She was on her feet, too. “How could I what? For heaven’s sake. It’s a coincidence, just a coincidence. Scott may be an egotistical bastard, but he’s no killer! Obstruction? Half the population of Anchorage has danced at the Piano Bar! Have you? Of course, you have. Are you a suspect? Am I a suspect? Really. You think I lied, or withheld this on purpose? People have died—I could never! Steven, it was years ago.” The happiness of a moment ago had dissipated like a fine water mist on a hot August day. They faced each other: his eyes black with anger, her face flushed, and her emotions on hold, but just below the surface.
“Sarah, Scott … he’s not who you think he is.”
He wanted to tell her about the fraternity, and the Porsche, but he had no proof the man she thought of as a friend, the man she considered her first love—had been manipulating events in her life for eight years. Chase was a stalker, but, with no proof, Steven would not hurt her by revealing that, not tonight.
“You’ve misjudged him. Scott couldn’t hurt a fly! He’s just…” Her hesitation belied her own wavering beliefs.
“You’re defending him, and you’re not even convinced of his innocence. Admit it, you have doubts.” He wished he had held back, but anger took control.
“This monster isn’t Scott. I’d know if… I’d know.” Sarah looked away. Her response was weak, her voice a whisper. She had no real argument. Not after his statement today. Steven knew she had questions. Instead of continuing, though, she squared her shoulders, turned on her heel, and left the room.
Steven found no satisfaction in her capitulation, but he saw no use in continuing the discussion, either. Instead, he went immediately to work and called Captain Reed.
“I need someone to spend the night out here. Jansen? Good idea. I’ll be waiting. We’ve got the stalker, and it’s Chase. Can you locate him? I’ll be there shortly.”
His next call was to John. “We’ve got Chase. I’ll call you after I’ve picked him up. Sarah’s fine. I promise. She’s no longer sure of him either. No, I didn’t. Don’t worry, someone’s on his way here. I won’t move till she’s safe.”
After the telephone calls, he went to Eddie’s room to shower and change. Then he finally found the courage to apologize to Sarah. He saw the door to her studio open and looked for her there. She was sitting in the dark, looking out over the property. She had showered and changed too, her pink gown covered the body he would never forget.
“I have to go. Someone,” he paused, clearing his throat, “Sergeant Jansen is on his way. I won’t leave until he gets here.” She didn’t acknowledge him. “Please, Sarah, let’s not end the night, like this. Talk to me?”
She turned from the window and faced him. “There’s nothing left to say.”
“I know how you feel.”
“Do you?” She approached him. “You know betrayal? I just described for you Scott’s betrayal, but I’m betting yours will top his. Tell me, on a scale from one to ten, where would you rate it?”
“It’s not like that. Sarah, no one is going to take you away from me. Please, understand.” He wanted to rat Scott out for everything, tell Sarah how he paid to have an entire fraternity monopolize her college years. Steven was torn, but kept his silence, waiting for her response.
“Fine. Do your job.” She limped past him toward the door.
He knew her heart was breaking, because his was, too. Her sadness almost melted his resolve, but he followed her.
Vulnerable, but proud, she stopped and faced him once more. “At least admit the truth. That’s really why you stayed tonight, isn’t it? Not out of some sense of duty to Eddie, but to question me.”
He could not lie, but he also could not speak. Steven closed his eyes. She had her answer.
“Love, talk of the future, and sex? Oh, god, am I really that easy?” Sarah shook her head in disgust. “Ten. That’s where I rate your betrayal, because you couldn’t have choreographed your deception any better. You made me think I had a choice, made me believe in love again. My god, how easily you manipulated me. Is that what they teach you in the academy?” She dared him to deny it.
He looked at the ceiling, and, though she wasn’t aware, he was fighting tears. “Sarah, I love you. I meant every word, but first I have to catch this maniac to ensure our happiness.”
“Happiness? How can we have anything if we can’t trust each other? I gave you… Now you’re going to leave and arrest Scott, just because we danced at The Piano Bar eight years ago. Is it the case, or jealousy—Steven, I want no part. None.”
