by Debra Webb
She reached for the door handle. “I don’t have to listen to this.”
He punched the accelerator, earning a couple of horn blares for the move. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Her cell phone vibrated. She started to ignore it but decided that she’d rather ignore him. “Newton.”
“So now you’ve pissed off the FBI.”
Her editor. “I don’t have time for this, Tae.” Had he seen the news clip already?
“Your former favorite fed called me.”
Well, that answered that question.
“He threatened to have his director on my back if I didn’t get you under control.”
“Oh, yeah?” If he was about to insist she come back to New York, he could save his breath.
“Oh, yeah,” Tae echoed. “I told him he could forget about it. I don’t take orders from him or his director.”
Sarah smiled. “I’ll try to stay out of his way.”
“That would make life simpler.”
Yeah, yeah, she knew.
“I’d tell you to keep me updated on the changing situation but I guess I’ll have to count on the news for that.”
She promised to do better and ended the call.
“Is there still something between you and August?”
That Kale had the audacity to repeat the question made her want to slug him.
“The only thing between Lex August and me is animosity.”
“What exactly did he do?” Kale shrugged. “Besides being a complete asshole, I mean.”
“He screwed up a case. Got an innocent man killed and then used my conclusions on the case as his own to cover his ass.”
How could she have ever been that stupid? That blind?
“You’re not still in love with him?”
He did not just ask that question! “Take me to the inn.” She wasn’t even responding to such a ludicrous question.
“Is that a no?”
Fury blasted her nerve endings. “That’s the mother of all nos, Conner.”
“Good.”
Good? Obviously he was suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress syndrome over his sister’s abduction. He damned sure wasn’t making any sense.
“Is it okay if I stop by my office first?” He arrowed her a sidelong glance. “Unless you’re pissed at me for asking such personal questions and want me out of your sight like right this minute.”
Whatever. “Why not?” What else was she going to do? The cops wouldn’t listen to her. Idiots.
She needed to think. To figure out a new strategy. One that would prove her theory. Anticipation filtered past her frustration. She’d made that announcement to the press; that should seriously piss off the killer. All she needed was to watch for the reaction.
Conner and Sons was a block off the harbor, in a back alley. The entrance was tucked between the rear exits of two restaurants. Inside, his office was bigger than Sarah had expected.
A young woman, one who looked around the same age as Kale, sat behind the reception desk. “Hey, Kale, I didn’t expect to see you today.” She smiled a big, shiny-lipped smile. Her eyes were huge with admiration.
He had himself an admirer. Something along the lines of jealousy pricked Sarah. She refused to acknowledge it.
Anyway, the receptionist or office manager—whatever she was—looked like perfect wife material.
That Sarah’s mouth automatically formed a frown at the thought irritated her all the more.
“Christine, this is Sarah Newton.”
“Oh, yeah.” Christine stuck out her hand. “I saw you on the news a few minutes ago. You look so young on TV.”
Sarah gave her hand a quick shake. Opted to take the comment as a compliment. “Thanks.”
“I just have to check on a couple of things and I’m off,” Kale said.
Christine gave him a big puppy-dog look. “I’m so thankful Polly’s okay. I had everyone I know praying so hard.”
“Thanks. We appreciate that.”
Sarah followed him to his office. “I’m surprised she hasn’t hooked and reeled you in already.”
He pushed the door shut. “What?”
Sarah jerked her head toward the door. “Christine. She’s clearly mad about you.”
Kale laughed as he riffled through his messages. “Sure.”
Did he not see it? Whatever. Not her business.
As she scanned the numerous photos of him and his father and their crew hanging on the walls, an idea occurred to her. “You could take me for a ride in one of your boats.” The inspiration gained momentum even as she spoke.
He glanced up, surprise on his face. “If you want. It’s pretty damned chilly out there, though.”
From the water they should be able to see every cave close to the Pope property, as well as the boathouse and the main house. “I want.” She reached for the door. “Hurry up.”
“You mean now?”
She nodded. “There’s a murderer out there, in case you’ve forgotten. I want to study the shoreline for any caves we might have missed.” She would tell him what she really wanted to do once they were in the water.
He tossed his messages onto his desk. “The chief made me promise I’d keep you out of trouble.”
Nothing she hadn’t expected. “What’s the problem? I just want a tour of the shoreline from the water.”
“You will tell me what you’re really up to before you actually do it, right?” Those dark eyes nailed hers.
She faked a smile. “You have my word.”
After that Sarah wanted to stop by Matilda’s house and find out if her mother had seen her. As certain as Sarah was that Matilda was extremely capable of taking care of herself, probably had been doing it her whole life, she still worried about the kid.
Right now Sarah was anxious to see which domino was going to fall next.
11:30 A.M.
“So no one comes out here in the winter?”
“Hardly ever. The owner is a summer resident.”
