One Week To Live

by Joan Beth Erickson

  Dunning joined the agent peering under a car across from Angie’s. “Looks like a necklace to me,” he said.

  “Yeah, let’s see it,” he replied.

  The agent dropped to his knees and reached for it with a gloved hand. Standing, he placed it in an evidence bag and held it up. “Think it’s hers?”

  Before Dunning could answer, Brian moved to his side to study the slim gold chain containing a delicate cross. “It’s hers. She wore it last night.”

  “Last night?” Dunning asked.

  “Yes, and she had it on this morning when she left me and returned here.” It was the only thing she’d worn when they made love, he thought, remembering how it glistened against her skin. His fear grew. “Now do you believe foul play is connected to her disappearance?”

  “When I saw the scuff marks on the pavement,” the agent said, “I thought I should examine the parking space across from her car. I suspect he dragged her from her car to a vehicle parked here.”

  “Give me that flashlight,” Dunning ordered, taking it from the guy. He surveyed the inside of the old station wagon parked in the space now. “It appears to be empty.”

  “That car pulled in just before you arrived,” Rita announced. “It belongs to a neighbor who works at a nearby casino.”

  “Are you sure?” He glared at a passing driver who’d slowed to gawk. He motioned the man to keep moving.

  The agent, who’d retrieved the chain, touched the car’s hood. “She’s right. Engine’s still warm.”

  Dunning took the bag containing the necklace and studied it. “The clasp appears to be broken.”

  “Broken when she tried to escape her assailant,” Brian pointed out. “Come on, Dunning, when are you going to admit the obvious? She’s been abducted.”

  The man looked uneasy as he mopped the sweat from his brow with a pristine, white handkerchief. The carport was hot, but his discomfort didn’t stem just from the heat.

  “Yes, the evidence points to that,” he admitted.

  “What are you going to do to find her before it’s too late?” The words stuck in Brian’s throat. He didn’t dare to think about the consequence if they didn’t. “Do you think it’s the nursery rhyme guy?”

  “It could be. He’s threatened her, but there’s no nursery rhyme clue,” the man said. “Therefore, we shouldn’t rule out other people as suspects. Abduction and rape aren’t uncommon in any big city and she is an attractive woman.”

  He refused to think about her being raped. “If you’re straying beyond the nursery rhyme kidnapper, you might take a look at her overly possessive ex-husband.”

  Brian told Dunning about his altercation with the man along with the fact that he’d been pursuing Angie ever since she walked out on him. “He says she still belongs to him and doesn’t acknowledge that they are divorced.” Just saying these words made Brian angry.

  “I can’t believe Tony could harm her. I’ve known the man a long time. He isn’t violent. Besides, if Ms. Martin felt she was in danger, why didn’t she say something to me?”

  “Because she figured you wouldn’t believe her. It would be your fraternity brother’s word against hers.”

  Dunning frowned. “I don’t think it’s him.”

  “College was a long time ago,” he said. “You don’t really know the man he’s become. He’s amassed power and wealth, and from what I’ve read he’s used to having his own way. He wants Angie back and he’ll stop at nothing to get her. As far as he’s concerned, she still belongs to him.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” He studied Brian for a minute. “You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you? Jealousy colors your opinion of my friend.”

  “My feelings for her are none of your business.”

  The man’s impatience showed. “Leave my crime scene before I arrest you. And take your emotional garbage with you.”

  With this he turned his back on Brian and began to talk to his partner again. He stood his ground and listened.

  “I just interviewed the guy who reported this to the manager,” the partner said. “He says when he drove into the garage a white van left in a hell of hurry. In fact, the car nearly sideswiped him.”

  “Did he get a license plate number?”

  His partner shook his head. “No. Nor did he really see the driver or anyone in the passenger seat.”

  A diesel pickup rumbled past belching exhaust fumes. In spite of the noise, he heard most of the conversation. Things weren’t looking good. Disgusted, he ducked under the crime scene tape and returned to where Rita stood.