He watched her closely. She worked hard to suppress her agony, the pain he was causing her. No, damn it, this is Scott’s doing! Steven’s heart beat painfully in his chest. He struggled to maintain control of his emotions.
“You uncovered that last valentine here, in your own home. Of all the people you know, who is most likely to have threatened you in your own home? Think! The person torturing you is someone you know, and, Sarah, they know you well. They knew about your parents’ cabin.”
He reached out to touch her, but she backed away.
“No, don’t.”
Her rejection shocked him.
“I never intended to make love to you, just to question, but we… I got caught up… it’s no excuse and, I’m truly sorry, but regardless of what this costs me, if I can save your life, I would repeat these last few days, this night till the end of time, because having you in this world is worth the threat of losing your love, your trust. Even if all I ever have is the last forty-eight hours, I’ll never regret this—never. Please understand.”
Her expression held nothing but skepticism. Steven’s breath caught in his throat, and he changed the subject.
“Jansen should be here any minute. He’ll spend the night, and I’ll check on you in the morning.”
He walked away from her, and the agony he felt with each step was intense. The evening had been unbelievable, but now reality beckoned. He remembered three sets of dead eyes, they would know nothing of happiness because he had failed them. He would not fail Sarah. The fourteenth of February was too close.
“Steven.”
At the top of the steps, he turned.
“It isn’t Scott. I know it. He’s not the one you want.” She seemed resigned to his choice, but the unhappiness in her voice touched his soul.
“For your sake, Sarah, I hope you’re right. I honestly hope you’re right.” He meant what he said, but his instincts told him otherwise.
teven stood on the deck while he waited for Sergeant Jansen to replace him.
Sergeant Ray Jansen was a veteran officer, who had served on the force for fifteen years. His wife died from breast cancer several years earlier, so every time a call went out for extra duty, no matter the reason, Ray was the first to volunteer. He was a dedicated and, despite his loss, a generous individual. Sergeant Jansen finally arrived.
“I understand you have the case solved,” Ray said and stepped from the car.
“I’ll know soon,” Steven replied. “Ms. Palmer’s in the kitchen. Introduce yourself, and do a security check, especially the perimeter, and then take advantage of the bedroom on this floor.”
“Well, I’ve already worked a full shift. A good night’s sleep sounds like a great option, but are you sure you don’t want me alert till you get back?”
“Not necessary. The night hawks are on patrol and I’m going to arrest the bastard now. Just make sure the place is secure, and relax. If anything goes wrong, you’ll know, and a car will be out straight away. The security controls are in the bedroom you’ll be using. Even if you took a sleeping pill, that system would wake you if anything goes down. I’ll drive out as soon as I have this case wrapped up. See you at breakfast, if not before. If you have any questions, any problems, call me!”
Steven got into his truck, eager to be on his way. Once on the road, he radioed the office to see if they had located Chase. Dispatch informed him they didn’t have him yet, but Anderson was outside Scott’s home, waiting for w
ord from Steven.
Steven radioed Anderson. “Stand by. Let me know when he arrives. I’m on my way to see the judge. I want this one personally.”
He hurried into town. His next step: pick up an arrest warrant and search warrant. The task proved difficult, but not impossible. Steven explained his suspicions regarding the latest valentine, and how Sarah’s location was discovered. He was in the home of Judge Porter, with Nora Flutters, the district attorney, on speaker. Judge Porter was forty-five, young for the bench, but a fair and cautious man. Nora was highly respected, and Steven knew their judgment was astute.
“You don’t have one fingerprint, no corroborating evidence?”
“No, but we do know Chase knew each one of the victims. He frequented The Piano Bar and tipped Debra well. He was angry with Rhonda, because he thought Rhonda didn’t do enough to contact him before selling Sarah that mansion on the hill. Sounds petty, but people have murdered for less. We know for sure that Patricia was the one who introduced them and then told Sarah when she saw him with his wife at The Piano Bar. Frank Stover, an FBI profiler, agrees that this last killing was more violent, and more personal, because the killer is getting angrier. Frank and I both believe Chase is angry because Sarah continues to reject his advances. He was present when a valentine showed up mysteriously. It’s all circumstantial, yet he’s the one all these situations fit.”
