No Darker Place--A Thriller

by Debra Webb

  Finally the door opened, the light from inside slicing across the porch, and the guy who’d gone inside came back out. “He said come on in, mami.”

  Her stomach always got queasy when the bastard called her that. She wasn’t his baby or his lover. “Thanks.”

  Bobbie was grateful no one attempted to stop Shade from going with her. Of course they were all heavily armed. She had her Glock and her backup piece but she was relatively certain Shade was not armed. She was yet to see him carrying.

  Another mystery to solve. Why would a man who hunted serial killers walk around unarmed?

  Inside the dump of a house was surprisingly well furnished. Javier was kicked back on a sectional that seemed to go on forever watching an even bigger television. Not at all the picture she had expected to find.

  Javier held up his long neck bottle. “You want a beer, mami?”

  “No thanks.”

  “How ’bout your friend?” Javier shifted his attention to Shade. “Maybe your sombra would like a beer.”

  Shade held the other man’s gaze for a moment. “I’ll pass.”

  “Someone left a package at my door, Javier. Did any of your people see anyone messing around my place?”

  Javier stared at her for a moment. “Maybe. Was you expecting a package?”

  “Don’t give me any grief, Javier. Just tell me what your people saw.”

  Javier pushed to his feet. “We need to speak privately.”

  Bobbie looked to Shade. He turned and walked out the door. She was surprised he didn’t argue.

  “If you waste my time,” she warned the jerk eyeing her as if he could eat her up, “I will make you regret it.”

  Javier grinned. “I love it when you talk tough to me, Detective.” He grabbed himself. “Makes me hard.”

  Bobbie rested her hand on the butt of her weapon. It was the same every time. “Let’s hear it.”

  “The guy—the one on TV—has been coming around. I first noticed him about two weeks ago, but I didn’t know who he was until they started plastering his face all over the news.”

  “You mean the Storyteller.” Her heart rate climbed rapidly as she waited for a confirmation.

  “Yeah. Him. Anyway, he cruised through again today and dropped off a box. This time he was driving one of those shitty little hybrid cars. The kind the queers and tree huggers like.”

  “What was he driving before?”

  “First time I noticed him it was a black Nissan. One of those knockoff Maximas. But today was the Prius.”

  “What time did he make the delivery?”

  “Around eleven this morning.”

  “Do you remember what he was wearing?”

  “Jeans, baggy ones, and a hoodie. My boys were laughing ’cause it’s hot as hell and the dumb fuck was wearing a hoodie.”

  “Did he do anything else while he was here?”

  “Drove right on out of the hood after that.” Javier took a long swig of his beer.

  A thread of tension worked its way through her muscles. He had been to her house. “I need you to do something for me, Javier.”

  Javier moved closer to her. Since they were about the same height, he looked directly into her eyes. “I would do anything to fuck you just one time, Detective. What can I do to make that happen?”

  “I’m serious, Javier.” One of these days she was going to take this asshole all the way down. “Will you help me or not?”

  He sucked another swallow from the bottle and licked his lips. “Maybe.”

  “If you see him again, call me.”

  He shrugged. “Look, mami, if you want that fucker dead, just say so. He comes back into my territory I will kill him dead.”

  “No. Just call me. Okay?”

  He smirked. “I see how it is. You want him all to yourself.” He looked her up and down. “I guess I can’t blame you for that. I would really like to watch, though.”

  “You help me catch him and I’ll definitely let you watch.”

  “Deal.” He turned up the bottle and finished off his beer.

  Before she reached the door he said, “You should watch the sombra.”

  Bobbie glanced back at him. “The guy with me? What about him?”

  “His eyes,” Javier said with a forked gesture toward his own. “He has the eyes of a killer.”

  Bobbie opened the door and walked out. Shade waited for her on the porch. None of Javier’s men said a word as they walked away. Bobbie was glad. The mood she was in she might have shot anyone who did.

  The evidence techs had already packed up and headed to the lab. Bobbie would give Andy a call in the morning to see what he found. Running the prints through the usual databases wouldn’t take long.

  She thought about Javier’s comment. He might be more right than he knew when he called Shade a shadow. But was he a killer?

  “Are you going to tell me what he said?”

  Ah, Nick Shade didn’t like being left in the dark. D-Boy stretched to the end of his chain and wiggled his tail as they walked past his yard. Bobbie made another mental note to call the landlord. “He saw the Prius. Perry delivered the box around eleven and drove away.”

  Shade said nothing.

  She was just about to demand his thoughts when Newt and Hadden met them at her driveway.

  “No one appears to have seen anything,” Hadden complained. “This is some neighborhood you live in, Detective Gentry. If I were your superior, I’d be concerned that you’re suicidal.”

  Shade touched her elbow, preventing her from sticking her foot in her mouth. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  Where the hell was he going?

  “I have a few questions for you, Mr. Shade,” Hadden called to his back.

  Shade didn’t turn around. He climbed into his car and drove away.

