Deadly Bonds

by Anne Marie Becker

  Holt shot Max a sideways glance. “You look like you’ve been hit by a train.” Yesterday’s five-o’clock stubble was turning into a serious beard. Of course, women probably thought Max looked sexy.

  Max grunted. “Long night.” Probably partying with the girl of the month.

  They stopped at the perimeter of the cordoned-off area and Noah came over to them. “We’ve been waiting for the sun to come up so we can fully process the scene. Once we were sure we had a dead body, and the officer’s flashlight lit up the syringe, we backed away. The CPD crime scene team just arrived.”

  “Any sign of a suspicious person hanging around?” Holt asked.

  Noah shook his head. “As you suggested, we’ve had undercover officers watching the perimeter since the killer likes a show. But nothing so far.” He looked about them. “Of course, if he wanted to observe without being noticed, he picked a darn difficult place to do it.” The weed-filled, deserted lot was like an open field. And at this hour of the morning, there was no crowd to hide in.

  Noah turned on his heel and led them to the far corner of the lot where three other figures, one in a police uniform and two crime scene analysts, were chomping at the bit to get to the evidence.

  “What do you know so far?” Holt picked his way across the broken-glass-strewn dirt and knee-high weeds.

  “The wallet on the guy identifies him as Leonard Redding, a sixty-five-year-old retired Air Force captain. The syringe and the bruising around a puncture mark on Redding’s neck identify him as one of Toxin’s victims.”

  “Bruising?”

  “He went at this guy particularly hard.”

  “The bruising could indicate that Redding fought back or that Toxin knew him and released his aggression on him.”

  Noah didn’t stop walking, but spoke over his shoulder. “There’s another difference. Unlike the others, Captain Redding was killed somewhere else, then dropped at this location.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Coroner says the body temp indicates Redding was killed about eight hours ago, but there’s dew on the grass under his body. The part of his clothing he was lying on is damp. When he gets to the morgue, the coroner will confirm the theory that Redding was killed elsewhere once he gets a closer look at the pooling of blood.”

  “Killed in one location and dropped at another? Killer must be strong.”

  “The broken and bent weeds and grass in the area indicate the body was dragged from the roadside, but yes, it would take a good deal of strength if he did it by himself.”

  “It’s like Toxin’s evolving his methods, trying to figure out what he wants his pattern to be. Or he’s trying to throw us off.”

  Noah stopped as they reached the edge of the circle the technicians had roped off around Redding’s body. “There’s another difference here. A note.”

  “Handwritten?” If so, Holt would get the SSAM handwriting consultant on it right away.

  “No, printed on printer paper. It’s what it said that is interesting.”

  “Please tell me he signed it with his real name and address.”

  Noah didn’t even crack a smile. “Unfortunately, no. But he addressed it to you.”

  Holt looked at him in surprise. “Me?”

  “It seems you have an admirer. He’s been following you since he called the tip hotline last month, from what the note says.”

  Max looked sharply between Noah and Holt. “No fucking way.”

  “He mentions an incident from a couple weeks ago too. Sounds like a firsthand account. Some kind of picnic?”

  Holt’s heart thumped harder. The Labor Day picnic? Toxin had followed him there? Holt took the paper, protected by a plastic sleeve, from Noah.

  Dr. Patterson,

  I’m sure you missed me. I’ve been following your—my—case since our little chat, but you don’t appear to be any closer to discovering who I am. Must be frustrating to be so inept. I wonder what new clues Buzz’s death will give you. I look forward to meeting you one day. You lead an interesting life...when you’re not working so hard at being inept. The picnic was a particularly interesting day, wouldn’t you say? Interesting enough to finally see your woman again this weekend. Took you long enough. She’s sexy and smart...a real catch. And to think you never would have found each other if your wife hadn’t died.

  Holt had to consciously keep his hands from balling the note up and tossing it across the field. Toxin hadn’t mentioned Theo, thank God, but he had seen him with Sara and knew he was a widower. How the hell...? Obviously, Holt hadn’t been thinking clearly, hadn’t even anticipated that the killer might take an interest in him and—hell—follow him through his everyday activities. What exactly had he seen between Holt and Sara? Enough. Otherwise, why mention her at all?

  “Holt?” Max was studying him. “Are you okay, man?”

  Noah was watching him too. “Do you know who the she is that Toxin refers to?”

  “What’s in the note?” Max asked. Holt passed it to him.

  “Yes, I know who he’s referring to.” Holt cleared his throat, trying to relieve the tightness there. “Sara Burns. She’s the director at Theo’s school.”

  “And she was with you at this picnic he mentioned, as well as this past Friday?”

  “Yes.”

  Max raised his eyes from the note. “That’s it? You’re not going to tell us more?”

  “I’m sure you’re assuming the worst, anyway.”

  “Or the best. I’m assuming she’s the one who’s got you thinking about abandoning your bid for sainthood.”

  “Is he right?” Noah asked. “Do you have a relationship with Miss Burns?”

