll get the local sheriff’s office to help with coverage,” he agreed. “By the way, the paperwork’s been filed to search the Las Vegas apartment. We’re just waiting on the judge.”

  “Good, then we can get a definitive DNA sample,” Steve answered. “I’ve also got another question.” He glanced at Jennifer. “Is it possible to continue working from home for a couple more weeks, or at least until Samantha comes home?” Steve pressed his lips together, waiting for his boss to balk. He wasn’t ready to leave yet; he had a feeling that would be inviting disaster.

  “Fine. I’ll see what I can do,” Jack mumbled.

  “Thanks.”

  “Just find a connection to tie him to the hits.”

  Chapter 77

  He woke to blinding sunlight and blinked, disoriented. Glancing at his watch, the time registered after a few blinks—a little after noon, Eastern Time—a stomach rumble followed. The last time he ate was in Italy a little over a day ago. Ravenous and a little light-headed, he looked around the house, the brain fog lifting.

  New Hampshire. He squinted out the window at the bright day.

  Kyle fumbled around the kitchen, looking for anything that resembled breakfast. Granola bars seemed to be the only thing edible on the menu. The milk in the refrigerator had gone bad during the time he’d been gone and the orange juice wasn’t that far behind. He dumped them down the sink and grabbed one of the bottled waters in the pantry, cracking it open to wash down the granola bars he inhaled.

  He flipped the monitors on and stared at the static. The only working monitor was the one showing the outside of the cottage and it revealed an empty driveway. They weren’t home. Standing and looking out the window, he confirmed what was on the television.

  Kyle went back out to the car and emptied it, leaving only the registration in the glove compartment. He wiped it down, completely removing his fingerprints from the surfaces.

  Flipping the phone open, he dialed a familiar number. “Morning, Tony,” he said when his boss picked up. “I need one more favor.”

  “What’s that?” Tony Bondino snapped into the phone.

  “Torch my place,” Kyle said.

  The appeal was met with silence and Kyle waited.

  “Why?”

  “I won’t get the chance to clean house before the feds swarm and I don’t want them to get hold of anything that would point to you,” he said, knowing Tony would jump on his request if he thought there was any danger of a connection.

  Tony swore under his breath. “Fine.”

  “Thanks, Tony,” he said and hung up.

  The next assignment on his list was two-fold: plant more cameras and carry out the assassination of Kyle Winslow.

  He disappeared upstairs to clean up.

  Kyle came down stairs a half hour later and rummaged through his electronics bag, pulling out five more cameras and heading over to the empty cottage. He slipped inside and planted the small recording devices, setting them to a different frequency—one he would switch on when he got back into town. When he left, he made damn sure the door was locked behind him.

  His number one priority right now was getting to New York and cleaning up this mess before Tony got wind of it; otherwise, he was in deep shit. He had to make a very public statement with the death of Kyle Winslow. That was the only way he would be afforded the time he needed to finish his side venture.

  Chapter 78

  The walkie-talkie squawked. “I think I found something!”

  Within twenty minutes, the house across the lake was crawling with police and federal officers.

  Steve stood in the living room, staring at the monitors. The only one with a live shot was a long view of his yard. That camera was currently being taken down. He turned to the closest officer. “Did you find the elderly couple that lives here?”

  “No sir.”

  “Keep looking. They have to be on the property somewhere.” He walked out of the house, his fists clenching and unclenching. They had been close. There was evidence of a quick getaway, but they hadn’t been able to make the car. Without that, they were out of the water.

  “Shit!” He slipped into his car and drove the two-minute loop around the lake to his cabin.

  “Jack, he was there. They have suitcases full of clothing, and the monitors to the cameras in my house were there. The bastard got away.” He swore into the phone, leaning back in the driver’s seat. “There wasn’t a fucking print anywhere! Just like all the crime scenes, not a god damn fingerprint on anything.”

  “We’ll set up surveillance to see if he comes back.”

  Steve closed the cell phone. He didn’t think the bastard was coming back, not with the obvious getaway.

  Later that evening, his phone rang. It was Jack.

  Steve turned toward the lake, his eyes taking in the scene. “They found the old couple?” Police lights reflected across the surface of the lake. He could make out the pile of dirt on the far corner of the house.

  “They were buried in the flower garden. One shot to the head each.”

  “Damn.”

  Chapter 79

  Steve was still in a foul mood. The couple across the lake didn’t deserve to die like that, and it was all because of him that they’d been murdered. If he hadn’t killed Charlie…

  He shook the thought out of his head, staring out the window at the lake in back, the plate in his hand momentarily forgotten.

  “I think that dish is clean,” Jennifer said, interrupting his self-depreciating train of thought.

  “Yeah,” he said. Sending a half smile in her direction, he finished washing the rest of the dinner dishes.

