by T. L. Haddix
“You mean Doug Whitaker?”
She breathed a sigh of relief as they reached her condo. “Yes. I need to check some things before I’m sure, though. I’m at home. I’ll call you back in a few minutes, as soon as I know for certain.”
She turned to a confused Savannah. “I owe you big time, Vannie. Seriously. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Before her sister could respond, she jumped out of the car and headed for the door. Fumbling with her keys, she cursed her clumsiness. “Come on, come on.”
Finally, the door was unlocked, and she was inside. She rushed to the kitchen, where she’d left her computer, and pressed the power button on her laptop, but the machine only beeped. The words “hard drive failure” appeared on the screen, and Maria cursed. When a man cleared his throat behind her, she gave a small scream and jumped, knocking into the table’s edge with a painful thud as she turned around.
The man stood there unsmiling, a small, deadly looking pistol in one hand. In the other hand, he held the laptop’s hard drive. “I’m afraid it won’t boot without this.” He tossed the drive onto the counter. Pulling a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, he tossed them to Maria. “We’re going to walk to your bedroom, and you are going to use those to attach yourself to the bed.”
He didn’t look particularly fit, and he was at least a couple inches shorter than she was. Maria doubted he could get her out of the kitchen, much less up the stairs and into the bedroom, and she wasn’t about to go with him. “Or what? You’ll kill me? You’re going to do that anyhow. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
His face flushed an unhealthy red. “Then I’m afraid we have a problem.”
Chapter Forty Five
As much as she hoped for any sign that might indicate her assailant was nervous, Maria couldn’t find any. “Who are you?”
“Doug Whitaker, Ms. Pace. But I think you already knew that.”
“I suspected as much,” she conceded. “What do you want?”
His smirk was full of condescension. “Oh, I want the world, and I intend to have it. You’re sure you won’t be a good girl and go upstairs for me?” She shook her head, and he emitted a put-upon-sounding sigh. “Fine. Then sit down at the table and don’t you dare move. Tell me everything you know, everything you have on me.” He gestured with the gun when she just stood there. “Go on. I really don’t want to have to use this. So messy, don’t you think?”
Heart pounding, Maria did as she was told. Her mind raced as she tried to remember all the things she’d learned in the crisis management class Wyatt had set up for the civilian employees a couple of years back. All she could bring to mind was the importance of keeping the perpetrator calm, and of not going off anywhere isolated with him, regardless of whether or not the person had a weapon.
Once she was seated, he seemed to relax a little. “Did you know my mother, Ms. Pace?”
Maria had to clear her throat in order to speak. “No. I barely remember going into the diner when she had it.”
Whitaker’s mouth twisted into a malicious sneer. “Oh, she was a saint, my mother. Everyone loved Corrine. So kind, so good. So easy to use. She’s dead, you know. Well, as good as. She’s an empty shell, and she’d be better off if she were dead.”
“I’m sorry, Doug.”
He shrugged. “She had several strokes that turned her into a vegetable. Frankly, I think it’s what she deserved.”
The way the man eyed her sent cold shivers down her spine, and Maria had to force herself to focus on her breathing to stay calm. “Why do you say that?”
With a sharp bark of laughter, he leaned against the counter. The gun in his hand never wavered. “Because she never stood up for me, not once, when I needed her the most. Do you know what it was like growing up, watching her spend so much time and energy taking care of everyone who came through the doors of that damned diner? She’d smile and laugh, offer comfort and support, and she was glad to do it. And then she’d come home to me at night, and she wouldn’t even cook most of the time. We ate leftovers from the diner’s kitchen. She saved all her energy for them. And they ate it up. There wasn’t anything left for me.”
Maria was stunned by the violent anger that lit his eyes. A fear unlike anything she’d ever known was building in her stomach, and the more he talked, the more she realized he had snapped. She knew her only chance at survival would be to keep him talking long enough for Stacy to figure out something was wrong when Maria didn’t call her back as promised.
