“I’m sorry to—”
“No, you did the right thing, Mindy, and if another fax comes in, call me immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hit the brake as traffic slowed to a standstill in front of him. What in hell was this?
He leaned out of his window, then leaned on the horn. All he got for that was an obscene gesture from the driver of the car in front of him.
As he waited, growing edgier by the second, he asked himself if anyone on the task force could be a serial killer? Or could the culprit be someone they were close to, someone they talked with? Drawing any of them out about the latest findings on the case wouldn’t be hard.
The car ahead of him inched forward enough so Jonathan could turn into a gas station. He drove across the open area and over a curb into the supermarket lot next door. He ignored the clattering of the car’s chassis and kept going. Through the lot, onto the next street, and around several corners. He was out of the pileup, but he’d lost time. And time was what mattered.
Christy smiled at Dell Cummings as he politely held the car door open for her and reminded her to fasten her seat belt. When he got into the car, she asked, “What’s going on that worried Jonathan?”
He started the car. “We have a good lead on the killer. Jonathan didn’t want you alone. He might be working late tonight.”
“Is it one of the guys on your list?”
Looking surprised, Dell glanced at her. “How do you know about the list?”
“Jonathan and I have talked about the case quite a bit. After all, I got myself in the middle of it when I let him into my house during the storm.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Let him in, you mean? He was hurt, and besides, I had a gun.”
Dell laughed. He had the loud laugh of a big man. “Do you know how to use it?”
“To be honest, not well. And I finally admitted to Jonathan I probably couldn’t pull the trigger on anyone.”
He grinned. “Know how to heal but not kill, huh?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Maybe you know how to kill in small steps.”
“That sounds creepy.” Christy frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing special.” He turned onto the Southwest Freeway but headed away from downtown.
“I thought we were going to police headquarters,” Christy said.
“I got somewhere else to go first.” He turned and glared at her. “You tryin’ to tell me what to do?”
“No, sorry.” Dell seemed edgy. Understandable, with all the pressure the task force was under. She certainly didn’t want to upset him. “I, um, just thought you said Jonathan was worried.”
Dell shrugged. “He’s out at the crime scene. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we stopped. You’re safe with me.” He chuckled. “I know how to use my gun.”
He turned onto the Loop. After a few minutes he said, “You okay? Air conditioning’s not on too high for you, is it?”
“I’m fine.” Dell seemed a strange mixture of politeness and temper. But he was Jonathan’s colleague and since she was spending time with him, she might learn more about Jonathan. “Do you think Jonathan’s all right?”
Dell edged into the right lane. “Worried about him?”
Christy nodded.
“You don’t have to be. He’s not in any danger. Just out there at the crime scene, digging around.”
“Do you think he’ll find anything?”
Dell shook his head. “Talbot thinks so, but to tell the truth, I doubt it. Our killer’s a real smart boy.”
He took the Memorial exit. Here they left the heavy traffic and drove past Memorial Park, an unspoiled tract that was a mecca for bikers, picnickers, joggers and lovers of the outdoors. Shaded by oaks, it was quiet and peaceful, despite its proximity to an area dense with offices and shopping centers.
On this midweek afternoon the jogging trail was crowded with perspiring joggers and walkers. People here, a good distance from the Medical Center, seemed unconcerned that a brutal killer was on the prowl in Houston. Maybe by tomorrow, Christy hoped, the Night Stalker would be in police custody and no one in the city would have to worry.
Dell slowed and eyed the jogging trail and the trees clustered behind it. “Could he be in there somewhere?” Christy asked.
“Nah. Too crowded.”
Christy let out a breath. She’d hate to think of the man lurking nearby. “He usually…um, works at night, doesn’t he?”
“Usually,” Dell replied. “But there are exceptions to every rule.”
At his response, Christy shivered. She was glad she’d decided not to run over to the grocery store. Then she might have missed Dell, and Jonathan would be worried about her. Not to mention annoyed. Fortunately, she’d stayed home, and now she supposed she was as safe as she could be anywhere, riding with a cop.
Jonathan swerved into Christy’s driveway and slammed on the brakes. He got out and raced to the front door, glancing through the garage windows as he passed. Her car was there. Would she have walked somewhere or was she inside, unable to call for help? Injured…or worse?
He punched the doorbell and pounded on the door, waited for a full minute, but no one answered. He had to go in. To hell with her state-of-the-art alarm system, he decided, as he ran back to the car and opened the trunk. He grabbed the tire jack and raced to the back door. One hard slam and he’d broken a pane. He slipped his arm through, and ignoring the ribbon of blood that appeared on his wrist, and the sound of the alarm, unlocked the dead bolt, then gave the knob a twist and pushed the door open.
“Christy,” he yelled. “Christy, where are you?”
No answer.
A hand mixer and ingredients for some kind of pastry sat on the kitchen counter, so someone or something must have interrupted her in the midst of a baking project. Unusual for Christy not to have put everything away before leaving.
His sense of panic rising, he sped from room to room. Nothing was amiss. He saw no sign of forced entry.
