Hands in his pockets, he ambled over to look inside the box of photos that sat on the table. “You going through some old stuff?” Something caught his eye. He leaned down and picked up the photograph of the entire school. “Where did this come from?”
She signed the check with a wobbly flourish, struggling to tear the perforation with only one good hand. “Some old lady called Mildred Houch, apparently.”
“That old boot still alive?”
She paused in the act of walking around the kitchen counter to hand him the check. “You went to that school?” Her voice cracked nervously.
He looked up and smiled as he seemed to realize his mistake. The smile never reached his eyes. The calculating coldness she saw there made alarm streak over her flesh. Her eyes darted to her gun, lying so far away on the coffee table.
Seth saw it, too. As his fingers reached for it, Izzy bolted. Footsteps rang out behind her, but she was fit and fast. She could get out before he got off a shot. She skidded in her socks, but hit the front door and thought she’d made it, only to be slammed by what felt like a rhino landing on her back and dragging her to the floor. The air was squeezed out of her lungs and her damaged ribs felt like they’d shattered. The agony was all-consuming. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, couldn’t think.
Seth panted heavily, holding her down as he caught his breath. Horror crawled around inside her skin and threatened to erupt into hysteria. Somehow she held her panic at bay. Seth had saved her life earlier. He couldn’t be the killer…but he was. She knew it as surely as she knew the color of her own eyes.
She shifted slightly, testing her range of motion. He grabbed her good arm and twisted it high and tight behind her back. Pain shot from her elbow to her shoulder and she cried out. The way he paused at her scream made a chill run along her spine. As if it excited his prey drive and made him forget they were supposed to be friends. He rolled her onto her back, rough fingers biting deep into her skin. It hurt, but she wasn’t about to show him any more pain or fear. Barney danced around them as if wondering why they were on the floor and could he play, too? Her dog knew Seth. Liked him. He was obviously no better judge of character than she was.
She lay quietly, knowing that in her weakened state she was going to have to wait for the right opportunity to either grab her gun or escape. The good news was her cell was in her pocket, and he didn’t seem inclined to search her.
A thought occurred to her. “Where’s Kit? What did you do with her?”
Something ran through the man’s eyes but she couldn’t read him. Dammit.
“Come quietly and I’ll take you to her.” The rigid metal of her gun pressed against her temple.
Izzy swallowed to wet her suddenly dry mouth. Like she had a choice. “Is she alive?”
“I’d never hurt, Kit, Izzy.” Seth whispered in her ear and ‘tut-tutted’ at her. “I’ve watched over her since the day she was born. She’s the closest thing I’ve got to a daughter.”
A wave of horror washed over her at the idea he’d taken a special interest in her sister. “What about Mary Neville? You were jealous of Carl getting a date with her, weren’t you?”
“Mary’s fine. Just a bit tied up right now, is all.”
She flashed back to that girl in her father’s trunk all those years ago. She didn’t believe him. He let go of her arm and stood back far enough away that she couldn’t attack him without him shooting her first. Although she’d rather be shot than endure what he had in mind.
“It was you who attacked me under the deck.” She nodded to below the house. She thought about what he’d done to a girl as sweet as Helena. The idea made her stomach roil.
“You had to interfere. Couldn’t leave it alone.”
As if it was all her fault. Hell, in the mind of a serial killer, it probably was. She rolled slowly to her knees, not having to pretend her wooziness as she held onto the wall. She needed to stall, but Frazer could be gone for hours. Realistically, he might never come back.
It hurt, she finally allowed herself to acknowledge. The fact he’d walked out of here pissed. She got it—she’d gotten close and he probably felt as if she’d betrayed him. Between her and the ex-wife, she doubted any woman would ever get close again. She’d been the wrong woman to take that leap of faith with, as he’d figured out pretty damn quick. At least he wouldn’t have a broken heart. That was just her. Although she doubted Seth would let her suffer for long.
She brought one foot up, bracing to stand. “Why’d you take my shovel? Why not use your own?”
