“I was going crazy. I went out on the beach with a flashlight, but you know, it was pouring, and there was no one there. Finally, I just sat down on your couch and waited. Maybe thirty minutes later, Dennis calls me back and says it was you with the killer. They’re taking you to the hospital. I ran to my truck and got here in like five minutes; I beat the ambulance.
“Turns out that after you suggested extra patrols on Billington Sea, Turk contacted all the security firms in town. Bunch of those big houses have monitoring; they had extra guys watching the video feeds in real time. They saw the car arrive and disappear around the side of the house.” I remembered blinking up at the light when the man opened the trunk.
“The first patrol unit got there about seven minutes after it was called in. They couldn’t see anyone in the rain, but no one was in the house, so Dennis guessed that he was heading for the island. They got a dinghy with a motor from the kayak place. I guess the killer heard the motor when they got near the island and that’s when he decided to throw you in. When they got off the boat; they heard him running through the brush and they went after him. Then they heard the splash. Officer Wills and Officer Hartfield both dove in. They saved you; they got you out and did CPR. By the time the SWAT guys and the other teams arrived, he’d gotten away.”
“They had to do CPR?” I shuddered.
“Yeah. They got your heart going again, wrapped you up in a couple of jackets and took you in the dinghy back to shore. I guess you woke up in the ambulance.”
I looked up at the heart monitor with new respect. I’d thought they were just being cautious.
“I was here when they brought you in,” he continued. “They rushed you away and I didn’t know what was going on for almost another hour. I was losing it.”
“Sorry,” I said with a weak smile. “My nine was on the couch when he came in. I tried to fight, but he put a gun to my head. I’d just figured out about Zeke. I guess I’m descended from Billington. You should have heard him, Milo.” I closed my eyes. All of my muscles hurt, and I was remembering the crazy things he’d said. The sound of his voice. “He was going to kill Pepper too.”
I felt Milo’s hand on mine. “Just rest until Dennis gets here. They were at the island when I called; it might be a while. I’ll be right here.”
“Is Laura okay?” I mumbled.
“She will be. She’s a lot better. Now it’s your turn. Rest.”
So I did.
When I opened my eyes again, seven people stood around my bed. I’d heard the mumbling, like they were trying to be quiet, but really they wanted me to wake up. I stared around the room. Outside the sky was nearly dark. I’d slept the day away.
Dennis and Turk were on my left; Milo was standing behind them. On my right were a tall blond man with pink skin and a big-boned woman with short dark hair; they were both wearing suits. FBI. At the foot of my bed were two more suit types, one with a greying beard and glasses; the other looked like he was just out of high school, too-big suit, zits and all. They were all looking at me.
“I hope you guys brought the beer and pizza,” I said.
They all smiled. Nervous.
“You want anchovies? They gots a special down at Rose and Vicki’s,” said Turk.
I smiled. “Think I’ll pass on that, Turk. Got my fill of bottom feeders last night.” I squirmed and tried to sit up.
“Here,” said Milo. He reached around Dennis and pushed a button on the bedrail. The mattress beneath my pillow rose.
“Thanks, Milo.” I looked around at everyone. I tried to smooth my hair back; I could only imagine what I looked like right now. I sighed. “Okay, let’s do this.” I might look like shit but at least I felt a whole lot better after my nap; the painkillers Marcia Lennon doled out really were good drugs.
Dennis moved closer to the bed. I glanced at him and felt my face flush. I was never going to be a Tough Bitch in his eyes now.
“Hi, Dennis,” I said.
“Scared the piss outta me, Sam.” His eyes were inscrutable.
“I scared me a little myself,” I said with a smirk.
Dennis didn’t smile. He turned to Milo. “Have to ask you to leave while we take her statement,” he said. “You understand,” he added with raised eyebrows.
Milo nodded. “I’ll be in my mom’s room, Sam,” he said. “Text me when you’re done; I put your phone on the nightstand.”
