He kissed her again, then thrust his fingers in her hair. “If I don’t get out of here soon, I may not leave at all.”
“Now, that’s a thought.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You are wanton, lady.”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’d have to hang around awhile and see.”
“Great idea, except that you live in Sacramento.”
“I’m not there now.”
“Why are you in Courage Bay?” she asked, suddenly remembering Callie’s remark that he was recovering from an injury.
“Fate. And an extended vacation.”
But his mood seemed to change in an instant. His eyes took on a shadowed look and she had the bizarre feeling that he was crawling back inside himself. Mikki was daunted, but only for a few seconds. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Does it have to do with Bernie Brusco?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
“I don’t know. The rest of the city seems to be totally wrapped up in the Avenger’s actions. I thought you might be, too.”
“Bernie’s not worth the brain cells needed to give him a second thought. The world is definitely a better place without him and all the other swine who make their living destroying lives.”
His tone was harsh, in stark contrast to the playful spirit he’d exhibited a few moments earlier. For a man who could be so witty and tender, he definitely had his darker moods.
“Let’s not talk about Bernie tonight,” he said. “Besides, our ice cream is melting.”
“I don’t want any more ice cream,” she whispered, scooting closer and putting her mouth to his ear.
He turned and trailed a finger down her face, slowly, sensually, from her forehead to her lips. “You need some sleep.”
“No.” She caught his finger between her lips, sucking and tasting, before she released it. “What I need is you, Jerry Hawkins. In my bed. All night long.”
She leaned her head against his broad shoulder and he rested his chin on her hair. “You’re probably making a big mistake inviting me for a sleepover,” he said.
“Why? Are you dangerous?”
“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
But danger was far from her mind as he swooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
CALLIE AND MAX ARRIVED at the airport ninety minutes before their scheduled departure. For once the security check went smoothly with only minor delays, and they headed toward the gate with an hour to spare.
“Do you want breakfast?” Max asked as they passed a café that smelled of bacon and spicy sausage.
“No, but coffee would be good.”
She fell in line behind Max, then spotted Lawrence Craven sitting by himself at one of the tables, munching on a bagel and reading the morning newspaper. She touched Max’s arm. “Do you mind getting mine while I go say hello to Judge Craven? He’s sitting by the window.”
“No problem. Black, as usual?”
“No. Make this one café au lait.”
Max glanced over at the judge. “Looks as if he’s traveling alone. Must be business.”
“He was alone the last time I ran into him at the airport,” Callie said. “Marjorie has so many volunteer projects, she probably doesn’t have time to join him on short business trips.”
Max turned back to the counter and Callie walked toward the judge.
Lawrence Craven was a handsome man, Callie thought, with salt and pepper hair and a lithe build. He had a way of looking at a person as if he were your best friend and listening to what you had to say was the most important thing in the world to him. That had to be disconcerting for convicted criminals when they stood before him, waiting for their sentence to be handed out.
“Hello, Lawrence.”
He looked up from his paper and smiled. “Callie Baker. Nice to see you again. You look lovely, as always.”
“Thanks.”
He stood and pulled out a chair for her, the perfect gentleman. “Are you traveling for business or pleasure?” he asked as she settled in the seat.
Neither, but she wasn’t about to explain. “Max and I are flying to Sacramento for the day.”
“Then the two of you really are a couple?”
“Yes.”
“I must say that surprises me. I think it’s great, though. Max is a good man. Rough around the edges, but that has little to do with character.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“I do. Some people were bent out of shape when you brought Max to the garden party, but my matchmaker Marjorie was delighted. She thinks Max is…” He struck a thinker’s pose. “Virile. Yes, that’s it. She said our chief of police is quite virile.”
He folded his paper and pushed it to the edge of the table as Max joined them with coffee. “I wish I could stay and visit with you two,” the judge said, “but my plane for San Francisco boards in about ten minutes.”
“Well, at least we got to say hello.” Max sat down as the judge rose. “How’s your wife?”
“Worried.” The judge picked up his briefcase from the extra chair but made no other move toward leaving. “Actually, I’m worried about her.” His gaze went from Max to Callie.
“You can say what’s on your mind,” Max said. “Callie knows about the list your wife found.”
“I wish she’d never found it.” Stress lines contorted the judge’s face. “She’s obsessing over it and Mary’s death. I’m encouraging her to go to her sister’s in Seattle for a few days to get away from all of this. I’ll insist on it if the newshounds start swarming the house with their endless questions.”
“We’re not releasing information about the list to the press,” Max told him.
“Good, but that doesn’t mean it won’t leak out. Sooner or later, information like that always does.”
“Well, I hope you have a good flight today,” Max said, obviously uncomfortable discussing an ongoing case. “Will you be in San Francisco long?”
“Just for the day. I’m visiting a friend.”
“Good day for it, I guess.”
“As good as any. He has an inoperable brain tumor. I try to see him once a month, but I never know when our visit will be the last one.” He pushed up his sleeve and glanced at his Rolex. “I really must go. Enjoy your day.”
