by V. K. Powell
“Cannonball.” Audrey spoke from behind her. She had been so absorbed in her task she hadn’t heard her approach. “She’s been a bit skittish lately. Do you think she sensed someone had been in here?”
“It’s possible. Cats are extremely intelligent.”
Trevor would take three to four hours to complete his work in the apartment and get back to Rae with the results. She could relocate Audrey and Yasi in the meantime before dark. Rae made a quick call to have the incredible hulk removed from guard duty and another to ensure the necessary arrangements were in place at the hotel. As she loaded Yasi and Audrey’s luggage in her car and secured CB in the backseat, she looked forward to dismissing the slightly overbearing yet highly efficient bodyguard.
“Marc, could you stay with Trevor until he finishes and secures the apartment? After that, you’re free to go. I’m taking over Ms. Everhart’s protection detail.”
“My supervisor hasn’t dismissed me.” His dedication was admirable, but sometimes that very dedication made rent-a-cops almost comical. He stood his post even though he knew Rae had the authority to excuse him.
“For the purpose of this assignment, I am your supervisor. Consider yourself dismissed.”
Marc’s nostrils flared and his gray eyes drilled into Rae. “No disrespect, Detective, I’ll have to check in.” As he reached for his phone, it rang. He turned back to Rae a few seconds later. “Would you mind telling me where you’re going—in case I’m needed later?”
“Sorry, Marc, need to know.”
He gave her a mock salute. “I understand.” As Yasi and Audrey passed on the way to the car, he said, “Take care, Ms. Everhart.”
A few minutes later Audrey’s cirque family surrounded their two friends like a protective shield and escorted them into the hotel. Rae conducted a security sweep of the accommodation, satisfied with the penthouse suite. The room was secluded if not a bit too isolated from the rest of the facility by a gym and restaurant level. She gave Sam and the others specific instructions and felt relatively comfortable that Audrey would be safe for the time being.
It took all her considerable logic to convince herself to leave Audrey in the care of a group of circus performers untrained in protection procedures. She still wondered if one of them might be responsible for the attacks. A fellow detective had conducted preliminary backgrounds on the male members of the group but had difficulty obtaining complete information from certain foreign countries. She didn’t know if any of them had military training, but they all certainly had accents. Even a suspect as brazen as the Whisperer wouldn’t risk an attack in front of so many other people. Rae prayed her logic was sound because she had to continue her investigation or the nightmare would never end.
As she drove back toward downtown, she called the records division to check on the business-license search she’d requested earlier. The clerk rattled off a partial list of dry-cleaning businesses no longer in operation around the dump sites. Even the incomplete list was daunting. Rae would have time to check only a few tonight. She told the clerk she’d pick up the results the following day, along with the motor-vehicle listings.
Rae pulled up to the first address and her heart sank. The building had been converted into a condo tower. Only the façade remained as evidence of the early architectural splendor of the structure. What a shame that progress often destroyed the beauty of the past to accommodate conveniences of the present. Marking the address off her list, she drove on.
A crumbling concrete wall and a patch of debris-laden ground welcomed her at the next location. The lot was bordered by dimly lit buildings and looked like a dingy snaggletooth smile. Rae parked and walked in the cool night air. She needed to think, to refocus her efforts. Running from place to demolished place felt too much like chasing her tail. The rubble of long-closed businesses and desolate lots couldn’t possibly contain anything of value. As she started back to her vehicle, she heard a faint noise across the street and moved toward the sound.
A man sang slurred words with no hint of a tune. “Turned the water to blood…no, the water to wine. Water to blood, turned to a flood, moved out of the hood.” The man laughed and repeated the chant over and over.
Rae followed his voice and found him lying on a soiled mattress behind a Dumpster. The elderly white male wore several layers of tattered clothing and a stocking cap. He was obviously one of the homeless people who populated the hideaways and underpasses of the city.
When she stepped out of the shadows, he sat up, wobbling from side to side. “Hey, what you doing in my house? Get out.”
