by Dan Padavona
“Fascinating?” Janelle says, rolling her eyes. “I never want to see one again.”
After Janelle ushers Derek back to their house, Julian motions Cynthia over.
“Hey, can you take Jennifer inside?”
“Sure. You have the situation under control?”
Julian grins.
“If the spider escapes the aquarium, I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
Cynthia doesn’t need to convince Jennifer. Darcy’s daughter edges away from the aquarium and disappears inside the kitchen with Julian’s partner.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Darcy says, leaning against the deck railing.
“That it’s too large a coincidence two funnel web spiders arrived in the backyard.”
“Someone put them here. It’s the same guy calling my phone. He planted the spiders around my house and avoided the security cameras.” Darcy rubs the chill off her arms. “I wonder how many more of these things are crawling through the yard.”
“Two are more than enough. So the killer drops venomous spiders in your yard. To send a message?”
“Sure. He knows my address and wants me to back off the investigation. He’s local to Genoa Cove and Smith Town.”
“What now?”
Darcy drums her hands on the rail.
“I’ll contact Ketchum. The FBI and Smith Town PD needs that antivenom. Then I’ll call an exterminator to check the yard. I don’t like anyone throwing down poisons, but I have to assume these two funnel web spiders weren’t the only ones.”
“I’ll check the house too.”
“Oh, damn. If one of those things got inside the house—”
“It’s just a precaution.”
Darcy’s phone rings. It’s Dr. Hayworth calling back.
“I just got off the line with the Raleigh campus. They have plenty of antivenoms.”
“How soon can they get it to us?”
“Tomorrow, if they send the package overnight.”
“We don’t have that long. Give me the contact information, Doctor. If it comes to it, we’ll send a Smith Town officer to pick up the package and drive it here.”
Inside the house, Darcy and Julian paw through the closets and kitchen cupboards. Cynthia and Jennifer investigate the basement. Darcy aims a flashlight into the unknown, unwilling to extend her arm inside without checking.
“Find anything?” Julian asks in the kitchen entryway.
Darcy kneels before the cupboard, the pots and pans strewn across the kitchen floor.
“Only a house spider, thank goodness. I set him free in the grass.”
The doorbell rings.
“Shoot,” Darcy says as she checks the time. “That must be Ketchum. He must wonder why I’m not ready to leave.”
Darcy collects her belongings and gives Julian a kiss on the cheek. Cynthia and Jennifer emerge from the basement with cobwebs tangled in their hair.
“Nothing in the basement, either,” Cynthia says.
Before Cynthia can protest, Darcy wraps her arms around Julian’s partner.
“I had no idea, Cynthia. I’m so sorry. Thank you so much for looking out for Jennifer. We’re lucky to have you in our life.”
When Darcy releases the woman, Cynthia’s eyes redden with tears.
“I’m the one who’s lucky. Everyone has been so supportive since I arrived.”
Darcy touches her arm.
“If you ever feel unsafe, this is your home. Believe me. I’ve gone through this before, and I’ll have your back.”
“Thank you, Darcy.”
Cynthia nods at Julian as she pockets her keys. As Julian’s partner drives off, Darcy kisses Julian and Jennifer in the doorway. In the driveway, Ketchum waits inside the SUV.
“I’m headed out,” says Darcy. “Should be back by seven or eight. What are you doing this evening?”
Julian looks over his shoulder and confirms Jennifer closed her bedroom door.
“After I drop Jennifer off at Sharon’s, I’m taking a drive. It’s the weekend, and my guess is Sean Braden won’t spend it indoors.”
“Be careful. Remember, he’s a minor, and you’re an officer of the law.”
“He won’t even know I’m there. I spoke with Sharon’s mother. She understands the girls aren’t to go out tonight and need to stay in the house.”
“Sounds like real supervision for a change, unlike Kaitlyn’s house.” She gives Julian’s hands a squeeze. “I’ll call you when we finish for the night.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Saturday, September 19th
6:10 p.m.