“Steven, you have probable cause for a search warrant, but not an arrest warrant—at least not yet, but if your search turns up something, then bring him in for questioning, and we’ll discuss the next step,” Judge Porter said.
“Nora, do you agree?”
“Definitely. Scott Chase is a reputable citizen with important political ties. My son graduated from high school with his daughter. I’ve known him for years, and to imagine him doing what you say is impossible. He’s charismatic and will make a very sympathetic defendant. We have to have this case tight. Whatever you do, keep the press out of it, even if you have the proverbial smoking gun.”
Know him, Steven thought. You’ve slept with him. But he held his tongue. He hoped Nora wasn’t as blind as Sarah was to Scott’s dark side.
“I agree with Nora. I had dinner with him just last week, and he called me after his last visit to her house. Steven, he feels you’re out to get him, so you had better make sure your case is solid. If you bring him in, be quiet, respectful, and according to the book. He’s out for blood, specifically yours. Don’t screw this up by letting your emotions rule. Chase thinks you’re personally involved with this case. In fact, if you were smart, you’d let someone else handle this.” Judge Porter signed the warrant, and handed it to Steven.
Steven realized he was right. He had to do this right, or Chase, with all his money, would walk and he would be the scapegoat. Judge Porter’s voice stopped him in mid-stride.
“This case is tough. You have a good reputation, Hawk. Don’t blow it.”
Steven nodded, and ran his fingers back through his hair.
“Good luck, Steven,” Nora said before disconnecting the call.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll take your advice. Everything will be done by the book.”
Steven shook the judge’s hand, and left. He headed to the station to await word on Chase’s location. He knew Judge Porter was right, but he was simmering with rage when the call came in that Chase was finally home. The wait had been unexpectedly long.
Midnight
After Steven left and Sergeant Jansen had settled in, and Tom and Ethan came in for their thermos of hot chocolate. Sarah fixed herself a cup of cocoa, and relaxed in front of the fire in the den to listen to sad love songs—songs about betrayal and love lost. She tried to hold on to her anger, but her mood quickly turned to melancholy. She realized Steven could not change his work ethic any more easily than Scott could change his playboy ways.
The job, the case, was far more important than her feelings. Still, she could not see Scott as evil. Egotistical, yes, but evil? Never. She realized her naiveté had gotten her in trouble before, and she was solely to blame for that, not Steven. Sarah knew better, and, tonight, she had been as much a seducer as the seduced.
She smiled, though. The memories were blush inducing, and Steven had given her the opportunity to back down. Great self-control on his part, too—she had to respect that, even while she berated herself for her lack of control. Instead of hating him, she realized how much she loved him. He was an exasperating man, but he was all hers. She held no doubt about his feelings for her. The flames of the fire hypnotized her, and, by one in the morning, she was sound asleep on the couch in the den.
The fire was dead, and the room was cold. Sarah woke, feeling stiff. She tried to get up, but the room began to spin. In the darkness, and with blurred vision, she was disoriented. If she could have reached that cup on the end table, she would’ve thrown it across the room. She’d only had a few sips, but instinctively knew her hot chocolate was the source of her dizziness and haze. Panic welled up, and Sarah willed herself to remain calm. The blur in her eyes cleared, but the dizziness lingered, and she could make out the basic shapes of the room she was in.
Sarah reached for the light switch on the lamp. A click, but the darkness remained. She held on to the end of the couch and stood, maneuvering her way to the floor lamp. The electricity was off. Sarah was lightheaded and sluggish, but her mind was clear.
