One Week To Live

by Joan Beth Erickson

  Pedestrians of every age from retirees wearing loose-fitting floral print shirts to families with toddlers in strollers packed the street. Seeing the children, she thought of her daughter. When she’d given her up, she’d not only given away a baby, but that baby’s life. What was Susan like as a toddler, as a kid on her first day of school, as a teenager going on her first dance, as a young mother giving birth to her first baby?

  She’d missed out on all of it. Others shared those stages of Susan’s life experiencing her joys and comforting her in her sorrows. Maybe she didn’t deserve to be part of that life now. But she had the right to help find her daughter’s child even if she never called her “granddaughter” in front of Susan.

  ****

  Watching her trudge across the courtyard past the pool, Brian let out a relieved sigh. After her ex’s departure Brian remained at her doorstep fearing that if he left, the man might return and snatch Angie. Wondering where she was, he’d pounded several times on Rita’s door, but she wasn’t home.

  So he’d settled himself on the floor next to Angie’s doorway and waited in the heat. Several people passed by obviously curious about his being there. However, none of them said anything.

  She appeared so downtrodden as she climbed the stairs his heart went out to her. He hated to give her bad news, but she needed to know about her ex-husband’s visit.

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  “Out. It’s none of your business where I’ve been,” she snapped.

  “Your safety is my business. I care about you.”

  “Is that why you’re here, to check on me? Or are you gathering facts for the next story.” She studied him. “Maybe you’ve already submitted that story without my permission. I talked to Rita earlier.”

  “You thought I’d write about you and your daughter?” Did she really believe he’d do that without her permission? The fact that she had so little faith in him hurt. He wanted her to trust him, but she obviously still didn’t.

  She didn’t reply.

  She wasn’t going to admit to the relationship between her and Susan. He wanted her to freely share the secret she’d carried with her for so many years, but she wouldn’t.

  “I need to warn you. When I returned from Dunning’s office I found your ex-husband pounding on your door.”

  “What?” she exclaimed.

  He hated the sudden panic filling her eyes. He wanted to soothe that panic away.

  She fumbled in her purse’s side pocket for her keys. As she did, a piece of paper sailed out and floated to the ground.

  “Where did that come from?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s probably a receipt. What does it matter?”

  She reached for it, but he snatched it up before she could retrieve it. “It’s not a receipt. It’s another note from the kidnapper.”

  “Oh, my God. When I left the hotel coffee shop, someone bumped into me.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. An old lady.” She stopped talking, her face growing pale.

  “What about the old lady?”

  “Something didn’t feel right. At the time I thought it silly. A coincidence because she reminded me of the old lady on the bus.”

  “The one we think was the kidnapper.” He massaged the back of his neck trying to ease the growing tension. “He was that close again and you didn’t know it.”

  She shook her head, looking totally miserable. He shouldn’t jump all over her like that. She was near the breaking point.

  “For a brief moment I felt the evil I’d experienced on the bus. Then it disappeared.”

  Damn it, he thought. He hated the game the bastard played and he hated the fact that the killer could be so close to her without her sensing him.

  “What does it say?” she asked, staring at the piece of paper he still clutched in his hand. “You know you’re contaminating evidence. Agent Dunning isn’t going to be happy.”

  “Frankly, I don’t care. It reads ‘Be warned, the sand in the hourglass is gone. You’ll soon pay the consequences.’”

  Several excited children leaped into the pool below. Their laughter and playful screams echoed across the courtyard. Water slapped over the pool’s edge and streamed across the concrete deck forming puddles under lounge chairs.

  “Time has run out,” she said, watching the kids at play.

  From her expression, he knew she thought about her granddaughter. He briefly stroked the side of her face with the back of his hand and she leaned into his touch. “He used the word ‘soon.’ Polly is still alive.”

  She didn’t struggle to free herself from his embrace when he pulled her into his arms. Using his index finger he tilted her chin so she had to look at him. He immediately felt the pain filling her brown eyes. Fighting the urge to kiss her, he let her go.

  “All my visions are so worthless; walled houses with no identity, the number ‘four’ with no connection to anything, the feeling of drowning when no one’s drowned. I experienced a second vision of an explosion this morning.”

  “Nothing about a spider?” he said, thinking about the clue attached to the doll’s neck.

  “I don’t think so. I vaguely remember having other dreams before the explosion one. I was so upset when I fell asleep on the couch my dreams went into overdrive. A jumble of images I can’t recall much of.”

  “You need to try. Think hard about what you saw.”

  “It’s fuzzy. In one of the clearer ones I saw a man dangling from a rope. My God, does that have something to do with the baby falling down the water spout?”

  “You can’t take the clues so literally. Spiders spin webs and use the threads they create to propel themselves from place to place. Like a climber using a rope. What was the man on the rope hanging from?”

  “I think a rock face. Yes, a red rock face.”

  “Red Rock Canyon,” he announced.

  “Red Rock Canyon. The kidnapper is taking my—”

  “Your what?” he asked, wishing she’d confess her relationship to the child.