“You know why I took your shovel.” His mustache twitched, but his eyes didn’t change expression. Had they ever been anything except dark and beady? “I’ve been watching you ever since you hauled your old man out of the back of that SUV and shoved him in that pit.”
The knot in her stomach tightened. He thought she was like him.
“How’d that feel, Izzy? Burying your old man before you even knew for sure he was really dead?”
“He was dead,” she said.
“He could have been saved—with your training you must know that now.”
Did she? Could she have saved her father’s life if she’d called an ambulance rather than given in to her mother’s hysteria?
Maybe. The knowledge was another nail in her soul.
“I always reckoned that’s why you went into medicine. To try and figure out how many ways you let him down. You wanna know the best thing?”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. She wasn’t about to let them fall.
Seth laughed. “He wasn’t even the killer. He got a flat as he was leaving town on that business trip and I lent him one of my cars. Your daddy came back a day early and I hadn’t had time to get rid of the body outta the trunk yet.” He laughed. “He drove away without knowing she was in there. Until your momma stabbed him, that is. Poor bastard.”
Frazer had been right. Her father was innocent.
Thank God.
She brought herself to her feet, swaying slightly from the pain that sliced through her chest.
“I’d been out on another job and got back to the garage and found his car gone, body along with it. I about shit myself. Raced off down here, figuring I was either going to have to kill him or run, depending on whether or not he’d called the cops.”
“Instead you saw my mom kill her own husband in what she thought was self-defense.”
He scratched his forehead. “That was unexpected. Not as unexpected as you helping her get rid of the bodies though. That made me see you in an entirely different light. I always liked you, Izzy.” His gaze ran down her body in a way that made her stomach twist.
“What made you stop killing?” Stall, stall, stall.
His brows bobbed. “What makes you think I stopped? I just traveled elsewhere.” One side of his lips twitched. “Way I see it, you’ve got no choice but to do what I say. If you don’t I’ll tell the FBI all about you.”
“Too late. I already told them.”
Something flashed through his eyes, something dark and wily. He grabbed Barney’s collar, pointed the Glock at the retriever’s silky head. “Get in the car without any fuss, Izzy. Else I’ll shoot your stupid dog.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
SETH FORCED HER to get behind the wheel, despite her damaged wrist. The moment he put the gun to Barney’s head she knew she was probably dead. She’d do whatever he wanted to save her dog or her sister.
Seth climbed in beside her, Barney held firmly at his feet. The barrel of her gun pointed squarely at her chest. She tried not to think about the damage a bullet could do at close range. She’d seen the results and didn’t want to experience them firsthand.
She glanced into the back of her car. The seat was down, and a bike was wedged inside just as he’d said. At least it wasn’t a body. As she reversed out of her driveway, her eyes caught the shovel she and all islanders carried in their trunks.
“Where to?” she asked.
&nbs
p; “South.”
“Where are we going?”
He jerked on Barney’s collar, forcing the dog’s head up at a sharp angle. “Quiet.”
She headed south, sea oats lashing along the margins of the highway. Her headlights cut through darkness and made her feel like she was trapped in a tunnel. She tried to think what the hell to do. They were headed toward a more deserted part of the islands. “Does Ted know about any of this?”
Seth gave an ugly snort. “That pussy? His idea of excitement is sneaking a look down some waitress’s blouse.”
She didn’t want to know what his idea of excitement was, but he told her anyway. “He has no clue what it feels like to hold someone’s life in your hands. You do, though.” He eyed her speculatively, then turned away. “I’m pretty sure if Teddy boy gets to have sex again, he’s gonna die of a fucking heart attack.”
Izzy’s mind flashed to the panties in Ted’s van. The van had been at Seth’s garage the day before. She had the horrible suspicion that part of Seth’s MO was to use other people’s vehicles to commit his crimes. The idea made her shudder.
“You ever killed anyone on purpose?” he asked suddenly.
“What? No.”
“You ever brought anyone back to life?”
She didn’t know where he was going with this. “I’ve resuscitated people after their heart has stopped, yes.”
