I'm Watching You

by Mary Burton

  Kendall had only just begun to talk. ‘Does it bother you to know she doesn’t approve of what you do?’

  ‘She’s glad those men are off the street.’

  Kendall knew she was playing with fire but the longer she strung him along the better her chances of getting out of this. ‘You killed two boys. Children. She hated that.’

  Guilt shadowed his stony features. ‘Every war has collateral damage.’

  ‘Lindsay will never forgive you for hurting those boys.’

  He jerked a gun from his waistband and pointed it directly at her. ‘Shut up!’

  She stared into the barrel. All she could seem to think about was that no one was going to miss her when she died. She struggled to keep her voice even and soothing. ‘Lindsay would hate this. She would want you to let me go.’

  ‘Liar. Lindsay despises you. Your lies and half-truths have ruined Sanctuary.’

  He cocked the gun.

  ‘No!’ she shouted.

  He fired.

  The bullet struck her in the shoulder and she fell back against the hard floor. Pain seared through her body. Her vision blurred and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She’d prayed the bullet would kill her outright but realized now death would not come quickly to her.

  The Guardian moved toward her. He grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back. ‘Take back all you said about Lindsay.’

  The pain dulled her mind. He had the machete in his hand. ‘Monster.’

  The Guardian raised the machete over his head. Through the pain she heard the phone ring. She nearly wept with relief as he released her and backed away toward the workbench. He snapped up the phone.

  ‘It took you long enough to call me back,’ the Guardian growled. ‘Now, who is the woman Lindsay is going to see at Mercy?’

  A slight tense pause had Kendall struggling to stay conscious.

  ‘I don’t care if you’ve lost your stomach for helping me. And I don’t care about your gaming debts anymore. You’re in too deep. Now tell me what you know.’

  The Guardian listened, his body tensing as he gripped the receiver tighter. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes. Be waiting for me in the garage at the regular place.’

  The Guardian slammed the phone down and whirled toward Kendall, the only one to absorb his rage. He grabbed a handful of her hair. His eyes were as black as Satan’s.

  Pain from her shoulder overwhelmed her. Her world went blank.

  Lindsay swung her car around and brought it to a stop in a space close to the elevator. She took a moment to scan the deck to make sure there were no press or shadowy figures. Satisfied that the area was clear, she got out of the car and locked it with her keyless remote. She crossed quickly to the elevator, punched the button, and tapped her toe as she waited.

  Thoughts tumbled through her mind. The Guardian. Richard. Nicole. The abused woman she was about to meet. And even Sam. Where was Sam? He hadn’t called her and that wasn’t like him. She was beginning to think that all this trouble with the Guardian might have scared him off.

  There was a time his possible rejection might have hurt her feelings. But not now. If he couldn’t accept her for who she was – the good and the bad – then so be it. She had to give Zack credit. He’d seen the dark side of her past and he hadn’t been scared away.

  Lindsay leaned forward to push the already lit elevator button again when she heard footsteps behind her. The sound had her nerves tightening like a bowstring. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She jabbed the elevator button again before she turned.

  A man appeared from the shadows. He was dressed in a green jumpsuit and was pushing a canvas laundry cart. He touched the bill of his Minton’s Laundry hat and nodded. ‘Morning.’

  Lindsay nodded stiffly, her nerves on alert. With the Guardian’s identity still unknown, she wasn’t taking any chances. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

  She stepped back. ‘You first.’

  The guy shrugged. ‘There’s room for us both.’

  ‘Thanks. I think I forgot something in my car.’ She backed away from the elevator.

  ‘Suit yourself.’ He started inside the car and she immediately relaxed, chiding herself for being so sensitive. But still, she was going to play it safe.

  She decided to get back in her car and drive around to the front entrance of the hospital. She’d pay for parking on the street.

  Lindsay had taken five steps when a damp cloth clamped over her face. The sick, sweet scent of chloroform invaded her senses. Her hands rose up to the ones clamped over her mouth and nose and she tried to pry them away.

  She struggled to hold her breath, and when she couldn’t any longer, she inhaled a lungful of the chloroform. The drug invaded her system. She couldn’t move. Was helpless to scream or fight.