Everybody knows his neighbor’s business in a village like Genoa Cove. Three calls to fellow officers confirm Sean Braden hangs out at Antonia’s Pizza, a favorite of Darcy and the kids. Working with officers who have teenagers at home has its advantages. After Julian cruises past the Braden estate and finds the driveway empty, he swings his car toward the village center. He’s not surprised to find a silver Porsche Cayman in the lot. The car belongs to Sean’s father.
Julian parks four spots from the Porsche and waits inside the car until three college-age women cross the lot. After he checks the mirrors, Julian slips out of his car and stuffs his hands inside his pockets. He’s aware of the security camera angled over the rear entrance to Antonia’s and wants to appear casual. When he passes the Porsche, he drops his keys and utters a curse. It’s always a good idea to keep the charade rolling in case hidden eyes follow him. He crouches down and gropes beneath the grill as if searching for the key ring, then slides beneath the car and places the magnetic tracking device.
Dragging himself out from under the car proves more difficult. The stomach wound cramps, and piercing pain shoots through his body. He brushes his hair and sweeps the parking lot with his eyes. Good. Nobody noticed.
Inside Antonia’s, a girl with braided blonde hair offers to show him to a seat.
“My party is already here,” Julian says, thanking the girl.
He angles past a middle age group crowding the hallway and enters the dining area. Business bustles inside Antonia’s. Patrons fill every booth and table, and several teens eat slices off paper plates on the front walkway. Julian lurks in the corner and searches the faces until his eyes land on Sean Braden. He’s with a girl, and she looks much younger than Jennifer. This could be a problem.
Sean wears a hot orange t-shirt, baggy shorts, and sandals. A tank hangs off the girl’s shoulders. She colored her hair red-velvet, and it drapes in curls past her shoulders. Sean and the young girl share a large pizza with pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese. Julian lifts his phone and snaps a picture. He forwards the photo to Kurt, his former partner at the GCPD. Kurt has a fifteen-year-old daughter.
Ever see this girl around your daughter? Julian types to Kurt.
Hold on a sec. After a minute, Kurt returns. Jodi says that’s Mary Ambrose. She’s a freshman.
No, not good at all.
Okay, bud. Keep this between us.
Anytime. I want to take down that punk Braden kid as much as you.
Julian withheld Jennifer’s name when he told his old partner Sean Braden attempted to assault a teenage girl. Kurt must have suspected Jennifer was the victim. But he keeps secrets and can’t stand rich kids getting away with murder. Julian fades into the corner when a boy rushes toward the restrooms. Sean sips from a soda, the condensation dripping off the bottom. He leans back and laughs at something Mary said. The courtship appears innocent so far. But what happens when Sean gets Mary alone? Julian can’t watch Sean twenty-four hours per day. Will he be around to catch Sean in the act?
His phone rings. Glancing down, he doesn’t recognize the number. Letting the call go to his voice mail, Julian frowns when he can’t find Sean and Mary. They vanished with half a pizza and two drinks on the table. Maybe they used the restrooms. No, he would have noticed them pass. A waitress stops and drops her eyebrows.
“Sir, it’s busy tonight. If you aren’t ordering, use your phone
outside.”
The woman shoots him a suspicious glance as she returns to her customers. Julian pushes the phone into his pocket and wades into the dining room, squeezing between tables and apologizing when his hip clips a chair. Sean and Mary left in a hurry.
Julian opens his app and checks on the Porsche. It’s still in the rear lot. That’s when he spots Sean on the sidewalk with his hands buried in his pockets, chin lifted in defiance. He’s staring through the door at Julian. The damn kid made him.
A bell rings when Julian shoves the door open. He glances around the sidewalk and sees Mary among a crowd of students her age. She keeps looking between Julian and Sean as if she expects an encounter.
“Why are you following me?” Sean asks, lifting his arms.
Julian turns and looks behind him, then shrugs as though he thinks Sean is speaking to someone else.
“Yeah, you.” Sean struts toward Julian.
