Allie crossed to the back door, pulling the curtain aside. And she screamed.
■ ■ ■
Sidney almost fell off the girder when she screamed. In seconds, the little dog was somewhere on the ground below him, barking his head off. Jesus. What was he going to do? He couldn’t go down. The dog’s barking was sure to bring people. He gritted his teeth as he stood on the steel beam, and he began to climb.
■ ■ ■
Rand was beside her in an instant. “What is it? What happened?”
Allie was doubled over, her hands covering her face. Rand pulled her away from the back door. “What is it, Allie? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head violently.
Rand wrenched her hands away so he could see her face. Then, he pulled her into his arms. “What’s wrong? What did you see?”
Allie shivered uncontrollably. She burrowed into Rand’s arms, trying to dispel the vision etched on the back of her eyelids.
After a minute, her breathing slowed. The shivering eased. She realized she was gripping the back of his shirt in a death grip. She released one hand and waved her arm in the direction of the back door.
When he moved, she moved with him, unwilling to leave the protection of his arms. She heard him pull aside the door’s window curtain and draw in a sharp breath. She felt him reach into his pocket, for his cell phone, Allie assumed. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.
Before he had a chance to dial, Sheryl burst through the open front door. “What the hell’s going on?” she demanded. “You were screaming like a crazy woman. Probably woke up half of Cape Canaveral.”
“Back door,” Rand said, his voice hard.
Allie opened her eyes. Sheryl was in her pajamas, her gun in her hand. She crossed to the back door and ripped aside the curtain. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she spit out, switching on the back porch light and yanking open the door.
It was worse in bright light. Allie, or a dummy made up to look like her. It hung by a noose from the upstairs deck railing, it’s long, blond hair trailing over its garishly made-up face. It looked like the throat had been cut. Blood, fake blood, she hoped, trailed down the front of what Allie recognized as her clothes, and it had pooled on the patio below. Some kind of landscape uplight had been rigged to shine up at its face. It was hideous. And believable.
Sheryl snatched the cell phone from Rand and dialed a number. “It’s Levine. I need two units and a CSI at…”
She rattled off Allie’s address and a bunch of other stuff, but Allie wasn’t listening. This was vintage Sidney. No, that wasn’t true. Sidney had never gone to these lengths to terrorize, not when they were kids, but this was a new Sidney, a grown up, insane Sidney, and he was escalating. First, poop…
She spun on Rand. “Where’s Spook?”
“He pulled away when you screamed. I—”
Allie was already halfway out the front door. If that bastard did anything to hurt her dog, she’d tear him apart with her bare hands.
She heard Spook before she saw him. He was barking, jumping around at the construction site next door. Allie picked her way gingerly across the debris-strewn ground until she reached him. Then, she scooped him up and held him close.
“My poor baby,” she murmured as she headed back toward the house. “I thought I’d lost you. What were you doing over here? Were you trying to chase that bad man away? It’s OK, baby. He’s gone. The bad man is gone.”
■ ■ ■
Sidney waited until Allie went back in the house and closed the door behind her before he began his torturous climb down. That was too fucking close. She couldn’t have seen him if she looked up, but if she told the others, and they brought flashlights…
He climbed faster. He had to get the hell away from here before someone figured out what that little dog was doing. He had to give it to the mutt, though. The little guy had tried to climb the girders. What a tiger. He wouldn’t mind having a little guy like that some time in the future. But his future—a future spent in a mental institution or jail—wouldn’t allow a dog. If he went back.
He paused as his good foot reached the ground. Jesus, what was he thinking? He couldn’t go back. What kind of life would that be? His thoughts raced as he dodged through the puny shrubs and palms toward his ride. He would vanish instead. He had his mother’s credit cards. He knew she wouldn’t report them missing, and his dad didn’t know about half of them. They would carry him a long way from here. She’d had more than a thousand bucks in her purse. Plus, he could make a series of withdrawals over a matter of days. Later, he could contact her for more. He knew she’d give it to him without question.
