by J. E. Taylor
“I will.”
Hitting the pillow didn’t even register, but his dreams were filled with Carolyn Hastings’s nightmares.
Chapter 49
Eight o’clock rolled around much faster than Carolyn anticipated and the shrill ring of the alarm cut through her stupor like a shark fin through the water, setting her heart into overdrive. “Shit!” The numbers on her clock mocked her and she ignored the buzzing, leaving it to Randy as she bolted into the bathroom and hopped into a lukewarm shower.
Randy followed her into the bathroom and they traded spots in the shower. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there in time,” he said when she stepped out of the shower.
“We?”
“Yes, I’m making sure you get there okay.” He sent a smile in her direction and instead of arguing with him, she nodded and dried off.
* * * *
Just shy of nine, Carolyn and Randy walked up to Damon’s door. Carolyn hesitated with her hand poised to knock.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m nervous,” she said and dropped her hand, turning to Randy. “What if I screw this up?”
He smiled down at her. “Listen, you’ll do just fine. I’ll be there and Olivia will be there too,” he said and kissed her cheek. Randy had all the confidence in the world in her; besides, having her detained in the art world for the next fifteen hours eased his mind. At least he knew she was safe, that she wasn’t going to be prematurely yanked out of his life by a madman today.
Carolyn took a deep breath and knocked.
When Damon answered the door, he sent a quizzical look in Randy’s direction.
“Don’t worry, I’m just making sure she arrived safely,” Randy said and watched as Carolyn was swallowed by the swirl inside.
Damon nodded. “She’s in good hands. We will see you at the studio this evening,” he said and closed the door.
Randy sighed, and headed toward the subway, oblivious of the shadow tailing him.
* * * *
“Are you sure you want me following this guy?” Sarah whispered into the phone.
“Yes,” Steve said scanning the paper in his hand.
“Why am I tailing her boyfriend?”
“Because he’s on my list and I’ve got tails on everyone today.”
“Well, at least mine is easy on the eyes.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad you’re happy with the assignment.”
“I never said I was happy—just that the view is pretty fine. All things considered, I’d rather be on the hunt with you.”
“I don’t need an ex-cop with a chip on her shoulder with me while I’m talking to the next two suspects. As it is, I’m going to alienate them enough.”
“You mean you’re still not putting those public relations classes to use?”
Steve stopped in his tracks, scanning the crowd in front of him before he responded. “I see you and Jennifer have been talking about me.” Her laugh confirmed it. “That’s just great.”
“What can I say? She finally warmed up to me.”
Tendrils of regret scratched at his skin. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked Sarah to stay with Jennifer while she testified. Having both of them on the same team was going to be like dealing with a hungry lion in the middle of a wild fire. Then again, perhaps it would calm Jennifer’s insecurities.
“Steve?”
“Hmmm?” he said into the receiver.
“You weren’t listening, were you?”
“Sorry, what did you ask?”
“What’s the plan for later, after you talk to the two co-workers?”
“If nothing comes of either conversation, we can meet up and head over to Jim Britt’s home.”
“Steve, I know Jim, there’s no way he’s doing this.”
“He’s the only one who has an extensive collection of swords and axes, and according to the sales records, a few of them match the specs of the murder weapon.”
“Someone could be setting him up.”
“Possibly, but I don’t think so, at least not on a conscious level. The cases where Carolyn switched into the killer’s head, I didn’t get any clarity outside of an irrational hostility bleeding through and there are only two people I’ve encountered with that level of animosity toward Carolyn. Anyway, I’m at Trent Kaplan’s place, I’ll catch you later.” He folded the phone and glanced at the townhouse. Queens was farther than most of the staff and based on the location, he doubted Trent was his man, but he had to check it out.
Trent opened the door in a ratty robe and a coffee in his hand. In an instant, any hint of sleepiness disappeared from his gaze. “Special Agent Williams, what, ah, what are you doing here?”
Steve noted the confusion in Trent’s mind and then the snap of a thought rang clear. “I’ve got some questions for you relating to Carolyn Hastings.”
“Is she okay?”
Raw concern laced his tone and Steve nodded. “Yes, she’s fine, but we’re following up on all the folks that were at City Hall Thursday morning and according to the records, you arrived a little before seven.”
Trent waved Steve into his home and pointed him toward the living room. “Can I get you a coffee?”
Steve did a quick scan of his mind, looking for any hint of malice. He’d been burned in the past by accepting drinks from killers and he wasn’t in the mood to fall prey to it again. When he ascertained Trent was just offering him coffee, he nodded. Instead of waiting for it to be delivered, he followed Trent into the kitchen and watched him pour fresh coffee from the pot.
“I can go from here if you point me to the sugar and creamer,” Steve said reaching for the cup.
“Sugar’s on the table. I’ve only got vanilla flavored creamer. Is that okay or would you prefer milk?”
“That’s fine,” Steve said and took a seat at the table.
Trent brought both the creamer and the pot over to the table, topping off his cup and setting it aside. “What can I do for you today?”
