by J. E. Taylor
Jim’s gaze flicked to Steve and his jaw tightened a moment before he nodded and swung the door open.
“Is your wife home?” Steve asked, scanning the entry with both his eyes and his mind.
“No, she’s helping with the coordination of an art exhibit tonight down in Chelsea.”
His gaze snapped to the district attorney, while a gnawing started in the pit of his stomach. He went to speak and Sarah touched his arm, silencing him with her thoughts.
Let me handle this.
“Jim, I’ve been looking at the weapons profile for the murders along with purchase records of all the people on the list Steve gave me, and it seems you’ve had a few sales over the years that would fall into that profile. Is there any way we could see your collection so I can definitively rule you out as a possible suspect?” Sarah asked and Steve did a double take at the saccharin tone and the sweet smile that accompanied it.
This wasn’t the abrasive partner he was used to. This was much more like the subdued woman he almost had an affair with long before The Slasher got hold of her. Charm oozed from her and despite their history, a heated flash flickered in a region much lower than his stomach. Did she just bat her eyes?
Jim Britt reacted much in the same way Steve did, blushing at the subtle flirt. He glanced at the elegant stairwell and sighed before bringing his gaze back to her. Hunger blazed in his eyes and he licked his lips before putting on a smile. “You always were direct and to the point.”
Sarah smiled and blushed, sweeping one foot on the floor in an ‘aw shucks’ move that almost made Steve laugh. She was playing the district attorney and he was falling right into her trap making him wonder exactly what kind of history they had together.
“Well, I know you couldn’t possibly be the killer, but I have to prove it to my partner here.” She hooked her thumb toward Steve and cocked her head, flashing a winning smile. “So what do you say?”
Jim nodded and led them up the stairway to his office. When they stepped inside, Steve couldn’t help but whistle. His vast collection had axes, swords, lances, and daggers that dated back to the Middle Ages. It was enough to leave most medieval fanatics drooling and his gaze landed on the centerpiece over the desk. A more modern short handled, double-edged axe was mounted on a wooden plaque. The signature of the weapon matched the drawing their specialists had sent over and he glanced at Sarah.
She was also staring at the focal point in the room and pulled a spray can of BlueStar out of her purse. “Do you mind?” She asked Jim.
He nodded and Steve took the liberty of tapping into his thoughts. Jim Britt received the authentic Serenity Long-Bearded Axe right after the series Firefly went off the air. When this piece went up for auction, it was an easy purchase for Jim and fueled his interest in sci-fi, fantasy, and gaming.
Sarah pulled the chair next to the wall and climbed up. She sent a smile over her shoulder and then sprayed the blade. Silence settled over the room as dark streaked patterns appeared on the metal and the handle.
Shock filtered through Steve and he felt the same slam through the district attorney. Jim stumbled backwards and sat hard on the couch, his gaze locked on the blood splatter pattern on his prized weapon. Questions filled his head, each and every one of them falling on his wife, and the lack of answers he got from her earlier as to where she had been the last few weeks or where the pair of soaking work boots he found in the basement came from.
“There are boots in the basement?” Steve blurted.
Jim’s gaze peeled away from the axe to Steve and he nodded.
“Sarah, go spray those boots.”
Sarah hopped off the chair and left the room. She came back a few minutes later with a pair of boots spattered with dark marks where she sprayed them. She dropped them on the table, her gaze now hard and unyielding, more like the partner Steve was used to. “These things stink and they were covered in blood at one time. You want to start talking?”
“Those are Linda’s,” he said and glanced up at the wall. “Jesus, it can’t be her.” His voice lacked the conviction of the words and he put his head in his hands.
Steve crouched down in front of him. “When exactly did you tell her you were in love with Carolyn?”
“I don’t see why the timing of that makes any difference. She had moved into the guest quarters at least a month before she pushed the point.”
“When was that?” Sarah asked.
He looked up at her and said, “Two weeks ago.”
Steve stood. “That must have been the trigger.”
“She’s at an art show tonight?” Sarah asked.
Jim nodded.
“Steve, Carolyn’s in an art show tonight.”
Both Jim and Steve’s gaze snapped in Sarah’s direction and then they scanned the walls. “Is anything missing?” she asked, waving at the wall of weapons.
Jim stood and scanned the walls. “No, but…”
“But what?”
“But she does own a handgun and carries it with her when she goes out.”
Steve and Sarah exchanged a glance before gazing at the axe. Steve moved first. “Get a forensics team in here now,” he said and started for the door.
Jim shot to his feet. “I’m going with you.”
Steve paused. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. If you’re wife has a gun and the propensity to use it, she might turn on you, too.”
“She hasn’t turned on me yet,” he argued.
“Look, you aren’t out of the woods, either…”
“I know my rights and yet I am allowing you to bring a team into my home, without a warrant.”
“Jim,” Sarah started.
“No. If my wife is the one, then she is seriously disturbed and you’ll need someone who can talk her off a ledge.”
“And you’re the right person to do that?”
He shrugged and looked at the axe on the wall. “If she isn’t the one, then we’re being framed and she’s in as much danger as Carolyn is.”
