Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella)

by Nina D'Angelo

  Then he’d made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He introduced her to his best friend. From the moment Dominic and Stephanie met, it was as if everyone faded into the background and ceased to exist. Ben had known then that any hopes for a future with Stephanie were gone, as long as Dominic was alive. She fell for him hard, with his daredevil personality, charismatic charm and loving nature.

  He tried to hold onto her for as long as he could before he’d come to the realization he had a choice. He could take their breakup badly and walk away from her, or take his defeat gracefully and simply accept her friendship. It didn’t take him long to realize he’d rather have her in his life than out of it and he’d accepted friendship and never looked back.

  “Ben?” Stephanie’s voice intruded his thoughts, and he looked up to see both Jesse and Stephanie watching him expectantly.

  “What love?” he asked, concern etched on his face at her pained expression.

  She linked her fingers with his, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “You have to promise me. Promise you won’t do anything to Leigh.”

  He sighed in frustration. There was nothing more he’d like to do than beat Leigh Walker into a bloody pulp. He’d had the same urge from the first moment Leigh approached him with his smug smile, at Angel’s funeral.

  “I promise,” he vowed, seeing Jesse’s guarded expression when Stephanie made him promise the same.

  Jesse watched the tension leave Stephanie’s body after their promise. Sharing a concerned look with Ben, he said softly, “Now, Stephanie, you need to promise us something too.”

  Stephanie put up her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve already promised myself to never marry someone without talking to you guys first. I learned my lesson with Leigh. I already know if you’d have met him first, you would have told me to run like hell away from him.”

  Ben grunted in agreement. “I hated the guy from the beginning,” he grumbled, ignoring Jesse’s scowl of displeasure.

  “Hell, I think I’ll avoid marriage altogether. It only seems to give me pain in some form or another,” Stephanie said bitterly.

  Ben grinned at Jesse’s growing impatience. Drawing Stephanie closer to him, his grin widened when she rested her head on his shoulder. “I think what Jesse’s trying to says is we want you to promise us you won’t go anywhere near Leigh, at least not without protection.”

  Stephanie lifted her head from Ben’s shoulder, smiling coolly. “Trust me Ben, the next time I see Leigh I plan on protecting myself.”

  Ben sighed in relief, pleased Stephanie was willing to listen to them. His relief was short-lived.

  “Ben, neither you nor Jesse need to worry about my safety ever again.” Stephanie said, her voice rising from a whisper to a hard, icy rasp. She touched her throat again, a dangerous glint in her eyes, she added coldly, “Because if that bastard ever tries to hurt me again, I’ll kill him myself.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gena left Callendor Studios with Sandra, neither comfortable with their progress.

  “You think he’s our killer?” Sandra asked, grinning nastily.

  Gena shook her head. “Did you see how pale he went when I dropped those crime scene photos on his desk? David Collins could barely stand the sight of them. My guess is he’d probably faint at the sight of his own blood let alone someone else’s. No, he’s not our killer. Besides, he doesn’t fit the profile I’ve been building. David Collins’ stands out in a crowd, whereas our killer probably blends. He’s a chameleon. He fits in anywhere.”

  Lowering her voice, almost hesitant to voice her thoughts out aloud, Gena added, “Sandra, I think this case is linked to another murder – a recent one.”

  “How do you figure? Did you find something to link Carolyn Mathers to another victim? Are we looking for a multiple killer or do you think we’ve got a serial killer on our hands?” Sandra asked, rapidly spitting out questions, her eyes shining in anticipation.

  Gena grinned, listening to her partner of two years pepper her with questions faster than she could answer them. “Remember the scrapbook? There was a photo inside, one easily linking Carolyn Mathers’ murder to another unsolved sex crime.”

  Sandra’s mouth dropped open. She quickly shut it, disbelief sliding across her face. “Wait, are you telling me you think this cat purposely put a photo into the scrapbook, knowing we would find it? He left us a photo to link him to another crime?”