  Jesus. He sent a hand through his hair. “She’s an old friend of Elizabeth’s. We spent one night together—this past Friday.” His gaze met Max’s. “And it wasn’t like that.”

  Max shrugged. “That’s your business, unless a murderer makes it everyone’s business.”

  “What was it like?” Noah prodded. “It must have been something if it grabbed this guy’s attention.”

  “It was. Something. It was...” Special. They’d shared things with each other, things he wasn’t sure he’d ever have talked about with anyone who didn’t know Elizabeth and Theo as well as Sara did. But apparently, now, he’d have to share it—some of it—with at least two other people. “There was a parent-faculty mixer hosted by Theo’s school. We skipped out early to talk. We had a little too much to drink. I spent the night on her couch. End of story.”

  “Is that it?” Max asked.

  “That’s it.”

  Noah eyed him for another moment. “Obviously, you’re on Toxin’s radar.”

  Holt felt sick. “He has to know about Theo.”

  Noah’s look was sympathetic. “Better to be prepared than to be caught by surprise. I’ve got officers watching this area in case he’s watching you now.”

  Holt’s muscles bunched, resisting the urge to turn and survey the premises himself. He took a deep breath to steady his mind and relax his limbs. “All those details about my life. He wants me to know he knows all about me. Courses of action?”

  Max’s eyes turned to flint. “Protect the innocent. And then go on the attack.” Spoken like a true soldier.

  “Protect the innocent? You mean take Theo out of school? Stick him in my office like some kind of prisoner?” He shook his head. He didn’t think Toxin’s obsession with him was about Theo. “His words indicate he identifies with me, whereas Sara is a nameless woman and he doesn’t even mention Theo.” Holt felt a tad better as he reconfirmed his suspicions by studying the note again.

  Noah nodded. “Then the best place for Theo is probably at the school, where he can keep his routine and is surrounded by familiar people he trusts. Where anyone suspicious would stick out. But you should
notify your friend—both about Theo and that she could be in danger.”

  Holt found himself looking forward to hearing her voice again. Part of him craved the comfort she’d offered him a few days ago. He couldn’t act on those cravings, of course. She’d been put in enough danger simply by seeing him twice.

  No, he should keep far away from her until they caught Toxin. If she didn’t hate him before, when Elizabeth had cut her out of their lives, she’d surely hate him now, for bringing a killer into her world. Still, he found relief in knowing she was at his son’s school. If there was one thing he’d come to know about this new Sara, it was that she wouldn’t let anything happen to Theo. She’d protect him with her life.

  * * *

  John Rochard rushed in as Sara was eating lunch at her desk. His expression of triumph put Sara on high alert.

  “Glad you could make time to see me.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  She glanced pointedly at her lunch. “I had made time, but not for another hour yet, at the time you had scheduled.”

  She’d invited the parents to make personal conferences with her, and many had taken her up on the offer. But seeing John’s name on the appointment calendar first thing Monday morning had been a shock. Still, she’d hoped it was a good sign. Maybe they could clear the air between them once and for all. Unfortunately, judging by the way his eyes glittered with purpose, she doubted that was his intention.

  “This can’t wait any longer,” John said. “I have to get back to the city for work. Important business.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Sighing, Sara laid her ham-and-swiss sandwich down. She gestured to a seat, but John remained standing. “I hope you enjoyed the parent functions this weekend.”

  He smirked. “I was surprised you made it to the breakfast at all.”

  Wariness prickled along her skin like the tiny footsteps of invisible bugs. “Of course I did. Forming a relationship with the parents of this school is important to me.”

  “Whatever you need to tell yourself to face the mirror each day.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I saw you. You and him. Forming a relationship.”

  “Me and who?”

  “Dr. Patterson. You left the mixer in a hurry Friday night. He left directly after. The both of you were late to the breakfast. You sat together, left together. It doesn’t take much to put two and two together.”

  Sara’s cheeks heated with anger and embarrassment. “So you’re adding that up and getting, what, twenty-two?”

  “Surely the board will find this information interesting.”

  “You should check your math first.”

  “I don’t need numbers. I know he spent the night with you. I followed him to the school, saw him go to your apartment.”

  Her first reaction was outrage that John had invaded her privacy. Her second was panic. Sara’s throat tightened as her mind flew back over the evening. What exactly had he seen? But no, there hadn’t been anything improper. Just two acquaintances having drinks together at her place. But Holt had stayed the night with her on school property...oh, God, how would that look to the board if John talked? He wouldn’t have to try hard to spin it in a negative direction.

  He walked to the bookshelf and fingered her Educator of the Year award. To purposely draw attention to her failings as an educator? It seemed he was more devious and calculating than she’d thought.

  Rather than dignify his implied threat with a response, she bit her tongue, waiting. Again, she didn’t have to wait long. John Rochard was a man who knew what he wanted, and once that desire was identified, he was impatient to make it a reality...without troubling himself with the same morals and standards as most of the civilized world.

  His lips twisted into a perverse smile. “I propose we come to an agreement.”