In the great room, he stopped and took a breath. With all the effort he possessed, he forced himself to revert to agent mode. Observant. Objective. Focused.
The woman he was searching for wasn’t Christy, he told himself. This was a woman he’d never met, never held, never wanted with every fiber of his being.
Okay, what evidence did he have? A pristine house, a button torn from a police officer’s uniform, a fax with the message “got her” scrawled on it.
The condition of the house told him there had been no struggle, so if she’d gone with someone, it was a person she knew and trusted. His idea earlier that the killer might be a buddy of someone assigned to the Stalker case was wrong. He had to believe Christy wouldn’t willingly leave the house in the company of someone she’d never met, cop or not. At least not without calling to let him know.
That left the unthinkable. The killer was someone on the task force. He, of all people, knew Jonathan was getting closer to nailing him. Jonathan had given his fax number at the University of Houston to every member of the task force. Now the killer was using it to taunt him. The button confirmed he was a police officer.
But who was it?
Neither of the women. Marilee was a slight woman, nearly fifty, and a good three inches shorter than Christy. If she were the killer, she’d have to be prepared for a struggle and know it was unlikely she could subdue Christy. Marilee had access to chloroform and could overcome Christy that way, but she’d never be able to get her out of the house afterward.
Shannon was a trained police officer, tall and strong, but no way could she be mistaken for the man who’d run from the bushes in front of Christy’s house on San Sebastian. And, of course, Marilee couldn’t either.
That left the men.
Jonathan grabbed his cell phone and called headquarters. First thing he wanted to know was who was in and who was out.
Only Armand was there now. But that didn’t rule him out. He c
ould have been away just long enough to come here, get Christy and…hurt her. “Has Armand been there all morning?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. Never left his office,” Tina Becker, Armand’s assistant, said.
Okay, Luis and Dell were out in the field. Had to be one of them. But God, they’d both worked alongside him, commiserated over their failure to take down this maniac. All the while one of them was laughing up his sleeve.
“Put Lieutenant Frazier on,” he said.
Armand came on the line. “Yeah, Talbot. What’s up?”
“I know who he is.”
Total silence for a moment, then he said, “The killer? For crissakes, who?”
“Luis or Dell.”
“What the hell?” Armand said. “Are you crazy?”
“Was one of them off work while I was on the island?”
“Yes, but why would you think—”
“Don’t ask questions,” Jonathan growled. “Which one?”
“If you’re wrong—”
“Then fire me. Dammit, you’re wasting time. The guy’s got Christy.”
There was silence, then Armand said softly, “Dell took time off. Personal business. Something to do with his aunt.”
Before Jonathan could manage a word, Armand said, “Damn, the chief’s on the other line. I’ll get back to you.”
Jonathan hung up. He pictured Dell, with his big smile and his boisterous laugh. The bastard had sat right across from Christy. He’d asked her questions, found out she was a nurse.
Jonathan raced outside, got into his car and slammed the door. Dell had a head start on him. Which direction should he go?
Where would Dell take her? He’d always killed his victims outside, but always at night. What would he do, where would he go in broad daylight?
With the entire sprawling city of Houston to search through, how in hell was Jonathan going to find her before it was too late?
Chapter 19
As Dell drove out of the park and headed toward the downtown area, Christy asked a few questions about Jonathan’s role on the task force. Dell answered in monosyllables, then lapsed into silence. If she’d expected to discover anything more about Jonathan, she realized she was going to be disappointed. Maybe Dell would rather talk about himself. “Are you from around here?” she asked.
“East Texas. Tyler.”
“Do your parents still live there?”
He looked surprised that she’d ask. “They never did. I stayed with my Aunt Meg. She worked in a hospital. Like you.”
“Was she a nurse?”
“She pretended like she was, but…nah, she just cleaned rooms.” His voice was sad, and Christy decided she’d better leave that subject alone.
Dell flipped on the radio and found a country music station. “Don’t you have to keep the radio off so the dispatcher can reach you?” Christy asked curiously.
“This isn’t a police car, in case you didn’t notice,” Dell said.
“Isn’t it an unmarked police car?” Christy asked.
“Nope, a rental.”
“Like Jonathan’s. Is your car in the shop, too?”
“No.”
He said nothing else and Christy wondered why he needed to rent a vehicle when his was apparently running. She decided Dell was a little weird. Well, soon they’d part ways.
Dell made a left turn. Christy glanced out as he drove north through the Sixth Ward, a neighborhood that was once rundown but was now undergoing gentrification. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“I told you, I gotta run an errand.”
Why hadn’t she picked up her cell phone? She could see it on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. Darn, she’d promised Jonathan she’d check in with him every hour. She hated for him to be worried about her. “Can I borrow your phone?” she asked.
“My phone? No way. It’s for police business.”
His tone was angry, almost a snarl, and she shrank back.
“Sorry.” God, she’d hate to cross this guy. She wished she’d insisted he drop her off at headquarters before running his errand, but it was too late now. She tried to concentrate on Garth Brooks crooning a country ballad instead of on Dell’s surly expression.
