by Vella Day
“Mac’s bar and grill.” The noise from the station echoed in the background.
“Funny.” Derek told him about the break in the case, specifically about the incriminating letter from Vanderwall’s sister. Seinkievitz whistled. “Do me a favor and see about obtaining a warrant for Bladen’s house.” Derek cranked up the cruiser’s AC to high and wiped his sleeve across his brow.
“Because?” Seinkievitz asked.
“If Bladen and Vanderwall fought, blood might have transferred to Justin’s clothes.”
“Good thinking. You told me you have a picture of Bladen talking to Vanderwall in front of the Waters Edge, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember what he was wearing?”
“The photo is back at the station in evidence if you want to check it out. All I remember is that it was taken at night, so you might not be able to tell exactly what he had on. First, get a warrant. I’ll be there soon.”
“Will do.”
For the first time in weeks, Derek could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Rayne’s, Carl’s, and Stefanie’s killer might be brought to justice. If Justin were the perpetrator, once he was in jail, Kelly would be safe.
The man in the SUV in front of him sat at the green light. It wasn’t until Derek honked that the man waved and took off.
He took a deep breath and tried to stay focused, but his mind wandered back to Kelly. Why would Justin call and say his mom wanted to harm her? Was that another way of warning her that he wanted to harm Kelly? Or was he telling the truth for once?
Not having identified Justin as a scumbucket right off the bat made Derek grind his teeth. If only he’d taken more time to get to know the kind of men his sister dated, she might still be alive. And if only she’d told Derek about the baby, or if he’d gone with her to Dad’s, she’d still be alive too. If, if, if. He hated that word.
Derek needed to be more proactive. It was time to give Kelly a status report. He pulled into the right lane and dialed her number. After the third ring, his pulse sped up. “Answer, dammit.” Five rings, six. He was about to hang up and race to her place when she finally picked up.
“Derek?” She sounded out of breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing. I just came in from running. Why are you calling?”
Strictly business. He could take the hint. He took a deep breath, relieved nothing had happened to her. “I have some news about Justin.” He told her of the evidence they’d collected at the Waters Edge. “We’re hoping not only to place him with Carl the night he died but prove he pushed him to his death.”
She let out a croak. “Are you saying that Justin killed this jumper person, as well as Rayne and Stefanie?”
“It looks like it, but we have no proof to tie the cases together. Yet.”
“So this whole thing about his mom being the killer was a ruse?” He could hear the relief in her tone.
Derek gripped the wheel. “It could be, but you can’t let your guard down. If Justin is our man, he’s dangerous. He knows where you live, remember.”
“I know, I know.” Her voice faded before she added, “And yes, I promise to stay safe.”
Her mantra. Let’s hope she took care. He hung up just as he pulled into the station. The warrant would take at least another twenty minutes to arrive. He had enough paper work to keep him busy for a good twenty-years, and that was just for this month’s cases.
Seinkievitz was standing at the coffee station, drinking his usual sludge when Derek walked up to him. “Shouldn’t you be scrapping up some judge to help with the warrant?”
His fellow officer smiled. “Already done, my man. Got hold of Judge Pinkley, who by the way was surprisingly cooperative. I was just waiting for your sorry ass to get here and serve it.”
“Well, let’s go.”
Derek took his truck, while Seinkievitz and the crime techs drove a van to Justin Bladen’s place. When they arrived, Derek slapped on his shades and dragged himself out of the car. Seinkievitz stepped out empty-handed.
Derek stopped and faced him. “So where’s the warrant?”
“It’s cool. It’ll be here momentarily.”
Sweat beaded on his forehead. “You implied you already had it.”
Anger at being duped rushed up his gut. Derek normally didn’t let something like this bother him, but the pressure to end the nightmare had eroded any shred of patience he had left.
Before Seinkievitz had a chance to respond, another officer pulled into the drive and waved a piece of paper out the window. How did Seinkievitz do that?
His friend just grinned. “Told ya.”
Derek stomped over to the officer and grabbed the warrant. “Thanks.”
The two policemen, who’d checked out the residence, stepped outside. “All clear, Detective.”
“How did you get in?”
“Jimmied the lock.”
Derek nodded. Batting away a host of pesky flies, he donned his sanitation gear before going inside. Once suited up, his team entered the house. The place looked and smelled unlived in. No dishes sat in the sink and the air was either off or too high to do any good. He sneezed from all the dust.
Derek headed straight to the bedroom. He’d visited Justin only a few times but remembered the layout of the place. “Seinkievitz, come in here.”
This room was a different story. Clothes were either tossed on the unmade bed or on the floor.
Seinkievitz trotted in. “Boy, someone was in a hurry to get the hell out of here.”
“You take the hamper, and I’ll search the closet for the shirt.”
Derek didn’t expect to find it, but sometimes perps didn’t realize bloodstains darkened over time. Justin might have stripped the moment he arrived home and not even looked closely at his clothing.
Seinkievitz pulled out the photo Stefanie had taken of Justin. Luckily, he was standing near a streetlight. His short-sleeved T-shirt was light colored, hue indeterminate. Derek tossed the picture on the bed. “Use this as a guide.”
