She scooped up the used creamer packaging and the empty sugar packet. “Well, I hope we’ll be seeing a lot of you in here.”
A well-dressed woman at the next table caught her attention. “Miss, we’ve been waiting for our check for more than five minutes.”
Katie touched the table edge. “Excuse me.”
She stopped at the other table. “I’ll send Betty right over with your check.” With one hand still holding the coffeepot, she could only clear away one of the plates.
The restaurant was busier than usual for a Tuesday morning. Most of the locals discussed the political rally, while the few tourists who had found their way to the Alligator Café talked about theme parks and beaches. Neither group’s conversation managed to catch much of her attention.
She kept replaying the scene from the previous night over and over in her head, and cringing inside a bit more with each rerun. She’d actually been the aggressor. Oh, sure, her defenses were down. The half bottle of merlot was part of the problem. And then there had been the conversation about her sister, which had left her feeling more emotionally vulnerable than she had in years.
Those excuses might work if he’d been the one to make the first move. But he hadn’t been. She had.
Her abdominal muscles tightened as if his hands were once more moving over her skin. Strong fingers. A firm pressure. The hands of a man who knew what he was capable of doing to a woman. He would be a demanding lover, the kind that would push a woman to her limits, and then, when she didn’t think there was any more left, he would take her even further.
Not that she was ever going to know.
She swiped the damp rag across the cleared table, moving aside the salt and pepper shakers to wipe up what appeared to be spilled syrup.
As she straightened, the rag still clutched in her hand, she recalled the moment everything had gone to hell, the moment Alec picked up something from the corner of the desk. Almost as if it had been left there by some divine hand.
The postcard.
She knew about the postcard that came every month. But as he had slowly turned over the card last night, the quickly buried flash of pain in his gray eyes, the fingers that had trembled as they held the card… It had told her just how hard not just the twentieth of each month, but every day on a calendar must be for Alec. Each day that went by brought him closer to another postcard. To another reminder.
How did he survive? If the man responsible for Karen’s death hadn’t gone to prison, she wouldn’t have been able to stand it. Knowing he was walking free while her sister’s ashes had been scattered to the winds….
Last night, she would have done anything to ease Alec’s pain, but there had been nothing she could do. She’d been where he was right now.
Just as she’d had to forgive herself for being the daughter who had survived, Alec was going to have to find some way to forgive himself. It wasn’t what others told you about yourself; it was what you believed deep down inside your own soul that mattered the most.
And deep down in his, he still blamed himself for Jill’s death.
She glanced up as a couple with three kids walked in. They were all dressed in shorts and theme park sweatshirts, probably hastily bought when the temperatures had taken a downturn. She offered them a smile, and, grabbing menus, seated them in her section.
The next hour passed quickly, but each time the front door opened, she looked toward it, expecting to see Alec, becoming more and more worried when she didn’t. She knew he had a cell phone, but she didn’t have the number. There hadn’t been any reason for her to get it. He was always going to be just down the street. Thirty seconds away. But now she didn’t know where he was, and because she didn’t, she was nervous.
She’d just given out individual checks to a party of twelve ladies. The other two waitresses working the shift had already left. With only four tables still occupied—none of them hers and all but one regulars in the restaurant— Katie caught Betty’s attention and motioned that she needed a five-minute reprieve.
If nothing else, on the way home tonight, she was going to get her work shoes. She wasn’t going another day without Rockports.
She flicked on the supply room’s light fixture as she entered and immediately kicked off her shoes. It hadn’t been much more than twenty-four hours since Alec had followed her in here.
What was wrong with her?
She rubbed her forehead. Getting involved with a man who obviously still had strong feelings for his dead wife was asking for trouble. She knew that. Just as she knew any relationship between them was destined to be short-lived. If they were successful in catching this guy, when it was all over, she would just be a reminder of Jill. And he would be a reminder of a horrific time in her life. Getting on with their respective lives would be easier without those reminders.
But that didn’t stop her from wanting him.
She jerked her purse down from an upper shelf and plopped it on a lower one. The Valium bottle somehow had made its way to the top of the bag. Maybe the work of the same divine hand that had delivered the postcard last night.
Shoving the container aside, she dug out one peppermint stick—a leftover from last Christmas that she tossed immediately into the trash can five feet away—and had just corralled a roll of spearmint Life Savers, when a quick flash of reflected light bounced off a large soup pot just to her right. No. Not bounced off, but the light that came down the narrow hall from the dining room had been briefly blocked as someone entered the hallway.
It was probably just Betty. She’d pretend to be checking on Katie, but what she really wanted was to question her about Alec—a subject Katie had been dodging all morning.
“I’ll be right there,” she called over her shoulder and went back to peeling out a candy.
The hairs at the back of her neck suddenly lifted, as if a cold hand had caressed her spine. The barely discernable sound of cloth brushing across cloth reached her at the same time as she saw a murky silhouette in the highly polished surface of the pot. Not Betty, but a man’s broad shoulders.