The kid stands at eye level with Julian. He’s bigger than Julian expected.
“Just enjoying a pizza on a Saturday night,” Julian says. “Have we met?”
“The game is over,” Sean says, lowering his voice. “I saw you outside my house. You’re the cop that married the FBI agent. Whatever Jennifer told you, it’s bullshit.”
“Oh? What is it Jennifer told me?”
“Look,” Sean says, setting a hand on Julian’s forearm. Damn bold touching a cop, even though he’s off duty. Julian wants to grab the kid’s wrist and snap it. “Jennifer called and said she wanted to fool around. It was one-hundred percent innocent. But once we started kissing, she turned all psycho on me.”
“My stepdaughter isn’t a psycho, and I think you’re leaving key points out of your synopsis.”
Julian glances meaningfully at Sean’s hand. The teenager clears his throat and removes his hand from Julian’s forearm.
“That’s how it went down. We were just screwing around, and I think she had a flashback or something. You know, back to when that guy abducted her in Georgia.”
“So you didn’t force yourself on Jennifer or rip her clothes off after she told you to stop.”
Sean raises his eyebrows and touches his chest.
“She told you that? See, that’s what I’m talking about. I don’t recall the deets on what happened to Jennifer in Georgia. But I feel she’s flashing back to the kidnapping and making up stories.”
“Thanks for clearing that up, Sean. I’m certain you’re trustworthy, and I have no reason to doubt you.” Julian lifts his chin at Mary as she talks with her friends. “Don’t you find it a tad creepy dating a freshman, you being a senior now?”
The smile falls off Sean’s face.
“That’s not your business.”
“I figure a popular boy like you has his pick of the prettiest girls at Genoa Cove High, and you chose a fourteen-year-old. Do her parents know she’s going out with you?”
“Mary is just a friend. We’re hanging out on a Saturday night, nothing more.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You better watch yourself. I know my rights. Cops aren’t allowed to follow teenagers around town, telling them who they can be friends with.”
“Well, then. I sure hope you don’t call my chief to complain. Sorry for bothering you, Sean.”
Julian walks around the teenager, but the boy moves to block him.
“My father is friends with the mayor, Officer Haines. My closet is worth more than your house, and Dad has lawyers in New York City and Los Angeles.”
“Wow, lawyers on both coasts. Your father must get into a lot of trouble.”
“One call, and he’ll sue you for harassing me. So back off, unless you want my father to ruin your career.”
Mary strolls cautiously toward Sean and Julian. She touches Sean’s shoulder, and his hand drops to her buttocks. Mary glances at Julian, then back to Sean.
“Is everything all right?”
“All good. I was just talking with my old girlfriend’s dad…err, step dad.” Sean tilts his head at Julian. “Tell Jennifer I said hey. I hope she does well in counseling.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Saturday, September 19th
6:15 p.m.
“Hold for Mandy Johansen at the library,” the Smith Town PD dispatcher tells Ketchum as Darcy lifts the binoculars.
Ketchum sets the phone on the seat as they park up the road from Kealan Hart’s house. Why is Johansen calling? Darcy hopes Nadia’s coworker sheds light on the man who abducted Ames from the parking lot. Hart’s vehicle sits in the driveway and hasn’t moved for the last hour. Darcy scans the windows for life. One light shines in the upstairs bedroom.
“You’re on the line with Agents Ketchum and Haines,” Ketchum says, killing the radio.
“You’re the ones investigating Nadia’s death?”
“Yes.”
“The police say Nadia died from spider bites. I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection, but someone gave Nadia flowers at the library last weekend.”
“Flowers,” Ketchum repeats, meeting Darcy’s stare.
“Someone set the bouquet on her desk while she shelved books.”
“And you didn’t see who gave her the flowers?”
“It’s weird, because I’d crawled under my desk to fix the monitor cable on my computer. If the doors had opened, I would have heard. When I returned to my chair, the flowers were already on Nadia’s desk.”
“Do you recall who visited the library that day?” asks Darcy, lowering the binoculars.
