The 13th Victim: Andi Carter Mysteries Book 1

by Linda S. Prather

  “Think about it. If you’d killed your husband or wife and needed a patsy to blame it on, what better way than to call a friend, kill them too, and then set up the scene to make it look like they killed each other?”

  “You should have been a detective. Off the record, that’s exactly what Frank said.” Jerry pulled away from the house and headed toward O’Reilly’s. “Any ideas on why she would kill her husband? Or what his connection to the Cobra might be?”

  “Well, you can forget the prostitute she accused of following him around. Ask any prostitute in town, and you’ll find plenty of reasons to kill the man. He was a disgusting pig. None of them would have willingly sought him out at a restaurant.”

  He turned to glance at her. “Liking prostitutes doesn’t make you a pig. As unfeeling as his wife is, who could blame him for looking elsewhere?”

  She remained silent, wishing she’d kept her big mouth closed. Her sources were confidential, and anything she told Jerry would be a breach of that confidence.

  “Andi?”

  “He was into domination, and that’s all I’m going to say.”

  “And the Cobra?”

  “You said yourself she’s here on a cleanup mission. Jared Barnsworth is connected to the girls who were killed, which probably means Thaddeus Morgan is too.”

  “You don’t think she killed Morgan?”

  “No.”

  Jerry parked in front of the bar. “Looks like your bodyguards are still here. I need to interview Councilman Eaves’s wife, then head to the station and file a report. Buy you a drink this evening and discuss the case?”

  “Call me after five. I’ve got a lot to do today.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Tracy pulled out her notebook and read over the notes she’d made and the story she’d told. It had taken her the better part of the night to finish it, and she’d aged considerably in those hours—if not in looks, at least in maturity. Going to mass and meeting Shamus and Andi had changed everything for her. She didn’t want to kill again, and she was pretty sure she couldn’t even if she tried. Her decision hadn’t been easy, and she could only hope that Shamus was right and that, with special circumstances, the death penalty wouldn’t apply to her. Life in prison wasn’t something she looked forward to, but it was better than lethal injection.

  She made one final check of the room that had been home for her for the last few days. Everything was packed and ready. All she had to do was call Andi, meet the detective she was working with, and turn herself in. Tracy toyed with the pen and notebook, wanting to leave a note for Shamus, explaining how she felt about him and how much she’d really wanted to get to know him better. Sighing, she placed the book and pen on the bed. It might make her feel better, but it wasn’t fair to him. There was one other person she wanted to say goodbye to. She’d memorized the number Mollie had given her. Surely, she and Erin had made it home by now.

  Tracy dialed the number quickly, before she lost her nerve.

  “Hello.”

  “Mollie, it’s Tracy. I wanted—”

  An earsplitting scream interrupted her, and a man’s voice came over the line. “You want to see your friend again, you’ll meet me at the warehouse at noon tomorrow.”

  Tracy gripped the phone tighter. “Please, don’t hurt her. I’ll meet you there and do whatever you want.”

  “Tracy, don’t. Run!” Mollie’s voice in the background ended in a resounding slap and another scream.

  “Noon tomorrow. One second late and her body parts will be strewn around the lot.”

  The line went dead, and Tracy flung herself on the bed, tears of frustration and fear overwhelming her. She knew they were going to kill her, as well as Mollie and Erin anyway, but not until they found out if they’d told anyone about what they’d done, and their plans. Drying her eyes, she sat up. She had little more than twenty-four hours to come up with a plan to save Mollie. She grabbed the phone book then looked up the number for O’Reilly’s and dialed. She cursed softly as her fingers trembled, and she had to start over twice. “Please be there, Andi.”

  “O’Reilly’s.”

  “I need to speak to Andi Carter, is she there?”

  “Who is this?”

  The voice was harsh and tinged with annoyance. “It’s TK. Please, can I speak to her?”

  “She just left for work. Are you all right, lass?”