Derek studied the photo. Seinkievitz lifted up a pair of jockey shorts and grunted, his face contorted in disgust. “I hate touching a man’s used undergarments.”
“Get over it. That’s why you’re wearing gloves.”
Derek drew open the sliding closet doors. Half of it contained suits and long sleeved shirts, the other half casual attire. After a quick search, he realized none matched the photo.
He turned to check out the chest of drawers when Seinkievitz swiveled around holding up a yellow T-shirt with faint stains on the front. “Bingo.”
Derek stepped over to him, and Seinkievitz pointed to the stains near the shoulder. “You think that’s blood?”
“Only one way to find out.” Seinkievitz called to Phil Procaro to bring in his crime case.
After a quick spray of luminol, Procaro announced it was blood. Whose it belonged to was anybody’s guess.
“Bag it and test it,” Derek announced, more relaxed than he’d been in days.
Kelly had packed and unpacked at least three times already. Part of her wanted to take Derek up on his offer to stay with him, since she’d be safe. However, if she were anywhere near Derek Benally, her traitorous libido would do her in. In the end, she’d get hurt when Derek solved the case and left her.
Still in the process of dealing with her sister’s death, she couldn’t handle any more turmoil. A little old lady wouldn’t get the best of her, even if she had belonged to some hate group in Utah. It was Justin she had to watch out for. If he had killed the man at the Waters Edge Condominium, he was doubly dangerous.
Her gut instinct told her Justin liked her and that he had no grudge against her. If he’d wanted to harm her, he would have done so already. Right? Or was her logic flawed?
She thought back to Justin’s phone conversation about his mother-turned-serial-killer, and chills raced down her spine thinking about how she’d run with Justin, gone to the Casino with him, and t
alked with him on the phone.
If she’d sympathized with his plight when he’d called, would he have asked to come over? And would she have let him? The creep factor escalated at that thought.
The kitchen phone rang, and she jumped. If couldn’t be her mom. She never called this late. She wished it was Derek telling her Justin was in jail and all was well.
“Hello?”
Static crackled over the line, and then a soft click was followed by more static. “Kelly. Running away won’t do any good. I’ll find you.”
The voice sounded computer generated, very different from the spooky jerk who’d called her at the Utah motel.
“Who is this? Why are you calling me?”
The voice laughed. Kelly couldn’t even tell the gender.
“I want you ready for me when I come.”
“Ready for what?” Kelly’s voice cracked.
“You need to join your heavenly father.”
Did the person mean her dad or God? Not that it mattered either way. She’d be dead. Her hand shook so hard she nearly dropped the phone. “Why are you doing this to me?”
A low growl emanated from the receiver. “Because you can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business.”
“What business?” She could guess, but perhaps this person might slip up and reveal something personal.
“You figure it out. I suggest you run to that Indian man of yours and ask him. Then I can kill both of you at the same time.” Mechanical laughter rang through the line.
Goose bumps broke out on her skin. Kelly fought to come up with a retort, but the dial tone ended her chance. “Damn it.” She grabbed her stomach, trying to calm the acid burning in her gut.
Stay calm. Think.
Check the caller ID. That’s what Derek had told her to do the last time. “Damn.” It was another private number. Kelly doubted the caller was Justin though. He would have spoken directly with her and not put some kind of voice altering device on the phone. So who was it? Mrs. Bladen?
Derek would know. She needed to call him. As much as she wanted him here, would that put him in danger too? She couldn’t chance her being responsible for his death. It didn’t matter he was equipped to deal with a dangerous situation. Things could go wrong at the worst time.
Okay then. If the mountain wouldn’t come to Mohammad, Mohammad would have to go to the mountain. In this case, the mountain was the police station. They’d find Derek for her. Surely, no one would attack her there.
Kelly grabbed her purse and keys, mace, and her cell phone. Before she left, she punched a nine and a one into her cell in case she needed to call the police fast.
She sucked in a big breath, her heart racing. If she made it to her car, she’d be fine.
Holding open the front door, Kelly looked right then left. Nobody was on the dead end street. Good.
Her car sat in the middle of her drive, and Kelly sprinted to the driver’s side. Though the temperature was in the eighties, the high humidity made sweat form on her chest and legs.
The second her butt hit the car seat, she locked the door and let out a long held breath. Good she’d made it. Before she let down her guard, she spun around to check out the backseat. Phew. Thank God, the seat was empty.
Key in hand, she stabbed it into the lock and turned. The engine growled, but wouldn’t catch. Ohmigod! “Come on.”
Four tries later, the engine purred. She dropped her head back against the seat as paranoia gripped her.
Once Kelly calmed down enough to drive, she gunned the engine, squealing her tires as she tore down her road, actually hoping the police would stop her for speeding. Then she could get a personal escort to the station.
She turned on the radio to her favorite station, and a familiar song reverberated through the speakers, helping to calm her. Only when she reached the end of her street, did she remember to turn on her headlights. “Stay calm, Kelly. No one’s behind you, no one’s even on the road.” Hearing her own voice seemed to do the trick.
She stabbed a hand into the cookie box she’d forgotten to take inside and stuffed another one in her mouth. She was going to make it.
