by Debra Webb
“Why didn’t I get a call?”
Burnett shrugged. “That’s part of the OPR investigation, apparently.”
Yeah, yeah, she knew the drill. They would brief her when the time was right. When she needed to know. “Wait, what does the OPR investigation have to do with my private residence?”
Long pause. Not a good sign.
“Gant claims the walls of your home office are covered with photos of Spears.”
Her heart knocked against her sternum. “What?”
“Some were cut and pasted with photos of you,” he glanced at Jess, “as if you were a couple. Gant suggested you’d had some kind of meltdown. He’s worried about you. I got the impression that there’s some level of consensus that Spears might have been right about you having an interest in him.”
“Oh, that’s just spectacular.” Jess plopped back into her seat. The whole concept was beyond ridiculous. “It’s a set-up.”
But who would set her up like that? She wasn’t delusional enough to consider anyone at the Bureau would be involved. She’d dealt with the usual good-old-boys club crap over the years, some peer envy, but no one she had ever worked with would stoop to such a level.
Spears? He was here. . . had been since the night after his release, she thought anyway. Would he have had time to do all that before coming to Birmingham? Considering all he’d accomplished here, Jess didn’t see how.
“There’s more.”
As livid as she had every right to be, Jess felt more defeated than anything at this point.
Burnett hesitated before going on.
“What?” she demanded.
“A message was left on your living room wall, written in the murder vic’s blood.” He glanced at Jess. “Like the one we just left.”
“What was the message?” She held her breath.
“Why did you leave me?”
She wrestled back the emotions that tried to shake her. This had to be Spears. It had to be. Yet, the timeline and the changes to his MO didn’t fit. The idea of someone else being involved was possible, she supposed. But not just a copycat. . . an accomplice. Some serial killers worked in teams, that was true.
Accomplice or not, her gut said it was Spears himself here in Birmingham.
“They’re wrong.” She felt it all the way to her bones.
“I don’t know about Spears,” Burnett admitted. “But I know they’re wrong about you. You are not responsible for what this son of a bitch is doing.”
Jess appreciated his support.
But, if Lori’s body turned up tomorrow, no matter how much he wanted to believe in Jess he might have second thoughts on that one.
6
Lori tried to lift her head. . . couldn’t. Too heavy. . . like a bowling ball. She licked her lips. Grimaced at the bad taste.
Wake up.
Why couldn’t she open her eyes? Her tongue felt thick, her mouth gritty. She could hear a voice. . . far away. Was the voice calling her name?
Her eyelids fluttered open. Images came into focus. Boxes. . . wooden crates.
The warehouse.
Adrenalin exploded in her chest. Fire seared through her veins. Lori’s head came up. She shook it, blinked repeatedly to clear her vision.
Spears! Where the hell was Spears?
Her gaze focused. . . zeroed in on a woman, her head lolled to one side. Lori drew in a deep breath, it caught in her throat.
Blood.
The fog in her brain cleared. The woman was naked, slumped in the chair. Her arms hung down on either side. Blood pooled on the concrete floor around her. Small rips in her breasts seeped more of the precious crimson, like trails of red tears down her waist. Her legs were spread wide and more blood had dribbled down her pale thighs.
Shit.
Lori leaned forward. “Hey.” She cleared the rustiness from her throat. “Hey,” she said a little louder.
The woman didn’t respond. Didn’t move. She wasn’t bound. She just sat there. Lori squinted, tried to determine if her chest shifted with the intake of breath. No. . . maybe.
Shit.
Lori launched to her feet. She swayed. Felt confused. She wasn’t tied to the chair anymore. Turning her forearms up, then down, she confirmed what her brain hadn’t quite absorbed. She was no longer restrained.
Where was Spears?
She looked around the warehouse. . . didn’t see him. She rushed forward. Stumbled. Hit the floor. Caught herself with her hands before her face smacked the concrete. Pain shot through her leg when she tried to scramble up. The rattle of metal drew her attention to her right foot. Manacled to her ankle tight enough to chafe the skin, the chain trailed from her, beyond the chair she’d been secured in, then to a steel column that supported the roof structure.
“Dammit.” She pulled at the chain with her right leg. It gave a little, providing enough slack for her to move around. She staggered forward a step, then another and another. Steadier now, she moved quickly to the woman.
Oh, hell.
Lori reached out and touched her carotid artery. Her skin was cool, almost cold. . . but there was a pulse. Weak, but there. God, there was so much blood.
“Hey.” Lori cradled the woman’s face, but she didn’t open her eyes.
She was dying. What did she do? Stop the bleeding. Lori glanced around the warehouse. Nothing but the crates.
Desperation ignited in her belly.
The door.
She moved as quickly as the heavy chain would allow toward the door. Three or four feet from her destination the chain snapped tight. Lori moved in all directions as far as the chain would allow. No windows. No other doors. Nothing she could use to help the woman.
Lori rushed back to her. She crouched down and checked the wounds on her wrists, which appeared to be the main source of blood loss. Not so much now. Coagulation had slowed the drain to a steady drip. She’d seen a suicide victim or two who had slashed their wrists and these wounds weren’t the worst she’d encountered. It was almost as if the goal was for her to bleed out slowly.