  Gena shrugged. Reaching their unmarked police car, she put her phone and notepad on the silver hood of their Crown Victoria, saying softly, “I think he’s taunting us Sandra. He’s taunting me. He’s making it personal.”

  “Gena, every case you take on becomes personal,” Sandra said with a grin, waiting for Gena to unlock the passenger door.

  Gena didn’t reply until they were seated inside the car. Turning the ignition, she started the car, speaking over the hum of the engine. “Do you remember Angel Monroe’s murder from a couple of weeks ago?”

  Waiting for Sandra to nod, she cleared her throat. “Angel Monroe was raped, tortured and her throat slit. I’ve looked at the medical examiner’s findings for both cases and they’re virtually identical. Both were raped, tortured, and murdered. Their throats were cut in identical fashions and the findings indicate with the same type of knife. The only real difference is the crime scenes. Carolyn Mathers wasn’t killed where she was dumped. Angel’s housemate, Jesse Carlisle, came home and found her. She died in his arms while he waited for the ambulance to arrive.”

  Sandra scowled in remembrance. “I still don’t know why we’re not looking closer at Carlisle for her murder. He had the means. She was living with him. It just feels a little too convenient that he came back and found her.”

  Gena smiled coldly at Sandra, reversing out of the studio car park. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her hackles immediately rising at the accusations Sandra threw at Jesse.

  “We didn’t like him for the crime because both his alibi and his story checked out. The built-in GPS showed where he was around the time Angel Monroe was attacked. I also listened to the 911 recording.”

  Her voice icy, she added, “Even if his story hadn’t checked out, I still would have believed him. While you may think he had the means, I know he didn’t have a motive. Jesse Carlisle is one of the most honorable men I know. He has no time for anyone who abuses women, and he loved Angel like a sister.”

  Sandra slammed her hand on the dashboard, groaning in disbelief. “Damn it Gena, don’t tell me you knew the victim.”

  Gena laughed harshly, trying to avoid the lump in her throat. Clearing it, she said softly, “Know her? Sandra, she was one of my best friends. We met in university.”

  “Gena, you need to remove yourself from the murder investigation. You need to walk away before you risk everything – the case and your career,” Sandra bit out, cursing.

  “I can’t walk away, not until I catch this son of a bitch,” Gena said, giving Sandra a ghost of a smile. “Besides, it’s too late to walk away now. I’m involved whether I want to be or not.”

  Sandra looked at her sharply. “Why would it be too late? What have you done, Gena?”

  Gena scowled, turning her focus back to the highway. “Nothing, Sandra. It’s not what I’ve done, it’s what I’ve discovered. Do you remember how I told you about the photo connecting Carolyn Mathers to Angel Monroe’s murder?”

  When Sandra nodded silently, she said quietly, “The photograph is one of Angel Monroe and Carolyn Mathers together. They knew each other.”

  Tearing her eyes off the road, she quickly leaned over and flicked on the radio, unnerved by the silence in the car. Flicking through the stations she settled on The Sound, relaxing as Aerosmith’s ‘Sweet Emotion’ softly filled up the dead silence.

  Swallowing hard, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, turning her eyes back onto the stream of traffic. Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel in tune to the music, she said, “It gets even worse, Sandra. It wasn’t just a photo o
f Angel Monroe and Carolyn Mathers together. I was in the photo too. I’m the god damn connection between the two of them. They both knew me.”

  Sandra’s face reflected her horror. Her body rigid with shock, she tried to comprehend what Gena was telling her. “Are you telling me we’re dealing with a possible serial killer who is targeting your friends?” she asked, concerned. “Is it possible it’s someone you’ve previously put away?”

  Gena shrugged, refusing to meet Sandra’s eyes, instead keeping them on the road ahead. “Sandra, I don’t know what we have here. A serial killer, maybe. I want to use the term serial killer loosely though. You know as well as I do these monsters aren’t considered serial killers until they kill three or more people. So far we only know of two. I don’t want to think about this animal killing anyone else I know.”

