A gray brow rose. “Yes. Gwendolyn. His daughter. I remember her well.” Howard rubbed his chin, got up and paced to the window. He pushed the curtain to the side and looked out, keeping his body well away from exposure. Serena realized he was a prisoner in his own home.
Which was probably why the yard looked like it did. Howard looked at the floor, then back up as he returned to his seat. “Do you blame her for wanting to disappear?”
“Not at all.”
Howard settled back against the antique armchair. “As for the sons, they’re mostly a greasy lot. Only one of them turned out decent if I remember correctly.”
Dominic nodded. “Nate Lindell. He’s a lawyer here in town. We plan to speak to him too.”
“Nate. Right. Kind of a quiet fellow. I think I remember him. He didn’t come around much. Avoided the media and tried to stay hidden.” Tapping the folder against his palm, Howard said, “This guy, Drake, he owned a janitorial business, made good money and lived in a nice neighborhood.” He pursed his lips. “He was crazy. Certifiable. But you’d never know it looking in from the outside. He came from a good home as a kid, was a great dad from all that we could tell. His kids were crazy about him. Had a wife that doted on him.” Shaking his head, he raised a hand to rub his chin. “Nothing about his behavior made sense. Why start killing people all of a sudden? It just didn’t add up.” He met their eyes. “His wife killed herself the day they found him guilty.”
Serena felt a chill wrap around her.
Dominic lifted a brow. “That wasn’t in the report.”
Howard shrugged. “I read about it in the paper the day after it happened. By then the case was closed and we’d all moved on to other ones. You know how it is. When it came time to testify, I had to study my notes for days to make sure I had all the details straight in my head again.”
“I know.”
Serena watched as Howard stood and paced from one end of the room to the next. He never stopped in front of a window. And he kept his back to the wall. Or he walked between the stacks of . . . stuff . . . papers, newspapers, furniture.
She felt sure her initial observations about Howard being trapped in the home were accurate. She’d been hanging around cops too long to think she was imagining things. Her father, a former cop turned lawyer, had trained her well, and she found she enjoyed the company of those in law enforcement over “the normals,” as her dad used to call those not in law enforcement.
She and her cop friends shared the same weird sense of humor.
And Howard was a retired cop. Old habits died hard, she supposed. And yet . . . it seemed to be more for Howard. “Are you afraid of something, Howard?”
He jerked, sighed, and looked toward the kitchen, then back at them. “There’s a lot about this case that just . . .” He shook his head.
“Just what, Howard,” Dominic pressed.
“Still bothers me.”
“Like what?”
Another shake of the gray head. “They said he killed nine.”
“Yeah.”
“But in that shed, there were unaccounted-for hair fibers, trace evidence that didn’t link to any of the known victims.”
“And you think it came from some of his other victims?”
A shrug. “Who else would it come from?” He rubbed a hand down his face and shuddered. “All I can tell you is that if you have a copycat, you’d better find him fast. He’ll keep killing until you put him away.”
“That’s the goal. Is there anything else you can tell us to help us figure this out?”
Howard Bell stood to the side of the door, his expression thoughtful, troubled, as Dominic led the way back to the car. Something about the man’s expression made him want to turn and force him to say what he was thinking. Instead, Dominic opened the door for Serena and she slid into the passenger seat.
Without looking toward the house, he said, “He’s thinking hard about something.”
“What do you mean?”
“He talked a lot and told us very little. He left something out. Something that could be important but he was reluctant to share for some reason,” Dominic said as he shut her door.
When he’d climbed in and buckled his seatbelt, she looked at him. “Why didn’t you confront him?”
“He’s the kind of guy that has to chew on something before he spits it out.”
She nodded. “You think he’ll come around and call you with whatever it is?”
Dominic quirked a smile at her. “Exactly.”
Serena tapped her lip. “I think we need to talk to Drake Lindell.”
Dominic started the engine, then looked at her. “I can talk to him. I don’t want you anywhere near that psycho.”
Her right brow lifted and she simply stared at him.
Dominic cleared his throat. “Not that I have any right to tell you who you can talk to, but . . .”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t apologize. I know why you said that, but it’s really my decision. I can’t say I’m crazy about the idea of talking to him face-to-face, but maybe he could give you a name or an idea of who might be behind Leslie’s murder.”
“I’ve already asked for copies of every letter he’s ever received and a list of all visitors since he’s been incarcerated.”
“Really?”
“I’m on this, I promise.”
She flushed. “Now I need to apologize. Of course you are. Sorry, I didn’t mean to try and tell you how to do your job.”
He shook his head and offered a smile. “Hey, brainstorming is a great thing. I don’t always think of everything, so it’s nice to have input.”
Dominic started to pull away from the curb, then stopped as Howard came rushing toward them, hand held high, motioning for them to stop.
Dominic put the car back in park and rolled down Serena’s window.
“Wait a minute,” Howard said. His eyes darted left, then right. He stopped his forward momentum now that he had their attention and backpedaled toward the open front door. “Come back inside. It’s time I told someone—”
Howard Bell jerked and fell to the ground, his chest pumping bright red blood.