Mexico might work. Or he could catch a boat over to the Bahamas. Enough of them sailed out of Port Canaveral every day. That would be a sweet life. They’d never catch him. He was too smart. Hell, he’d already been within two feet of the sheriff, not to mention Allie and Levine, and none of them had made him.
If he left for good, he didn’t need that asshole he was holding in his trailer. He could kill Allie and Levine because they deserved it and turn the guy loose in the Everglades. Sidney didn’t kill without a reason. The schmuck probably wouldn’t last two days in the Glades, not with the snakes and gators there. Hell, Sidney and the sheriff almost hadn’t survived the week they spent down there, even though the sheriff was a seasoned outdoorsman, but at least, the Grainger guy’s death wouldn’t be on Sidney’s head.
He hurried his steps as he heard sirens in the distance.
■ ■ ■
The crime scene techs had been going over the dummy and the area surrounding it for more than an hour. They had floodlights set up at intervals on the dunes to provide adequate light. Once they had photographed everything, sifted, picked, and whatever else they did, they would take the dummy down and transport it to wherever they took things for further investigation. At least, that’s what Sheryl told Allie. Allie didn’t ask any questions. She didn’t care what they did. She just wanted it to be over.
After Sheryl raced home to tell Libby Allie wasn’t dead and put on some clothes, she’d been here the whole time giving Allie periodic updates. They already determined that the blood was fake, thank God. They also said they’d have Allie’s clothes cleaned and returned to her as soon as they could, but she said no. She never wanted to see that particular outfit again.
She sat in a corner of the sofa, making herself as small as possible, Spook clutched in her arms in a death grip, as various officers and sheriff’s office personnel wove in and out of her house like fish swimming in a slow-moving stream.
It all was surreal. She kept expecting to wake in her bed knowing Len was safely in Atlanta being his usual obnoxious self and that Sidney was securely locked up wherever they’d been keeping him. But she knew she was awake—Len was missing, Sidney was on the loose, and she was in big trouble, no matter how you looked at it, with her parents and maybe with the police. Especially, because they found Len’s cell phone on her kitchen counter.
Cord had come out of the kitchen holding the phone by one end with a paper towel. “Is this yours?” he asked Allie.
“No, mine’s in my purse. Maybe it’s Rand’s.”
“He says no. I checked the ICE number. It’s your mother’s name and number.”
“ICE?”
“In case of emergency. First place we look.”
Allie felt her heart stutter. “Then… it has to be Len’s.”
“Any idea how it got here?” Cord’s voice was neutral, but he was in uniform, and her brother was missing, a presumed victim of foul play—at least, presumed by Allie.
“Maybe the dummy brought it with her,” she said sharply.
Cord raised his eyebrows and looked at her for a moment before walking away.
Her temper was frayed beyond repair. She was sick of this. She felt as if she’d been the target of Sidney’s vicious pranks for years instead of a matter of days, and it pissed her off that it’s exactly how he wanted her to feel. If she could find him, she wou
ldn’t need a gun; she’d rip out his throat with her bare fingers.
She jumped a foot when the phone rang, but she made no move to answer it. A moment later, the answering machine clicked on, and she heard her mother’s voice.
“Allison, when you have time, will you call me back? I need to talk to you.” That was it. No ranting or raving. No demanding, badgering, or belittling. The timidity in her mother’s voice was infinitely worse. Allie almost climbed out of her corner cocoon to return the call, but it felt too safe, a feeling too rare these days to give up without a fight. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to call back.
Sheryl walked over and sat down beside Allie, reaching over to pet Spook. “You holding up?”
Allie bit her lip and nodded, blinking back tears that sprang unbidden to her eyes.
“You must have been practicing your screaming. That was a doozy. And did you hear Spook here barking? He might turn into a watchdog yet.”
Allie looked down at Spook. A tear slipped down her cheek as she looked up at Sheryl. “I hope he hurries.”
Finally, they were all gone. All except Rand. He locked the door behind the last officer and came over to join her on the sofa. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms.