She was not alone. Steven was right. Her tormentor had not waited until February fourteenth. He was here, in the darkness, watching her, and enjoying her fear. For a few moments, she hoped she was dreaming, but she felt a chill wind. The patio doors were wide open. She carefully crossed the room and closed them. Sarah’s nightdress provided no comfort from the cold. She shivered violently. She presumed Sergeant Jansen was sound asleep in Eddie’s room, drugged by the same chocolate, since she had served him a cup before he retired for the evening. And the Dun brothers, she hoped they were in a warm car; otherwise they would succumb to the cold.
She wondered how she could defend herself. Sergeant Jansen had a gun and, drugged or not, she needed protection. Ready to make her way to his room, she heard a door close and footsteps in the hall. Fear tightened her throat and restricted her breathing. She thought of the French doors and fleeing, but, with the temperatures below zero, she would not last long outside, especially barefoot and in a nightgown.
Sarah pressed against the wall next to the bookcase and cowered in the corner. She barely breathed, fearing the intruder would find her by the sound of her beating heart. Her dizziness lessened, but she still reacted sluggishly. Her movements were similar to her dreams—slow, deliberate, and with heart pounding intensity. A black figure passed by the door, and Sarah almost screamed when he hesitated for just an instant. Sarah held her breath. Would he notice the closed doors? Was he expecting her to be unconscious on the couch? She knew the answer was yes and prayed he thought she had escaped to another room. Please, please, pass by. I’m not in here. I’m no longer here.
The intruder kept moving. Sarah allowed herself to breathe deeply. She could not tell where he was, but she waited. Fear made her want to stay in place.
Thoughts of a gun, and of protection, beckoned her. The telephone sat silent before her, and she knew before she picked up the receiver—it was dead. How had he compromised the security system? How had he drugged the chocolate? How…?
Sarah could not allow herself to think. She had to act. Fighting for her life, even if she lost, was better than cowering in fear. She began to make her way to the bedroom where Sergeant Jansen was sleeping. Sarah cautiously checked the hallway. Her eyes, now familiar with the darkness, made out the shadows in the hall. Limping, she entered Eddie’s room and quickly shut the door.
Once she was locked in and safe, Sarah exhaled in relief. Quietly, she called to Sergeant Jansen, but he did not stir. She went to the side of the bed and knelt down. Sarah knew he would be in a deep sleep, but she had to try to rouse him. He was motionless. Sarah put her hands on his shoul
ders and shook him gently.
The ice-cold touch of his skin should have been her first clue that something was seriously wrong. She assumed the lack of heat in the house had chilled them both and shook him again. The night was clear, but dark, and the further she moved into the house, the darker it became. A new moon provided no light, but the stars shone brightly, just not vividly enough to give Sarah even a glimmer unless she was close to a window. As she knelt by his bedside trying to get movement from him, her hand hit something solid on his chest. His gun?
Then the truth dawned. She was touching a knife, a knife in the middle of the chest of a man who had come to her home to protect her. Sarah began to scream, but quickly covered her mouth to stifle it and backed into a corner. Sarah slid down the wall, and her gaze moved from the dead man to the door and back again, as though she were watching volleys in a tennis tournament, waiting for the monster to return and finish her.
When he did not, Sarah slowly calmed her terror. She wept, unaware of the tears at first. With her head bowed she tried to pray, but uttered instead, “No, no, no. Oh God, please no.”
Gathering her courage, she decided to cover his body with a blanket, but she could not find one. During her search, a noise startled her. Cautiously, she approached the door, checked the lock, and pressed her ear against it. She heard nothing. Remembering the gun, she searched the dresser. She continued her search and finally came across the gun belt hanging on the back of a chair. The gun was missing from the holster.
The intruder had known she would come here first, and that was the only reason why Sergeant Jansen was dead and his gun missing. Sarah checked the closet for clothes, but it, and every drawer, was empty. There would be no escape. She needed clothes, and they were in her room. The mudroom held boots and coats, but if he had cleared Eddie’s closet and taken the blankets, he would have done the same in the mudroom. Emma’s apartment should have been an alternative, but the key was in her room.
Murder, Madness & Love (Detective Quaid Mysteries #1) Page 24