“Thanks.” My eyes followed him until the door closed and then I looked back at Dennis. “Where do you want me to start?”
Chapter 36
The wind was cutting and the sky still mottled with rain clouds, but for the time being at least, they held back the waterworks. I didn’t care if I never saw rain again. Maybe I would move to the desert. I might have good hair in the desert. I shifted my cap lower. The automated doors made a smooth ssshhh sound as they slid open. Then the voices assaulted me.
“What can you tell us about the killer?”
“How did you survive the Pilgrim Slayer?”
“How did you feel when you realized what was happening?”
“Do you have a statement for us, Ms. Warren?”
Flashes exploded. I shuddered involuntarily and Milo squeezed my hand. Dennis had warned me, but I didn’t expect this. Some fifty newshounds were shouting and shoving near the hospital entrance as Milo pushed me through the doors. The nurse had insisted I use a wheelchair, which just deepened my embarrassment. Cameramen were zooming in on us; this would make the evening news. The national news. And I had no mascara.
I rose from the chair, waved to the crowd and took Milo’s arm as we followed the path the police had constructed out of a dozen white sawhorses and a few hundred yards of yellow tape. I studied my feet as we crossed the parking lot. “Don’t talk to the press!” Dennis had said.
We made it to Milo’s truck and climbed inside. The great black eyes of the cameramen stayed with us as we exited the parking lot.
“Jeeeesus,” I said.
Milo grinned. “You survived the Pilgrim Slayer. It’s all over the news. You’re famous now. Talk shows will be calling.”
“I didn’t survive him; I got rescued from him. I’d be fish food if Turk hadn’t alerted those security guys.” I stared out the window. “He’s the hero.
“Don’t forget the guys who pulled you out, and the EMTs, and the doctors.”
“Exactly my point. I’m nothing more than a victim. A lucky victim.”
“Lucky, but also tough, Sam,” Milo said. “Not everyone would have lasted as long as you did. You could have died before he even threw you in. If anything, the water temperature was warmer than the air. That might actually have saved you.”
“Great. I owe my life to a murderer. He did say he appreciates irony. Doesn’t matter. I just don’t want all this attention,” I said grumpily.
Milo reached over and took my hand. “It’s a lot better than the alternative,” he said softly. “And anyway, you’re the one who told Dennis to cover Billington Sea. So really you did save yourself.”
I squeezed his hand. “I guess,” I said. I was still overwhelmed by all that had happened, and I was glad to be going home, even if there would be no privacy until the killer was found. An unmarked car followed us even now; I would be under surveillance twenty-four seven. Dennis believed, and the FBI stiffs concurred, that the guy would make another run at me. I was now, officially, bait. Before heading home, though, we were going to pick up Pepper.
We parked outside Turk’s condo about ten minutes later. He and his girlfriend lived in a newer complex overlooking a golf course on the edge of town. We climbed the stairs to his unit and Turk opened before we could knock. He nodded at my babysitter in the parking lot below. Handoff complete.
Dennis was sitting at Turk’s kitchenette, shuffling through paperwork. I looked around for Pepper.
“He be under the ottoman,” Turk said.
I hurried into Turk’s living room. It was stylishly decorated with an eclectic mix of contemporary
leather and classy antiques. There was no end to the many faces of Turk. I knelt down on a fluffy, white Flokati rug and peered under the ottoman. Pepper was lying on his side, legs sprawled.
“Pepper,” I said softly. His yellow eyes opened and I’d have bet the Pilgrim Slayer reward money that he smiled. He crawled out from under the footstool and stretched his Halloween cat stretch. I scooped him up and hugged him to my chest; his purring vibrated through me. Awesome. “You’re down two lives now, Pep,” I said. “Let’s keep the rest in the bank for a while, eh?”
I stood and carried him back to the kitchen. I sat down at the table next to Dennis and Pepper curled up on my lap. “So what’s the latest?” I asked.
“We were finally able to talk with Zeke Bradley this morning,” Dennis replied.