  “I need a favor,” he said. “I want to talk to my cop friend and I need a ride.”

  “That little sports car of yours on the fritz again?” Rita smiled.

  “Yeah, how’d you know about it?”

  “Angie told me. My car’s parked over there. Let’s go,” Rita said.

  ****

  Thick threatening clouds darkened the sky and obscured the afternoon sun, but the torturous heat remained. Damn it, he thought. Soon the desert rain would return. Stormy weather pursued him from the moment he’d left San Diego. He was sick of the hot, humid cloak suffocating him every time rain threatened.

  He shoved stuff into his duffle bag. Thank God, tonight it all ended. He’d played the game long enough. Thinking of the long-desired revenge, he smiled. Little remained in his life but the impending chance to get even. That thought spurred him on.

  Grabbing the duffle, he loaded it in the van along with a tarp, several large black plastic bags, and a wheelbarrow. Raindrops spattered the desert dust. He prayed the deluge held off until he arrived at his destination. Although he hated getting soaked, it would provide good cover. Hiding behind a curtain of rain, he could accomplish his task more easily. Few would be around to question his actions. Everyone knew it wasn’t safe to be out in the rain during a lightning storm.

  He ran back into the house and grabbed the kid. Wrapping her in a blanket, he carried her out of the house and slammed the door behind him. Even if the cops found the place, they wouldn’t find anything. He’d been careful to clean up any evidence. He knew all about crime scenes and how to handle them.

  He smiled as he pulled out of the driveway. Soon he’d be leaving Las Vegas far behind. There were just a few more things to do to complete the task he’d carefully orchestrated.

  As he left, he glanced in his side mirror. His smile faded to a frown when he spotted a man beyond the walled compound. Who was he and what was he doing here? He breathed a relieved sigh when he saw the jogger. What kind of nutcase ran in this heat with a storm approaching? He didn’t like strangers snooping around. He was happy he’d soon be leaving this place far behind.

  ****

  Driving Rita’s car, Brian negotiated his way through afternoon traffic en route to the police station. He answered his phone’s wireless headset with a muttered “Yeah.” The conversation with his friend Joe was brief. Disconnecting, his frown deepened. At the next light, he made a hard left and stomped on the accelerator. Car horns blared as he cut off oncoming traffic.

  “Gees, where are we going in such a hurry?” she asked, tightening her seat belt. “How about keeping all four wheels on the ground.”

  “They’ve found a woman’s body in a vacant field near the airport. Joe’s on his way to the crime scene now.”

  Rita looked at him. “You don’t think…” Her voice trailed off.

  “I’m trying not to think anything right now.” He cursed at a driver who cut him off. “Damn it, I should have stopped her from running out this morning.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Rita said, her tone accusatorial. “You’ve been stuck together like glue much of the week.”

  “She ducked out while I was getting dressed.”

  “So why did she leave in such a rush? What happened?”

  He reached in his back pocket and handed her the article.

  “You bastard,” she muttered after reading it. “How could you do this to her? You know how she hates pub
licity, but you wrote another article anyway?”

  “I haven’t filed it yet, Rita.” He whipped the car around a slow moving truck. “I wanted her to approve the article before I did.”

  “Brian Murphy, you’re a fool. You just don’t get it, do you? Even I wouldn’t like my private life spread all over the papers. You should know by now Angie has a good reason for demanding privacy, her ex-husband.”

  “I didn’t know about him until recently,” he said, feeling bad that he hadn’t.

  “She’s been on the run since she walked out on him. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be continually on the move looking over your shoulder.”

  “And my recent stories led him right to her doorstep. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “It looks that way, doesn’t it?”

  “Lay on the guilt,” he replied. She didn’t need to pile it on. He already suffered enough. “I deserve it. I wish she’d told me about him. I’d have respected her privacy if I’d known.”