  “Agent Mason doesn’t like having any unofficial parties involved in this investigation,” Hadden warned Bobbie. “Your friend has shown up once too often. It’s beginning to look as if he’s attempting to insinuate himself into our investigation.”

  “Hold up, Hadden,” Newt countered.

  “Javier Quintero saw Perry deliver the package,” Bobbie announced, cutting off the explanation that would likely drag Newt deeper into the mess she’d made. Giving up Javier was the best way to divert attention from Shade and to keep Newt out of the equation.

  Thankfully a call drew her partner away from the huddle before he could say more on the subject of Shade.

  “Who is Quintero?” Hadden demanded.

  Bobbie gave him a quick rundown on the local gang leader.

  “This Quintero is a friend of yours?” Hadden eyed her speculatively.

  She smiled. “Not really. He’s just my neighbor. He lives at the end of the block.”

  Newt returned to her side as Hadden walked away.

  “I’ll talk to him,” the agent called back as he headed for his car.

  When he’d driven away, Newt said, “Suddenly I do not like that man. Ever since that Agent Price arrived he’s acting all pushy and arrogant. I think he’s trying to impress her.”

  “Maybe he’s trying to fill LeDoux’s shoes.” Bobbie hoped the prick was still alive. As much as she despised him, she didn’t want him to die like this.

  Newt grunted in agreement.

  “Javier thinks Shade is a killer,” she said without qualifying the statement. Not that she put any real stock in what Javier thought, usually anyway.

  Newt walked quietly beside her for a moment. “Has he shown you any reason to believe that’s true? I definitely didn’t get that impression from Jessup.”

  “As far as I can tell he doesn’t even carry a weapon.” Bobbie glanced around to ensure Shade hadn’t reappeared. “I had Andy pull his pri
nts from my steering wheel. I need to know more about him.”

  “Good idea.” Newt heaved a big breath. “The chief called. Your detail informed him that you were with Shade instead of me today. He wants to see us both first thing in the morning.”

  Bobbie had expected as much. “I’m surprised we’ve avoided the issue of Shade this long.”

  In the past seventy-two-plus hours Shade had been coincidentally involved at the scene on the interstate and at her Ryan Ridge house, both of those incidents could be explained away since Bobbie had been with him and off duty when she received the calls. Today, however, was different. Today and tonight he’d gone door to door with her in the course of an official investigation. They’d both understood the move would not go unnoticed even with Newt covering for her. Or maybe the chief or Mason had finally figured out it was Shade who’d represented himself as an attorney and interviewed Neely. Probably not, she decided, or Shade would be the one with a face-to-face with the chief.

  Maybe this was the answer to her concerns. If the department and the FBI started asking questions Shade might feel compelled to stay away from her.

  That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  “I wish you’d reconsider protective custody or staying with Carlene and me.”

  Bobbie dragged her attention back to the here and now. How many times would they have this conversation? “Carlene said the wedding was amazing. Are the newlyweds enjoying Barbados?”

  “Okay, okay, I get the hint.” He threw his hands up. “The wedding was amazing. Since you couldn’t come I’m going to make you watch the video with me when this is over.”

  “I’ll bring the beer and popcorn.”

  “It’s a date.” Newt poked his hands into his pockets as they walked. “We haven’t actually talked to the kids, but the pictures they’re sending make my heart glad.”

  Bobbie hugged her arms around his. “Hearing that makes my heart glad.”

  Few things had the power to make her feel anything anymore. Her partner’s happiness was one of those few.

  The way Shade had made her feel nudged her. A glitch, she decided. A shattered piece of who she used to be trying to resurface. That woman was dead and gone.

  When they reached her house, Newt insisted on coming inside and ensuring that all was clear. As soon as he was gone, Shade knocked on her back door. Funny how quickly the strange became normal.

  When she let him in, she backed toward the hall. “I’m gonna hit the shower.” Memories of the way he’d held her and bathed her had her heart thumping.

  “I’ll call in a pizza order,” he offered.

  “Sure.”

  “Wait.”

  She hesitated when every instinct warned she should keep walking.

  “I should tell you about that angle I was working. It may actually work out after all.”

  Now he had her attention. “Oh yeah?”

  He moved toward her. His coming closer in the narrow hall made it difficult to breathe.

  When he stopped right in front of her, he looked away a moment. “You might find my methods unconventional.”

  Was he worried what she would think of him? “Trust me, Shade—at this point convention, ethics, the law—” she shook her head “—I don’t care anymore. All that matters is that I stop him.”

  He nodded. “The new source I discovered was an old friend of Perry’s. He suggested I make Perry come to me by using his mother.”

  “She’s dead.” Bobbie felt certain there was more coming. She hoped there was more.

  Nick held up his cell and showed her a photo. Bobbie recognized the woman in the red dress. The bastard’s mother. Her closed eyes, made-up face and the padded satin upholstery around her warned that she wasn’t asleep on a sofa. “She’s...in her coffin?”

  Shade nodded. “Well, she was. At the moment she’s in a freezer at an undisclosed location only I know about.”

