“Another jolt might just send me careening off the walls,” he said, accepting the hot paper cup anyway.
“Hear anything?”
“Not yet.”
“You know it’s a zoo out there,” Hayes commented as he lowered his big, tired body onto a padded blue vinyl chair that was connected to a row of identical blue vinyl chairs lining one sand colored wall.
“I know. I’ve been watching. Has the family been bothered?”
“No. Not yet, anyway,” Hayes replied. “Hospital security’s doing a good job keeping the press contained outside the building.
“Have you talked to Swainer?” he asked, taking a slow sip from the cup in his big hand.
“Yeah.” Winward raked his fingers through his dark hair to ease the caffeine jitters that tingled across his scalp. “He wants us to bring Shear in for questioning. He said the commissioner’s having a tantrum because he thinks the blame’s going to be put on him for pulling surveillance.”
Hayes grunted in disgust. “Don’t be surprised if he passes the buck . . . to us.” Hayes blew on his coffee in silence before taking another hesitant sip. “What about Manning?” he asked. “We’re going to take some heat for that, you know. Legally, we had nothing on him, but still.”
“I know,” Winward replied then guffawed. “How the hell did he do it? How the hell did the man get out of a locked police car?” He shook his head. “That one’s driving me nuts.”
“Someone screwed up. That’s all there is to it.”
“Yeah, well, that someone could only have been you or me. We were the last ones to confront him. I shut my door securely when I got out. Did you?”
“Yeah, I did.” The big man shook his head and scowled. “What can I say, Mark? The man’s a Houdini.”
“And smart. He’ll be long gone by now. We won’t catch him. Not anytime soon anyway. But I’ve been giving it some thought. We need to know who owns the company the van was registered to: Marcel Enterprises. I don’t believe Manning was working alone. If that’s the case, who else besides our killer would have an interest big enough in the Rage collection to attempt stealing it?”
“My first guess would be the Raymonds.”
“Mine, too. But why?” Winward asked. “I mean, I don’t know that much about art, but it’s not exactly like it’s a collection of Picassos. And since it’d be stolen, the only way Raymond would be able to unload it would be on the black market. Even then, I couldn’t see it pulling a price that would make the risk worth his while. Besides, I don’t think Craig Raymond’s involved with illicit trading. Our investigation has shown nothing shady what-soever about the way he does business.”
“Maybe there’s a player we don’t know about.”
“Maybe. After we take care of Shear, let’s research deeper into Raymond’s competitors and known associates. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
A heavy double door swooshed open. “Detective Winward? Detective Hayes?”
Brenda’s doctor walked toward them. His five-foot-five-inch frame was covered by green scrubs and a white lab coat with his name stenciled on a breast pocket. Slight bags drooped beneath his red-rimmed blue eyes. His smile was tired as he offered his hand.
“It’s been a long night, gentlemen.”
“Yes, it has,” Hayes replied. “How is she?”
“She’s awake and alert. She’s not completely out of the woods yet, but her prognosis is good. Barring complications, we expect her to make a full recovery. You two saved that little girl’s life last night. Without your quick thinking and CPR, she wouldn’t have made it. I’m sure the family will want to thank you.”
“No thanks are necessary,” Winward stated, feeling as if an enormous weight had been lifted. “When will we be able to talk to her?”
“Not for a while. I want her as sedate as possible right now. I don’t want her upset.”
“We understand.”
“There is one thing though. I don’t know if it will help you, but I thought you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“As she regained consciousness, she kept repeating a name.”
“What name?”
“Thomas Shear.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
He saw the garage door open and watched Jonathan back out into the snow and drive away. A few minutes later, the other door opened and a second car began slowly backing out of the garage. He noticed snow-chains on the tires and grimaced. Who, besides me, would think to keep snow-chains at the ready in the simmering South? He shook his head in disgust. Pathetic, pussy-whipped man brainwashed into protecting his prized whore.