Her fingers suddenly stilled as the door clicked closed. Slowly, she removed her hand from the purse and as nonchalantly as possible reached for the only weapon she saw. A can of green beans.
Why here?
Why now, when even if he managed to kill her, there was little chance he’d get away with it?
Alec’s words came back to her with sudden clarity. If he’s willing to pay the ultimate price…
AT JACK’S REQUEST, Alec lingered in the staging area. But he would have preferred to have been sitting in the library, a quick sprint from Katie.
He wasn’t expecting anything to happen just yet. As an organized thinker, their guy would want to study the situation. Before he acted, he would need to determine the safest and the cleanest way to get to his target.
At least that’s what Alec had believed until last night…until the postcard had come. Now, he wasn’t so certain.
Was their guy slowly coming unglued, just as Bundy had those last weeks in Florida? Some believed Bundy had headed to Florida—a state where the death penalty still existed—because he wanted to be stopped. Up until that time, he’d been so careful that even those closest to him had never suspected anything. And then suddenly, he seemed to spiral down, almost as if some force—God or a more internal demon—drove him to expose himself to greater risk.
Alec prayed that was not what was happening with Jill’s killer. Because if it was, Alec was about to find himself in uncharted territory.
As soon as the white limousine delivered Paul Darby at nine forty-five, the media swarmed, and it was left to the police officers to keep them at bay.
Prominent local citizens, including the mayor’s wife, were already seated on the bandstand. The high school band, positioned just to the right of the structure, an nounced the politician’s arrival on stage as did an equal number of cheers and boos.
Alec caught sight of Jack moving through the crowd.
> Following an introduction given by a party leader, Darby bounded to the podium, one hand raised in the air, almost as if claiming victory even before the polls opened.
Like most speeches given by politicians, there was a lot of plate decoration and not much to sink your teeth into. After the first few minutes, Alec tuned out Darby’s voice and focused on the crowd. As he scanned the audience, he evaluated each face.
“Off the record—”
Alec glanced down at Jolie Kennedy. He’d seen her working her way toward him absent the mike and the cameraman. “No comment.” He returned his attention to the crowd.
“The public has the right to know.”
“And it’s your mission to tell them?”
She shoved the hair away from her eyes. “That’s right.”
He looked down at her. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said and stepped toward the bandstand. The politician’s security team had remained fairly stationary, but now was on the move. Two out of the three men were newly hired—probably more for their bulk than their brains—and looked to the third, a seasoned veteran, for direction.
And right now, eager to complete his assigned job so he could get back to town and Katie, Alec intended to do everything in his power to make sure the politician got to his limo without incident.
What was scheduled to be an hour-long production had just been shortened to a twenty minute super stop. Just enough to demonstrate that the politician was fearless, that he wasn’t going to let a few threats throw him off stride.
Those positioned inside the ropes as he descended the steps—people with media passes or with some connection to Darby’s political party—held out hands that were shaken without hesitation.
The seasoned member of the security team shadowed his employer, protecting his back, and at the same time attempted to direct the younger members of the team to open up a path leading to the car.
Everything was going along as planned, and then Darby suddenly turned and went for the audience. People surged to meet him, and in the process cut off even Darby’s experienced bodyguard, who was left to flounder upstream against a current of humanity.
Not that the politician seemed to notice. He waded forward, and because of the way he used both hands simultaneously to shake those on either side of him, it almost looked as if he was being pulled toward the center of the crowd.
Alec had been debating if he should sit tight, when he caught a sudden movement off to the right.
A man forced his way through the audience, obviously headed for the politician. Large. Wearing a navy blue baseball cap with yellow lettering and a jean jacket. The man looked up, his gaze briefly meeting Alec’s across the sea of heads, and as it did, Alec knew the trouble everyone had been hoping to avoid was just moments from happening.
With no other choice, he plunged forward. People gave him dirty looks as he shoved his way past them. The comments in his wake weren’t any nicer. He briefly lost track of the man. When Alec again located him, he realized the man was going to reach Darby before Alec could.
No sign of a weapon yet, but that could mean that he was smart enough not to show it too early.
A tandem baby stroller suddenly cut off Alec’s route. After only the briefest hesitation, he went over it. The look of outrage on a tall blond woman who had been standing in the general vicinity of the contraption told him that she was the mother. Without stopping, he threw an apology over his shoulder.
It was definite now. He wasn’t going to make it. And neither were any of Darby’s security people.
It was then that Alec saw the gun come out of the man’s pocket. He was still a dozen feet from Darby when a cowboy-type realized what was happening and tackled the man from behind, the forward momentum taking down Darby and those standing nearest him like a full rack of bowling pins.
By the time Alec got there, Darby was climbing to his feet, helped by two of Jack’s officers. He was escorted to the waiting limo. The suspect took the same route several seconds later, blackened eyes downcast, and his split lip still bleeding.
Alec looked at the audience member who’d made the tackle. Six-two. A clean-shaven head that seemed to accentuate his heavy features.