  The voice had changed, softening and filled with concern. “I’ll call her there.”

  “Not a good idea. The phones there are probably tapped by now, as well as her cell phone. You sound like you’re in trouble, lass. Tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you.”

  “Tell her to go to the Bedford Inn, room five.” Tracy ended the call, closed her eyes, and took a death breath. Her mother’s voice filled her head. Sometimes there is no right decision, sweetheart. We just have to do what’s best for those we love.

  What was best for those she loved was to save Mollie, even if it cost her her own life. The man’s voice on the phone was unfamiliar, which probably meant she wouldn’t recognize him. She needed to find the one they called the boss. Maybe if she killed him, there wouldn’t be any reason for them to kill Mollie, or to keep looking for her. Her gaze fell on the morning edition of the Daily Drudge and the picture of the blonde. I need to go to the house and see what she’s hiding there. Could that be where they’re holding Mollie? She crossed to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and reapplied her makeup. Her final thoughts before leaving were of Shamus. She grabbed the notebook, pulled out a piece of paper, and wrote I’m sorry. Then she folded it and wrote his name on the front. If she lived, she’d tell him in person how she felt before they took her away.

  ~ ~ ~

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you so early, but something happened that I need to ask you about.” Andi kicked off her shoes and followed Jasmine into the kitchen.

  Jasmine filled the coffee pot and flipped the switch. “It’s okay. I didn’t sleep well last night and woke up early. What happened?”

  “Mayor Morgan was killed last night or early this morning. His wife implicated a prostitute who she said was with him yesterday. She said the woman barged into a restaurant and demanded he buy her lunch. Have you heard anything?”

  Jasmine turned her back, taking a little longer than necessary to pour two cups of coffee. “Actually, I was with him yesterday, but it’s not what she’s insinuating. Stuart set up a date for me with Morgan.” Jasmine placed the coffee on the table and pulled out a chair. “I went because I thought he had some information that would help me find someone.”

  Andi sipped her coffee while she digested the information. “Jerry Palano is probably going to want to interview you. I’ll do my best to keep your name out of my articles, but if anyone else picks up on it, they’ll probably slam you with all kinds of media attention.”

  “Give me a minute.” Jasmine left the room, returning in less than a minute. She placed a photo in front of Andi and took her seat. “That’s my husband, David, and my stepdaughter, Mollie. David was killed by a car bomb four months ago. A month after his death, Mollie disappeared. I took a leave of absence from my job to try to find her, and I tracked her this far.” She paused for a moment and sipped her coffee. “I’m not a prostitute, Andi. I’m CIA. Jerry Palano was, too, until he left the agency six months ago. We’ve never met, but if he runs my background and that information is made public, it could be very dangerous for me—and for Mollie, if she’s still alive.” Her hands started to tremble, and tears filled her eyes. “I’m afraid she may be one of the twelve bodies you’re looking for.”

  “Crap.” Something clicked in Andi’s memory. “Is your husband’s name David Singles?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “With everything going on, Shamus and I forgot to ask Jerry to check it for us, but Shamus traced the first email I received from TK to an email address in Boulder, Colorado belonging to David Singles. He tried to trace it further, but all he found was an obi
tuary with no family listed.”

  Jasmine stared at her for a moment in disbelief. “I must have forgotten the internet. David always liked to pay things like that by the year so they won’t cut it off if I forgot and he was on a mission.” Her chest heaved as she drew in a ragged breath. “David was an agent, too. They weren’t sure if the car bomb was for him or me. His family wasn’t listed in the obit to protect us.” The tears started in earnest, and Jasmine covered her face. “She was here, which means she must be one of the girls they killed.”

  Andi pulled out her cell and quickly dialed Shamus. “Hey, it’s me. Can you look at that list of names TK gave us and let me know if there’s a Mollie on there?” Jasmine was pulling herself together, and Andi smiled at her. “Please don’t give up hope. I don’t remember a Mollie, but I wanted to check to make sure.”