He waited until she’d driven away, then followed, staying back but keeping her tail-lights in sight so she wouldn’t panic too soon. He didn’t want her harmlessly slipping off the road; he wanted to break her. As she drew closer to a stretch of road with a steeply cut embankment, he sped up. The instant before his Suburban made contact, crashing into her back bumper, he watched her eyes flash wide with fear in the rearview mirror that was illuminated by his headlights. He made contact again and pushed hard, pressing his foot against the accelerator. The car in front of him veered and began to fishtail. As it began to spin, he hit it broadside and saw her horrified face through the window just before it shattered. His SUV rolled to a stop as the other car disappeared over the edge of the road, and he quickly got out.
He stood with his long, black coat dancing around his legs while looking down the steep embankment at the crumpled metal of the woman’s car and his cold laughter echoed eerily in the pre-dawn darkness. The trees surrounding the stretch of deserted road seemed to absorb and embody the evil in their midst as they swayed creakily in the sharp, penetrating winter wind. Their bare limbs rubbed and clacked together, like a multitude of rough, scaly voices speaking a forbidden language, applauding the vicious malevolence they’d just witnessed.
It’d been so easy. What he hadn’t counted on was the thrill of watching the car roll as her muffled screams rose in pitch before abruptly dying.
“Sorry, bitch. But I couldn’t have you getting in the way, now could I?”
Using his booted feet, he worked to disguise the snow-entrenched tire tracks until the sound of an approaching vehicle urged him back into the SUV. As he drove away, he watched the headlights appear and pass by the section of road he’d just left. A sneering smile split his lips.
“Now, bitch Kelly. It’s your turn.” His voice held a menacing edge. “I’m going to get rid of all of you, once and for all.”
He looked at the green light of the digital clock in the dash and pressed the accelerator, causing the back tires to break traction on the slick, snow-coated blacktop. Time was running out. He needed the cloak of darkness to accomplish what had to be done. He only hoped the other participants played their parts as he had planned.
Tom awoke to the sound of Kelly’s sobs and his stomach sank. In the darkness, he could feel her movements and knew her delirious state had worsened. He turned on the bedside lamp and his throat clenched. Her face was pale, her cheeks, tear-stained. Her brow was drawn and troubled. The bruising around her eyes, along her jaw, and on one side of her forehead, had darkened. There were also new bruises around her throat that resembled large, squeezing fingers.
He smoothed the damp hair from her face and crooned, “I’m here, Kelly. I’m right here.”
He looked at the clock and his vision blurred from lack of sleep. Six thirty. Almost sunrise.
Suddenly, the doorbell seemed to shout through the apartment. Tom snatched on his jeans and was at the door when the pounding started.
“Thank God, you’re here,” he said, stepping out of Jonathan’s way. “I think Kelly’s getting worse.” He held the door open and looked out. “Where’s Marsha?”
“She’s on her way. Look, Tom, you’ve got to get out of here.”
“What?” Then Tom noticed Jonathan’s frown and the urgency in his voice. “Why?”
“Because the police will be here
any minute. I’m surprised they haven’t shown up already.” He began propelling Tom toward the bedroom.
“Why?” Tom stopped and turned to face his friend. “What’s happened?”
Jonathan heaved an impatient sigh. “Carson called. He said he heard on the radio that a little girl was abducted last night. She managed to escape and is now in the hospital suffering from exposure.”
“And the police think I’m responsible, no doubt.”
“Yeah well, they have good reason to. I listened to the news on the way over here. The alarm went off at your gallery last night and the police found the door standing open. A couple of hours later they found the little girl a few blocks down the street. They think she left the door open while escaping.”
“What!”
“Carson wants you to turn yourself in.”
“The hell I will.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Jonathan said, shoving Tom forward. “That’s why you have to hurry.”
They entered the bedroom and Tom began pulling on the rest of his clothes. Jonathan’s frown deepened when he saw Kelly.