9
TUESDAY, 10:45 A.M.
Serena let out a scream as time fell into slow motion. She felt Dominic push her down into the seat, then slam his body over hers.
No more shots followed in the next few seconds. Serena pushed out from under Dominic and her hand groped for the door handle.
She had to help Howard.
Shoving the car door open, she noticed Dominic’s weapon in his right hand and his gaze scanning the street through the windshield.
She tumbled from the vehicle, Dominic right behind her screaming, “Shots fired! Man down. I need an assist!”
The car was parked at the bottom of the front walk so that the walk and the car formed a T. Scrambling, heart thudding, fear shaking her, she started toward Howard.
And felt a hard hand yank her back even while his voice barked their location and that of the gunman.
Then Dominic’s voice echoed in her ear. “I know you want to check on him, but I can’t let you get in the way of a bullet.”
“But I might be able to help him!” She jerked on her wrist, but Dominic held tight.
“Or he might already be dead and you could be next if you expose yourself.”
She looked at Howard, the blood covering his chest. And saw no movement. She tried to see his face, but it was turned away from her.
Dominic gripped her arm. “Stay put. I think I know where he was shooting from.”
“There he goes,” she said as she pointed. A flash of white blinked at her as something moved through the trees to her right. “Dominic, look.”
He turned. “It’s him. Stay here, I’m going after him.”
“But—”
He took off before she could voice her protest. Serena offered up a quick prayer for his safety, then moved toward Howard. If Dominic was chasing the shooter, surely she’d be sa
fe enough to check Howard.
Sirens reached her ears. Help was on the way.
Even so, she couldn’t help feeling like she had a big red target on her back. She reached Howard and his eyes blinked, his chest gave a sudden heave as his mouth moved.
Knowledge hit her. There was nothing she could do for him. Even if he were seconds away from a hospital, he would die. Grief slammed her. She whispered, “I’m sorry, Howard.”
His mouth moved again. He was trying to tell her something. She leaned over. “What did you say?”
“File . . . Look . . .”
And then he was gone. That vacant stare of death that Serena was so familiar with looked back at her. With a sob in her throat, she whispered again, “I’m so sorry.”
And closed his eyes.
Dominic followed the rustling trees. Soon the guy would have to come out into the open and he’d get a shot. “Freeze! FBI!”
The figure kept moving. Dominic couldn’t get a good look at him but thought he had a ball cap and a white T-shirt on.
Where was he headed? Had he had this all planned out? But how? It had to be a spur-of-the-moment thing.
But why? Why now? Why Howard? Why today?
The questions tumbled through his mind as he moved, ever watching. One comforting thought. If Dominic was chasing the shooter, the shooter wasn’t shooting anyone else. But if a neighbor was out in the yard, the fleeing person could take someone hostage.
The shooter was almost to the tree line. He’d have to expose himself to continue running and there was nowhere else to go except straight ahead.
“FBI! Stop! Now!” he called again.
Dominic waited, his weapon ready.
Then heard the roar of a motorcycle.
Serena dropped her hand from Howard’s neck, unable to keep herself from checking his pulse one more time. But the man was dead and there wasn’t anything she could do to change that. Shoving back the tears that kept wanting to fall, she forced herself to focus.
Shock and bone-deep sadness mingled with the fear as she crept back toward the car just as the first police vehicle pulled up. She kept her hands visible to the approaching law enforcement.
The officer exited and drew his gun. “Show me some ID.”
“It’s in my purse in the car.”
Keeping the gun trained on her, he pulled her purse from the front seat and dumped the contents onto the floorboard. He handed her the wallet and she flipped it open. “I’m a doctor, I was trying to help him.”
The officer didn’t lower his weapon. He wouldn’t until he’d proven her story. He nodded at her hospital ID but said, “Stay down, ma’am, and keep your hands where I can see them.” She had no intention of lifting her head too high, although the precaution seemed silly in light of the fact that she’d just exposed herself by trying to help Howard. The officer’s badge read J. Tullis.
“Dominic Allen, an FBI agent, went after the person who shot this man,” she said. Her gut churned. Had Dominic caught up with him? Was he okay?
He seemed satisfied but didn’t relax his stance.
She kept her eyes peeled in the direction Dominic had disappeared.
Officer Tullis spoke into his radio. Serena couldn’t understand him, but got the response that more help was on the way. Officers had started going door to door checking on the residents, warning them to stay inside.
Then Dominic appeared in her line of sight, his gun held at his side.
“Freeze!” Officer Tullis yelled, raising his weapon to train it on Dominic. “Put the gun down now!”
Dominic froze, held his arms out to the side, and knelt to place the weapon on the ground.
Serena said, “He’s an FBI agent. He’s the one who went after the shooter.”
Her gaze locked on Dominic’s and she could see the frustration there. The shooter had gotten away.
Officer Tullis hollered, “Show me some ID.”
Slowly, Dominic reached into his back pocket and pulled out his ID, flipping it open with the smoothness of someone who’s made the move often.