Max toyed with the stir stick, then took a quick sip of coffee. “I need to make a phone call. I’ll be where I can see you, so stay right here until I get back.”
Obviously the phone call was private, so Callie sat quietly, enjoying her coffee and contemplating the day ahead of them. By noon, they’d be at the home of Jerry Hawkins’ late partner and talking with the man’s wife. If she had any doubts about the circumstances surrounding her husband’s death…
Callie thought of Mikki and shuddered slightly.
“You okay?” Max asked, when he rejoined her. “You look upset.”
“I was just thinking that if Jerry Hawkins does turn out to be the Avenger, it will almost kill his mother. It would devastate Mikki, as well.”
“Sure you still want to come along?”
“No, but I’ve come this far, I may as well see it through.”
“Just don’t expect too much. Evidence in a case like this usually comes sneaking though the back corners of a dark room and jumps you when you least expect it.”
Like a piece of paper with a list on it blowing in the breeze.
Callie felt the now-familiar prickles of fear. Fear for herself, and for Mikki and Abby.
Fear that Jerry Hawkins wasn’t the Avenger. And fear that he was.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EVELYN REILLY’S Tudor-style house was tucked away in an upper middle-class neighborhood at the southern end of Sacramento. From the outside, the place looked unassuming, but the inside was tastefully decorated in an eclectic mixture of antiques and contemporary furnishings.
The artw
ork displayed on the faux painted walls was even more impressive. Most of the paintings were abstracts. Their bold colors and striking graphics seemed to pull you inside them—or push you away. Whichever, the emotional impact was powerful.
“I paint,” Evelyn said simply, obviously noting Callie’s interest in the artwork as she led them through the wide foyer and into a spacious combination family room and kitchen.
“Did you do all of them?”
“All but the one over the fireplace. That was painted by a friend.”
“You have phenomenal talent.”
“Thank you. I haven’t painted since…I’m not painting now.” She turned her attention back to Max. “As I told you when you called, I can’t think of any reason why someone from the Courage Bay Police Department would need to see me.”
“I’d just like to ask you a few questions. You’re not required to answer, and you can kick me out anytime.”
She nodded. “Fair enough. Is the kitchen table okay?”
“Kitchen’s great,” Max said.
“Good. There’s more light in here and the view’s better.”
Callie wasn’t sure why that mattered under the circumstances, but the view was nice. A wall of windows overlooked a beautifully landscaped pool.
Evelyn was probably mid-thirties, Callie decided, though she could be older. Her looks were classic, and her smooth blond hair was styled in a sleek bob. She wore stretch, form-fitting capris and a flowing white blouse.
“Can I get you coffee or a soft drink?”
“Nothing for me,” Callie said. Now that she was here, she felt uneasy. Max accepted the offer of coffee and made small talk while Evelyn poured it. He asked about a painting over the kitchen table and an antique cookie jar on one of her shelves.
She seemed open enough as she answered his questions, but became edgy when she rejoined them at the table. “Isn’t Courage Bay being plagued by a vigilante killer?” she asked, directing her question to Max.
“For the past eight months or so.”
“This isn’t about that, is it?”
“In a roundabout way,” Max explained. “We’re looking for patterns in deaths that occurred under unusual circumstances.”
Evelyn bristled. “If you’re talking about my husband’s death, it was an accident, not a murder.”
“I know,” Max said, “and I realize what an imposition this is. But as part of our investigation, we need to look at every possibility, and that includes freak accidents that happened around the state during the same time period.”
“If they’re accidents, how can they be connected?”
“Some of the murders appeared to be accidents at first. One victim’s house was washed away in a mud slide. Another victim had a roof collapse on him. Another died in a plane crash.”
Evelyn hugged her cup as if warming her hands. “I didn’t know. Nonetheless, Travis’s death was an accident.”
“The police report mentioned eyewitnesses who thought differently,” Max said.
“They were wrong. The man on the scaffolding with Travis that day was his partner, Jerry Hawkins. There was no way Jerry pushed him. They were tighter than brothers.”
“Good to know.” Max sipped his coffee.
Callie tried to stay quiet like she’d promised, but she had so many questions she needed answered. “Are you certain there were no problems between the two of them?” she asked. “Arguments about money or the direction the company was going?”
Max glared at Callie. She ignored him and focused on Evelyn, hoping for some indication that her question had struck a nerve. If it had, Evelyn covered it well.
“They argued all the time,” Evelyn said, a trace of a smile crossing her face. “Both of them were as hardheaded as two bricks. But when the arguments were over, they’d have a few beers together and forget about it.”
“Jerry Hawkins must have been pretty broken up about Travis’s death,” Max said.
“He was at the hospital every day after the accident. Jerry was a rock for me, even though I know he was hurting almost as bad as I was.” She lowered her eyes and her voice. “As I still am.”
“I’m sure,” Max said quietly. “Losing someone you love must be devastating.”