  She took a shaky breath, realizing she was still tapping her fingers nervously against the steering wheel. She took a deep breath, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice when she spoke. “It’s not just my friends Sandra, but my university friends.”

  “You’re not telling me everything,” Sandra said, suspicion creeping into her voice.

  Gena slammed her fist against the steering wheel. “Sandra, there’s another person in the photo. It’s someone who could be his next victim.” Tearing her eyes off the road to finally meet Sandra, she grimaced. “You’re not going to like it when I tell you who it is.”

  ***

  Jase watched the CSU carry out the black body bag, with a sense of forebode. He knew her. Although he hadn’t known her for long, he still knew her. They’d met through Angel. She’d always been so warm and welcoming. She’d made him feel like a part of their inner circle, even when Jesse Carlisle and Ben Reynolds made him feel like an interloper.

  “Dev?”

  He turned around to see his former partner, Franklin Delucci, behind him. Shaking his hand firmly, he nodded politely to Delucci’s partner. “Frank.”

  “What happened?” Delucci asked, running his eyes over Jase’s blood-spattered clothes.

  Jase ran a hand over his unshaven jaw, not sure where to begin. “Hell if I know, Frank. Cynthia and I had plans for breakfast. When she didn’t answer, I let myself in with the spare key she keeps in a pot plant.”

  “Hell Dev, this doesn’t look good. You should know that,” Franklin Delucci said, scowling at Jase.

  Jase returned the scowl. “Just what the hell does that mean?”

  “You know what I mean Jase,” Franklin said calmly, softening his tone and looking his former partner up and down. “First your girlfriend gets murdered, and now this. The media is going to have a field day with this one. A former Homicide Detective linked to two murders.”

  Jase ignored the dig, refusing to let Franklin Delucci rattle him, even as he felt a course of anger rushing through him. “What are you trying to say Frank? You think I did this,” he asked incredulously.

  Delucci shook his head, seeing the icy fury in Jase’s eyes. He put his hands up in appeal, trying to calm Jase’s nerves. “No, no. I know you, Jase. You were one of the best on the force, “he said, shaking his head sadly. “I’m just saying we have to follow procedure, and you should know better than anyone how bad this looks.”

  Jase ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look Frank, like I told you, Cyn and I were supposed to have breakfast together. I knocked. When she didn’t answer, I let myself in. I’ve done it before and didn’t think this time would be any different.”

  Pausing he shook his head, retracing the moves he’d made in his head. “The smell hit me first. The smell of blood mixed with ammonia. The smell of bleach was so damn overpowering, Frank. I just knew something wasn’t right. I cleared every room, until I got to the last room – Cyn’s bedroom.”

  He stopped, dropping his eyes to his feet, trying to block out the gruesome images filtering through his mind. He’d seen a lot of bloody crime scenes in his time as a Homicide Detective, but nothing had prepared him for the brutality of what he’d seen. “I opened the door Frank, and that’s when I saw her.”

  Delucci took Jase in. From his unshaven jaw to the blood spattered t-shirt, jeans and boots – all he was sure were clean when Jase entered the house. “Are you still off the sauce, Dev?”

  Jase let out a string of expletives, making Delucci smile. “You know I had to ask, right?”

  Jase nodded, glaring at Frank. “And you know I don’t have to like the fact you did.”

  Delucci’s smile disappeared. “We’re going to need to take your clothes, Dev,” he said quietly.

  Jase nodded in affirmation. “I keep a spare set in the car.” Seeing Delucci’s quick grin, he added, “Old habits die hard.”

  Delucci jerked his head towards the ambulance. “Do you know who she is?”

  Jase sighed heavily, nodding. “Yeah, I know who she is.” He watched the paramedics close the ambulance doors. Avoiding Delucci’s eyes, he said flatly, “Her name’s Ana, Ana Ferrier. She was a friend of Angel’s.”

  Delucci cursed underneath his breath, privately thinking it couldn’t look any worse for Jase than it already did. Delucci’s partner remained silent, observing Jase Devlin’s body language and how he interacted with Delucci. Finally speaking, he turned his gaze to the house and asked the question no one had voiced aloud. “If our victim is this Ana Ferrier, then where the hell is Cynthia Mallory?”