Tullis relaxed a fraction and lowered his weapon. Dominic picked his up and slid it into the holster under his arm.
Serena breathed a little easier. “Howard’s dead,” she told Dominic.
He nodded once, his tight jaw and granite features telling her this hit him hard. And she thought she knew what he might be thinking.
Had their presence today gotten Howard killed?
“He whispered something before he died,” she said. “I think he said, ‘File. Look.’”
Dominic frowned. “‘File. Look’? Wonder what he meant by that?”
“That we’re supposed to look in a file for whatever it was he decided at the last minute that he wanted us to know?”
“Sounds logical to me.”
The killer blew out a harsh breath. Killing Howard had been easy. And it had been a long time coming. But HE might not be pleased with this new development. Howard’s murder wasn’t in the plan. At least not HIS plan.
Learning that Serena and Dominic were going to visit the man who held explosive secrets had necessitated quick action. But they’d spent nearly an hour with the man before the shot. What had he told them? Watching the man chase after the FBI agent and Serena, it had been obvious he was going to say something more.
No doubt about it. He’d had to die.
Now, to make sure all of his secrets died with him.
It was time to visit HIM again, to fill HIM in on the latest developments.
Crime scene tape now fluttered in the slight breeze that almost offered a respite from the glaring heat of the sun. An Attempt To Locate had gone out and officers logged each and every person who entered the area. Mickey Black, the crime scene photographer, snapped a constant stream of pictures. Hunter Graham and Katie Isaacs arrived on the scene twenty minutes later.
Dominic saw the car pull up as Serena crouched over Howard, collecting whatever she could from the deceased man. Although he and Serena had seen what happened, they still needed to collect trace evidence from Howard. If the killer had ever been in the house, there was a possibility the lab could match the evidence up with . . . something.
Assuming they caught the person and the lab had something to work with. Nevertheless, they’d cover all their bases.
Officers still canvassed the neighborhood and Dominic was ready to begin searching Howard’s house. He’d already spoken to the lead crime scene team member. Part of the team was already working, determining the exact place Howard had been standing and the position of his body, the direction he’d been facing, when he’d been shot. This would allow them to figure out the angle and path of the bullet, which would lead them to the exact spot the killer had chosen to wait for his target.
Hunter waved Dominic over while Katie engaged the nearest CSU member who’d just arrived.
“Fill me in,” Hunter said.
Dominic did, then said, “Backup didn’t get here until the shooter had ridden off on his motorcycle. There was no way I could catch up with him.”
“I’ve got the description from the ATL you put out. You got anything else to add?”
Dominic pursed his lips in disgust. “Not much to add to ‘Slender person in a white T-shirt with a baseball cap.’”
“Right.” Hunter smirked.
“Like I said, slender build, probably around five feet nine or ten. Fast as a jackrabbit. Only saw the back of him.” Dominic shook his head. “You going to help me go through the house?”
“Sure.” A pause. “Katie’s with me.”
“I saw her.”
“Are you going to be okay working with her?”
Dominic lifted a brow. “Sure. I’ll be fine, why?”
“She’s still got a thing for you, you know?”
“Katie?” He didn’t have to fake the surprise. “That was years ago.” Although she had been his hometown contact when he’d needed information about his family. Had she read more into that than he thought?
“Maybe so,” Hunter said, “but she hasn’t let it go.”
Uncomfortable with the thought, Dominic glanced at the woman he’d known from high school. The woman he considered a good friend but didn’t have any romantic interest in. At least not since he’d left home. They’d dated once, but now . . . his gaze steered itself to Serena. He cleared his throat. “Okay. Thanks for the heads-up.”
Hunter nodded.
“Are you any closer to finding my father?”
Frustration stamped Hunter’s features. “No. You don’t have any more ideas, do you?”
“Nope. I even had Terry try and track him down, but when someone doesn’t have a job, uses cash, and travels from shelter to shelter, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. Last time I saw the man, he was behind bars. He told me what happened with Alexia and his intention to kill Mom, Karen, and Alexia the day of the fire.” He swallowed hard, annoyed that thinking about his father’s words still left a bitter taste on his tongue. “I went back undercover for a long time after that and wasn’t even aware when he was released from prison until just recently.”
“When you came home into the middle of Alexia’s troubles.”
“Yes.”
“Alexia’s becoming obsessed with this.” Worry coated Hunter’s voice. “She still thinks it’s possible he had something to do with that week of terror we lived through.”
It was hard to believe it had only been four weeks ago that Alexia had been kidnapped. “The man who questioned her and escaped—” Dominic rubbed his jaw—“I know she was blindfolded most of the time, but is she sure it wasn’t our father?”
Hunter went silent for a moment. “She says it wasn’t, but sometimes she second-guesses herself. It’s been a long time since she’s seen the man, Dominic.” He lifted a shoulder in a helpless shrug.
“Wow, that’s helpful.”
“Exactly.”
Serena came up to them, pulling her gloves off and stashing them in the hazardous materials bag on the curb. “What now?”
When a Heart Stops Page 6