  Shamus’s next words made her clench the phone and grit her teeth. “Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jasmine’s voice was tinged with fear.

  “There wasn’t a Mollie on the list, but I have to go. Sinclair is shutting down the paper until after the mayor’s funeral, and he said maybe permanently. There are some things in my desk I need.”

  Jasmine followed her to the door. “When you talk to TK, will you ask her about Mollie? I should have told you the truth when I read your second article, but I was afraid she was one of the twelve bodies.”

  “I’ll ask her and call you later. I’ll also talk to Jerry and steer him away from you if I can. Have you heard from Gambini?”

  “No, and I’m getting worried. He did mention taking a vacation but I think he would have told someone, and no one has heard from him. There was a very dangerous woman following him.”

  “I guess you haven’t seen the morning paper. Jerry and I think someone called the Cobra has him.”

  “So do I. I just don’t know why she’s after Stuart.”

  Andi hesitated. Jasmine had shared information with her that, if it fell into the wrong hands, could get her killed. She owed her an explanation but the story was too long, and she needed to get to the paper before Sinclair locked them out. “I’ll explain that later too.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Cherese reached for the cell phone that had been ringing incessantly for the last half hour. “Hello.”

  “You’re fired.”

  “I wouldn’t make any rash decisions if I were you, boss. I cleaned up your mess the only way it could be cleaned up.”

  “We have the girl, and your services are no longer needed. In fact, if you’ll check the Daily Drudge this morning, you’ll see that the best thing you can do is disappear.”

  “What about my money?”

  A guttural laugh was the last thing she heard before the line went dead. Cherese hissed loudly and slammed her hand into the bathroom mirror until it cracked. “Nobody fires me, and nobody cheats me out of what I’ve already earned.”

  She stared into the broken mirror and laughed before her rational mind kicked in and replayed the conversation. Maybe I’d better see what Carter has been up to.

  Returning to the bedroom, she lifted the room phone and ordered a copy of all the morning papers, pacing back and forth until a light tap sounded on the door. The maid’s mouth opened into a tiny “oh” as she dropped the papers she was holding when Cherese opened the door.

  Cherese grabbed her, pulled her into the room, and picked up the steak knife she’d used for breakfast. “One word, and I’ll slit your throat.”

  The maid nodded, twisting her hands together in front of her.

  “Sit down.” Cherese retrieved the papers and closed the door.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” the maid begged sitting on the edge of the bed. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  Cherese opened the Daily Drudge, and her lips tightened as she read the breaking news alongside her picture. It wasn’t even a good picture, but the maid had recognized her. She wadded the paper into a tight ball and tossed it across the room before beginning to pace. “Give me a reason to let you live.”

  “I have children. They need me.”

  Silent tears were streaming down the woman’s face, and Cherese gave her one point of admiration for not screaming. “What’s your name?”

  “Gloria. Gloria Perdue.”

  “Well, Gloria Perdue, tell me what you’d do to save the lives of your children?” Cherese stopped her pacing and came to stand in front of the woman. “Would you kill?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I gave you this knife, would you kill me, if you could?”

  Gloria nodded then whispered, “Yes.”

  The room filled with Cherese’s laughter, and she sat down beside Gloria. “I like you, Gloria. Honesty is a rare quality in people today. Do you have a car?”

  “Yes.”

  Cherese pointed to the phone. “Call your boss and tell him you’ve started vomiting and you’re going home.”

  Gloria did exactly as she was told, and Cherese patted her on the back when she hung up the phone. “Now, you’re going to help me pack, and then we’ll leave.”

  It took them less than fifteen minutes to pack the suitcases. “Do you want me to call the bellboy to take them out?”

  Cherese pulled on a brunette wig and shook her head. “No, we’ll carry them down. Where’s your car?”

  “In the back parking lot, but my purse is in my locker.”