Evelyn bit her bottom lip and blinked rapidly, as if working hard to hold back the tears. Callie hurt for Evelyn, but still she wondered if the woman might have underestimated the arguments between her husband and Jerry. Perhaps it had been guilt that had made Jerry so attentive to his partner and his partner’s wife after the accident. Or maybe Jerry was in love with Evelyn.
“You probably know that Jerry Hawkins has family in Courage Bay,” Max said, breaking the silence once Evelyn had regained her composure.
Evelyn exhaled sharply. “I should have known there was more to this than you admitted. You must know his mother lives in Courage Bay. You probably also know that his sister, Elizabeth, lives in Los Angeles.”
“Makes perfect sense for him to visit them,” Max said. “A man needs family.”
“More often they need him. He was supportive of his mother during her divorce and his sister during her struggle with drug addiction.”
Callie had never heard about Elizabeth’s problems. Now she understood why Abby volunteered in the addiction unit of the hospital. His sister’s experience might also explain Jerry’s contempt for Bernie Brusco. Callie’s suspicions about Jerry could be a case of serious misjudgment.
But she wasn’t totally convinced. Not yet, anyway. None of what she’d learned explained why he was spending so much time in Courage Bay now, attending social gatherings, when he’d never done so in the past. Nor did it explain the injury that supposedly kept him from working.
“Was Jerry hurt trying to save your husband?” Callie asked.
“No. He tried to grab Travis and missed. That was it.”
“So when do you expect him back in Sacramento?” Max asked.
“That’s up to him.”
“And the way his injury heals, I guess,” Callie said, determined to find out the truth.
Evelyn shrugged. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. Jerry’s not injured. He needed time away from the company. There’s no law against that.”
“None that I know of,” Max agreed.
Evelyn’s elbow caught the edge of the napkin and sent it flying to the floor. She reached to pick it up, and when she looked at them again, it was as if she’d come to a decision.
“I’d like you to leave now,” she said. “You’re wasting your time and mine. Jerry Hawkins is hard-nosed, determined and sometimes arrogant. But he has a heart of gold, and he’s not your killer. I’d stake my life on that.”
For Mikki’s sake, Callie hoped Evelyn was right.
IT WAS AFTER SIX that evening when the plane touched down on the runway and the passengers started gathering their baggage from the overhead compartments. Max took out his cell phone and turned it on to retrieve his messages.
The first two messages dealt with routine situations. The third was a report that a body had been found not more than ten minutes ago, probably while the plane was taxiing down the tarmac.
White female, approximately thirty years of age, long blond hair, found stuffed in a Dumpster at Courage Bay Hospital. The victim was naked, with a stethoscope dangling from her severely bruised neck.
CALLIE’S ANXIETY SOARED as she listened to Max’s end of his phone conversation. There was a new murder victim, and somehow the case was related to the hospital.
“Who is it?” she asked, the second he broke the connection.
“Unidentified female. I have to go to the crime scene, but I’ll drop you off at police headquarters on the way. I’ll arrange for an officer to take you home.”
She didn’t wait for him to finish the conversation before she grabbed her own cell phone and punched in Mikki’s cell number. The ringing seemed interminable. Finally she heard the damn recorded voice saying to leave a message at the tone.
There wa
s no reason to panic. Mikki was probably making hospital rounds or with a patient. Or…Callie tried the number to Mikki’s office. Gone for the day, as she expected. “Exactly where did they find the body?”
“Stuffed in a Dumpster back of the hospital.”
“How old was the victim?”
He wrapped his arm around her, but didn’t slow his walk. “Don’t jump to conclusions. There’s no evidence at this point that the death is associated with the Avenger. It could be domestic violence. Probably not anyone you know.”
Mikki. He was thinking Mikki, too, but he wouldn’t say it. She couldn’t, either. But the dread was so thick inside her she could barely breathe. “What age?”
He guided her into the elevator to the parking garage. “Somewhere around thirty.”
“Blond?”
“Yeah.” He pulled her into his arms and held on tightly as the elevator began its ascent. “I know what you’ve been through, but you have to hang tough, Callie. Don’t go imagining the worst when all we know is that a young woman’s body was discovered.”
But she couldn’t hang tough, not anymore. She’d known instinctively that Mikki was in danger, and all she’d done was fly off to Sacramento to hear another of Jerry Hawkins’s admirers describe how great he was.
If they were wrong…If Callie’s suspicions had been right…If Mikki was…The elevator bell clanged and the door slid open.
“I’m going with you, Max.”
“That’s not an option.”
“No. It’s a fact. With you or without you. I’m going to the hospital.”
He opened his mouth to argue, then clamped it shut and took her arm as they made their way through the packed parking garage.
“You can go to the hospital with me,” he said, “but the crime scene is off-limits. And that’s nonnegotiable.”
She’d expected as much. But she just had to know the identity of the victim. She tried Mikki’s number again on the way to the hospital, praying she would hear Mikki’s cheery voice say hello.
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