Allie lay against his chest, squashing Spook between them. Spook didn’t seem to mind.
“I don’t know why it scared me so badly,” she said. “I knew it was a dummy the minute I saw it. Or almost the minute I saw it. But it was so horrible, so… so…”
“Sick,” Rand finished for her. “It was cruel and sick. If the bastard was here right now, I’d tear him limb from limb, and I’d enjoy it.”
Allie nestled closer, causing Spook to yelp. The dog scooted out from between them and settled on Allie’s lap.
God, it felt good to have Rand next to her. The last few days had been a roller coaster of anger and tension and fury and terror. Allie felt like every nerve in her body was raw. “Your father thinks I kidnapped Len,” Allie said.
Rand pulled away and looked down at her. “What gives you that idea?”
“He was asking me about the cell phone.”
“He asked me too. Does that mean he suspects both of us?”
Allie thought about it. “I snapped his head off.”
Rand settled back against the sofa. “He’s a tough guy. He can take it. He knows you’re a victim in all this, Allie. It’s killing him that it’s his protégé who’s putting you through all this hell.”
Allie looked up. “Did he tell you that?”
“No, but it’s how I’d feel if I were him.” He pushed her head back down on his shoulder. “He’s got a real soft spot for you,” he said, stroking her hair. “Like father, like son.”
He made no move to kiss her, so Allie reached up and pulled him down to her. His lips were soft and warm. They felt safe.
After a minute, he pulled back. “As much as it hurts me to say this, we aren’t going to do this tonight. You’ve been through way too much. I don’t want our first time together to be—” He hesitated. “Anticlimactic,” he finished.
“Nice choice of words,” Allie murmured. She felt his chest move as he chuckled, and she realized he was playing with her. In a nice way.
“You won’t leave, though?” she said after a minute.
Rand stretched out on the sofa and eased her down beside him, pulling her head down on his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Somewhere down the street, a motorcycle cranked to life. Spook gave one little woof before settling back down on Allie’s chest, but no one was awake to hear him.
■ ■ ■
Allie awoke to the smell of freshly brewing coffee. She opened one eye, then the other, and looked around in confusion. She was on her living room sofa fully dressed. Then, it all came back to her—the dummy hanging from her balcony, the police.
Sometime during the night, Rand covered her with a blanket from her bed. She pushed the blanket down and struggled to a sitting position. She felt as if she’d been in an auto accident. Then, she remembered last summer when Sidney had tried to run her off the 520 bridge. Her car careened into the guardrails like a spinning top, and Allie had the bruises to prove it. No, it didn’t feel like that. Nothing she’d experienced before or since had felt like that. Still, it was amazing that nothing more than emotional stress could make her ache like this. Or maybe it was the thirty-year-old sofa.
Rand stepped out of the kitchen carrying two steaming mugs. He didn’t look a whole lot better than she did. His hair was rumpled, and his face was red and wrinkled on one side from sleeping on it. Adorable.
He handed Allie a mug. “How can you look so damn good in the morning?” he asked.
Allie laughed. “Is it morning?”
“I think so,” Rand said, crossing to the window. He pulled the curtain aside and looked out. “Uh, oh. You have company.”
Allie scrambled to her feet. “Who is it?”
“Some woman getting out of a taxi.”
Oh, God, it had to be her mother. Allie hadn’t called her back. She remembered Vivian’s threat the last time she called—that if Allie didn’t ans-wer, she was going to jump on the first plane. What was she going to do? She looked around. The house was a mess. The furniture was covered with fingerprint dust or whatever it was, and her laundry was on the kitchen counter. Her bedroom was a mess, and—
She took a step back. Whoa. She hadn’t invited anyone to her house. What did she care if it was a mess?
She heard someone poking at the doorbell, which hadn’t worked at any time in Allie’s memory. Then the knock at the door. Allie steeled herself and pulled it open.
Twenty-one
“Ella Faye,” Allie said when she recovered her voice.