“I’m a police officer.”
“Ain’t done nothing wrong.” His response, loud and angry, reflected years of living a drifter’s life and countless confrontations with police.
“I’m sure you haven’t. My name is Rae.” Underneath the gruff exterior, she sensed a harmless and very lonely man. “Quite a song.”
“I’m Larry.” He looked her over, probably sizing her up with his streetwise instincts. “You’ve seen it then?” He struggled to stand, and she offered her hand to help. “The blood?”
She answered honestly. “I’ve seen enough of it.”
“I had to move it was so bad.”
“Where did you move from, Larry?” The conversation seemed pointless, but Rae felt compelled to spend a few minutes with him. Sometimes listening made all the difference in a person’s life. She doubted anyone had listened to Larry in a very long time.
“Lived on Central Avenue for years, nice place in the back shed.” He slapped his hand over his mouth as if he’d said too much. “The owners didn’t mind.”
“It’s all right, Larry. Go on.”
“Had a runoff for rainwater behind, like my own personal spring…till it turned to blood.”
The man talked in nonsensical circles and each word carried the stench of stale booze. Rae started to leave but asked one final question. “What was in front of your shed?”
“A dry cleaners.”
The twinge of excitement ran up Rae’s spine like a rat up a drainpipe. “Do you remember the people who owned the place? What were their names?”
“Nice man, bitchy woman—Blake, that’s not right. Blanket-burg, Blimp-ton, no Blanken-ship, I think. That’s it, Blankenship. When the water went bad, I had to leave.”
“How long ago?”
“’Bout a year, I’d say? Sure hated to move. All this stuff gets heavy.” He grabbed the side of the Dumpster and waved his arm as if proudly displaying all his worldly possessions.
“Where on Central?”
“Corner of Central and Second. You gonna move in my old place?”
“No, I might ride by.” Rae calculated the timeframe and location with the other dump sites. Blankenship’s was quite a distance from her search area. If the site proved to be relevant, the suspect had deviated from “normal” criminal behavior and used his home turf as a dumping ground. Maybe she was grasping at straws.
Larry looked at her like she was the drunk one. “Been closed for years.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Larry, and be careful out here.” As she rounded the corner en route to her vehicle, she saw Larry settle back on the mattress and take another pull from his booze bottle. She prayed the poison hadn’t completely liquefied his brain.
Chapter Eighteen
Arya quietly opened the apartment door and slid inside. Butler had just left with his beloved and he had no idea where they were going. He’d been tempted to follow them, but he had more urgent business. A crime-scene analyst was going through her apartment looking for evidence of him. Arya needed to make sure he didn’t uncover anything. Finding out where Butler had taken her would be easy later.
He had planned to wait until the analyst left to remove his equipment, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to test his abilities. He had so few chances in the ordered environment of a civilized society. So far the police had proved a pitiful opponent. He’d eluded Whitt for a year, and Butler was no closer to his real ident
ity though he hid in plain sight. Perhaps the crime tech would be a more worthy adversary.
The methodical analyst went through each room with skilled precision as the hours passed. Arya was impressed with his attention to detail. He was so focused he hadn’t noticed Arya shadowing him through the small apartment like a predator. Perhaps he’d underestimated this man. He might actually locate Arya’s carefully concealed devices and eventually his nest. The mechanisms he’d used could never be traced to him, but they might put his source on a law-enforcement short list.
As the analyst rifled through her belongings, Arya became more agitated. He had no right to handle her things, to invade her privacy. He was not worthy. In the bedroom, he pulled her delicate lingerie from the drawer and held it up to the light, leering and imagining like all of his undeserving class. A bulge grew in the front of his pants as he raised the item to his nose and inhaled. Arya’s blood surged and his contained fury exploded. He lunged, pummeling the offending agent with his fist and a lead-weighted slapstick.