“Here,” he said, handing Tom a set of keys. “You take the rental. I’ll take your car and park it in the Crosswind apartment complex about a mile up from here. Then I’ll find a way to Merideth Chandler’s house and meet you there.”
“What if you’re stopped on the way?”
“I’ll say you let me borrow the car because mine’s in the shop. They can even check if they want, because it’s true.”
“I’m not leaving Kelly until Marsha gets here.”
“Tom, you don’t have a choice. You have to meet with Mer-ideth Chandler. How can you do that if the police come and carry you away? Look, I know you’re worried,” he said, “but Kelly’s not going anywhere and Marsha will be here any minute. When I left, she was packing a bag in case she had to spend the night. I told her we’d leave the key under the mat, so hurry up. We have to get out of here now.”
“Damn it!” Tom sat on the bed and pressed his forehead to Kelly’s. “Marsha will be here soon,” he said, then kissed her lips. “I’ll be back. I love you, Kelly.”
When he pulled up to the security gate, he punched in the code he’d received the day before. His smile was predatory as the gate swung open. He wound his way through the complex and parked in time to see two apartment doors open almost simultaneously. His smile grew smug as he watched Jonathan and Tom exit one of the apartments, descend the stairs, and get into separate vehicles. He waited as Kelly’s neighbor kissed his wife goodbye, got into a Ford F-150, and left before backing into the space Jonathan had just vacated. Snow and ice crunched beneath his feet as he walked to the back of the Suburban to unlatch the two rear doors, leaving them cracked open. When he reached Kelly’s second-floor apartment and tried the locked door, he smiled. As he lifted the mat and saw the key, his smile broadened.
“Thank you, gentlemen. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”
He inserted the key and gave a surreptitious look around as a distant motor revved. Hearing a door open and close on the floor above, he replaced the key under the mat and slipped inside. He listened as steps receded down the outside stairs, then he stood quietly, rubbing his gloved hands together as he surveyed the tasteful surroundings. He moved from room to room until he stood in the doorway of Kelly’s bedroom marveling at her condition as she moaned and strained against invisible bonds. Her face was gaunt and the bruises and welts on her exposed arms and chest stood out in vivid color against the whiteness of her sleeveless, low-cut nightgown. Her forehead was beaded with sweat and the fear induced, pain-filled furrow between her brows seemed to deepen as he stepped closer.
She was weak and incoherent, and this made his job extremely easy as he rolled her in a blanket and hoisted her onto his shoulder. On his way back through the apartment, he took the phone off the hook. When he reached the door, he froze.
Opening the door just enough to peer out, he listened as the voices outside subsided. He cursed under his breath for not getting away completely unnoticed as a man carrying a briefcase gave the unlatched, open rear doors of the Suburban a curious look before getting into his car. He watched the Camry drive away, its tires crushing the frozen top layer of snow, then scanned the area outside before leaving the apartment. Once Kelly was secure in the back of the Suburban, he closed the rear doors with a soft click. Smiling, he slid into the driver’s seat and casually exited the complex. His next stop: Shear Gallery.
“Still having a hard time believing he’s our man?”
Winward kept his eyes on the slushy, tire-trenched, snow covered road. “Right now, Don, I don’t know what to think.”
“Why is it so hard for you to admit you’re wrong?”
“When I know for a fact that I am, I’ll admit it.”
He pulled in front of Kelly’s apartment and stopped. Two following patrol cars pulled in behind.
“Shear’s black Jag isn’t here,” Winward said.
“No, but Miss Stafford’s Lexus is. She can probably tell us where to find him.”
Hayes sent two officers around to the back and gave them time to get into position before ringing the doorbell. He waited, knocked, and rang the bell again. Motioning to an officer standing ready with a handheld battering ram, he instructed, “Break it down.”
“Wait,” Winward ordered, stepping over to the apartment next door. “Let’s see what we can find out before we destroy Miss Stafford’s door.”