“Talk at him; he ain’t talk to us,” said Turk. “He just recite shit. Boring history shit.”
Dennis shook his head. “Guy’s just this side of Rain Man. But there’s a chance he can identify the killer. We think Zeke either spoke to him at the library himself, or else the killer overheard his mother use Zeke’s name and took it as an alias. He’s a savant, can quote whole passages from historical documents word for word. And tell you what page it’s on in what book, and where that book is shelved in the library. He’s also a computer whiz.”
“Ain’t got nothin’ to say on nothin’ else though,” Turk added.
“What about Meredith?”
“She says there are a few regulars who come in weekly. But we’ve already gone through the log book.” I nodded. So had I. “She said Zeke was outside with his books a lot over the summer, so she doesn’t know everyone he might have talked with, or who might have seen him there. She couldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t,” Turk interrupted.
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t say if there was any one guy that fit your ‘tall, strong and radio voice’ description. Said she just doesn’t pay that much attention. Said more than two thousand people have come through since she started working there.”
I thought about that. Meredith Bradley was forty-five years old, single and lived with her autistic son. She’d been researching boob jobs and face peels. She either had a new man in her life or she was looking for one.
“I think she’s holding back,” I said, and proceeded to explain my rationale.
Turk laughed. “We tell the Feebs we got a ‘boob job theory.’”
We all laughed, but Milo said, “I think Sam’s right. Meredith Bradley’s a single, middle-aged woman. She’d notice a tall, well-built guy, especially one who came in more than once.”
“I’ll dig deeper in her email account, go back further,” I said. “I only saw a bit the other day.” I leaned back, stroking Pepper. “You get anything on the boots?” The killer’s climbing boots and spurs had looked new to me; the FBI was tracing purchases.
“Not yet, they’re still on it. We put someone in the library too,” Dennis said. “One of the Feebs, the woman, is going to work there for a while.”
“If he’s smart, the killer’s going to take a break,” Milo said.
“Depends,” said Dennis. “These guys like their routines; either that or they escalate. Have a hard time stopping once they’re on a roll.” He exhaled loudly. “But you’re right. He could sit tight for a few weeks while we blow up our budget watching Sam. But that’s what we’re going to do. I want this guy.”
With that he stood. “We should be going. Lots of paperwork with the damn Feds. They got a form for taking a shit and another one for wiping.”
Chapter 37
Milo pulled slowly into my driveway and parked behind my Mini. He had to go slow or he’d run over a journalist. I suggested he floor it. He snorted, but I was serious. A gaggle of twenty or more reporters and cameramen stood shivering on the road in front of my house. A young uniform battled to keep them from crossing onto my postage stamp of a yard, but he was seriously outnumbered.
Pepper put his front paws up on the window and peered out. A flurry of flashes went off. Tomorrow my cat’s face would be on front pages all over the nation. At least it took some of the spotlight off me. I pulled my cap down further and opened the door.
Pepper jumped down and strutted up the driveway with his tail high. He was loving it. Maybe I should give up the P.I. thing altogether and get him into show business. He could do a reality show. If Honey Boo Boo could do it, Pepper was a shoe-in.
The reporters were loud and obnoxious, but we ignored them and made it into the house unscathed. I went into the kitchen and watched through the window as the police officer fought to keep them from trampling my grass. How long would they stay out there? A good Arctic cold wave would be welcome right about now. Maybe a hurricane. Sighing, I backed away from the window. Right into Milo.
He put his arms around me and I turned around. He looked down at me. “Finally, I have you to myself,” he said.
I looked up at that pretty face, into his eyes. If he wanted to kiss me now, I was up for that. I nearly died two nights ago and I hadn’t had sex in something like two years. I really didn’t want to go out at the tail end of a dry spell. And I was probably still the target of a deranged serial killer. No time like the present. I put my arms around him and stroked his back. I looked up again. “You want to make a fire and get cozy on the couch?”