“Nice moves,” he said and held out his hand.
The guy grinned as they shook. “Thanks. I played center in high school.”
Joining them, Jack extended his hand to the cowboy. “Thanks for jumping in. The bad news now is, as a citizen who was willing to get involved when the situation required it, you get the privilege of spending the next hour or so with one of my deputies.”
The man nodded. “I don’t have anywhere to be for a few hours.”
“Well, I do.” Alec was already backing away.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Alec burst through the Alligator Café’s front door. Café owner Pete Repete was busy at the register, checking out half a dozen women.
Alec did a quick scan of the dining room. Two sets of couples were seated near the front window. A third table held what looked to be a newly delivered plate of eggs and bacon, but no diner. Probably went to the restroom.
And there was no sign of the police officer who was supposed to be watching Katie.
Alec stepped into the narrow kitchen. The place was spotless, even the old linoleum floor tiles, but as in most breakfast joints there was an overriding scent of grease and cold dishwater. The cook, a young kid from Fort Myers, was scraping down the griddle, while the busboy loaded one of two commercial dishwashers.
“Where’s Katie?”
Both men shrugged, but it was the cook who spoke. “Haven’t seen her since things slowed down out front.”
He’d told her to stay with people, to stay visible. “What about the police officer who was here earlier?”
Both men shrugged again. Alec hurried out of the kitchen and toward the supply room. He’d made a bad judgment call, entrusting Katie’s safety to someone else. It was his promise, his responsibility to be certain that nothing happened to her.
The third table, the one with the fresh plate, the untouched cup of coffee, was still unoccupied. It had been too long for a restroom break.
He stopped just inside the hall and drew his weapon. The supply room door was closed. She could just be changing her T-shirt. There might be nothing wrong.
Katie screamed, and was still screaming when Alec kicked in the door.
The man—Alec recognized him as someone who had been in the restaurant recently—had Katie pinned in the corner. The contents of the overturned shelf unit, mostly cans, covered the floor.
Alec took advantage of the other man’s surprise, and slammed his fist into his face. The man stumbled backward. Alec reached out and, catching him by the collar, slammed him up against the wall. The man’s eyes, which had briefly closed as his head impacted the wall, doubled in size when Alec shoved the Glock in his face.
The roar inside Alec’s head was like a freight train bearing down on him. He’d been waiting for this moment for eleven months, twenty-seven days and ten hours. And now it was here. In the blink of an eye, he could end it. Save the taxpayers hundreds of thousands of dollars, save him the torture of a trial where he’d have to listen as this man told of Jill’s last minutes…
“Get the hell out of here, Katie!”
She didn’t move.
“Now!”
“Alec, no!” Katie stumbled across the littered floor and latched on to his arm. “It’s not him. He’s not the one who attacked me. He’s not Jill’s killer.”
His index finger still lying on the trigger, he looked over at her. He barely registered that her fingers were digging into his bicep.
“It’s not him!” She tried to push her body between them. “You can’t do this!”
Not him? Reason was like an incoming tide, overtaking him in waves. He looked at the man he held. The height might be right, but the build wasn’t.
“Alec.” Jack stood in the doorway. “Lower your weapon.”
Chapter Eleven
&
nbsp; “You better get your act together, Alec. And in a damn hurry!”
Jack leaned across the interrogation room table that separated them. “You’re out of control.”
Alec planted his hands on the table. “I would never have pulled that trigger. And you know it!”
Jack tossed down the file he’d been holding. “You’re just damned lucky that you aren’t being booked on assault charges right now!” Jack stabbed a finger at the interrogation room’s closed door. “If that man had wanted to, there would have been nothing I could do to stop him. In fact, the prosecution would have to call me as a witness.” He stood, paced to the window overlooking the parking lot. “I should take away your weapon. If you were anyone else, and if the situation were different, I wouldn’t hesitate.”
Alec undid the shoulder holster and slammed it with the weapon still encased in leather onto the table. “Take it. I have three more—”
Jack turned back, and for a brief instant, Alec saw something that he hadn’t expected to, something that made him pause. Jack looked tired and worried.
“Is something going on with you?”
Jack sat down again, and, leaning back in his chair, looked up at his brother. “Take your weapon, Alec. And take some advice, too. Back off. Off of the responsibility that you feel for Jill’s death, off of whatever is happening between you and Katie.”
“Nothing’s happening.”
Jack shook his head, and briefly looked away as if choosing his next words. “We both know there’s no room in law enforcement for emotions.”
Alec gave a sharp nod. “You’re right, there isn’t. But there’s no walking away, either. Not until it’s finished.” He straightened.
The harsh words Jack had thrown around earlier lost all power as his gaze met Alec’s. “Just make sure it doesn’t finish you.”
Alec’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be careful.”
Alec was almost to the door, when Jack spoke. “I’ll need you to make a statement about what happened out at the park this morning.”
“Sure.” He turned. “Have you learned anything yet?”
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