“Did they ever see anything?”
The guy had lost his ever-loving mind. “Like what?”
He glanced at her, shifting in his seat. “The lights, the woman who comes for you.”
Izzy was sore from ribs to wrist. Her head throbbed from a headache and fear. And he was talking near-death experiences? She’d be happy to provide him with one.
Stall.
She frowned, trying to remember what people she’d revived had said. “Some of them claimed to see bright lights. One guy said he’d found himself in a field, stroking a massive tiger.” She’d put it down to the drugs he’d had an allergic reaction to.
Seth was eating up the words.
“Did you have an experience like that, Seth?” she guessed.
He nodded. “When I was fourteen I went swimming in a quarry with Ferris and a boy called Sidney. There was a car down there and we were all trying to swim through it. Sidney got caught up on the steering column and couldn’t get out in time. Me and Ferris tried to save him but he swallowed water and panicked. We couldn’t get him out.”
He was so deep in memory Izzy contemplated jumping out of the car and making a run for it, but he still had Barney and he’d probably catch her on this open stretch of the island. She not only had to survive the fall with her broken wrist and battered ribs, she also had to outrun a madman with a gun.
“You said you almost died?” she prodded.
He gave her a curt nod and his eyes seemed to tear up. “It was beautiful. I never felt so much love or peace as I did in those few seconds.”
“What happened?”
He shot out an angry snort. “Some fucking bitch ‘saved’ me. Jesus, I wanted to hit her and dive back into the water but they pinned me down. They dragged Sidney out too and kept trying to revive him. I told them to leave him alone, but no one listened. Anyway, he was lucky.”
“But he drowned?” she queried.
“Exactly.” He looked out the window. “Pull over on the side of the road, right here.”
Izzy looked outside and dread settled into her bones. She put on her blinker and pulled over—talk about a rule follower. She spotted the lighthouse up ahead. He grabbed the keys and opened the door, dragging Barney with him. Quickly, she pulled out her phone, hit 911 and thrust it under the seat, praying he didn’t notice. He opened the trunk and took out the shovel.
They were at Parson’s Point. And if she followed him into the dunes, she was a dead woman.
* * *
TYSON KNOCKED ON Brubaker’s door, harder this time. Still there was no noise from inside. He was about to motion the breacher forward when the door swung open. Ted Brubaker stood there openmouthed, obviously about to leave as two officers rushed past him. Tyson patted the guy down and then cuffed him, reading him his rights.
“What the hell is going on?” he shouted.
Frazer ignored the question as he helped clear rooms. It was dark and creepy inside, but there wasn’t anyone else immediately visible.
“I’m going to check the van.” Frazer pulled latex gloves from a box in the closest squad car. He approached the vehicle with Randall at his side. He rolled open the door and cautiously climbed inside. No female hostage. Shit. He had a horrible feeling they might be too late for Mary Neville.
It certainly looked like the same van from the photographs on Jessica Tuttle’s cell phone. A piece of balled up material caught his eye. He reached out and carefully picked it up. A woman’s thong unraveled.
“Pretty sure I wouldn’t want to see Ted Brubaker wearing that,” said Randall.
Frazer bagged it and noted it in the evidence log. This was definitely their guy.
He went over to where the chief was questioning him. Brubaker started giving him the usual denials. Frazer stopped listening. “We’ve got evidence placing you in Maysville day before yesterday. If you tell us where Mary Neville is, I’ll make sure the judge knows you cooperated with authorities.”
“Mary? Why the hell would I know where Mary is?”
Frazer tried to hide his disgust, not just at the guy’s denials, but also the fact he’d murdered his niece’s best friend in cold blood, causing someone he claimed to care about extreme distress.
Brubaker shook his head. “Look, buddy, I wasn’t in Maysville day before yesterday. I was right here.”
“We have photographic evidence placing your van in Maysville,” Frazer told him.
Brubaker snorted. “Which proves how full of shit this whole thing is. My van was in the shop until this morning because it needed a new alternator. It didn’t go anywhere.”