He rang the bell and waited until the door opened to reveal an attractive woman in her thirties roasting her honey brown hair in hot rollers. Her black-lined, blue eyes widened when Winward held up his badge.
“Yes?”
“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m Detective Winward from the Cobb County Police Department. I was wondering if you could help us. Are you acquainted with your neighbor, Miss Stafford?”
“Kelly?” she asked, surprised. “Sure I am. She’s a sweetie. I hope she’s not in any trouble.”
“No, ma’am. We just need to talk to her.”
“Well, you’ll have to wait until she gets home. They left about forty-five minutes ago.”
“They?”
“Kelly and Tom.”
“You know Thomas Shear?”
“Not exactly. I’ve seen him with Kelly, but I haven’t actually met the man. Kelly sure seems to like him, though.”
“You know for a fact that they left together?”
“No, not for a fact,” she said crossing her arms and leaning her shoulder against the door-jam. “It’s not like I stand at my window spying on my neighbors, you know.”
“Of course not. But why did you say ‘they’?”
“Because when my husband, Joe, left for work this morning, I opened the door to walk him out and heard Kelly’s door close. I saw the top of Tom’s head as he went down the stairs to the parking lot. He wasn’t alone because I distinctly heard two sets of footsteps. Then I heard two cars crank up.”
“Two cars.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Positive.”
“Thank you, Mrs . . . ?”
“Reeves. Susan Reeves.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reeves. You’ve been a big help.” He took a step away, then turned back as she began closing her door. “Mrs. Reeves,” he said.
“Yes?”
“I see you’re getting ready for work.”
“That’s right.”
“You might want to take the day off, or at least wait a few hours until the sun’s had time to melt some of the snow from the roads. They’re pretty treacherous right now.”
“That’s what Joe said too.” She heaved a sigh and nodded. “You’re right. I have no business being out in this stuff. Better safe than sorry, huh? My boss won’t like it, though.”
“Tell him he can pay the deductible on your car when you wreck it,” Winward replied and smiled.
“Yeah, right,” she said and closed
her door.
“Good deed for the day?” Hayes asked, making his way to the stairs.
“Why not?”
The two detectives walked back to Winward’s Impala in silence. Hayes radioed the attending officers back in, then turned his frustrated gaze on Winward.
“He knows,” he said, then slammed his fist against the roof of the car. Winward winced, but said nothing. “Damn it! He knew we would be coming for him. We should’ve been here an hour ago. He’s probably on his way out of the state by now.”
“No, he’s not,” Winward said.
“He ran, didn’t he?”
“Of course he did. If he’s trying to clear his name, he knows he can’t do that locked up in a jail cell.”
“So you still think he’s innocent.”
“Innocent or not, we have to look at what we’ve got. Now, Mrs. Reeves said she heard two cars. Since Miss Stafford’s Lexus is still here, that would mean they had help.”
“Jonathan Fields.”
“That’s my guess.”
“So let’s pay a visit to Mr. Fields.”
Winward motioned the officers over. “Clark, you and Ramsey drive to Jonathan Field’s residence. See if anyone’s home. Hayes and I are going to his office. Let us know what you find.”
“You got it.”
On the way to Jonathan’s office, Hayes called in an APB for Thomas Shear and Kelly Stafford. When they reached the office and Jonathan’s secretary told them he was out for the day, his name was added to the list.
“Now what?” Hayes asked, getting back into the car. As if in answer, the dispatch radio crackled to life.
“Detective Winward, this is Ramsey. Do you copy?”
“Winward here. What have you got, Ramsey?”
“It’s a no-go at Field’s residence. No one’s home,” he said, raising his voice to be heard above a wailing siren.
“What’s happening?”
“An ambulance. We were flagged down by a ditched motorist who was on foot. He noticed another vehicle off the road. A woman apparently lost control and rolled her car down an embankment. She’s hurt pretty bad.”
Portrait of Rage (The Marcel Experience Book 1) Page 31