  She glared at him. “The abducted girl.”

  “You can’t keep it a secret anymore. You and I both know Polly’s your grandchild and Susan is your daughter. Why won’t you admit it?” He was frustrated with her.

  “My life is private, not for other people’s consumption. Not for your damn articles.”

  He stared at her, the earlier pain of her distrust returning. “Do really think so little of me that you’d believe I’d write something like that without asking you first?”

  “Why shouldn’t I? You’ve never respected my privacy before.”

  “Gees, Angie.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’d never expose something so personal without checking with you.”

  “How can I believe that? For you, the stories always come before anything else. You’re like a heat-seeking missile searching out any tidbit of news that will produce the shock value your readers crave.” He didn’t like that she kept her hands balled up at her sides. Her anger was evident.

  He remained silent digesting her words. “Maybe I was that guy once, but I care too much for you now to write anything to hurt you.”

  She looked skeptical, but said nothing. However, she did relax her hands.

  “I won’t deny I wanted to write a story about you being related to the victim. That’s the journalist in me, but I didn’t, and I won’t without you agreeing to it.”

  “I’ve told you before don’t write anything more about me.”

  “You’ve gone to see your daughter, haven’t you?”

  She made no comment.

  “And it didn’t go well.”

  Her forlorn look said it all.

  “Please tell me what happened.”

  “What happened or didn’t happen is none of your business.”

  The meeting hadn’t gone well, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “It’s a secret you’ve been keeping far too long. I saw the way you looked at Susan the other night. Yo
ur eyes held such longing.”

  She said nothing.

  “Come here,” he said.

  He was surprised when she returned to his arms. He held her close trying to soothe away some of her pain.

  “What about the neighbors?” she whispered.

  “Let them gossip.” He brushed her lips with his. Within seconds the kiss deepened. He desired so much more from this woman. She had to trust him. Only then could they pursue the relationship he desired.

  ****

  “Brian, we’ve got company,” she said, stepping away from him. She turned to face Dunning, blushing as she did.

  “If you two lovebirds will excuse me, I have something important to discuss with you.”

  “What?” Brian growled, at the intrusion.

  “Have you found Polly yet?” she asked, her anxiety increasing with his appearance on her doorstep. Why was he there?

  He didn’t respond. “Can we go inside, please?”

  She nodded and pushed the already unlocked door open.

  Once in her apartment, he ordered them to sit down. He took the chair opposite them, his expression grim.

  Her heart leapt to her throat. It must be bad news. “Polly?”

  Dunning cleared his throat. “I told you we’ve been following a spree of child abductions across the country that appeared to match the current M.O.”

  “Yes,” Brian said, his impatience obvious.

  “You said ‘appeared.’ What does that mean?” she asked.

  “We’ve been able to gather DNA results from previous cases including the one in San Diego. However, we’re still working on the guy’s identity. We now know it’s not the same person who’s involved in the current kidnapping.”

  “What are you saying?” Brian asked.

  “The kidnapper from the previous cases including the one in San Diego is dead.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under her. “The current guy isn’t the same one who killed Tucker’s son.”

  “That’s correct.”

  Brian’s shocked expression mirrored her own.

  “How do you know he’s dead?” he asked.

  “A San Diego fisherman recently hooked more than he bargained for in a back country lake. The dead man’s DNA matched that of the serial killer in the previous cases including the one in San Diego. Before you ask, no, it wasn’t an accidental drowning. Someone stabbed the man before dumping him in the water. The weighted down body worked its way loose and floated to the surface.”

  The man went on to explain how a decomposing body created gases causing the corpse to float to the surface if it wasn’t weighted down properly.” Only half listening to his explanation, she thought about her drowning vision. “When did the man die?”

  “From the state of decomposition, they think about a week.”

  Since the drowning happened over a week ago, why had she experienced the water vision just days ago? It made no sense, but nothing in this case did.

  “The guy we’re now dealing with is a copycat. That’s why his M.O. doesn’t quite match the one in the San Diego case,” Brian said.

  “That explains it, yes,” Dunning replied.

  “Do you think the current kidnapper killed the other guy?” she asked.

  “It’s a possibility. We’re not ruling it out, but we’re not sure of his motive. Copycats don’t usually kill the people they are trying to imitate.”

  “So that’s why this guy’s signature, his M.O., is slightly different?” Brian said.

  Dunning nodded. “We’ll figure out who he is as soon as we identify his DNA. Hopefully one of the pieces of evidence you tampered with will yield something. He’s too professional not to have a criminal record.”

  “Unless he’s very good,” Brian pointed out.

  “No one’s that good,” Dunning replied.

  “I think this guy is,” she said, shifting uneasily on the couch. “Please don’t pooh-pooh what I’m about to tell you.”

  The special agent got up. “Ms. Martin, I don’t have time for your psychic mumbo jumbo.”

  “Please sit back down and hear me out.” Surprisingly, he did. “I was much more in tune with the abductor’s mind in the San Diego case. Psychics sometimes are.”

