A Perfect Wife (Blake Wilder FBI Mystery Thriller Book 2)

by Elle Gray

  Comprehension dawns in Mo’s face and she nods along. “So, this is our guy then. Right?”

  “He could be. He likely is, but we can’t say he is for sure yet,” Astra cautions. “We can’t just go arrest him right now since we have no proof of anything. We need to catch him dirty.”

  “Right,” I say. “Rick, can you do me a favor and pull up any properties listed for Dr. Neal Stavitz?”

  “Righty-O,” he says.

  “You’re not as spastic today,” Astra notes. “Congratulations on being something remotely resembling a normal human being.”

  “If you’re the standard of what’s considered a normal human being, then I’ll gladly let myself be considered a freak,” Rick fires back, flashing her a grin.

  “I don’t think it has anything to do with you ‘letting yourself’ be considered anything,” Astra replies.

  “Children, play nice,” I admonish.

  “He started it,” Astra protests.

  He pecks away at his keyboard as I wait. A couple of minutes later, the image of a tall condominium high rise appears on the monitor.

  “It seems the good doctor has a condo in the Capitol Hill section of town.”

  I frown as I look at it, and when I turn to Astra, she’s wearing the same expression that I am. This isn’t right. It can’t be.

  “He has no other properties in his name?” I ask.

  Rick shakes his head. “Nada. That’s it.”

  “We profiled that he would have a home in a secluded area that likely has a basement,” Astra says.

  “There is no way he can keep a woman in a condo for a year without somebody noticing,” I finish the sentiment.

  “He’s got to have a property under another name,” Astra says. “Spastic boy, check to see if he has any corporations or businesses under his name.”

  Rick goes to work, the clacking of the keys filling the tension-soaked air in the bullpen. But then he looks up and shakes his head.

  “El Zilcho,” he says.

  “Dammit,” I say. “I was sure this was our guy. I was positive of it.”

  “What about his wife’s name?” Mo asks.

  I look over at her and smile. “You’re brilliant,” I say “Rick－”

  “Way ahead of you.”

  A moment later, he looks up, a wide grin on his face. “We have a winner,” he says. “Mrs. Debbie Stavitz is the owner of record of a four-bedroom, three-bath house out on Lake Larson.”

  “And as a bonus, there is a white panel van registered to one Debbie Stavitz as well,” Mo adds.

  “Damn,” Rick mutters. “This profiling stuff is super scary.”

  “I told you to be afraid, little man,” Astra replies.

  I nod as the last pieces fall into place. “Lake Larson is known for its secluded plots of land. If he had a place out there, it stands to reason that he could keep a girl out there, in the basement, and nobody would realize it. His nearest neighbor is probably a quarter of a mile away.”

  “That has to be it,” Astra says. “That has to be where he’s keeping Cassie Cooper.”

  “But we can’t go rushing in with guns blazing,” I say. “We have nothing but a nice theory. We need actual proof of him doing something before we can even bring him in for questioning.”

  “So how do we get into that house?” Mo asks. “There’s no way we can get a warrant off this.”

  “That is the million-dollar question.”

  “We’re going to have to run surveillance,” Astra says.

  I nod. “Yeah, I’m kind of thinking that as well. And we have to hope he brings her out for a walk now and then.”

  “That too.”

  “Okay, let’s wrap it up tonight,” I say. “I’ll talk to Rosie in the morning and get the approval for the overtime to run surveillance on his house. We’ll divvy up assignments after that.”

  “I think the newbie should have to do the surveillance. It’s a learning tool.”

  I laugh. “You’ll be taking your shift same as us, Russo,” I say. “Great work, everybody. Go home, have some fun, and get some rest. I’ll see you back here tomorrow. Bright and early. We’ve got a woman to save.”

  Thirty-Seven

  Residence of Blake Wilder; Downtown Seattle

  After picking up something to eat, I drive home. I stop in front of the gate to swipe my key card and wait for the underground garage to open. My mind is still buzzing with everything going on. I’m excited. Our profile was spot on and the momentum in this case has built to a fever pitch.