“Allie, sweetie, how wonderful to see you again.” Ella Faye leaned forward and kissed the air on either side of Allie’s cheeks. “Don’t you look just wonderful? How I’ve missed you. You don’t come home nearly enough.”
Ella Faye. Len’s wife. Allie could count the times they’d seen each other on one hand. She’d missed her? Ella Faye, with her dyed blond hair and oversized bust and Scarlett O’Hara wasp waist, a woman who would drive a hundred miles for a perfect French manicure, but wouldn’t cross the street to fetch a cup of water for a man dying of thirst. At least that’s the opinion Allie had formed from family hints over the years. She was dressed in form-fitting spandex and enough cleavage to put Dolly Parton to shame.
“What are you doing here?” Allie managed finally. “Did I know you were coming?” In the chaos of the night before, it wouldn’t surprise Allie if something like that had slipped her mind.
“Well, sugar, I thought about calling, but Mom-Mom said you’d just tell me to stay in Atlanta, so I figured I’d show up on your doorstep and surprise you.”
Mom-Mom? All the time she spoke, she was humping a huge suitcase across the doorframe and into the living room. Rand stepped over to give her a hand. Ever the gentleman. Allie could kick him.
Ella Faye beamed on him. “And you are?”
“Uh—Rand, this is Ella Faye Garrison, my sister-in-law. Len’s wife,” Allie added, as if there would be any doubt.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Rand said, extending his hand.
“And I’m pleased to meet you,” Ella Faye gushed, clutching Rand’s hand like a lifeline. She pronounced I’m like “aaahm.” Ella Faye’s Southern accent had always grated on Allie’s nerves, and today, her nerves weren’t at their party best.
Allie reached over and disengaged Rand’s hand. “Rand is my boyfriend,” she said. She caught sight of Rand’s grin out of the corner of her eye, and violence again crossed her mind.
“Well, isn’t that nice, sugar, after that nasty divorce and everything. I’m so glad you were able to find someone else.” She looked around. “It’s awfully small here, isn’t it? Len said the place was tiny.” She laughed. “Well, he actually said it was little more than a beach shack, but I can see he was exaggerating. And—” She s
quealed and lunged for the sofa. “Who is this little precious thing?” she asked, dragging Spook out from his hiding place. “I just love dogs, don’t you? I told Len I wanted one, but he says they’re dirty and have fleas. I’ll bet you don’t have fleas, do you, cutie?” She held Spook up to her face and made kissy noises.
Why didn’t the damn dog bite her? Instead, the traitor licked her fingers. Maybe she’d been eating fried chicken in the taxi. Allie looked again at Ella Faye’s tiny waist. Maybe not.
“What are you doing here, Ella Faye?”
“Why, I’m worried about my husband, Allie. Mom-Mom was all set to come, but I told her it was my place to do it. I mean, she’s already going to have to do her work and Len’s. She can’t be traipsing all over creation because her son is missing. That’s a wife’s job. And here I am,” she finished brightly, as if that explained anything.
“I know you’re here, but what do you plan to do? I mean, specifically.”
Ella Faye looked at her blankly. “Well… be here. You know, when they find him and all.”
It sounded to Allie as if she was here to identify the body. The thought made her stomach heave. “There’s nothing you can do here. I don’t mean to be unkind, but it would have been better if you’d stayed in Atlanta. The police are investigating Len’s disappearance. They don’t need any help from us civilians.”
“But I thought you were an investigator,” she said, looking away from Spook for a second. “I thought maybe I could ride along with you. I mean, if it’s not too dangerous.”
The woman was an idiot. A beautiful idiot. Allie had to grant her that, with her piled-high blond hair and flawless face, but an idiot nonetheless. “I’m not a police investigator; I’m a reporter. We don’t ride around investigating.” Not true, but she did not intend to get into the details.
“That’s OK, then. I’ll just… be here. You know.”
Allie was afraid she did. “You can’t stay here with me,” Allie said. “Len was right. The house is tiny. Too small, even for me. And I only have one bedroom. I use the other for an office. I’m so sorry, but you won’t be able to stay here. If only you’d called…”
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