Frazer’s whole body snapped to attention. “Which shop?”
“Seth Grundy’s place.”
Frazer staggered back as if he’d been shot. Tyson put Brubaker none too gently in the back of a squad car.
The clock was ticking in his head as the image of Seth driving Isadora’s SUV flashed through his mind, but he didn’t rush. Headless chickens didn’t make good law enforcement officers. Frazer made a quick call to Hanrahan. The man was in Mildred Houch’s living room. “Ask her if the name Ted Brubaker means anything to her.”
“Mildred says no.”
“Now ask her about Seth Grundy.”
Hanrahan repeated the name and Frazer heard the “Oh, yes! That’s the name I was trying to remember,” in the background.
Then Hanrahan came back on the line. “Mildred says he was one of Denker’s best friends. He almost drowned, but a teacher rescued him. One of his friends died though. This help?”
“I think we just found Denker’s accomplice.” Frazer hung up. “You can let Brubaker go. Get a new warrant for Seth Grundy’s workplace.” He pointed at the white van. “That is evidence. Impound it. Grundy is our man.”
Chief Tyson pulled out his cell. “I’ll call dispatch to put out an APB.”
Frazer’s heart pounded as he shook his head. “I know where he is. I saw him headed south on Highway 12 ten minutes ago, driving Dr. Campbell’s SUV.” His brain flashed to the image and he swallowed his frustration. He’d missed the obvious. “Put up road blocks, north and south. Let’s pin this bastard down.”
He started running, Randall on his heels as they scrambled to go after this new suspect. And suddenly Frazer realized he’d screwed everything up. He got in the car and wished he had sirens. Didn’t matter. He floored it, driving backwards along the pitted lane as Randall battled with his seat belt.
He sped out onto the highway screeching across the road, narrowly missing another vehicle. Then he put it in drive and prayed that he was in time, or that Grundy was just using Isadora’s car th
e way he used other people’s. To throw cops off the scent. To get rid of evidence. He dialed Isadora’s cell number, but it came back busy.
“Try Kit,” he told Randall as he concentrated on not crashing into the bridge barricades.
The thing that mattered most to him right now was a woman who had more courage than he had ever owned. She’d admitted her past mistakes, and he’d despised her. But Frazer didn’t dare risk exposing his faults or past mistakes. He had to be perfect. He’d had to be perfect since the moment he was rescued from that fleapit motel in fucking Ohio.
Perfect. Worthy. Important.
Because that’s how he’d survived those five horrific days and somewhere, deep inside, he’d associated perfection with the hope of being loved, the way a serial killer associated someone else’s pain with their own sexual arousal. Same mechanism. Different character flaw.
Isadora Campbell wasn’t perfect. What the hell would he do with anyone who was? If they didn’t bore him to death, they’d reflect his own glaring flaws so boldly a relationship wouldn’t last a week. What the hell was perfection anyway? Even the concept made no sense.
What did he really want out of life? To chase killers? To save people?
That was important, but was it enough?
And what did being saved matter if you didn’t live your life to the fullest extent afterwards? And what good was being “perfect” when you were too much of a coward to risk the one thing that truly mattered—your heart.
He got to the Campbell house in record time. No vehicle in the drive. Good news? Or bad? Weapon drawn, he dashed up the steps and burst through the door. But the house was empty. There was just the box of photographs on the table. If Grundy had seen them he’d realize it was only a matter of time before they tracked him down.
“Did you reach Kit?” he asked.
Randall nodded. “Yes. Izzy tried to call her, but she’d turned her phone off. She doesn’t know where she is.”
There was a slip of paper on the floor. Frazer crouched down and saw it was a check made out to Seth Grundy. He climbed back to his feet.
“Grundy was here,” he told Randall. “I’m going to get Parker looking for her phone, and we’ll block all exits off the islands. He won’t get away.” Frazer tried to swallow before his too dry throat strangled him. He’d find Isadora. The question was whether or not she’d still be alive when he did.
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