Chapter 51
Carolyn dozed and each time her chin dropped to her chest, she jerked awake. Light music piped into the room, making the dark a little less intimidating. “Um, hello?” she called and the shuffle of feet approached.
When the curtain pulled back, the chipper little intern smiled at her. “What can I get you?”
“Can I have an energy drink or coffee or something that will keep me awake?”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.”
The curtain fell again, obstructing her view. When the door opened, the sounds of the crowd filtered in, creating a small jolt of adrenaline that woke her up. The door closed on the din and silence settled under the soft crooning of Josh Groban. Carolyn sighed and shifted her weight, her muscles protested, sending a cramp through her back. A few deep, soothing breaths eased the pain.
A moment later, the door opened and closed, and shoes clicked across the floor. The curtain moved and a little canister with a plastic straw appeared in the sliver of light. “You’re one lucky lady; this is the last energy drink available.” Anna smiled in the dark room, her chipper whisper making Carolyn more relaxed and she wrapped her lips around the straw and sucked the sweet berry syrup into her mouth.
“Thank you,” she said after she drained the container. “How much longer?”
“We’re almost ready. I’d say another fifteen minutes or so.”
The coverlet dropped.
“Does anyone else need anything?”
A chorus of “no” echoed in the room.
“Okay. It’s almost show time, so I’m going to leave you lovely ladies here while I go help Damon get ready.” Anna’s shoes clicked away and Carolyn heard the plink of the container hitting the bottom of a metal garbage can and she sighed, letting both the adrenaline and the contents of the energy drink erase the fatigue from both her mind and body.
* * * *
I stared at the painting of the bane of my existence and glanced toward the live display room. By now seve
ral people confirmed that she was in there and I just had to bide my time, wait for the right moment.
I wanted her demise to be public this time. Private dismemberment in the alleys of New York City hadn’t worked. My blade didn’t wield the needed purity to destroy the bitch.
No, this time I had the perfect weapon to cleanse the evil out of her.
After that first conversation, that first confirmation of her existence in this lovely gallery, I did a quick search of the back room and found the perfect answer, just the right accelerant to brandish justice.
I glanced at my watch and took a deep breath.
It was almost time.
* * * *
Randy saw the intern slip out of the live art room and headed in that direction. With a quick look over his shoulder, he slipped into the room unnoticed. He needed to see her, to make sure she was there.
His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting and he scanned the covered cases, honing in on the one in the center. His footfalls echoed no matter how softly he tread and when he pulled the edge of the tarp away, she squinted and then broke out in a smile.
“Hi, babe,” he whispered.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked, but he could tell by the sparkle in her eyes that she was glad to see him.
“I’m just…” The click of a door interrupted him and he turned. “I better get out of here before I get caught by the little Nazi intern.”
Carolyn chuckled. “I understand Anna can be a bit fierce.”
“Yeah—she was pretty much like a bull dog guarding a bone.”
“Go, before we both get in trouble.”
He dropped the curtain and headed toward the entry, navigating through the seating area as quietly as he could. Movement caught the corner of his eye and he turned in time to see a small two by four coming in his direction. Randy had no time to react before the board hit him. The last thing that registered before all went black was blonde hair.
* * * *
Steve and Sarah hopped out of the cab in front of the gallery and Jim scrambled to catch up. With their badges displayed, they circumvented the doormen and skidded into the main gallery where a waiting crowd blocked the live display room entrance.
* * * *
“Randy, are you okay?” Carolyn called out after the clatter settled.
The curtain peeled back and the world tilted.
Carolyn stared at her startled face, painted in scarlet like the rest of her form and she knew the killer was here, now and there was nothing she could do. Fear as strong as the paint fumes paralyzed her and she blinked, willing herself back into her own body.
When the world righted, the form in front of her made no sense. This couldn’t be the killer. It was a woman. A woman she knew.
“This time you won’t escape death.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
Linda Britt sprayed Carolyn with a can of turpentine like it was lighter fluid and she was just a wooden set. The moment the liquid hit her, it seemed to trigger the curtains and lights, like this horrific event was a planned part of the show.
Fumes choked her and Carolyn coughed, her eyes darting around the room looking for Randy, looking for anyone to help. She struggled to pull her wrist and ankles free from the bindings, but to no avail and panic swallowed her sensibilities.
The door swung open and people started shuffling in.
Linda glanced over her shoulder and dropped the can, trading it for a book of matches, lighting them with a brass lighter. With a toss of her wrist, the flaming pack touched the turpentine soaked surface and it ignited.
Fire. With it came sudden overwhelming heat and Carolyn renewed her struggle against the bonds, her lungs opening from the adrenaline rushing through her and a scream peeled out. Her feet were no longer numb, they were burning and she couldn’t get away from the flames, they jumped at her, dancing on the paint covering her, igniting, climbing toward the top of the glass case. Pain gripped her, fueling the power behind her screams. Flames spread over her skin, fast and furious, eating away, scorching, burning, and leaving only a blackened smoldering path behind.