  She heard the rumble of male laughter. It was a frightening sound. Evil. Malevolent. He was enjoying her helplessness.

  Her brain spun. Her knees buckled.

  As she began to lose consciousness, she was aware that the man scooped her up and dumped her into the laundry basket.

  He dropped her purse beside her and covered her with a handful of towels. ‘Now the fun begins, Lindsay.’

  She passed out completely.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Friday, July 11, 10:30 A.M.

  The cemetery’s surveillance tapes for the past year had arrived around eight last night and Zack had reviewed them most of the night. Slowly he’d been able to piece together a chain of events. He rewound the footage and stopped the tape on February eleventh. The landscape on the screen was covered in a dusting of snow. Icicles hung from the trees. The sky was as dull and gray as the headstones.

  The homicide team assembled in the conference room. Zack stood and ran his hand over his head.

  The entire division had worked all night. No one was going to sleep until this guy had been caught. Detectives from other divisions and uniforms were now helping them run down leads.

  Ayden, Ricker, and Vega sat down. ‘So what do you have? You said it was important.’

  ‘I spoke with the cemetery director yesterday because I noticed cameras posted in several of the trees and by the front entrance. It seems he installed surveillance equipment right after Christmas last year. He’d had trouble with someone spray painting satanic symbols on some of the headstones. His graffiti artists haven’t reappeared or been caught on tape. But, he did catch us another fish,’ Zack said.

  Ayden frowned. ‘Where’s Warwick? I want him to see this.’

  ‘He’s at the Department of Motor Vehicles,’ Zack said. ‘He’ll be here soon.’ He hit ‘play.’ On the television screen a grainy image showed a white van rolling down a distant snowy road into the cemetery. ‘Pay attention to the vehicle entering the back entrance of the cemetery. As you can see, this segment was recorded on February eleventh. The vehicle enters but stops at the crest of the hill.’ He touched the screen where the vehicle stopped. ‘The driver doesn’t pull up far enough for us to get a shot at the plates or a look at his face. But if you look closely, you can see that the driver is carrying roses, which he leaves on Deb Hines’s grave. Lindsay O’Neil’s mother’s grave.’ Everyone in the room leaned forward and watched the driver. ‘He keeps his head low as he lays the flowers on the grave. He pauses for a moment of prayer and then leaves through the back entrance.’

  Ayden leaned forward. ‘He’s paying his respects.’

  Vega folded his arms over his broad chest. ‘What time is this?’

  ‘Eleven fifty-eight A.M.’ Zack hit the fast-forward button. ‘March sixth. The van appears again. It’s about noontime. The driver again is careful to keep his face from the camera and the van out of close view. He leaves flowers and again leaves by the back entrance. The Guardian has already proven he’s savvy with surveillance equipment, so he must realize the front entrance is covered by a camera.’

  Ayden muttered an oath. ‘How the hell are we going to catch this guy?’

&nbs
p; Zack grinned. ‘Stay with me. Now we’re coming to April second. Lindsay arrives at the grave. She leaves flowers and stays twenty minutes. She begins to leave. The van arrives. They almost meet this time. But she exits via the front entrance. She said she’d seen a van that day and had thought it was the caretaker.’

  ‘She never noticed the flowers before?’ Ricker said.

  ‘The cemetery has a policy stating that all live flowers are to be removed every Saturday. Cemetery maintenance always cleared away the old flowers before she arrived.’

  He hit the fast-forward button again. ‘It’s May third. Again he leaves flowers.’

  Ricker cocked her head. Her curly hair was twisted up into a high ponytail and her face pale from too little sleep. ‘May third is the day the article on Lindsay appeared in the paper.’

  Zack nodded. ‘Yes. And on this day our mystery man lingers at the Hines grave for over an hour. He seems to be talking to the headstone. His body language suggests that he’s agitated. He doesn’t show his face, but this time he starts to leave through the front entrance. He catches himself and backs up. But before he does, he gets close enough for us to pull a partial on the plates. That’s why Warwick is at the DMV.’