  “Such as?”

  “I won’t say anything to the board about your inappropriate behavior and ruin your plans for a theater or whatever other nonsense you have planned. And I won’t get you fired.” Sara held her breath as she waited for the price of John’s benevolence. “And you help Neil pass his classes this semester. In fact, I think he deserves to be on the Honor Roll.”

  “Nothing happened between Dr. Patterson and me.”

  “I’m supposed to believe that? What other possible reason would he have for staying all night?”

  “And if he did? There are no rules against a faculty or staff member dating a parent.”

  “There should be. So many conflicts of interest... I’m sure the board will take note if the case were presented properly. And your review period is right around the corner, isn’t it?”

  “There was nothing improper,” she repeated. She hated the squeak that had crept into her tone, but her throat seemed to have closed up over her words.

  He stepped around her desk and leaned down until he was in her face. The man liked to use his physical presence to intimidate. “Care to take a lie detector test?”

  She looked away from his cold gaze. There was no arguing with him, anyway. He had the board in his pocket. One hint of impropriety and she’d be gone.

  “Since birth, Neil was meant to go to Harvard,” John said. “Make it happen. I promise, if I’m happy, you’ll be happy.” He yanked her door open and walked out.

  Cheryl hurried in. “Boy, he looked like the cat who swallowed the canary. I almost expected to see feathers sticking out of his mouth. What happened?”

  “It’s nothing.” But at that moment, she felt like a tiny, helpless yellow bird.

  * * *

  You are not doing this because John Rochard said so.

  Sara repeated it to herself as she trekked out to the gym. She’d debated how to handle the Rochard issue for over an hour before deciding it was, at the very least, time to check in with Neil. His schedule said he’d be in Physical Education right now. Ironically, given his father’s abhorrence of her new programs, Neil was one of the students who seemed to benefit the most from the new sports facilities. According to Coach, Neil spent many hours in the weight room, ramping up for football, track and basketball. Today, the football team was out on the field in full gear. They’d lost their second game in a row that weekend, and were paying for it with a brutal workout.

  She went to stand by Coach at the sidelines. “Are they looking any better?”

  “They will by the end of the week. We got a tough opponent coming up. This last one was nothing, and still they lost. We should have had them.”

  “I’m sure you’ll whip them into shape.”

  “Helps to have a place to practice here on school grounds.” Coach’s gaze remained on the players doing sprints up and down the field. “What brings you out here?”

  “I need to talk to Neil.”

  “What’s he done this time?”

  Startled, her gaze shifted from the players to Coach. “This time?”

  “Heard he had a run-in with the law several weeks back, during the summer. Daddy’s money and Grandpa’s rep bought him a reprieve. Plus, he was a first offender.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it.” Clearly, things were worse than she’d thought. “What did he do?”

  “Stole a case of beer from a convenience store while his buddies distracted the clerk.”

  “Beer?” Was he into alcohol and drugs?

  “The incident was never made official, so I didn’t make a big deal of it.” His eyes met hers. “Not officially, anyway.” He jerked his head toward the far corner of the field where Neil was filling water bottles for the football players from a big orange cooler. His attention, however, kept diverting to the action on the field.

  “Looks like he’s paying his dues.”

  Coach nodded. “And he will be all season in some form or another, though he gets plenty of time to practice too.”r />
  “That, plus night school?”

  “It’s a lot, but the kid insists he can handle it. We’ve got him some extra tutoring on the weekends. And I guarantee you I would have made a big deal of the incident this summer if I thought there was a real problem. He’s just a kid working out some kinks.”

  Sara breathed a sigh of relief. She trusted Coach’s opinion of his players, and an addiction would make things a hundred times more difficult, as would a criminal record. “The SATs are in a couple of weeks.”

  “Got that covered too. Told him a University of Michigan scout would be at the game in a few weeks, so he might want to keep his grades up and his nose to the grindstone if he wants to play for a shot at a scholarship there.”

  “Sounds like you have it under control.”

  “Never hurts to have more of us on his back, though.” With a nod, he meandered down the field to shout instructions at some players.

  Sara made her way around the sidelines to the table with the cooler. “Hey, Neil.”

  Neil looked up briefly then returned to filling cups, this time from a second cooler, apparently filled with Gatorade. “Hey.”

  “Just thought I’d check in with you.” Not because your father’s a bully.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I see that. But I hope you know my door is always open if you want to talk.”

  He didn’t look up. “’Kay.”

  “About anything.”

  This time, his response was a simple nod. He wasn’t in the mood to chat, and probably didn’t want his friends to witness it, anyway. “You know where to find me.” She turned to leave, but his words stopped her.

  “You like this school, right? You care about it?”

  She turned back. “I love this school. I care very much about it and all of the students.”

  He seemed to process this. “That’s what I thought.”

  Coach’s whistle signaled the end of practice, and the sweat-drenched team swarmed toward the refreshments. Sara made her way back to her office, hoping her invitation had been enough to open the door—at least a crack.