They’d decided to stop by Matilda’s house first and gotten nothing from her no-good mother. Then Kale had taken Sarah on a tour of the shoreline from one end of the village limits to the other. He’d pointed out the caves and assured her that each one had been searched. The one where Polly had been held was marked as a crime scene and techs and deputies were still milling about. Sarah had waited patiently through the tour before revealing her true agenda to Kale.
The small island they’d docked at provided the perfect view of the waterfront side of the Pope property.
Sarah reached for her binoculars then dropped her bag onto the porch. She studied the house, zeroing in on each massive window, one at a time.
The family appeared to be home. No company. No evidence that they were packing for a hasty retreat.
Could Lynda Pope carry such a burning hatred that she would kill two innocent young women? Was her husband helping her? Or was he the killer and hoped to point suspicion in her direction? What was the motive? Sure, envy drove people to commit heinous acts at times. But these were people who had it all. Was the thrill gone now? Was this an attempt at infusing excitement into their lives and relationship? Or was getting even for the few things their one beloved offspring hadn’t attained in life the goal? Maybe he just wanted rid of his wife.
Matilda had a feeling about him...but did that carry any real significance?
Sarah couldn’t prove anything. It was just a hunch. A gut instinct that the people inside that house were somehow responsible for the murders.
The truth was there...she was certain.
Chapter 37
2313 Beauchamp Road 1:00 P.M.
Jerald turned up the volume on the television hanging above the fireplace. He instinctively moved toward it as the local news on the hour recapped the latest events. Sarah Newton’s image flashed on the screen, a microphone stuck in her face.
“The person responsible for these two tragic murders is female. She’s out there and she�
�s not finished yet.”
He moved his head side to side. Sarah Newton refused to give up. Part of him couldn’t help respecting her doggedness. She would not relinquish until she had the truth.
That admirable trait presented quite the dilemma.
“Daddy.”
He turned to find Jerri Lynn standing on the other side of the room watching him, her parka and boots evidence she had only just returned home.
She shook her head, her eyes wide with something akin to shock.
He moved toward her. Wanted to explain that what he’d done was for her benefit.
She backed away. “What have you done?”
Before he could respond, her mother entered the room. “What’s going on?” She looked from Jerald to the television screen where more images and comments regarding the ongoing investigation eclipsed the killing storms in the South and the unrelenting floods in the West.
Jerri Lynn ran from the room. Lynda stared after her. When the clomp of her boots on the stairs had faded, his wife walked quickly to where Jerald stood.
“Jerald, I don’t know what she’s up to but something very strange is going on around here.” She glanced toward the hall to ensure their daughter was still out of hearing range. “We should have sent her away to school. There’s...” Lynda shook her head, fell silent.
He refused to admit that she was all too correct. That would be pointless now. There were more pressing problems. “What’s wrong now, Lynda?”
Her troubled gaze lit with a hint of anger. “You always take her side. She’s done nothing but widen the gap between us.” Lynda clutched his sweater sleeve. “We need time for us, Jerald. Just the two of us. I can’t live like this any longer.” Desperation replaced the fury. “I want things to be the way they used to be...when we shared everything. Before any of the things...that went wrong.”
He tensed, reclaimed the calm that he rarely allowed to slip. He knew all too well exactly what she meant. But that was in the past. There was no need to go back there. The pressing matter now was their daughter. “What is it you feel is so strange?”
Again Lynda glanced in the direction of the stairs. “Some of my medication is missing.”
His tension escalated. “Your heart medication?” Of course that was what she meant. His wife took no other medication.
She nodded. “And this afternoon I was looking for my other snow boots and I found a knife hidden beneath my Louis Vuitton bag. It was wrapped in one of my scarves.” Lynda leaned closer to him and whispered. “Jerald, it was covered in blood. I don’t know what’s going on...but I’m very frightened.”
Careful. Don’t react. “What did you do with this knife?” She swallowed hard, the effort visible along the slender column of her throat. “I hid it in the mudroom.”
“Show me.”
As they moved down the hall toward the kitchen, Lynda paused to ensure Jerri Lynn was nowhere in sight. Music abruptly blared. Her music. She was in her room. Clearly relieved, Lynda took his hand and led the way as if he was unsure of the route. In the mudroom, she lifted the lid to the wood box and reached inside. She handed him the item wrapped in the silk scarf.
He cautiously unwrapped the knife. Scarlet smeared its shiny blade.
Fear tinged his blood.
There was only one thing he could do now.
He wrapped the scarf around the stained knife once more and tucked it into a canvas bag he used for trips to the market. Setting the bag aside, he reached for his coat. “I’ll be back soon.”
Lynda’s eyes searched his but she did not ask the question he saw burning in hers.
There was nothing to say. He knew what he had to do.
◆◆◆
The drive to Bangor took forty-five minutes. Jerald stopped at the gate and entered the necessary code. When the gate slid out of the way, he rolled through the entrance.