“Not really. It was slow for a Sunday.”
“What made you think of the bouquet?”
Johansen shudders over the phone.
“A spiderweb covered the flowers. When Nadia brushed away the web, a black widow dropped out of the blooms and crawled across the desk. We killed it with an encyclopedia. But then another spider shot out of the flowers. Black widow bites can make you sick if you’re allergic. Do you think that’s what killed Nadia? A black widow?”
“We’re still investigating Nadia’s murder,” Ketchum says. “But we can rule out black widows. The spider which bit Nadia was larger than a black widow.”
“But we don’t have spiders like that in North Carolina. What about the black widows? Did someone place the spiders inside the vase? That’s a sick thing to do.”
“It’s possible. Did Nadia have enemies?”
“Never, but she’d broken up with her boyfriend.”
“Kealan Hart.”
“Yes, that’s the jerk’s name.”
“Hart ever stop by the library, looking for Nadia after the breakup?”
Johansen lowers the phone. Darcy hears the woman speak to a library patron.
“Sorry, I was helping somebody find a book. A few weeks ago, Nadia and I closed the library at ten. I left before Nadia. While I unlocked my car, I noticed a dark-colored SUV at the curb. Something about the vehicle made my skin crawl. I couldn’t see inside.”
“Tinted windows.”
“That’s right. The driver took off when I approached the SUV. I assumed it was Nadia’s ex, checking up on her.”
“Did you recognize the make and model?”
“It was after sunset, and I’m no car expert,” Johansen says. “But it looked dark blue or black. Oh, and Virginia plates. Sorry I didn’t memorize the number.”
Ketchum releases an exasperated sigh after the call ends.
“A dark-colored SUV. That doesn’t narrow the suspect list down. Neither Kealan Hart nor Chris Doyle drive a vehicle matching that description. Now I wonder if you’re right about the unsub working at the school.”
“Spiders in the bouquet,” Darcy says with a shiver. “That’s our killer’s calling card. Do you have Sasha Graughan’s number in your phone?”
“Got it.”
Sasha answers after several rings. From the slow, muddy greeting, it sounds like the woman just awoke from a nap.
“Have you found Brit’s killer yet?”
“Did Brit receiv
e flowers from an anonymous sender in the last month?” asks Darcy.
The question acts like a splash of ice water on Sasha. She draws a breath.
“How did you know about the flowers?”
“Tell me about them. Was it a bouquet in a vase?”
“Yeah. No card, no explanation. Brit found the bouquet in front of her apartment after she returned from work.”
“What day was this?”
“Saturday the fifth. I remember because we were packing for the camping trip and running behind.” Sasha laughs without mirth. “Chris was so pissed about the flowers. Jorge and I thought he’d sent them to make up after one of their fights. Instead, he got crazy jealous and demanded Brit tell him where the bouquet came from.”
“Did Chris threaten Brit?”
“In front of me and Jorge? No way. Jorge would have knocked Chris’s lights out if he got physical with Brit again.”
“These flowers,” Darcy says, noting the dates the flowers arrived for Nadia and Brit. “Were they infested with spiders? Black widows or brown recluses?”
“Damn. Brit mentioned something about a spider web on the vase. That’s why she tossed the flowers in the garbage. You mean someone put venomous spiders in the vase?”
“Another spider bite victim received a bouquet with black widows inside.”
Sasha shudders through the phone.
“Do the police think someone turned spiders loose on Brit, and that’s how she died? Oh, God.”
Sasha breaks down. It takes a few minutes for Darcy to calm the woman. When it becomes clear Sasha doesn’t know where the flowers came from, Darcy ends the call and scrolls through her phone.
“What are you searching?” Ketchum asks, leaning across the seat.
“Florists in Smith Town and Genoa Cove. Shoot. There are fourteen, and none of them are open late on the weekends.”
“I doubt they’d remember the bouquets. We don’t have descriptions of the arrangements, and florists receive multiple orders per day.”