“Not all women are cut out to be mothers, Doug. I’m sorry. My own mother wasn’t much better than yours.”
“Is that so?”
Maria nodded, and he gave a cold laugh. “But I’ll bet you weren’t bullied as a child now, were you?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be a young child with a bladder that’s too small? To be afraid to speak up in class and ask to go to the restroom?” He moved the gun jerkily. “To have everyone in the damned school laugh at you when you wet your pants during assembly?” When she didn’t answer, he shouted, “Well, do you?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. But I do, Ms. Pace. I know what it’s like when the teachers hate you as much as the other students do. I know what it’s like when the very people who are supposed to defend you see you as an object to be pitied or mocked.” He shifted his weight and moved his head, first left, then right, causing the joints in his neck to pop. “When I was thirteen years old, the boys in my class took bets on who my mother was sleeping with from week to week. Coach Williams and Wyatt Dixon were among the favorites. Richard Hudson was one, too, and his brother, John. Hell, any man in town who was over eighteen and under eighty was fair game.”
Maria couldn’t hide her shock. “Doug, surely they weren’t—”
His laughter had a maniacal tone to it, and it caused nausea to curl in the pit of her stomach. “It didn’t matter if they were or weren’t, Maria. They believed it. Everyone believed it. And she didn’t care. She laughed about it, laughed in my face at the pain it caused me.”
He turned away, looking out the window over the sink. Maria thought about trying to run while he was distracted, but he turned back suddenly, as though he’d read her mind.
“Don’t even bother. I’ll shoot you in the back before you could take ten steps.”
She clenched her hands in her lap. She couldn’t see the clock, and she had no idea how much time had passed since she’d talked to Stacy. It seemed like hours, but she knew it had to have been only a few minutes.
“Is that why you’re blackmailing those people? Because you want revenge on them for hurting you when you were a child?”
He tilted his head and stared at her, almost as though listening to some internal voice. Finally, he nodded once. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you. Yes. That’s why.”
“And Leslie Simms?”
“Ah, poor Leslie. That was unfortunate. We were seeing each other, you know. I’d done a forensic audit for her, and we hit it off. You wouldn’t believe how raunchy that straight-laced priss could get in the bedroom. I’m going to miss her. But she was just a casualty of war. It happens.”
Maria swallowed against the bile that threatened to rise. “You used your relationship to gain access to her records?”
He smiled. “Of course. The underhandedness was part of the challenge, part of the fun. She wasn’t the first, and she probably won’t be the last. Though I may retire after I’ve finished with you, or at least change the way I operate. Leslie was the first person I’ve killed, but I found it rather… exhilarating.”
“How many victims were there total?”
“How many letters, you mean? Including the one I sent myself, six. But the forum? Ah, there were many more targets I hit there. What did you think about that, by the way? I worked very hard to get that little gem to the point where it did what I wanted it to.”
“Do you want me to answer that honestly, Doug?”
When he nodded, she blew out a silent breath. “I’m appalled by your forum. But at the same time, what you’ve done with it is impressive. Were all those secrets things you learned from medical records?”
He didn’t seem offended. “No, not all of them. As you might have noticed, I’m rather unremarkable in appearance.” Whitaker gestured down his body with the hand not holding the gun. “You would be surprised at how much one can overhear just by sitting quietly in a restaurant or library alcove. Even getting a haircut can be quite educational. People talk around me; it’s almost as though I’m not there.” Something ugly moved through his eyes, and the coldness it left behind was the most terrifying thing Maria had ever seen. “Enough talking. We need to figure out how you’re going to go upstairs. See, I have a special surprise planned for Wyatt Dixon. He’s going to find out the hard way that actions have consequences.”
Maria almost wept with relief when, at that moment, her phone rang. They both looked down at where it lay on the table between them, and when Whitaker saw the caller’s ID, he smiled. “Speak of the devil. Should we answer it, do you think? Or should we let it go to voice mail?”