  But I know the most difficult part is still to come. We have to actually get into that house to prove he’s holding Cassie, and to rescue her. But we can’t get into that house until we have proof he’s holding Cassie. It’s that sort of backwards, convoluted garbage that irritates me. That girl’s life is in danger and all we can do is sit on our hands and wait.

  I know there are good reasons for all of this procedure. Our Constitutional rights are not something to be trifled with. And it truly is a slippery slope if we say it’s okay to erode our civil liberties for this reason, or that reason. I wouldn’t want anybody busting into my house without a warrant, and for no other reason than the investigator had a gut feeling. So I get it. But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. Or in the case of a maniac holding a woman hostage, and doing God knows what to her, it doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

  But for all I know, Stavitz got tipped that we were at the hospital earlier. If he did, there’s no telling what he’ll do. He could flip out and decide to get rid of her now, to prevent us from catching him with her. It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.

  I’m really wishing we hadn’t gone by the med center. If we signed her death warrant, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I don’t know that I could bear it. That’s the kind of guilt that will eat you up little by little every day until it’s consumed you whole.

  I don’t think that’s going to happen. His fantasy is the most important thing to him and he hasn’t played that out yet. I have to believe that he didn’t hear of our visit to the med center and that he’s sticking with his normal timeline. I am hoping and praying that’s true. I need to believe we still have time.

  And my hope is that Cassie is smart enough to play along with his fantasy, to not provoke him, and to keep herself alive until we can get there. But the sooner we can get in there, the better. I want to get her away from him as quickly as I can. She’s going to have enough scars to deal with. And every day she’s with him will only inflict more.

  The gate rumbles to a stop and I drive through, glancing in the rearview to be sure it’s closing. I drive around the corner and down one level until I find my parking space, where I pull in and shut off the engine. I collect my things and climb out of the car, carefully balancing my bag of greasy, horrible for you, junk food. I feel like I deserve a treat tonight.

  I’m aware of him the moment he steps behind me. The sound of a shoe scuffing the pavement and an overwhelmingly heavy, dark presence overwhelms me. I let go of the things in my hands and start to turn around, reaching for my sidearm at the same time, but he’s got the drop on me. I’m too late.

  I grimace as he grabs my hair and wrenches my head to the side, exposing my neck. Then there’s a sharp pinch of pain as he slides the needle in. He holds it there, pressing the plunger down. I feel something cold spreading through my body. Almost immediately, my head starts to grow fuzzy and my vision begins to waver. I reach up to slap his hand away, but he bats it aside, laughing softly.

  Darkness creeps in at the edges. I feel my body growing light. And as I fall toward the abyss, Dr. Neal Stavitz’s face fills my field of vision. He’s smiling down at me. I reach up again, only to have him bat my hands away once more.

  “Good evening, Agent Wilder,” he says, his voice sounding muffled, as if I’m hearing him from underwater. “You really should have left this case alone. You really should have stayed out of my business.”

  “Stop,
” I say, my voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. “Please, stop.”

  “We’re going for a ride now,” he says. “Just be a good girl and go to sleep.”

  As if I have a choice. The darkness comes rushing in. My vision narrows to a pinpoint. And then even that winks out, and all I know is darkness.

  “Hey.” Slap. “Hey.” Slap.

  I’m awakened by the sound of her voice and the feel of her slapping my face. She’s punctuating every single “hey” with a slap. But my head feels like it’s filled with cotton, so I’m barely even registering it at first.

  I open my eyes to a shimmering world with an unreal quality about it. My head is spinning, I feel dizzy, and my cheek is burning where I’m being slapped.

  “Hey.” Slap. “Hey.” Slap.

  Gradually, I feel myself rising up and out of the stupor, the memories of what happened rush back to me. Stavitz. Ambushed me in the underground parking garage at my apartment.

  “Hey.” Slap. “Hey.” Slap.

  As she reaches out to slap me again, I catch her by the wrist and glare at her. “Knock it off already.”