It was hard not to notice Dell though. He took up a lot of space. Broad shoulders, thick arms, big hands. His sleeves were rolled up, and she saw he had a tattoo above his right wrist. A dragon.
He had a jagged scar on his left cheek. Looked like a knife wound that hadn’t healed well. Another man might have gotten a plastic surgeon to work on it, but she suspected Dell considered it a badge of honor.
He checked his watch, frowned and muttered, “One-thirty. Got a meeting at four. Gotta get this business done.”
Christy hoped he’d finish whatever business he had soon. She didn’t want to spend any more time than she had to with Dell. He was beginning to give her the creeps.
Jonathan sat in his car. “Okay,” he muttered, “you’re a serial killer. You’ve got the woman who fits all your criteria and best of all, she’s the lover of the man who’s after you. Where do you take her?”
There was a small park a few blocks away. Not there. Too likely to be spotted. West University had plenty of stay-at-home moms as well as nannies for mothers who worked. Someone might bring a toddler to the park and catch the Night Stalker in action.
Memorial Park? Lots of trees, but an even greater chance of someone wandering by. Couples had been known to slip into the forested area for an afternoon quickie. Not a place a killer would choose.
So where—
His phone rang. The readout showed it was Armand calling back. “Yeah.”
“I’m putting out an APB on Dell’s cruiser—”
“Hold on. Get Tina in on this, see if she’s talked to him. She might have an idea where he is.”
Armand called out to his assistant, then she came on the line, too. “I spoke to him about an hour and a half ago,” she said. “He said he was out tracking a lead, so I just reminded him of the task force meeting at four.”
Damn. She’d put him under time pressure.
Armand spoke. “So we put out the bulletin.”
“No, dammit. That’s the last thing we do. If he knows we’re on his tail, he’s likely to freak and…”
“So we let him drive around, maybe right past a patrol car, and no one’s looking for him? I don’t like that plan.”
Jonathan clenched his fists, forced himself to keep his temper in check. “He’s already under pressure with a meeting coming up. We can’t take a chance of spooking him any further. Announcing we’re after him would sure as hell do that.” He took a breath. “Look, give me two hours to see if I can track him down—”
“One hour. No more.”
“Okay.” He checked the dashboard clock as he pulled away from the curb and started down Christy’s street.
“Tina,” Armand said, “look up the number of his patrol car. If Talbot doesn’t find him, we go with the APB.”
“You don’t need to look for his cruiser, sir,” she said. “He’s not driving it.”
Jonathan’s heart jumped. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I saw him in the garage this morning. He was driving a rental car.”
“What make?”
“Dark blue Volvo. It was from Alamo Rentals. I noticed the sticker on the back window.”
“Tina, you may have just saved someone’s life. Get on the phone to Alamo and get that license number.”
She hung up, and Armand said, “Where do you figure he is? When we get the license, I can contact units in the area and put them on his tail.”
That he could go along with. “Good idea. I figure in broad daylight and with limited time, he’s headed for his comfort zone, the place he feels most secure.”
“You’re the profiler. You should know,” Armand said. “Got any idea where that would be?”
“Somewhere close to home,” Jonathan said. “Somewhere quiet where he can chill out.”
&nb
sp; Chill out. Someone had said that…where? When?
And then he knew. “Get Luis on the phone,” he told Armand. “Find out where Dell goes fishing.”
Dell’s car slowed, came to a standstill. Ahead of them was a line of cars. Other vehicles drove up behind them. In the lanes on either side were more cars. Drivers honked, leaned out windows, cursed and shouted questions.
After sitting for a good ten minutes, they’d moved no more than one car length. Dell flipped through radio stations until they heard, “Traffic on the eights. A gas main has broken at Yale and Eighteenth, and firefighters are on the scene. Several streets have been blocked off.”
“Hemmed in.” Dell added an obscenity. “Quarter to two,” he muttered, checking his watch again. “Running out of time.” He brought his fist down on the steering wheel.
“Maybe we should try to get out of this and go back downtown,” Christy suggested.
She blanched when he turned, his face a mask of anger. “Who’s in charge here, you or me?” he snarled.
“Y-you,” Christy whispered. She slid toward the door. She’d get out, find a ride downtown, walk if necessary. Her fingers were closing on the door handle when Dell gunned the motor, shot over the esplanade, and roared off in the direction they’d come from. Christy gripped the seat as he swerved around a corner and into a side street that was also clogged with cars trying to get away from the tie-up behind them. Face red, he muttered under his breath until they made it down the street and turned north again.
Once going in the direction he intended, Dell slowed his speed a bit. Soon he turned off the main street and into an undeveloped area. The road was bordered with ramshackle houses and a few stores selling hub caps and tools. Behind the houses to her right, Christy noticed woods. “What kind of errand do you have out here?” she asked quietly. She didn’t want to set him off again.
He smiled at her. “You’ll know soon enough.”
There was something sly in his tone this time that made her even more uncomfortable than his angry response of a while ago. She should ask him to drop her off somewhere and she could call a cab. But where? There were even fewer stores and houses now.
Stranger in Her Arms Page 20