  “You can’t keep beating yourself up. It’s been two days and you’re still sulking.”

  Before the snide comeback reached his lips, the phone rang. He snatched it off the hook, sending a sideways glance at Jennifer.

  “Steve, it’s Jack.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Winslow’s dead.”

  Steve shut the water off. “Say again.” He wiped his hands on a paper towel.

  “They found the body of Kyle Winslow in his car. He was murdered.”

  Steve pulled out the kitchen chair and sat down. “How’d they identify him?”

  “Well, his dental records were out—the killer smashed his teeth to all hell—but his wallet was in the glove compartment along with the registration. Both carried items with the name Kyle Winslow. And, Steve, he had the same tattoo on his right forearm that Charlie had. The one Jennifer drew.”

  “Scorpion tattoo?”

  “Yep, and the house in Las Vegas was torched before we got the search warrant.” Jack paused. “Were you able to find a concrete connection to the Bondino’s?”

  “No, not yet. Did you cross-check the DNA samples?”

  “No.”

  “Can we?”

  Jack paused an
d exhaled through the receiver. “I’ll send the request tomorrow, but Steve, this is the guy.”

  “How do you know it’s not just another trick?”

  “We found one more thing hidden in the trunk.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A knife with remnants of blood on it. It has the same signature as all the local Slasher cases and I’m sure the blood on the knife will match the most recent victim.”

  Steve inhaled and let the air slowly blow through his pursed lips.

  “He’s dead, so you can relax now.”

  “He’s really dead?” The full impact of the information finally sunk in. Jennifer had had some broken dreams over the last few days, but she categorized them as nightmares, not visions.

  “Yes,” Jack confirmed. “I’ll send you the photos and police reports.”

  “Thanks,” Steve said and turned off the phone. He looked at Jennifer. “They found Kyle Winslow’s body.”

  “Really?” Jennifer searched his eyes and he nodded. “Are you sure?” she asked, echoing his earlier skepticism.

  “Yes, we’re sure.” The relief that washed through his muscles released the tiny knots of stress in his neck and shoulders, and gave him a renewed energy that he seemed to have lost since Samantha was born. His lips slowly spread into his signature smile, the one he knew drove his wife wild.

  “You can’t smile at me like that.”

  Blush rose in her cheeks and he crossed to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “Why not?”

  “Cause it drives me crazy.”

  A smile played on her lips, her eyes bordering on smoldering, and his body reacted instantly. Sizzling heat, the kind that used to accost him every time he looked at her, burned through his blood. He stole a kiss, letting it linger and morph into the hot pace of passion. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and stepped away. “Good,” he said, flashing the smile again before retreating to the couch and stretching out.

  It was the first time in months he felt totally relaxed. The news, however morbid, meant their life together would be much longer than just this summer.

  Chapter 80

  Kyle pulled into the old couple’s house around two in the afternoon. He slid the key in the lock and his eyebrows creased when the knob didn’t turn. Slowly, he pulled the key out and stepped back.

  COMPROMISED!

  His heart slammed against the walls of his chest and he glanced in the window. The monitors were gone. “Shit!” He stepped to the side of the porch, glancing across the lake. Jennifer sat in the gazebo, slowly rocking back and forth. He pulled his handheld transmitter, programming it to the right frequency. The rooms of the house came into view and Steve was inside, talking on the phone.

  The muscles in Kyle’s jaw contracted and relaxed as he ground his teeth in frustration. He glanced around the yard and then set his hand held to scan for other frequencies. Nothing appeared and he exhaled. They must have shut surveillance off when the news of his death reached New Hampshire.

  Kyle picked the lock and headed inside. The house was spotless and his clothing was nowhere to be found. He shook his head, looking out at the gazebo. His eyes shifted to the kayak sitting on the boathouse rack. A slow smile appeared on his lips.

  Chapter 81

  The spring heat wave kicked into high gear the day they brought Samantha home from the hospital. Jennifer spent the afternoon in the shade of the gazebo, enjoying the slight breeze filtering off the lake. She stared at the tiny baby in her arms and glanced at the cottage where Steve chatted with his folks and whipped up another delectable culinary delight.

  She didn’t notice the kayak until it drifted into her peripheral vision. Glancing up, she saw a muscular blonde man pulling the oars like a professional rower. The glare of the sun made it difficult to see any details beyond his rippled form and blonde hair.

  Jennifer stood up. “Watch out for the reef!” she called out, shading her eyes as she held Samantha to her shoulder.

  The rower immediately reversed his stroke, stopping the canoe in place.

  “There’s a pretty nasty reef under the surface over there.” Jennifer pointed to the right, her voice echoing across the water.

  * * * *

  Kyle looked in the direction he had been rowing and then back at Jennifer, his brows creasing and his heart doing the two-step in his chest.