Steve took a sip of coffee and then settled back in the chair. “Are you usually at the office that early?”
“No, usually I come in around eight, but one of my cases was the first on the morning docket and I wanted to go over my strategy with Beverly and Jason and get their feedback on the way I wanted to take the case.”
“Is that normal?”
Trent sighed. “I used to talk with Carolyn when I was nervous about a case. She had a way of…” he trailed off and stared into his coffee.
“A way of what?”
Trent’s face reddened. “A way of distracting me from my nerves.”
“Really?” Steve leaned forward, setting the cup on the table and resting on his forearms, pulling the arsenal of Carolyn’s memories. This man made her uncomfortable and up until recently, she avoided him at all costs.
Trent raised his gaze. “Yeah.”
“So you what, went into her office to mentally undress her in order to calm your nerves?”
He nearly dropped his coffee. “Did Carolyn say something?”
Steve laughed. “She didn’t need to. I’m a pretty observant guy. Did the fact she didn’t reciprocate make you angry?”
“No.”
“Come on. It must have irked you at some level?”
“Well, maybe a little, but she has a boyfriend.”
“Were you angry enough to want to hurt her?”
Trent blinked and sat back in the chair. “Are you cross examining me?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I’d never hurt Carolyn.”
“What about someone that looks like her?”
“I’d never hurt anyone,” Trent said. “And I understand why you have to question me, but I really don’t like your tone, especially since I willingly let you into my home.” He picked up his coffee, sulking as he sipped.
His pouty response took Steve by surprise and he fully understood Carolyn’s aversion to this man. “So why the leering?”
Trent looked up. “You’ve see
n Carolyn. She’s stunning and I can’t help it,” he said. “She even called me out on it too.”
“How’d that make you feel?”
“Damned uncomfortable. I didn’t realize it was so… noticeable.”
Steve pulled the list of dates out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “Can you tell me where you were for each of those days and times?”
“I was asleep for most of these, but I’ve had some really long hours at the office the last couple of weeks. I’ve been in by seven and haven’t left until after nine at night. I use the subway entrance, so my access card would show the times I entered the building and my Metrocard account should have all the times I’ve left.”
“That accounts for a couple of the times, but what about the others? Can anyone vouch for you?”
Trent shook his head. “As you can see, I live alone.”
“Do you have a computer so we can look up your Metrocard activity?”
“Sure,” Trent said and stood. “Let me get my laptop for you.”
After Trent left the room, Steve took a couple of sips of coffee and folded the list, tucking it back in his pocket. He didn’t believe Trent was the killer. The man was just too transparent, even his thoughts were easily read, like they were tattooed on his forehead. But after the last case, Steve didn’t trust the transparency. He wanted definitive proof before he crossed the name off the list. So, he waited for the laptop and the confirmation of Metrocard usage times.
* * * *
“Sit still, Bella,” Damon cooed and Carolyn wanted to scream. The paste they slathered on her to prevent chafing and irritation had long since hardened, creating a buffer between the heavy, wet, painted suit and her skin. But it didn’t stop the rogue itch here and there and right now, her right shoulder blade burned with a fierce itch.
“Can someone scratch my back?”
Damon raised his gaze, giving her a look reminiscent of her mother’s when she was young and asking something impossible. “Close your eyes for a moment.”
Carolyn complied and felt a tap on her back, almost at the point of the itch.
“A little more to the right.”
Another tap found the spot.
“Yes, right there.”
Pressure replaced the tap and she alternated tightening her muscle and relaxing it, satisfying the insanity.
“Better?” his voice whispered in her ear and she shivered at the heat his timber caused.
“Yes,” she said and opened her eyes. Shock filtered through her. Damon still sat in front of her, with her foot in his hand and his thumb pressing a pressure point. He released and smiled up at her, resuming creating his masterpiece.
“Acupressure,” he said after a few strokes.
“You’re just full of talent, aren’t you?”
His eyebrows arched and he chuckled, meeting her gaze. “Well, when you indulge in live art, you have to know how to satisfy your model’s itch.” He winked and continued painting.
Carolyn glanced to her right and Olivia sent a strained smile in her direction. Damon had finished the major details in her outfit before he had Carolyn dress and now Olivia was surrounded by a bunch of student artists, putting the minor finishing touches on her.
Her stomach growled in protest and her gaze bounced to Damon. He raised a hand and signaled one of the interns and she came running over like a happy little puppy.
“Yes, sir?”
“Mix up another batch of the protein shakes, please, we don’t want these models to faint from lack of food now that presentation time is nearing.”
“Yes, sir!” she said, running off to do his bidding.
“Thank you.”
He glanced up at her. “It will help steady you for the show,” he said and stood, stepping back from the display case where she sat on the swing, one wrist secured to the chain with a clear plastic strip and her legs now crossed at the ankles and secured together to keep the pose in place.
He gave a nod, dropped the paintbrushes on the mobile palate and clapped his hands, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. “It’s time.”