Maria was incapable of answering him, and when Whitaker saw that, he laughed heartily. “Let’s just let him ride it out. He’ll figure out soon enough why you aren’t answering.”
Deciding to try some subterfuge, just in case, she wet her lips. “We had a fight. I’m supposed to call him this afternoon. If I don’t answer, he may show up.”
Whitaker shrugged. “Let him.” He pulled back the slide on the gun, ejecting a bullet into the air. He caught it with his empty hand. “I have thirteen more rounds I’ll be glad to greet him with.”
Chapter Forty Six
Wyatt was in the middle of a conference call with the mayor when Gretchen tapped on his door, a concerned frown on her face. He immediately put the mayor on hold. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure, but Detective Kirchner is on her way up. She called and said there’s a situation.”
Wyatt nodded. “Okay. I’ll end this call and be right out.” He made his excuses to the mayor and came out of his office just as Stacy and Ethan burst through the door. Ethan’s face was pale, and he was speaking urgently into his cell phone. Wyatt went cold all over.
“What’s going on?”
“Whitaker’s the extortionist,” Stacy said. “And Maria’s home alone. She’s not answering her phone. I talked to her not five minutes ago.”
Ethan ended his call, his eyes wide with fear. “Jason’s home. He’s going to suit up and head over there. Surely to God, Whitaker couldn’t…”
“He overheard us yesterday. He knows she can identify him. Goddamn it.” Wyatt didn’t bother giving instructions, just headed down the hall at a dead run. Stacy and Ethan were close behind him. “Ethan, get the ball rolling with SWAT, just in case. You’re with me. Stacy, follow us.” They hit the door to the parking lot running, and Wyatt realized he was praying out loud.
“Please, God, don’t let us be too late.”
Chapter Forty Seven
When Wyatt, Ethan, and Stacy arrived at the condominium complex, Wyatt, who had insisted on driving, parked on the road just outside the entrance.
“We can cut through the woods behind Jason’s building and go across the street there. That way Whitaker won’t see us coming,” he said as they slipped into their bulletproof vests.
Jason had radioed a couple of minutes ago to tell them that Whitaker was definitely inside Maria’s condo. “I used my SWAT mirror. He’s there, and he has a gun. I have an idea of how to slip a couple of our people inside, though.”
As the three of them came out of the woods and into the complex, they came up behind Jason, who was carrying a ladder across the street to Maria’s condominium.
Leaning the ladder against the front of the garage, he explained, “Her brother was staying with her a couple weeks ago in the bedroom that looks out over the roof of the garage. He was sneaking out to lay on the roof and watch the stars, and he messed up the lock on the window. I don’t think she’s gotten it fixed yet, so with any luck, it’ll be unlocked, and we can get in that way.”
“Are we okay to stand here?” Wyatt asked.
Jason nodded. “We’re not visible from inside as long as we stay in front of the garage and toward the other side.” He looked at Stacy. “You and I are smaller, so we should probably go up. You have your earpiece in?”
“Yes.” Stacy made an adjustment to the unit, which worked off their radios. “I’m ready.”
Wyatt agreed. “Be careful in there. Try to wait for SWAT to get here before you do anything, if you can.”
While they waited for Jason and Stacy to make entry, Wyatt paced in front of the adjoining garage. He and Ethan didn’t speak. It took everything in Wyatt not to go rushing up to the front door. He was less than fifty feet away from the woman he had come to realize he loved, the woman who was being held at gunpoint by a killer. There wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. However, he did have an idea about creating a distraction to get Whitaker’s attention off Maria when the time came.
Jason’s voice came over the radio. “Looks like the window’s unlocked. We’re going to try to open it.” After several tense seconds, Wyatt heard him let out a slow breath. “We’re open, and we’re going in. I’ll tap three times when we’re in place. Do you have a distraction ready?”
Ethan responded. “We do. And SWAT is one minute out. Be careful, Jason, Stacy.”
By the time the taps came, Deputy Robbie Bailey and three other members of the SWAT team had fallen in behind Ethan and Wyatt.