  She recoils as I give my head a shake, trying to clear out the last of the cobwebs. And as my vision clears, I find myself staring into the face of a young, redheaded woman. Her green eyes grow wide as she looks at me, an expression of hope and fear warring upon her face.

  “Who are you?” she asks.

  “Cassie Cooper?”

  She nods and swallows hard. “Who are you?”

  “SSA Blake Wilder,” I tell her. “FBI.”

  She cocks her head. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to rescue you.”

  “Doing a real bang-up job of it so far.”

  “I’m just getting warmed up,” I say.

  I look down and see a metal shackle around my left ankle, a padlock connecting it to the chain that runs to the wall. Grabbing hold of the chain, I give it a few hard yanks. It doesn’t move. It’s just as I thought. I turn to Cassie.

  “I’m just glad to find you alive,” I tell her.

  “I won’t be for much longer,” she says softly, a lone tear slipping down her cheek. “When he brings in a new girl, the old girl has to go. Breaking up is what he calls it.”

  “I think this one may be different,” I say. “My team and I… we were investigating him. He must’ve caught wind of it because he ambushed me in my garage last night. And now I’m here.”

  “Wait, you knew that I was here?”

  I nod. “We did. And we were coming to rescue you.”

  Cassie sits back on the bunk she’s sitting on, her face a swirling mass of emotions. I don’t blame her. After everything she’s gone through, and to have felt so utterly alone, to know that people are looking for her has to be overwhelming.

  “We’re going to get you out of here, Cassie,” I say. “We’ll get you back to Millie.”

  “How?” she asks, looking pointedly at the chain connecting me to the wall. “Near as I can tell, you need rescuing too.”

  I flash her a lopsided smile. “Don’t worry, my team is going to figure this out, and when they do, they will come running. The cavalry is coming, just hang in there.”

  She sniffs loudly as the tears start to fall. “I’m trying. I’ve been trying to hang in there,” she says quietly.

  “And you’re still alive. That counts for something. You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive. And I for one am very proud of you, Cassie,” I say. “How have you done it?”

  She shrugs. “By playing along with him. He thinks we’re in a relationship,” she replies, her voice cracking. “He’s made me dress nice for him. Has had these elaborate dinners with me. Movie nights. He’s made me do things with him…”

  Her voice trails off, but she doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I already know and it turns my stomach. To do the things he’s done to this girl is monstrous. This man needs to pay for what he’s done.

  “You’re a very smart woman, Cassie,” I tell her. “Very brave and very smart. I just need you to keep being those things for a little while longer. We are getting out of here and that monster is going to be put into a cage for the rest of his life. Trust me on that. But just keep hanging in there a while longer.”

  I hear a door open and the hard thumping of somebody walking down the stairs. Stavitz steps into view, giving me my first look at the man. To say I’m less than impressed would be an understatement. I’m suddenly embarrassed that this guy got the drop on me.

  He’s maybe five-ten, with an average build. He’s lean and trim, but it doesn’t look like he works out a lot. The paunch around his middle reinforces the notion. Still, he’s fit enough to carry a hundred and twenty pounds of dead weight up an inclined path. He’s got thinning dark hair and dark eyes behind his round framed spectacles. Outwardly, there really isn’t anything remarkable about him. He’s… average.

  But I know he’s smart. Cunning. The fact that he was able to ambush me tells me he is a methodical planner, and that it would be a mistake to take this man lightly. He stares down at me, an expression of concern etched into his features. We sit like that for a long moment, staring into each other’s eyes, taking each other’s measure. I can see that he’s worried but is doing his best to hide it.

  I can smell the fear coming off of him, but I also detect the stronger, more pungent aroma of malice. This man is going to try to kill me.

  “Agent Wilder,” he glowers. “You really shouldn’t have tried to come between me and Cassie. You shouldn’t have stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. Now you’re going to pay the price.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Residence of Neal Stavitz; Lake Larson, WA

  * * *

  “I will admit, you have me in a bit of a conundrum,” Stavitz says. “By killing you, I run the risk of the FBI hounding me until they capture or kill me.”