The reaction was nothing short of chaos and Carolyn watched as the team brought out a dozen black cloths, enough to cover each of the displays. Just before they draped one over her case, the little puppy girl was back with a straw bearing glass that she held to Carolyn’s lips. The thick chocolate liquid quenched the rumble in her stomach and left her with a pleasant chocolate aftertaste. After a pat of a napkin on her lips, the curtain fell over the opening and the case jostled, rolling toward the distinct sound of metal doors retracting.
A hot flash gripped Carolyn and she tried to cry out, but no sound came from her mouth, just a tight wheeze. When the case stopped moving and another door closed, the small space filled with paint fumes, creating a buzzing in her ears.
“Carolyn?”
“Livi?”
“Yes.”
“Where are we?” Carolyn asked, and even in her ears, her voice carried the pitch of panic.
“Relax, we’re in the moving van. It’s not that long of a ride.”
“I’ve got to admit, I’m a little freaked out at the moment.”
“This is the toughest part, so hang in there,” Olivia said.
“Thanks.” Carolyn concentrated on her breathing, relaxing the tension in her neck. She knew this wasn’t going to be easy, much like a summation in front of a skeptical jury, but being basically tied to a swing in the dark wasn’t making it any easier. “Are you always tied to the set?”
“Yes, especially for the transport. It’s a bit safer this way.”
Carolyn laughed. “Safer, like in seatbelt safe?”
Olivia’s laugh joined in. “Well, no, I guess not. More like safer in the ‘I’ve fallen and can’t get up’ kind of safe.”
The truck stopped and started several times before the distinct beep of reverse gear filled the cabin. Soon after the engine cut; the rattle of the doors resonated along with voices. The pressure on Carolyn’s chest eased along with the tightness in her shoulders and by the time they rolled her into the gallery, she was relaxed.
“She goes here,” Damon’s voice reached through the fabric and her case moved. “She is my centerpiece. The others should be set up in a half moon around her.”
When her case stopped, Damon lifted the corner of the tarp and sent a smile her way. “The gallery opens in less than a half hour and I’ll be introducing the live pieces at eight. Is there anything you need in the meantime?”
“What time is it now?”
“A little after six-thirty.”
“I think I’m good,” Carolyn said and prayed she’d be able to stay still for the next few hours.
He winked at her. “You only have two and a half hours before I let you out of the set. If you need anything, call out and my assistant will get it for you.”
“Thank you.”
The curtain dropped. “Anna,” he yelled and clapped his hands.
“Yes, sir?”
Carolyn recognized the puppy-dog voice and smirked in the dark.
“Stay here. It’s your job to make sure my girls are happy until showtime.”
“Yes, sir,” the chipper voice answered and the sound of Damon’s footsteps echoed, followed by a slamming door.
Chapter 50
“Damn it. I got nothing,” Steve said into his phone and headed in the direction of the subway. “Anything on your end?”
“Nothing here. Her boyfriend is just hanging out at a bar down the street from an art gallery that has a show tonight. He’s checked in at the door twice already.”
“Makes sense. Yesterday when I was grilling him, Jason said he’d see Carolyn at an art show.”
“Where to now?”
“Over to Greenwich Village. I need to have a chat with the Britts.”
“Can we grab something to eat before we intrude upon the D.A.?”
“Just grab something on your way. I’m all set.”
“Fine, I�
�ll be there in a few.”
* * * *
Randy peeled enough bills off to cover his tab along with a decent tip and headed back to the gallery. This time when he flashed his pass, they opened the door and let him inside. Damon crossed the nearly empty hall and stuck his hand out, shaking Randy’s.
“Carolyn has done well today.”
“Can I see her?”
“Not yet, not until the big reveal, in the meantime, look around.”
Randy scanned the people rushing around and then strolled through the gallery, studying each exquisite piece until he stood at the center, in front of the portrait of Carolyn.
His painting.
His girl.
His future.
“You like this one?”
Randy turned to the feminine voice and smiled. “Damon did a great job capturing her here, but wait until you see her as original sin in the live show.”
The blonde next to him raised her eyebrows and scanned the clip board in her hands. “That model is here?”
“I haven’t had a chance to see her yet. Damon’s keeping the live art room closed until he’s ready for the unveiling.” He made finger quotes when he said unveiling and rolled his eyes.
She pulled the pencil out of her hair and marked the clipboard, flashed a smile and wandered off.
Randy glanced at the painting and sighed before heading back to the entry and the gathering crowd. He scanned the people outside the door and his gaze fell on a few familiar faces. Jason stood outside with a petite red head and next to him stood a tall woman he had seen in the halls at Carolyn’s office. He couldn’t remember her name, but the face was familiar. In line, a couple of folks back from Jason, stood Cameron. He sent a nod in Randy’s direction when their eyes met and Randy returned the silent salutation.
* * * *
Jim Britt opened the door and stared at Steve before his attention turned to Sarah. “Officer Connelly?”
“It’s actually Special Agent Connelly, now,” Sarah said and flipped open her badge. “S.A. Williams here is my partner.” She nodded her head toward Steve. “Can we come in?”