“Backup’s here,” Ethan told Jason and Stacy over the radio. Three more taps sounded in response.
“Robbie, take Jeff and Roy and go around back. Steve, you’re with us,” Wyatt said.
Once they’d radioed that they were in position, Ethan said, “We’re going to need a distraction. I’ll go—”
“No,” Wyatt interrupted, stripping down to his bare chest and handing Ethan his clothing. “I’ll do it.” When Ethan opened his mouth again, Wyatt held up his hand. “It’s not open for debate. Besides, it makes more strategic sense if I do it.” He tucked his gun into the waistband at the small of his back, then put the vest back on, and his T-shirt and dress shirt over that. “I’m not taking any more of a risk than I have to, okay?”
“For God’s sake, be careful,” Ethan said.
“I will. Everyone ready?” When he received confirmation, he headed up the walk. On the way to the building, he called Maria on his cell phone. He didn’t expect an answer, and he didn’t get one. Before the call went to voicemail, he hung up and tried again. As the phone rang, he pounded on the door.
“’Ria, oh Ma-reeee-uhhh, I know you’re in there,” he sang loudly, drawing out the words. “Answer the door, honey.” He followed the singing with hearty laughter. Thumping on the door again, he continued with the drunken ruse.
“Sweetheart, I just want to talk. I’m sorry about what I said. You’re nothing like your mother. Please don’t be mad at me.” He began a steady thumping on the door and sang again.
Jason’s voice whispered in his ear. “She’s coming to the door. Whitaker’s staying in the kitchen.”
Wyatt prayed as he never had before that Maria would understand what he was trying to do, and that he’d be able to pull her to safety before Whitaker could do anything about it.
Chapter Forty Eight
Maria was so scared she was afraid she might wet her pants or throw up, or both. After Wyatt had called a few minutes earlier, Whitaker had become even more animated, pacing back and forth in the small kitchen. He’d turned his focus inward, only keeping a cursory eye on her. Muttering to himself, he stopped pacing when her phone rang again.
“Well, looks like lover boy really wants to talk. Too bad you aren’t available.”
The phone stopped ringing, but then immediately started again. They both jumped when a loud pounding sounded at the front door, foll
owed by horrible off-key singing. In an instant, Maria realized what Wyatt was doing.
“What the hell?” Whitaker took two steps toward the door, then turned back to her, his eyes narrowed.
“Stupid man, he’s probably drunk again.” Tears clogged her throat, and she couldn’t say any more as Wyatt thumped a few more times on the door.
Whitaker smiled. “I’ll take care of that.” He leveled his gun at the door.
“Doug, no! Please. Let me get rid of him. If you kill a cop, you won’t be able to run far or fast enough.”
He wavered, her words carrying weight. As crazy as Whitaker was, he wasn’t stupid. “You’ll give the game away,” he accused.
She shook her head frantically. “No. He’s drunk, Doug. He’s done this before.”
“You’re lying! I’d have heard about that.”
“He’s the sheriff. Nobody will hear about this unless he wants them to. Do you want to see the scars he put on me?” Turning her back, she pulled her shirt up and showed him the healed wounds from the fishhooks. “Why do you think his wife killed herself? It wasn’t just because she was sick. She killed herself to get away from that.” Shaking, she pointed toward the door where Wyatt had gone back to singing.
“Fine. Just get rid of him or I will. Don’t try anything, or I’ll kill both of you where you stand, consequences be damned.” Gesturing with the gun, he stood back and let Maria pass.
As she hurried down the hall, she nearly bit through her lip in an effort to keep from screaming with fear. She knew she had to stay calm, or they would both die. “I’m coming already! Stop your caterwauling!” It took her three tries to open the door, her hands were shaking so much. When she finally did manage it, she found that Wyatt had the storm door open and was slumped against it.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he drawled, keeping in character.
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. What do you want?” Seeing the tortured pain in his eyes that had to match her own, Maria had to bite her hand to keep from crying. “I told you to stay away from me.”