  “If you hit it going as fast as you were, it would rip that kayak to shreds.”

  “Thanks.” He sent his disarming smile her way and waited for any hint of recognition.

  “No problem.” She settled back in the swing, returning her attention to the bundle in her arms.

  No recognition, no interest, nothing and his heart slowed in disappointment. He scanned the yard and inhaled, just sitting in the kayak, debating. Not yet, you idiot. He shook the wanton thoughts from his head and rowed away, keeping his eye on her, hoping she wouldn’t look up. He was both impressed and more than a little disappointed when she didn’t. While he would prefer to have time with her and the baby before her husband came home, he also was itching for payback.

  * * * *

  “I need to do a little work tonight,” Steve said, staring at Samantha in his wife’s arms as they swayed in the gazebo swing. The sun dipped below the mountains, drawing the heat with it.

  “No problem.” Jennifer stood when Samantha let out a small cry of discontent. She walked into the cottage to get a bottle for the baby and he followed.

  When Jennifer settled into the recliner and propped the bottle in Samantha’s mouth, Steve leaned over and caught a kiss. “I shouldn’t be that late.” He planted a kiss on Samantha’s forehead and crossed to his office, taking a seat and flipping the computer on.

  Piecing the links between Kyle and the Bondino’s took him a good part of the evening, but when he was done he sat back and looked at the map of the murdered women with all the suspected mafia hits. The assassinations were in the same general vicinity of the murders. One correlation or even two would have been a coincidence, but there were sixteen consecutive hits in the same vicinity within a day or two of the murders.

  “I guess Tony Bondino must have gotten wind of your extracurricular activities,” he whispered and pulled up the photos of Kyle Winslow. He was killed by a shot to the head and then beaten with his own gun, which shattered all the bones in his face to the point of being unrecognizable. Steve leaned back, his brow furrowed, mulling it over.

  He stretched and glanced at the clock. It was close to midnight and he shut down the computer, welcoming the thought of going into the office in the morning.

  Chapter 82

  Steve dragged himself out of bed in the dark bedroom and headed into the bathroom, muttering about the early hour.

  Kyle smiled at the image on his screen.

  “You think you’re unhappy now,” he said to the monitor. “Wait until you get home tonight.”

  Steve puttered in the kitchen, fixing himself a cup of coffee for the road, and then walked into the bedroom to kiss his wife goodbye.

  Kyle watched Jennifer’s eyes flutter open and the small smile that appeared on her lips as she bid her husband a good day and drifted back to sleep.

  Setting his plan into motion, he grabbed his clothing, shoved it in the backpack with the rest of his tools, and watched Steve’s car pull out of the driveway.

  Reaching for his handheld monitor, Kyle chuckled. He flipped through the rooms in the house and then back to the bedroom. Steve had fed the baby before he left and she was still sleeping peacefully in the crib. He didn’t think she would wake up for another couple of hours.

  The nursery was his target waiting area. He doubted Jennifer would wake before the baby, and even if she did, that would be her first stop. Grinning, he slung the backpack over his shoulder, walking out of the hotel room. Daylight was still tucked behind the mountains, but the sky had the ambient morning hue signaling that the sun was not far from peeking over the horizon. He rolled the bike out and hopped on,
peddling the couple of miles to the house. It took him fifteen minutes to pull into their driveway and he slowed to a stop before breaching the last bend. Hopping off, he pulled the monitor from his pocket, quickly checking the rooms in the house. Nothing had changed and he tucked the blackberry in his pocket and rolled the bike into the thick underbrush on the side of the driveway. Sprinting, he made it to the house in well under ten seconds.

  One more check on his handheld and then he tried the door. The knob resisted and he knelt down, quickly picking the lock. Kyle slipped inside and shut the door behind him, flipping the deadbolt in place. His heart ricocheted against his rib cage, creating a beat that drowned out his footsteps to the nursery. His gaze never left the bedroom doorway and he swallowed, licking his lips and rubbing his fingers on his palms to calm his hungry nerves.

  He turned off the baby monitor and kneeled, peeling the explosives from under the crib. Standing, he glanced down at the sleeping baby, squashing the urge to cover her mouth and nose with his hands. That wouldn’t do, no; he needed to keep this child alive as long as possible in order to gain both Jennifer and Steve’s cooperation.

  Kyle laid the vest on the bedding and gently picked up the baby, putting her down on the deadly fabric and threading her arms though the armholes. Samantha jerked a little but did not wake up. Kyle took a deep breath and zipped the jacket. It was a pretty good fit and he stepped back satisfied for the moment as he flipped the trigger to activate the remote control detonator. The light on the side of the vest went on.

  Retrieving the detonator from the backpack, he flipped the switch on. The trigger was now live. He flipped the baby monitor back on and took a seat in the rocking chair, waiting for sleeping beauty to rise.