River City Storage. The most secure storage facility in all of Bangor. State-of-the-art climate control. Twenty-four-hour monitoring with full-service maintenance.
He parked in his reserved slot and entered the building, which required yet another code. Three layers of security, including biometrics.
Inside, he took the elevator to the sixth floor.
Both sides of the corridor were lined with double entry doors. Each set of doors marked with a number.
Jerald stopped in front of the double doors marked with the number 6.
He entered the code he’d personally selected, 666, then pressed the pad of his thumb to the scanner. The door released, allowing him access to the unit he leased.
Closing the door, he ensured the internal lock was set, then he turned to face his demons.
The clothes he’d worn, from the shoes to the masks, for each encounter were carefully stored in sealed garment bags. The instruments he had used in each of those encounters were packed in their special case, locked and stored on the shelf above the hanging garment bags.
Across the width of the back of the unit was the vault that was absolutely essential to his needs.
Slowly, one determined step at a time, he crossed to that vault. Stored inside were twenty items, each item carefully preserved and labeled.
He had promised himself that when his daughter was born he would stop. No matter how much the weakness haunted him. No matter how intensely he missed the incredible pleasure. He would stop. There was no choice.
Jerald despised those, like Matilda Calder’s whore of a mother, who continued to serve their own selfish weaknesses as if they were gods to be worshipped. When the choice was made to bring a child into the world, those weaknesses had to be overcome. No matter the sacrifice.
That child was the only reason he hadn’t killed that selfish bitch when she’d tempted him.
His entire life before, he had searched for the one thing he had felt missing inside him. Heart. When his daughter was born, he’d found that the organ he’d thought nonexistent all those years indeed was present. He’d experienced emotions he’d never known existed prior to that wondrous day.
From that moment forward, his life had been complete.
As challenging as overcoming his own vile weakness had been, he had mastered it. Had never looked back.
Until now.
She had inherited that weakness.
There was no question. No way to deny the reality.
He had no choice.
The only remaining question was the how to save her.
Conviction filled him.
He knew how.
Sarah Newton.
Chapter 38
Living Word Church, 4:00 P.M.
Deborah watched her husband kneeling before the crucifix. He prayed so diligently. And yet, no relief had come.
Their worst fears had been realized.
Chief Willard had called. He and that FBI agent would be arriving within the hour to speak to Christopher a third time.
The chief had held a press conference and announced that the Conner girl had identified the suspect as a male.
Now the authorities were going to take a closer look at all male persons of interest.
They considered Christopher one of those.
A person of interest.
Deborah had waited for days now. Prayed and watched unwaveringly for a sign.
Today that sign had appeared.
She had dozed off in her chair and awakened suddenly to find the sun shining through the living room windows. The play of light on the worn wood floors had danced before her eyes. For long minutes she had watched this simple production of nature. A spider had crawled into the open, drawn by the warmth from the sun.
At that same moment Tamara had entered the room. Believing her aunt to be asleep and seeing the spider creeping ever closer, the child rushed across the room, snatched up a magazine from the coffee table and smashed the spider. She had looked up, thinking that the noise had awakened her aunt, smiled and said, “That was a close one.”
Deborah had known as she peered into the swe
et face of her niece that she could wait no longer.
Despite her gnarled fingers and aching joints, the good Lord had given her a sharp mind.
When danger crept close...He expected her to do what needed to be done without delay.
Today.
Chapter 39
The Overlook Inn, 5:00 P.M.
A stack of messages in hand, Sarah unlocked the door to her room and let herself in. She shut the door, sagged against it and closed her eyes.
What was she thinking getting involved with him?
This was definitely involved.
Not just sex.
Her body hummed with desire at the mere thought of him.
Not good. Not good at all.
It was a flat-out miracle she’d managed to get away from him long enough to take a shower. He’d insisted that she have dinner with him and his family tonight.
If Sarah had half a brain left she would be out of here before then.
Like that was going to happen. She would finish this.
She’d watched the Pope home for hours. The only movement was when Jerri Lynn arrived. And a tow truck. Evidently there had been trouble with the girl’s SUV. In case the vehicle was being towed for some purpose that would remove evidence, Sarah had noted the name of the towing company. She’d tried calling the number painted on the vehicle, but she’d gotten an answering machine.
Maybe twenty minutes later she noticed Jerald Pope leaving in his Infiniti. She’d wished like hell she’d been a position to follow him, but she and Kale had been in a boat. By the time they’d gotten back to his Jeep, Pope would have been long gone.
Sarah tossed the messages on her bed, dropped her bag, and headed for the bathroom. Twisting the old knobs, she set the water flow and temperature in the tub. She crossed back to the dresser and scrounged for clothes. She was down to her last clean jeans and panties. The sweatshirt would have to do since everything else was in need of laundering.
Staying this long hadn’t been anticipated. But she couldn’t leave until it was done. Tonight she would resume her surveillance.