  Warwick came into the room. He had a file tucked under his arm and was breathless, as if he’d sprinted across the parking lot and up the stairs to the second floor. ‘Did I miss anything?’

  Zack nodded. ‘Right on time.’

  Ayden didn’t look amused. ‘What do you have?’

  ‘The DMV ran the stats Kier supplied them. They had fifty-two possible matches. They’d printed out five copies of the list by the time I arrived. I haven’t had a chance to look at them.’

  Ayden shoved out a sigh. ‘Great work.’

  Warwick handed copies of the list to the detectives. They each scanned it.

  ‘This could take days to track all these down,’ Zack said.

  C.C. sighed. ‘I can get the guys from robbery to help.’

  Warwick frowned as he glared down at the list. The deep tan of his face paled. He blinked and reread the list. ‘That’s odd.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ayden said.

  ‘I recognize one of the names.’ He swallowed as if he were struggling now. ‘Pete Myers. He runs the gym where I work out.’ He shook his head. ‘This has to be a coincidence. Pete’s a great guy.’

  Ayden frowned. ‘I just got a report back from Sara. Remember that white powder found at the Turner murder scene embedded in the footprint? She’s identified the powder as talc.’

  Warwick shook his head. ‘It’s not Pete. I know this guy. He’d give you the shirt off his back.’

  Zack understood Warwick’s worry. He’d lived with it when Lindsay had appeared to be the killer. ‘Let’s check him out first. We clear him and you’ll concentrate better.’

  Warwick nodded, grateful. ‘Thanks. I’d appreciate that.’

  ‘C.C., divide the list between you and Vega and robbery. When Kier and Warwick return from Myers’s gym give them some of the names,’ Ayden ordered. ‘I want this guy found.’

  The team disbanded. Within ten minutes Zack and Warwick were in Zack’s car headed east. ‘So how long have you known Pete?’

  Warwick’s trademark confidence had vanished. He looked worried. ‘Since I was a kid. I still work out at his gym, but it’s more than that. He raised me. I was a handful. He kept me in line, gave me direction.’

  ‘Do you know anything about him?’

  Warwick tapped long fingers on his thigh. ‘Pete isn’t the Guardian. This is just one of those damn coincidences.’

  No point in arguing. Evidence, not words, would sway Warwick. ‘I get it. But I still need to ask. What can you tell me about him?’

  Warwick understood questions had to be asked even if he didn’t like them. ‘He opened his boxing gym in town twenty years ago. I know because I slathered his grand-opening sign with eggs. He could’ve called the cops. Instead he gave me a job.’

  Zack merged onto I-95 south and headed downtown. ‘Do you have any background on him?’

  ‘He did some time in the military police. Retired in his late forties and came back here to open his gym.’

  ‘So he’s from Richmond.’

  Warwick frowned. ‘I don’t know. I do know he has supported dozens of children’s charities over the years. Last year he hosted a party at the gym for a bunch of kids whose folks were in prison. He even dressed up as Santa and handed out gifts.’

  ‘What do you know about his past?’

  ‘Not much. I do know his name isn’t Henry. He never talked about a sister named Debra or a niece named Lindsay.’

  ‘Names can be changed. And he plays his cards close to his vest.’

  Warwick looked troubled but seemed to shake the dark thoughts away. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Anything else you can tell me about him?’

  ‘He never talks about himself much. He talks about his fighters. He talks about the gym. He talks a little bit about when he boxed in the military.’ Warwick frowned. ‘This is bullshit. Let’s get to the gym and clear this shit up so we can catch the real killer.’

  Zack took the Franklin Street exit. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Right.’ Warwick didn’t like this.

  Zack maneuvered a few corners and a side alley before he came up behind the gym. There were no cars in the lot.

  ‘The place is usually deserted?’

  Warwick got out of the car. ‘Not usually. But it’s not unheard of for him to take off during the middle of the day if business is slow.’

  ‘Is summer a slow time?’

  ‘It can be. The weather is warm and people want to get outside.’

  Zack quietly closed the car door behind him. They moved across the gritty alley to the front door. There was a CLOSED sign on the door.

  Warwick tried the door. Locked.