Fury blasted her chest as she surveyed the wounds to the woman’s breasts. He’d cut her nipples loose, left them hanging like flaps. Another wider wound under her belly button still seeped blood. Together the injuries to her torso made for a sick sort of smiley face.
Fighting nausea, Lori stood and peeled off her blouse. It was summer, the fabric was thin, mostly cotton. Rips echoed in the silence as she tore the blouse into pieces. Carefully, she wrapped the wound on the woman’s right arm, then propped the arm in her lap so it no longer hung downward. She did the same with the left. There wasn’t a lot she could do for the breasts. The wider wound beneath her belly button gaped open. Uncertain if it would help, she wadded a smaller piece of the blouse and tucked it into the wound.
Using the final length of the blouse, she covered the woman’s breasts as best she could. Lori sat back on her heels, her body shaking with the receding adrenalin and the resignation. This woman was probably dying and there was nothing she could do. Tears slid down her cheeks. She should have been more cooperative. If she had kept him entertained he wouldn’t have gone hunting for this woman.
She had tried. . . she really had.
Now this woman would die because Lori had screwed up. She was a cop, she was supposed to know how to do this. But this – she stared at the dying woman – she couldn’t fix.
She shot to her feet. Turned around, fury raging inside her. “Where are you, you son of a bitch?”
Lori grabbed the chain with both hands and pulled with all her strength. Harder. And harder still. A scream wrenched from her throat as she collapsed to the floor. Lori tugged at the bracelet around her ankle. No way was it sliding off. “Goddamn you, Spears!”
Clapping echoed around her.
She jerked to the left. Glared at the monster standing there applauding like he’d just watched his favorite private theatrical production.
Lori lunged to her feet, rushed toward him. The chain stopped her
just short of reaching him. Her chest heaved with the need for air. “She’s dying,” Lori said, the words a defeated whisper.
A smile lifted his lips. “Very perceptive, Detective Wells.”
If she could reach him. . . her fingers curled into her palms with the need to tear him apart.
He dared to move nearer. Anticipation unfurled inside Lori. She didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. Come a little closer, mother fucker.
He inclined his head. “You’re still not scared, are you?”
Jesus Christ, he was insane. Instinct urged her to fight. But that was premature. She needed him confident enough in her surrender to draw him a little closer. Lori forced herself to relax. “No.” She moistened her lips. “I’m not afraid.”
He acknowledged her admission with a dip of his head. “That’s why she’s dying, detective. You wouldn’t play, so I had to find someone else.”
Guilt hardened in her chest. She was supposed to protect. . . to stop men like Spears. Her gaze swung to the woman in the chair.
“That’s right, detective. Look at her very closely.”
The sound of his voice told her he was closer but she didn’t look. Let him think she was too caught up in the emotion. Let him come a little nearer. She shook with the effort of restraining the urge to act.
“A woman is never more beautiful than when she surrenders to the inevitable. Her body relaxes. Her respiration slows. . . her thoughts just drift away. . .” He took another small step toward Lori, his attention seemingly fixed on the woman. “She’s so close. . . so very close.”
Lori could see him in her peripheral vision now. One arm crossed over his chest. Elbow of the other propped there, thumb and forefinger supporting his chin as if he were studying a prized work of art.
“If you look closely enough you can almost see the faint flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. She’s lost so much blood, yet her heart continues to beat. She doesn’t want to die.”
One more step. . . just one more.
“She wants to get home to her children,” he said quietly. “To her husband.” He chuckled. “She begged me not to kill her. To think of her children.” He sighed. “She had no idea that her every plea. . . every whimper made me want more.”
Lori lunged for him. She hit him hard. He stumbled back. Something slammed into her.
Hard. Fast. Hot. She dropped to the floor. . . her body shook and convulsed. She told herself to get up. . . to move but she had no control. No connection between her brain and her muscles.
Spears crouched down next to her head. He waved the small Taser he held in front of her eyes. He leaned over her. Smiled. “You didn’t think I’d take any chances with someone as well trained as you, did you?”
She couldn’t respond. Still couldn’t move. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
He grabbed her by the hair and lifted her head. “Just look, detective.” He twisted her neck until she faced the woman. “She’s almost gone now. A mere whisper of life remains. Just beautiful.” He leaned closer, put his mouth near Lori’s temple. “She’ll be gone soon and then there will be another. Maybe another after that. Until Jess understands that she can’t ignore me any longer.”
He pulled Lori’s face around to his. “If she doesn’t realize what she needs to do soon, I’ll just have to make her sorry. Maybe if I show her the beauty of your death, she’ll see that she can end this game so easily.”
He kissed Lori’s forehead.
Inside she screamed.
“All she has to do is come to me.”
7
Lakefront Trail, Bessemer, 6:59 p.m.
Jess took a deep breath and struggled to remain calm.
She and her sister had taken their debate to her bedroom. Lily’s husband was entertaining the kids and Burnett in the family room. The BPD officer assigned to this shift was outside having a smoke. The agent, Nora Miller, had offered to put on a pot of coffee.