Arya had no idea how long he pounded the analyst before he regained control. His lapses into rage were becoming more frequent and his ability to control them less predictable. Such disciplinary failures would result in mistakes and eventual capture. He couldn’t afford such carelessness. His mission was coming to a close, and he needed to remain on target until he was finally and forever reunited with her.
He kicked the unconscious analyst, rolled him over, and bound and gagged him. He was not yet dead but very close. Why had he not finished the job? Arya hadn’t hesitated to kill the redheaded man who touched her. Perhaps he would die yet. The knots were secured so the man would choke himself if he tried to break free. Gathering the analyst by the collar and belt, Arya shoved him into the bedroom closet and slammed the door. He picked up her panties from the floor and stuck them in his pocket.
Arya took his time retrieving the equipment, careful not to leave a trace in the apartment or his nest. As daybreak dawned he slipped out to find her and begin final preparations. Someone would discover the analyst, alive or dead. Even if he survived, he hadn’t seen Arya and wouldn’t be able to identify him. The analyst was irrelevant; soon he and his beloved would be on their way to a new life.
*
Audrey awakened in the morning to Yasi’s urgent moaning next to her in bed, her face twisted with the kind of torment Audrey recognized from her own nightmares. A light sheen of perspiration covered her face and neck. “Yasi, wake up. You’re all right. It’s a bad dream.”
“No!” Yasi screamed, and immediately six concerned faces appeared at their door.
Audrey purposely didn’t touch Yasi, recalling her own terrifying images of being grabbed. “You’re safe, darling. We’re in a hotel. Remember?”
Yasi’s deep-brown eyes scanned the room nervously before settling on her cirque friends huddled in the doorway and then on Audrey. “I remember.” She took a few deep breaths and waved the others in. “Who announced the curtain call?”
“You did,” Melvin and Tony answered together. They smiled at each other like Adonis bookends.
“Where else would we be? We’re family.” Audrey handed her a glass of water as their friends perched around the edges of the king-sized bed and fussed over her. She held Yasi, rocking and cooing reassurances until she relaxed in her arms.
While the others bolstered Yasi, Audrey thought about Rae and wished she were here as well. Then her family would be complete. Rae and her friends working together, united by the need to protect someone they loved. She couldn’t picture the two coming together for any reason before all this happened. Maybe the division between her disparate worlds wasn’t so great. Love and grief were great equalizers, but what would happen when the case ended?
She’d never felt such a desire to be with someone, to share every aspect of her life, and to plan a future. But she didn’t have anything to offer Rae—not a loving family to dote on her, a large bank account, an impressive career, and certainly not the level of sexual experience she was used to. What would Rae see in a psychic circus brat with a penchant for attracting weirdoes? Her heart ached at the thought.
“Have you heard from Rae?” Yasi asked.
When Audrey returned her attention to Yasi, the others had left the room. As usual when she thought about Rae, her mind wandered and she lost track of time. She wasn’t even able to read the woman beyond her surface moods. How frustrating. “No.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure she worked all night and will call as soon as she can.”
Audrey wasn’t at all sure what Rae would and wouldn’t do. She could only trust her heart and hope for the best.
“Would you mind helping with my bandage? It’s a bit awkward to handle alone.”
“Of course I don’t mind.” Yasi hadn’t offered to let Audrey see her injuries before. She had hidden them, along with news of the Whisperer, until Rae told her the whole story. Suddenly the task seemed daunting. She was barely able to look at her own abdomen, sliced and scarred by the madman’s blade. Seeing her best friend similarly disfigured would be almost unbearable. Audrey reminded herself of the earlier vow of courage and reached for the wrapping around Yasi’s middle.
“Will you be all right?” Yasi placed her hand gently over Audrey’s.
“I’ll be fine. You’re still you, and I still love you. This is one more thing we have in common, one more reason you’ll never be able to get rid of me. Now lean forward.”