  “Would you, I doubt it.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” He glanced over at her, but couldn’t read her expression. Returning his eyes to the road, he slammed on the brakes to avoid running a light.

  “Watch what you’re doing, buster. It’s my car you’re driving, not your old bucket of bolts.”

  Ignoring her comment, he whizzed past another slow moving car when the light turned green.

  “Because she feared you’d write the article, she confronted her daughter with the truth yesterday.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “She thought it wasn’t the right time because of her daughter’s emotional state. However, she did it anyway and it didn’t go well.”

  “I’ve made a mess of things,” he said.

  “The damage is done. You should think about the consequences before you write those stories.”

  “You don’t mince words, do you?” He wished he could have been by her side when she confronted her daughter. It must have been awful.

  “No. I’ve always found that telling it straight works best,” she said.

  “I love her, Rita. I don’t want to lose her.”

  “You better stop listening to your reporter’s voice and start listening to her. Respect what she wants,” Rita said.

  If it’s not too late, Brian thought, but he didn’t voice those fears to Rita.

  Several cop cars were already at the scene when he arrived. Overhead, a plane made its descent into McCarran International Airport. The sun’s afternoon rays peeked through the storm clouds and glinted off the distant black and gold glass of hotel casinos on the Strip. Except for the police presence, all appeared normal, but it wasn’t.

  Bolting from Rita’s car, he spotted the crime scene tape several yards from the street. As a former crime reporter in the past, the site of that tape spelled a story that set his adrenaline pumping. However, in the past week he’d come to hate the bright yellow tape bouncing in the breeze.

  Several people gathered around what he presumed was the body. Spotting Joe, he swallowed the lump of fear growing in his throat. The man motioned him over. Ducking under the tape, he joined his friend. When Joe lifted the sheet shielding the body, Brian closed his eyes afraid to look. Afraid to see the woman he loved dead, her life snuffed out by a crazed maniac.

  “I don’t think its Angie,” Joe said. “But I need you to confirm that it isn’t.”

  Stepping closer, he sucked in a breath and said a silent prayer, before forcing himself to look. The breath he’d been holding escaped. It wasn’t her.

  “It’s not Angie,” he said, studying the poor woman’s battered body thinking what he would have done if it had been her. Blood and dirt matted the victim’s hair. Bruise marks covered her face, arms, and legs. Her tattered silver cocktail dress did little to shield her body.

  Joe gently placed the sheet back over her. “I’m glad it’s not. This victim took a beating. I suspect the killer raped her before bashing her head in. From the looks of it, she put up a hell of a fight.”

  Joe glanced up at the threatening sky. “At least we found her before rain washed away any evidence. They’re predicting a gully washer some time tonight.” He grimaced. “It means flooded streets and a traffic nightmare. To make matters worse, a section of downtown will be blocked off because of a scheduled hotel implosion.”

  “They’re blowing up another building,” Brian said.

  “Yeah, wipe out the old to make room for the new.”

  “That’s Vegas for you. Always reinventing itself.” He surveyed the sandy desert lot devoid of vegetation. “Hell of a place to die.”

  “We don’t think she was killed here. There’s no evidence of a struggle, and it’s obvious this one struggled. The killer dumped her in this lot after she died. The crime happened somewhere else.”

  “Is it my imagination or are there more vacant lots around town than when I worked here?” he asked. Another plane roared by overhead.

  “More and more places are going out of business leaving buildings vacant. Rather than having the homeless move into them, the places are torn down.”

  “And the empty lots become dumping grounds.”

  “Brian, it’s not Angie, is it?” Rita called out. She stood nearby on the other side of the crime tape.

  “No,” he replied.

  “Thank God,” she said.

  No, it wasn’t Angie, he thought, but she could be lying in another empty lot somewhere else in the city.

  “Who found the woman’s body?” Brian asked.