  Disbelief or something on that order stopped Bobbie for a moment, then she said, “You have a resource in Nebraska who was willing to dig her up and snap a photo.” Just when she thought nothing would surprise her.

  “Digging wasn’t necessary.” Shade tucked his phone away. “Her body was borrowed from the family mausoleum.”

  “And you believe this will get a reaction from him?” She had to admit the scheme could work.

  “I believe so.”

  “How do we let him know? It’s not like we can run an ad in the paper or on television. None of the burner numbers he’s used are still in service.”

  “The time will come,” he assured her, “and we’ll have the leverage we need.”

  Bobbie wasn’t sure which scared her the most...what Shade had done or the idea that she found the move ingenious.

  Twenty-Nine

  Tony jerked awake. He’d dosed off. Fool! Stay alert! His fucking toes were killing him. He squeezed his eyes shut and refused to let the damned tears come again. His pain was nothing compared to the Adams woman’s. He had no right to complain.

  He was going to kill this bastard.

  Where the hell was he?

  He held as still as possible and listened. The soft moans were hers. Perry had spent hours during two different sessions tattooing his twisted words on Gwen Adams’s back. The other sound, the sobbing, was the boy. Thank God he was still alive.

  Tony had no idea of the time. So far he’d watched the night he was taken turn into the next day and the next day after that and now it was night again. He estimated he’d been in this fucking hellhole about forty-eight hours. Unable to hold back the need he’d shit and pissed himself after the son of a bitch had taken the hammer to him. The sick fuck had made Adams clean up the mess.

  After hours working on his so-called masterpiece today, Perry had left long before dark and he’d been gone since.

  Rocking his body, Tony rolled as far to one side as possible. He ignored the pain that engulfed his foot and shot up his leg. The wood floor was rough under his skin. He rolled to the other side. His restraints only allowed an inch or so. He raised his head and tried to see with nothing but the dim moonlight filtering in through the one window. As much as he hated being restrained facedown, having his dick protected under him was somewhat of a relief. This twisted psychopath’s MO included artwork with a blade. Tony would rather have his backside tattooed from neck to ankle and his toes fucked up than have his dick touched.

  How the hell are you going to get these hostages out of here?

  “Ignore the pain and fear and focus,” he muttered. The restraints were police-issue handcuffs. Anyone could buy the damned things on the internet or at spy shops. Gwen was secured in the same fashion, only there was a thin excuse for a mattress under her. The child had wandered into the room several times so he wasn’t secured—or at least he hadn’t been.

  The problem with handcuffs was you needed a key or something with which to pick the lock. Not to mention the ability to reach the lock. Tony had tried to get the kid’s attention several times but he wouldn’t come close.

  He closed his eyes and focused on trying to pull his hands free. Maybe if he continued to sweat so profusely and drew his thumb and little finger into his palm far enough he could slip his hand free. During his training at Quantico there had been a fellow recruit who could slip out of handcuffs. Apparently, there were lots of people who could do it, which was the reason most law enforcement agencies had gone to nylon handcuffs.

  Pull! He tugged until his wrists felt like they would snap apart. He’d tried every way he could think to escape. Over and over, he’d tugged and squirmed until his skin was raw from scrubbing around on the floor and his left foot and toes were screaming.

  The sound of chains rattling announced Perry’s return. Tony squeezed his eyes shut and held still.

  The bastard entered t
he room, his footfalls shaking the dilapidated floor. A few seconds passed and he turned on the lamp. The silence made Tony want to explode. What was the son of a bitch doing? Staring at them? God only knew what he was planning. Tony could hear him breathing. Based on the pattern of his respiration, he was angry or aroused.

  Fuck!

  Perry walked across the room and crouched next to Tony. He could feel him surveying his bare backside for a moment. Tony tried not to react. The toes on his right foot instinctively curled.

  “I’m quite vexed, LeDoux. I need your help.”

  Tony bit his lips together to prevent saying the only thing he wanted to do was help him go straight to hell.

  He leaned down and screamed into Tony’s ear. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you!”

  Tony snapped his eyes open. Fuck you!

  “I’ve been quite clear that Detective Gentry should surrender herself to me, and she doesn’t seem to get the message.” Perry cocked his bald head and pursed his thin lips for a moment before going on, “She doesn’t have another husband for me to kill or a child. Reenacting those painful memories with others hasn’t created the shock and awe I’d hoped for. Perhaps you could make a recommendation. Or—” Perry smiled “—you could help me arrange a meeting with her.”

  A new rush of fury ruptured inside Tony. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Perry sighed. “As I told my students, such lack of originality in the words you choose is a disservice to you and to the English language. I know how intelligent you are, LeDoux, even if your professional conclusions rarely hit the mark. You were the first of your ilk to intrigue me.”

  Tony wouldn’t piss on this bastard if his guts were on fire.

  Perry’s face abruptly changed, his expression hardening and menace sparking in his eyes. “Perhaps you need a little incentive to cooperate.”

  Fear roared through Tony. What the hell was the son of a bitch going to do now? Fuck!