“Oh, my God!” someone in the crowd screamed.
* * * *
The screams pulled him from the darkness and Randy rolled on his side, staring at the flaming set. Carolyn, Jesus, that’s Carolyn!
He was on his feet running toward her before the thought finished.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the crowd part and Agent Williams barreling into the room but that didn’t stop his course to save Carolyn.
Randy launched through the air, ignoring the searing heat and he wrapped his arms around her waist, yanking her with him. The glass plate acting as the backdrop of the case shattered before he hit it and he tumbled to the ground with Carolyn’s burning body in his arms.
He rolled, trying to douse the flames with his body, the heat and burning paint searing them together. Chaos filled his world, screams of terror and pain echoed through the amphitheater.
With the flames doused, he lifted his head in the direction of the display case and another shock ripped through him. The case no longer existed, only a shower of dust and a blonde woman with a deranged smile aiming a gun in their direction.
Jim Britt stepped into view, yelling, “Linda, no!”
The woman reacted as if an electric shock hit her, jumping at the sound of his voice and turning the gun in his direction.
A roar filled the room and Jim Britt spun around, falling into the line of people behind him with a red stain spreading over the back of his shirt.
He went down amid screams of terror.
Randy turned his attention to the whimpers under him. “Come on, baby, hang in there,” Randy said, holding her smoldering form to him, ignoring the burn on his chest. Her blue eyes held infinite pain and the shallow draw of her breath crushed him. He had enough experience with industrial accidents to know Carolyn had little hope of survival, but still he clung to the thought of a miracle.
“What are you doing, Bella?” Damon’s voice pulled his attention away from Carolyn and he watched the drama unfold.
Linda turned toward Damon, her face scrunched in an angry, petulant expression. “I couldn’t let you leave me for that bitch,” Linda said and cocked her head toward Randy and Carolyn.
“Put the gun down,” another FBI agent said, her gun trained on Linda.
Linda jerked toward the voice and another blast echoed from her gun. This time Steve took a step backward, and blood spread from his right shoulder. “Drop it,” Steve said, his voice a growl and the gun tumbled from her hands.
Steve turned his intense gaze toward Randy and stumbled in their direction. In the distance sirens wailed and Randy turned back to Carolyn. “Help is on the way, just hang on.”
Steve knelt down next to them, pulling his attention away from her. The blood spreading on his shirt drew a sharp inhale from Randy, dampening his outlook. If someone like Steve Williams could get hurt, what hope did he have?
“More than you think,” Steve whispered and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Carolyn’s forehead and little rivers of light danced along her charred skin.
“What did you just do?” Randy asked just before Steve planted a kiss on his forehead. A surge of energy filled him and every fiber of his being tingled, turning the pain into an excruciating white light.
* * * *
Light-headed, Steve sat and stared at the chaos around him. His ears rang and he gave Sarah a weak smile as she handed Linda Britt over to the New York City police. Everything moved in slow motion and he was drenched in blood with the charred stench of burnt flesh filling his senses. He shook the memory clear just as the paramedics lifted Jim Britt onto a gurney and rushed him out the door. Steve wondered if the man would survive and then the mending pain in his shoulder brought down a curtain of black.
Chapter 52
“I’m fine.” Carolyn insisted, although she had no idea how. Her last coherent memory was Ra
ndy telling her to hang on, but even that was drowned by the pain that gripped every fiber of her being. She had been roasted alive, and when she came to in the emergency room, she heard the doctors discussing her prognosis.
The initial assessment was third and fourth degree burns covering more than eighty percent of her body. They believed the paint acted as an accelerant and needed to remove it to understand the extent of the damage. But when the doctors peeled away a section of the hard shell surface, they found her epidermal layer intact, albeit a bit pink, like a slight sunburn.
“I’ve been running this burn unit for close to thirty years and I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s a miracle.”
Randy sat in the chair in the corner staring out the window, still playing back the day’s events, stunned, bordering on shock and Carolyn knew the feeling.
“I’d like you to stay overnight for observation,” the doctor stressed.
“Dr. Benton,” Carolyn started, reading his nametag as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’d like to go home.” She met his level gaze. “It’s been a hell of a day and I’d like to sleep in my own bed.”
Dr. Benton flipped the chart closed and gave a curt nod, leaving the room just as Steve and a blonde woman walked in. Her gaze jumped from his face to the red stain on the front shoulder of his shirt. “You got shot?”
He smiled and shrugged. “It just grazed the skin,” he said.
“How are you feeling?” the blonde asked.
“Who are you?”
“This is my partner. Special Agent Sarah Connolly, meet Carolyn Hastings and Randy Kinkaid.”
They exchanged handshakes and Randy’s confused glance landed on Steve. “You were bleeding a hell of a lot more than just a graze.”
Steve turned to him. “Look, I’ll explain everything when we get you two back to your apartment. Okay?” he said and handed both Carolyn and Randy scrubs. “It’s all I could find.”
Carolyn took the items and disappeared into the bathroom. She stared at her reflection, marveling. It looked like she’d just had too much sun and the debilitating pain was a distant memory.