  “I’m going to trust you, Gloria, but if you betray that trust and anyone tries to stop me, I have friends who will find you. They’ll torture your children while you watch before they kill you all. Do you understand?”

  Gloria nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I understand.”

  Cherese glanced at her watch. “You’ve got five minutes to get your things and be back here.”

  Gloria ran for the door and down the hall. Cherese had no doubt she would return in five minutes or less. Andi Carter had just upped the ante, but Cherese liked danger. It made her sharper, and clearer-headed. Before the day was over, Stuart would have a roommate.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Andi slammed her desk drawer shut and ended the phone call. “Shamus, we have to go.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Patrick.”

  “What about our things?”

  “Forget them. TK called O’Reilly’s, and I think she’s in trouble.” She continued her fast pace out of the building and to her car, not bothering to see if Shamus was keeping up.

  “Hold up.” He opened the passenger door and climbed in. “Where are we going?”

  “She said to go to the Bedford Inn, room five.” She put the car into gear and screeched out of the spot and into traffic.

  “You said she called. Did she tell him where she was?”

  “No, but Patrick’s trying to trace the call. He has some friends that have access to things like that.”

  Shamus was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was tinged with sadness. “Andi, have you asked yourself how she knew to call O’Reilly’s?”

  The car slowed and Andi glanced at him. “Do you think it was the Cobra trying to lure me out?”

  “What, exactly, did Patrick say?”

  “He said she called and asked for me. Her voice sounded teary and scared. He tried to get her to tell him where she was, and said he would come and get her. She told him to tell me to go to the Bedford Inn, room five. Then she hung up.”

  “Do you still have that picture Jasmine gave you of the girl?”

  Andi nodded and pulled up to the stop light and tossed him her purse. “Look in the zipper pocket.”

  Shamus rummaged around until he found it. His sharp intake of breath came on top of the cars behind her blowing their horns as the light turned green. “Shamus, what is it?”

  “I should have seen this before. Maybe I did, and just didn’t want to admit it.”

  The pain reflected in his voice had Andi searching for a place to pull over. She whipped the car into an empty lot an
d slammed it into park. “Seen what before?”

  Shamus handed her the picture. “You can change a lot of things about how you look, but you can’t change your eyes. Even if you change the color, they’re still distinctive. Cut off the hair and dye it blond.”

  Andi studied the picture, her heart galloping and hands sweating. “Oh my God, it’s Tracy.”

  They sat in stunned silence until Shamus cleared his throat. “I dropped her off at Baker’s Inn, not the Bedford. Even that wasn’t true. We have to go. Maybe she’s still there.”

  Andi put the car into gear and pulled back on the street. For several minutes, neither said anything, but her heart ached for Shamus. “Are you okay?”

  “Aye. I think maybe somewhere deep down I knew.”

  “We’ll find her, Shamus.” Andi pulled into the Bedford lot and put the car in park. “Maybe you should stay here until I talk to her.”

  “Aye, I think you’re right.” The sadness in his voice was heartbreaking.

  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Andi raced up the steps and through the front doors, only slowing down when she reached the reception desk. “Room five, please?”

  The receptionist raised her head. “Go down the hall, take a right, and it’s the third door on the left.”

  “Thank you,” she called over her shoulder. Her mind raced. The Bedford was a step down from Baker’s in lushness, but still a decent place. Tracy couldn’t have been planning on staying long unless she’d intended to ask for more money. Andi found the room and pounded on the door. “Tracy, it’s Andi. Please open the door.” The silence was unnerving. “Tracy!”

  “Please, ma’am, your voice carried all the way to the desk.” The clerk’s lips were pulled into a grim line. “Some of our guests like to sleep late.”

  Andi lowered her lashes and sighed, then crossed her fingers behind her back. “I have her fiancée in the car. They were supposed to be married next week, but she ran away. She called and told me to come here. I’m afraid maybe she’s done something crazy. She’s ill, and unless she gets medical attention soon she may die. Please, can you let me in?”