  Zack had a bad feeling about this. Warwick was praying Pete wasn’t involved. But the whole situation didn’t smell right. ‘Does he still train fighters?’

  ‘He was training a couple last year but he cut them loose a few months ago. Hooked them up with a couple of good trainers. Said he was ready to slow down.’

  Zack peeked in the front window. The interior was dark. ‘That seem odd to you?’

  ‘At first, but then I figured he was just getting old.’

  Zack wasn’t leaving this place until he got a look inside. ‘Any other way inside?’

  ‘There’s a door in the back. I have a key.’ They moved around the side of the building down the chipped sidewalk. The area smelled of garbage. Warwick moved ahead of Zack toward a small metal door, shoved his key in the lock, and unlocked it. ‘I have a standing invitation to come into the gym. He knows my schedule is squirrelly.’

  ‘Myers sounds like a good guy.’

  Warwick pushed open the door. ‘He is.’

  The gym was dark. The only sound came from the drip-drip of a faucet in the men’s bathroom.

  ‘Pete!’ Warwick shouted.

  His voice echoed on the walls. No answer.

  Warwick flipped on the lights. He moved down a dark hallway toward Pete’s office. The desk was a disheveled mess. ‘Pete usually keeps his desk neat. Lately, he’s let it go. I figured it was just because he’s getting old.’

  Zack jabbed his thumb toward a door. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Basement access.’

  ‘Anything down there?’

  ‘Old equipment mostly.’

  Zack sighed. Something didn’t feel right. He glanced around the office a second time. Myers’s desk was covered with stacks of papers, a torn boxing glove, half-eaten food, forms. Being a slob wasn’t a crime. And then he saw the black-and-white photo tucked in the corner of a bulletin board on his desk. It was the image of a twenty-something man and a young girl. ‘This Pete?’

  ‘Yeah. I don’t know who the kid is.’

  The five-year-old girl looked familiar. ‘Damn. This kid looks like Lindsay.’

  ‘Can�
�t be. Look at the clothes. It’s early nineteen sixties.’

  Zack flipped the picture over. Someone had scribbled Deb and Pete, 1963 in bold handwriting. ‘You’re right.’ Still, he flicked the edge of the photo with his thumb. ‘Lindsay showed me a picture of herself as a kid. She looked just like this child.’

  ‘I don’t know who it is. I figured it was a sister or a cousin.’

  ‘A sister.’ Zack exhaled a breath. ‘This is a picture of Lindsay’s mother.’

  Warwick’s mouth hardened as the implications sunk in. ‘It can’t be.’

  ‘Lindsay had a couple of photos in a box when we were married. I only saw them once. But hold up Lindsay’s kindergarten picture next to this one and you’d see that she and this kid are the spitting image of each other.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus.’

  Zack scanned the row of shelves above the desk. ‘We know the Guardian has some connection to Lindsay.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean Pete does. Likeness or not, this kid could be anyone.’

  Zack glared at Warwick. ‘For now we have to assume that that child pictured with Pete is Lindsay’s mother.’

  ‘Pete can’t be her uncle.’ He sounded as if he were grasping at straws.

  ‘He sure as hell can be.’ There was a small television set on the file cabinet behind Pete’s desk. Built into the set was a VCR. ‘What did Pete do in the military?’

  ‘Something with radios and the military police.’

  ‘Electronics?’

  Tension radiated from Warwick. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘The Guardian has been watching Lindsay. And the cameras were positioned in the living room and kitchen. Nothing in the bathrooms or the bedrooms. Private places where a good uncle wouldn’t venture.’ Zack pushed back the VCR tape flap on the television. Inside was a tape dated July 11. He turned on the television and hit ‘Play.’ Instantly, a black-and-white image of Lindsay appeared. She was standing in Ruby’s living room. The time stamp was less than an hour ago.

  ‘Shit,’ Zack said. ‘She spent last night with Ruby.’

  Warwick paled. ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Vega said Ruby had a break-in last week. But nothing was taken. Something was added, though.’ Zack flipped open his cell and called Ayden. ‘We have a hit.’ He explained what they’d found. ‘Send backup.’