  “They’ll probably just kill you,” I reply. “The Bureau doesn’t look too favorably upon people kidnapping their agents. But regardless, they will hound you to the end of your days. You murdered seven women.”

  “Well, if I’m to wind up dead, I don’t really have a compelling case to keep you alive then, do I? I certainly have no desire to live out my days in a box.”

  I shrug. “That’s up to you, I guess. What’s one more body on the pile, right?”

  Stavitz paces the floor of the converted basement. As he does, I look around and see that he’s made it as homey as a basement dungeon can be, I suppose. He looks like a squirrelly man anyway, but I can see that he’s growing more agitated the more he paces. His mind is obviously racing, playing out scenario after scenario, and coming to the inevitable conclusion every time. He’s going to lose this fight. He just has to decide whether or not he wants to end up dead at the end of it.

  “You can run,” I tell him. “Leave Cassie here and run. You’ll have a good head start if you leave now. It’s going to take them some time to figure out I’m missing, so you have time, Dr. Stavitz. Take it and run.”

  He stops pacing and turns to me. “I won’t leave Cassie behind. We’re in love.”

  “Are you?” I ask.

  “Cassie, tell her.”

  She looks over at me and swallows hard, her eyes wider than dinner plates. She gives me a small nod.

  “Yes, it’s true,” she says, her voice quavering. “We’re in love.”

  “Dr. Stavitz, I don’t think you know what love is,” I say. “I don’t think you’ve known since you murdered your wife.”

  He lunges toward me, his nose scant inches from mine. His eyes are wide, his nostrils are flaring, and his face is flushed red.

  “That was an accident!” he roars, spraying spittle all over me. “It was an accident!”

  “An accident? You beat your wife to death. Then pinned it on somebody else,” I reply. “Somebody who doesn’t even exist, if I had to guess. Because of your position in the ME’s office, you were able to fabricate a whole scenario. You murdered
your wife and you got away with it too.”

  His hand lashes out so fast, I’m not ready for it. He clocks me in the side of the head, and I slump to the side, seeing bursts of light behind my eyes as a wave of dizziness sweeps over me. Slowly, I right myself and sit up again, then turn to Cassie.

  “See? That’s what you have to look forward to. That will be your life with this man, Cassie. Are you sure you can love that?”

  He slaps me again, but this time I’m ready for it. The sound of his hand connecting with my cheek sounds like a baseball hitting an old leather mitt. My face flares with pain, but I manage to stay upright this time. Sure, I could have blocked it and punched him in the stomach, but I’ve got to stall for every second.

  “Leave her out of this,” he growls at me. “Stop trying to drag her into this situation. A situation you created.”

  He starts pacing again, angrily muttering to himself. My stomach is churning, and my heart is racing with fear. I swallow hard and try to control it. The only way I’m getting out of this alive is if I keep my wits about me.

  “I think I need to kill you,” he says.

  “Neal, please,” Cassie speaks up. “Don’t kill her. Show me you’re a better man and don’t hurt her. Let’s just do what she said and go. We’ll run somewhere far away where they won’t find us. Just you and me.”

  The fact that Cassie is trying to save my life fuels my anger toward this man. I’m not going to let her sacrifice her life for me. Because sooner or later, he will kill her. I know it, and I think deep down, she knows it too.

  “I－I want to, Cassie. I want to be a better man for you,” he says. “But she needs to die. We can’t live our life together with her chasing us. You heard her; they’ll chase me to the end of my days. But maybe if we get rid of her－”

  “Please, don’t do this,” Cassie pleads. “I don’t want you to. I just want to go away with you. Now, Neal. Right now. Let’s go. Neal, please, if you truly love me, you won’t hurt her.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s because I love you that I have to kill her. They’ll never stop hounding us. She’ll never stop hounding us,” he replies. “I’ll kill her and then you and I can go somewhere they’ll never find us. We can go to Marseilles. Or maybe Cairo. How would that be? We’ll go somewhere beautiful.”