  ***

  Cynthia struggled against the handcuffs holding her firmly to the bed. Tears sliding down her cheeks, she looked around in the darkness for any sign she could recognize where she was being held.

  She was scared, more scared than she had ever been in her life. She wondered what had happened to the other woman – Gena’s friend, Ana, a beautiful brunette with stubborn eyes and a feisty attitude. Ana had already been down here when Cynthia first regained consciousness and she’d immediately recognized her from the photo Gena had sitting on her office desk. It was one of Gena and Ana together with a group of friends Cynthia didn’t know.

  She closed her eyes, already knowing the answer to her own question. She was dead. She’d heard the screams. The agonizing wails of a woman being tortured. Over and over she’d heard the screams until she hadn’t been able to handle it. She’d let out screams of her own, praying he would take pity on the poor woman he was torturing and kill her.

  She’d screamed until she could scream no more. Until her throat was raw, until she wasn’t sure whether it was Ana’s screams she heard or her own.

  She opened her eyes. She wondered if anyone knew she was missing yet. She took comfort in the knowledge Jase would wonder why she hadn’t answered the door for their breakfast date. Hopefully he would use the spare key and realize she was missing. The key, she groaned silently. Why on earth had she left the key in such an obvious place? Jase repeatedly warned her to be careful and to keep it in a less conspicuous place, but she didn’t listen. Why hadn’t she listened to him?

  She was sleeping when he first entered her bedroom. She didn’t hear a thing. She didn’t know anyone was even in her bedroom until he clamped a rag over her mouth. She tried to struggle, but he was so strong, too strong for her. He overpowered her, and then she blacked out. He’d used chloroform on her, she was sure of it. The effects of it were still in her system. She still felt ill from her exposure to the drug and she fought through both the nausea and dizziness. She needed to remain awake, stay focused, and more importantly, regain her strength. She needed all her strength to escape this madman.

  Lifting her head to the sky she began to pray, praying for the first time in many years. She prayed for anything to save her from the pain and suffering she knew he would inflict upon her. For someone to save her from this hell she’d been thrown into. Dropping her head to her chest, her tears began to fall, as the knowledge she may never get out of this alive became very real to her.

  ***

  He watched her in the darkness, smiling at her whispered prayers for help. He stepped forward, his fo
otsteps thunderous in the silent, barren room. His smile widened when she lifted her head, a panicked expression on her face and utter terror in her eyes.

  “Did you miss me, love?” he asked, approaching her.

  She saw the knife in his hand and struggled against the bonds holding her securely to the bed.

  “You can scream. In fact I’d prefer it,” he whispered, touching her face, his breath hot in her ear.

  Cynthia shuddered when he forced his mouth onto hers and ran his hand over her body. Grabbing her face with one hand, he forced her to look at him. He smiled coldly at her, “It’s time to get this party started.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gena lifted the marked yellow police tape barricading Cynthia’s apartment, ducking underneath it. Sandra did the same. Exchanging a look of concern, they quickened their place until they were almost running. They were almost back at the Precinct when the news of Cynthia’s disappearance came across the scanner.

  Without even thinking twice, Gena automatically turned their car to the West, heading towards Hollywood and Cynthia’s apartment, their only concern finding out what happened to their friend and colleague.

  Gena surveyed the street, her eyes darting over the many Police officers present. It was almost as if their whole department had shown up in full force to the crime scene. She half smiled, knowing just how much it showed the respect Cynthia had garnered in the short time she’d worked for the L.A.P.D. Her smile faded when she spotted Jase Devlin, half sitting in and out of a police car.

  Nudging Sandra, she silently jerked her head towards him, striding over with Sandra on her heels. “Jase?”

  Jase lifted his head from his hands, recognizing the voice softly saying his name. “Gena,” he acknowledged.

  “What happened, Jase? What are you doing here?” she asked, dropping onto one knee in front of him.