No one wanted any part of this showdown.
“Jess, honestly,” Lily insisted, “no one is leaving the house without an escort. Either that nice police officer or the FBI lady goes with us wherever we go. We are never alone, not even in our own home. What else do you want?”
Jess strived for patience. Since they were kids, Lily had always, always thought she knew best. Just because she was two years older didn’t mean she was smarter about issues like this. But she wouldn’t admit it if her life depended on it.
And it just might this time.
How the hell was Jess going to get that through her thick skull?
“I have spent the last seventeen years as an FBI lady,” Jess snapped. At Lily’s horrified expression, Jess bit her lips together in frustration before trying again. “I’m sorry.” Another deep breath. “I don’t think you understand how serious the situation is, Lil.”
Lily plopped down on her bed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course, you would think I don’t understand. I’m only a wife and mom. A nurse. What could I know about life and death?”
Oh God. “Lil, I –”
“Belinda is a friend. We’ve attended the same church for ten years. I know how serious the situation is!” Tears brimmed on Lil’s lashes. “I can’t believe this has happened. I’m trying to be strong but. . . Jess, this madman is after you.”
All the frustration drained out of Jess, leaving her more tired than she’d felt in her entire life. She sat down and hugged her sister close. “Lil,” she offered softly, “I can take care of myself. But if I’m worrying about you and your family, then I’m distracted and I can’t stop this monster or protect myself or anyone else if I’m distracted.”
Lil nodded as if she understood but she wasn’t making eye contact anymore and that was a bad sign.
And everyone thought Jess was stubborn.
“I like your new haircut,” Jess said when her sister remained silent. She swept her fingers through the thick chin length bob.
In grade school the teachers were always mixing them up. They had the same brown eyes, the same blond hair. Jess was the one who always got into trouble and Lily was the bookworm.
Blake, Lily’s husband, would gladly set anyone straight who mistakenly assumed Lily’s mild mannered temperament meant she was a push-over.
“Blake hates it.”
Surprised, Jess suggested, “You know men, they think long hair is sexy.” At least that was what Dan always said.
The thought stunned Jess. Where the hell had that come from? Mortification burned her cheeks. Thank God she hadn’t said that out loud. She really, really had to get her head on straight. As of a couple of hours ago, Burnett was her superior.
Lil shook her head, her lips trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He’s considering taking a new position in Nashville. He’s furious I won’t agree to go with him. He thinks because the kids are leaving home, I shouldn’t have a problem with moving.”
No wonder Lily was fighting so to hold her ground. “When did this happen?” Except for having only two kids, Lily and Blake could be the Cleavers, their life together was so ideal. Or, at least, Jess had thought so.
Lily glared at her. “It’s been happening for months but you wouldn’t know that because you’re never here!”
There was that.
“I’m sorry.” Jess hugged her again. Then drew back and produced a smile. “That won’t be an issue in the future, sis, I accepted a deputy chief position with Birmingham PD. I’ll be around a lot more.”
Lily’s expression brightened. “That’s great. You can move in with me. The kids’ll be gone. Maybe Blake, too. We have lots of room!”
Jess lifted her lips into what she hoped resembled a smile but couldn’t do a damned thing about the dismay she felt widening her eyes. “Wow.”
Her sister smiled, swiped her tears. “It’ll be just like when we were kids.” She hugged Jess hard. “You and me against the world.” When she drew back, her smile widened to a grin. “We can go to church together, too! Th
ere are a couple very nice men your age who’re single for one reason or another.”
“Wow,” Jess repeated as she suffered through another exuberant hug. Exactly what she needed. A man who was single. . . for one reason or another. Awesome. Wouldn’t they make a pair?
Just like her and Burnett.
Dear God.
Five days. She’d been back in Birmingham a mere five days and Jess felt her life spiraling backwards more than two decades. Already her hard work to take the south out of her vocabulary and diction had vanished. She spoke as if she’d never left. Ten years ago when she’d fallen back into Burnett’s arms for a frantic tangle in the sheets, she had sworn she would never, ever be vulnerable to the man again. And here she was, skirting that old flame as if she hadn’t gotten burned badly enough the first time.
Evidently she was destined to repeat the same mistakes over and over.
When another ten minutes of discussion failed to convince her sister to leave town, Jess reluctantly gave up for the moment and joined Burnett and the others. Lily opted to remain in her room until her eyes weren’t so red anymore.
Shock and confusion related to the conversation with her sister warred with the worry and frustration associated with the case. None of which was conducive to Jess’s focus on the problems at hand.
Burnett and Lil’s husband stood near the fireplace, speaking in soft, quiet tones. Their posture warned that the subject matter was far from soft. The kids were sprawled on the sofa, Alice reading a book on her Kindle, Blake Junior surfing on his iPad. The two were as different as night and day. Lil’s son had dark hair and eyes like his father and he loved being in the thick of things, athletics, social activities, anything that involved lots of people and a challenge. Her daughter was the spitting image of her – of Jess – and Alice would rather curl up in a corner all alone and read her books.
Mercy, how did she make these people understand that this was not like the movies? This was real, the danger was real. And they didn’t seem to have a clue.