  He looked at her skeptically. “Please, no Vegas show stuff like seeing a twenty dollar bill in my pocket.”

  “No, I don’t play parlor games.”

  He didn’t answer. She felt Brian’s eyes on her, but didn’t look in his direction.

  “In this case, I can’t read what he’s thinking. Therefore, the fact that he’s not the same person as the one in the San Diego case doesn’t surprise me. I think this guy is playing some kind of mind control game.”

  Dunning leaned forward. “Go on.”

  “There’s not much more to tell. I can sense his presence sometimes, but not always like I did in the San Diego case.”

  “I’ve heard of cases where the military uses mind control, but I doubt if that’s what’s happening here.” He stood up and started for the door, turning when he reached it.

  “Ms. Martin, we know that the San Diego kidnapper threatened to harm you, but never did. We don’t know what this guy might do, so please be vigilant.”

  “Agent Dunning,” she called out.

  He was already out the door and about to go down the stairs.

  “Did you tell Tony Martinelli I now live in Vegas?”

  “Tony?” He looked puzzled.

  “Your fraternity brother. The man I was once married to.”

  He thought about it for a minute. “We had dinner the other night, caught up on things. Yes, I did. I got the impression that he wanted to make amends.”

  Shit, she thought.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No.” Tony probably charmed the man into thinking their divorce was amicable.

  Closing the door and locking it, she fought the fear caused by this latest news.

  “You should tell him, Angie,” he said joining her at the doorway.

  “Tell him what? His fraternity brother, one of his best friends from college, is a stalker who wants to harm me. He’d never believe it.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but you still should tell him,” he said.

  “Things have gone from bad to worse, haven’t they? We only have until tomorrow to find Polly, and we’ve no idea what kind of nutcase we’re dealing with. And now there’s my ex-husband with sick plans of his own.”

  “I’ll protect you from that bastard and we’ll find your grandchild.” He stroked her cheek and she leaned into his caress. It felt good for someone to care about her, but could she trust him? She really wanted to, but could she?

  “You’re staying with me tonight, and I don’t want you arguing about it.”

  “But...” Part of her wanted to agree with his plan. It had been a rough day and the shelter he offered sounded inviting. She knew it could lead to something more if she wanted it to. But was that a good idea? There were enough problems on her plate already.

  “Between a serial killer we know nothing about, and an ex-husband who wants to cart you away, you aren’t safe here and you know it. You take the bedroom at my place and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  She stopped protesting because he was right. “I’ll call Rita and ask her to keep Clancy for a few more days.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll even feed you.”

  “You cook?”

  Smiling, he shook his head. “No, but there’s a great Italian restaurant in the casino that does a bang-up job on take-out lasagna.”

  “Sounds great,” she said. Actually, it did sound good. Susan’s rejection left her feeling very alone. He’d be good company. She’d have to decide if she wanted more. His kisses already told her that he did.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thursday night

  When he entered the condo carrying bags of food, he noticed the normally closed living room blinds open. Before picking up t
he restaurant take-out order, he’d dropped Angie off with strict instructions to lock the door and not open it to anyone. She currently stood on the condo’s balcony beyond the open glass door taking in the high-rise view.

  Wishing to join her, he put the lasagna in the oven to keep warm and searched the cupboards for tableware. He discovered his author friend possessed excellent, expensive taste in plates, crystal, and flatware. He also found candles and candleholders. Smiling, he cleared his laptop, small printer, and papers from the glass table in front of the window and set it for dinner. As he did, she turned.

  “Do you need any help?” she called out.

  Glancing her way, his heart skipped a beat. God, she was beautiful. He fought the urge to hurry across the balcony, sweep her up, and carry her to his bed. No, he told himself. He wouldn’t rush things. In spite of or maybe because of what they were going through, he wanted this evening to be special. He poured a glass of red wine for each of them and stepped onto the balcony.

  “Thanks for your offer, but I think I’ve the bachelor thing under control.” He handed her a wine glass. As he did, their fingers touched and sparks sizzled. Keeping his desire for her in check wasn’t going to be easy.

  He yearned to wrap her in his arms and kiss her senseless, but he restrained himself. She was dealing with so much right now. He wanted to respect the emotional roller coaster she rode, but it wouldn’t be easy.

  “Enjoy the view,” he said, excusing himself. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Before he caved in to his lust, he escaped the balcony and returned to the kitchen. Removing the salad from its container, he put it in a bowl and tossed it with the dressing provided. He then removed the lasagna from the oven and slipped it onto a serving platter.

  Placing the bottle of Zinfandel on the table, he lit the candles. Perfect, he thought. Returning to the balcony, he fought the urge to grab her. Instead, he nuzzled the side of her neck with a brief kiss breathing in the subtle sweet scent of her perfume. Her resulting shiver matched his own.

  “Dinner’s ready,” he whispered. “I hope you’re hungry.” What he hungered for couldn’t be found on a dinner plate. When she glanced over, her deep brown eyes held sadness. There was so much he wanted to find out about this woman. If only she’d open up to him.