She gave Yasi her bravest smile and unwound the bulky bandage down to the dressings. When she removed the final layer, the nerves in her gut twisted into an angry knot. Yasi’s once-flawless skin was crisscrossed with slashes and patched with a combination of sutures, staples, and skin adhesives. Audrey mapped out in her mind the areas that would heal without leaving a trace and those that would forever haunt her friend. What type of person did this sort of damage?
“Hand me that small mirror on the side table,” Yasi said. “I’d like to look when you’ve cleaned it up a bit. I want to know what someone else sees when they look at me now.”
“Yasi, don’t, not yet.”
“I’ve got to get used to it…and I know it isn’t easy.” Her eyes held both question and apology.
“No, darling, it isn’t.” She gave Yasi the mirror and gently cleaned the wounds before reaching for another dressing. When she looked back, her mind flashed to another time, to a very similar injury.
A cold wind brushed across her face and added to the exuberance of the night. Even the throngs of people pushing in around her didn’t curb her excitement. The show had been perfect, her performance outstanding. She was meeting her friends for a celebratory drink before heading home.
The crowd thinned as she veered off toward the neighborhood bar. Looking up at the quarter moon, she wished it were full. The night would be perfect. She skipped along the sidewalk like she’d done as a child and avoided the cracks. Whistling the theme song of her favorite TV show, she felt totally alive. Being in front of an audience exhilarated her.
She turned down the last side street before the bar and thought how dark it looked. Remnants of the shattered security light littered the path. A sweet smell wafted to her nostrils and she turned to search for the source. From behind, someone placed a piece of fabric over her nose and mouth. The smell grew stronger. Her eyes and nose watered, and the skin around her face burned. Drowsiness oozed down her spinal column and branched out into every nerve. She struggled momentarily before dropping to the pavement. The quarter moon disappeared, replaced by total darkness and recurring pain.
When she eventually tried to open her eyes she had no idea how much time had passed. She could make out only quick splashes of color and an occasional glint of metal in the muted light under the edge of her blindfold. A man’s voice commanded her—to do what? She couldn’t focus. The metal flashed again, burning and stinging. Everything was hard and cold. She felt like she was in a coffin, unable to move and certain of death. She screamed but the so
und was muted too.
“Unspoiled,” he whispered. “You are my unspoiled, Sanjana. Unspoiled.” Over and over the same words and a horrible grunting noise.
“Please! No more!”
“Audrey?” Yasi’s tone was urgent, edged with fear. Their friends had heard Audrey’s cries and returned, standing around the bed, concern and uncertainty evident on their faces. “Audrey, can you hear me?”
The heady flash receded as quickly as it surfaced, but the memory remained. “Yes.” Her voice was weak as she tried to recall every point before it vanished like a dream. But this particular vision wouldn’t vanish. Each facet was as detailed as if etched in stone, crystal clear and terrifying. She excavated the facts but pushed the emotions back down, unable to deal with them yet. The feelings would return again, and the visions would be even more defined later. When they reappeared, she wanted to be with Rae. “I remember.”
Sam lightly touched her shoulder. “What do you remember, Sanjana?”
She looked up at him and her heart pounded out of control. Suddenly she felt like a trapped animal. “That’s what he called me. You’re the only one who calls me that.” What if Sam was the attacker? What if the others already knew and were protecting him? She felt hot and sick to her depths. She had trusted Sam with her life on many occasions.
Yasi took her hand. “Audrey, you don’t believe Sam…you’re obviously upset. Think about what you’re saying.”
Audrey forced herself to breathe and reflect rationally. Sam would never hurt her and Yasi or anyone else. He was the kindest, most nonthreatening individual she’d ever met in spite of his sizeable physique. Sam was not the Whisperer. The memory that had finally returned after a year had rattled her and she was struggling for understanding. “I remember my attack.”
Her hands shook as she wiped at a tear trickling down her cheek. “I remember everything.” Leaning back against the pillow, she flipped through the scenario again as if reading a book. She didn’t want to lose one tidbit of information that might help Rae’s investigation.