As she neared the intersection of Dale Mabry and Richmond Avenue, a mile from her home, a large truck roared out from the side street. Kelly slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel to avoid the collision, but the monster truck drove straight toward her.
The moment Kelly opened her eyes, she knew something was wrong—actually a lot of things. Pain assaulted her back and legs, and her mouth tasted like she’d swallowed a bucket of sand. Her head throbbed, as though she’d been hit in the head with a crowbar.
The horrible memory intruded. A huge truck had barreled down on her, leaving her no chance to move out of the way. She didn’t remember the impact, but clearly the accident had happened or she’d still be driving.
The bastard hadn’t tried to swerve or honk his horn. Surely he’d seen her.
He?
Kelly couldn’t remember anything other than the big chrome grill that looked like a shark with its mouth open, ready to snap its jaws at her Bug.
Her surroundings finally filtered into her brain. Why was it so black? She strained to see something, anything that would tell her where she might be. The second she tried to push up, she realized her hands were bound together, and her heart raced and her gut soured.
“What the hell?”
A vice like pain took her breath away. She squeezed her eyes closed and panted, waiting for the head pain to subside. A moment later, clear thinking crystallized. This was no accident.
Ohmigod.
Someone had tried to kill her.
The second the realization hit, Kelly expected fear to grip her. Instead, anger nearly strangled her. Whoever wanted her dead wasn’t going to get away with it. She’d do whatever it took to free herself.
But how? The moment she moved, nearly every nerve ending fired, paralyzing her again with pain. After taking several deep breaths, rational thought returned.
Her feet were trussed up tighter than a turkey, and anger once more ripped up her body. Her dad had been a cop before cancer ate away at his brain. What had he taught her? That’s right—to assess the situation. That’s what she’d been trying to do but to no avail.
Okay. Was she still in her car? Probably not. It was darker than hell in here. Sure she’d left the house near midnight, but even the moon would have shed some light through the windshield.
Kelly craned her neck as far as it would go to the right to check if perhaps she was facing the floor mat. Her check brushed against rubber, not carpet. That meant she was no longer in the driver’s seat. But where could she be? And who would have tied her up and left her? She remembered nothing of the impact or being rescued. Hell, she didn’t remember being tied up.
She focused on the walls of her prison, hoping her eyes would adjust to the light, but nothing shone.
Was she blind?
Dear God in heaven.
Panic speared her gut. Nauseated, Kelly forced her mind off her pain. Vomiting would only make her plight worse.
Okay, she needed to think logically. Mildew flavored the air, implying she wasn’t outside. Her knee rubbed against a bristled pad of some kind. Tentatively, she wiggled her toes, and then her fingers as far as the ropes allowed to determine the physical damage to her body. Everything moved. Good. As Kelly stretched out her legs, her feet came in contact with a wall. She scooted forward and banged her head against the opposite wall.
Though it took most of her reserve, Kelly tried to sit up. Half way to sitting up, she banged her head on the ceiling. Frustration zigzagged through her. This was so not happening to her.
From the size of the compartment, she figured she was in the trunk of a car, a small packing crate or... no. A coffin?
Don’t even think that. The concept that she might be buried six feet under the ground with each breath eating up valuable oxygen had fear lodge solidly in her throat.
Pushing aside th
at terrible thought, Kelly raised her bound hands and came in contact with metal, plastic and bulges in the metal. It wasn’t a coffin but a car. Good.
If only she could twist around so that her feet were toward the back, she might be able to kick out a light and signal for help—assuming this car was built like that.
She took a deep breath to regain composure, but a cough sent a spasm through her achy body. Shit. She kept coming back to who had done this to her? Justin? Or was the villain his phantom mom?
Uh, oh. Had Kelly stepped on someone else’s toes at the lab? She was close to a break through in the cause of breast cancer. Would a jealous coworker have done this? Most likely not, but it was an option.
This was a bad use of her time. Even if she figured out who had trapped her, the knowledge wouldn’t get her out of here. An engine fired up and the floor vibrated. The vehicle accelerated fast, smashing the top of her head against a large ridge.
“Ouch. Fuck. Shit. That hurt!”
The car hit a bump and Kelly’s hip rose then slammed onto the uneven floor. Dammit. Her eyes watered from the pain.
Her cell phone. Maybe if she could reach it, she could call Derek—or press the elusive number one button. Only where was the damn thing? She reached out her hands as far as they would go, hoping to locate either the mace or the phone, but it wasn’t her lucky day.
Before she could formulate a plan, the car stopped. A moment later, the hood to the trunk opened.
“Rise and shine.”
28
Justin opened his eyes from what felt like a really, deep sleep. The problem was that he didn’t remember going to sleep. While he loved his soft bed, right now his muscles were on fire. He tried to lower his arms, but they wouldn’t budge. What the hell? He gazed upward, confused at what he was seeing. Despite the moonlight shining through the window, he could only tell his arms were above his head.
He tugged, and his wrists complained. Damn it. Somehow he was tied to his metal bedpost. He pulled harder this time, not believing the bindings were real. They held. “Fuck.”