  Joe nodded in the direction of a man and boy being interviewed by another detective. “The father and son came to watch the planes. That’s when they stumbled across the body.” Joe grimaced. “It’s the boy’s birthday today. What a way to celebrate. I bet he won’t be forgetting this day anytime soon.”

  “How come the vacant lot isn’t fenced off?”

  “It was at one time,” Joe pointed at a series of posts cemented in the ground. “Someone probably stole the chain-link fencing.”

  Brian frowned. “What’s this world coming to? Who steals a fence?”

  “The same people who steal copper wiring, plumbing, and electrical outlets from buildings under construction. Everything fetches a price if you know where to sell it.”

  Joe ushered him away from the body. “What’s being done about Angie’s abduction?”

  “Can you believe I argued with Dunning before he’d admit she’d been abducted? I wish you were involved in her case.”

  “Afraid not. My hands are still tied. The Feds claim it’s connected to their nursery rhyme case. We’re to keep our noses out of it.”

  “The Feds,” Brian scoffed. “They’ve worked on the case for a whole week and failed to find Polly. By the way, Angie’s disappearance might not be connected to that case.”

  “What?”

  He told him about Angie’s ex-husband.

  “I’ve seen my share of possessive ex-husbands wanting their ex-wives back. It doesn’t always turn out pretty,” Joe said.

  “I know. Remember I covered the crime beat and wrote about domestic violence.”

  “You did tell Dunning about the guy.”

  “Yeah. Unfortunately, the ex-husband is one of Dunning’s college frat buddies. He doesn’t think the man is capable of violence.”

  “It’s the guys you don’t suspect that can be the worst,” Joe said.

  “I can’t sit around and wait for her body to turn up out in the desert like…”

  “Like your son’s.” He patted Brian on the back. “An old nightmare has reared its head, my friend. I gather you’re stuck on her.”

  “She’s the first woman I’ve cared for since the divorce.”

  “Well, let’s see if we can figure out where the ex-husband is. I can do some inquiries without stepping on the Fed’s toes. If we find him and we’re lucky, we might find her.”

  Brian’s cell phone buzzed. Reading the text message, he grew excited.

  �
��What is it?” Joe asked, studying him.

  “It’s an e-mail from a reader who’s been following my stories. While jogging today, he saw something suspicious and thought he should share it.”

  Brian’s heart skipped a beat when he studied the photo that accompanied the message. It was the house she described seeing in her visions. He started to forward the message and photo to her phone then remembered with a horrible clarity that she didn’t have her phone.

  He showed the photo to Joe. “I guess my articles paid off.”

  Joe’s cell phone rang. When he disconnected his expression held both concern and a tinge of hope. “It seems your reader contacted the Feds, too. Maybe this is the break needed to crack the case.”

  He studied Brian for a minute. “You don’t seem too happy.”

  “There’s no mention of seeing Angie, only a child.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Did he give you an address?”

  “Yeah.” Looking at his phone he read the address to Joe.

  “That street is not far from Red Rock Canyon. Good luck!”

  “Thanks.” He thought of her one vision and its possible connection to Red Rock Canyon. He ran back to Rita.

  “I’m driving,” she announced, pointing him toward the passenger seat.

  Once in, he ordered her to step on it.

  “Are you always in a hurry?” she said, stomping on the accelerator.

  All he could think of was the jogger. Had he seen anything that could help in the case?

  The walled house with its tile roof stood at the edge of the desert. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination, he thought. However, the numbers she’d seen wasn’t the house address.

  It was only lightly sprinkling, but Rita decided to remain in the car mumbling something about her hairdo. He hurried to where Dunning questioned a tall man with a runner’s lean body and a shock of red hair.

  “What did you see that made you suspicious?” Dunning asked, glaring at Brian. “The house appears deserted.”

  “It usually is. No one’s lived there in a long time. I jog past the house every day.”

  “Go on,” Dunning said, his impatience obvious.

  Brian could sympathize with him. Interviewing people took patience and time to draw the right information out. Time the man didn’t have right now.