He smiled. “I like cozy.” He released me and walked into the living room.
I followed him slowly. “I haven’t gotten cozy in a long time,” I said. All of a sudden I was nervous. Did I really want to get cozy with Milo? Yes, I did. But could I remember how to get cozy? What if I was really bad at getting cozy? I had the feeling Milo’s experience with coziness greatly exceeded my own.
He laughed. He was bent down putting newspaper under the log holder. “Sam, getting cozy is just getting cozy. If things get cozier, that’s cool. If they don’t, for now,”—he grinned at me—“that’s cool too.”
Okay, I could work with that.
A few minutes later, Milo had the fire burning nicely and he joined me on the couch. I snuggled up against him. After a few seconds he leaned down and kissed me, slowly. Holy cow! Suddenly, I remembered exactly how to get cozy. And I wanted to get cozy right now.
Milo was pulling my sweater over my head when I heard a loud crash right outside my window. It sounded like something big and heavy had fallen onto the brick walkway that ran alongside the house. Milo jumped up and ran to the window. I sat up. My face was smashed inside my turtleneck. I pulled it off and held it in front of my chest. My heart was pounding. “What was that?”
Milo laughed. Then he laughed even louder. He turned around. He was naked from the waist up and, if we weren’t in danger, I wanted to go back to being cozy.
“What?” I said.
“Come see, Sam,” he managed to sputter. Sighing, I rose and joined him at the window; I still had my shirt pressed against my naked chest. I peered down.
On the sidewalk below my window, a reporter was crawling around on the ground recovering pieces of what was probably once an expensive camera. Mrs. Trimble was standing next to him with her arms crossed and a small smile on her face. The uniform was next to her, his jaw hanging open. The reporter looked up and yelled at the cop and now I could see why Milo was losing it. The reporter’s face and neck and the front of his jacket were covered in what had been, no doubt, a very delicious chocolate cake.
Milo and I pulled our shirts and jackets on, went out the back door and around to the side of the house.
“I want you to do something,” the reporter was shouting.
The cop had finally closed his mouth. Now he was struggling not to laugh.
“She assaulted me!”
“You were trespassing,” said Mrs. Trimble primly.
“You smashed a cake in my face!”
“I was bringing a cake to a dear friend who’s had a traumatic experience.” Mrs. Trimble turned to the cop. “So you can imagine my fright when I saw someone sneaking around outside Samantha’s h
ouse. And after everything she’s been through…” Mrs. Trimble shook her head. She had her hand to her chest now and was making wide-eyes behind those thick glasses. “I just reacted the only way I could think of.”
I thought she was laying it on a little thick, but then, the cop didn’t know Mrs. Trimble.
“I suggest you take off now, buddy. There’s a clear line at the front of the house and you crossed it. You were trespassing, like the lady said.” The cop winked at me.
The reporter was still on his knees and he dropped his head. A chunk of frosting fell from his hair onto his pants. He tried to pick it off, but wound up smearing it into his chinos. “Fucking great,” he said. He got up and stormed past the police officer.
When he disappeared around the front of the house, I giggled. Milo joined in and soon all four of us were busting a gut.
Finally the officer stopped laughing. “I better get back out front before one of these idiots tries to go in the front door.” He turned around and strode off with a wave.
I surveyed the mess on the sidewalk. I guess we were stuck with the cleanup, but I was awfully glad that Mrs. Trimble and her cake had come by before the guy snapped a shot of me and Milo getting cozy.
Chapter 38
Milo set a glass of wine down on my desk, then came around, stood behind me and caressed my neck. He bent down and kissed my forehead. I looked up and we kissed upside down. I immediately felt that spark, the one just below my belly button, which was becoming delightfully familiar. I wondered if he were up for yet another round of cozy. We’d spent the whole afternoon upstairs in my bed, but I was, after all, coming off a two-year hiatus.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said.
Saints & Strangers (A Sam Warren Mystery) Page 20