“I know people,” Blake pleaded. “I can help you get away, out of the country with a new identity and plenty of money. Just please, don’t shoot.”
Alice thought about it then slowly lowered the gun.
Unexpected hope filled Blake’s eyes.
And that’s when she shot him — right between those hope-filled eyes.
Alice dug through the medicine cabinet in Blake’s bathroom. It was a veritable drug store. Her bloodstained hands shuffled through bottles of Xanax, Ativan and Valium. Depressed much, Blake, she thought.
There were also bottles of Viagra and Cialis, for fun she assumed. There were bottles of Vicodin and Percocet, no doubt for pain. She wasn’t looking for pain pills, but she knew the dull pain in her shoulder would detonate later into agony so she pocketed the Vicodin. There were bottles of Ambien and Lunesta for sleep. There was also a bottle of Valtrex which she knew treated herpes. No surprise there.
She pawed through a variety of drugs she never heard and didn’t care about. What she wanted was an antiseptic, something to disinfect her shoulder wound. And a couple of thick bandages.
Nothing more in the cabinet so she looked under the sink.
Bingo.
She pulled out a bottle of Betadine and a first aid kit with a variety of bandages. She poured the Betadine onto a washcloth then applied it to the entrance wound. She gasped and nearly collapsed as pain engulfed her.
She sat on the toilet, poured more Betadine onto the washcloth and using the mirror to guide her, pressed the washcloth onto the exit wound. This time a soft moan escaped from her lips as the pain crested quickly, then slowly receded.
She ripped open one of the large bandages. She dribbled a little Betadine onto the gauze then placed it over the entrance wound and pressed hard attaching it. It stung like crazy but she was getting used to it. Then she ripped open a second bandage, added a little antiseptic and, using the mirror as a guide again, stuck it on. Okay, she thought. That should stem the bleeding and take care of any infection.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her white tube top was drenched in blood. Some of it his, most of it hers. And blood was splattered on her face and skin.
In fact, her blood was everywhere. In the living room, dripped on the floor all the way into the bathroom and now all over the sink, floor, and soaked into the washcloth.
There would be no way to clean up this crime scene. The cops were sure to get her DNA this time. But hell, they’ve got her picture, and once they connect Blake, Colin, Adam and Zachary Stone, they’ll know who she is. And until an hour ago she wouldn’t have cared. She wanted to kill four men and she’d done it. The police can pick her up, big deal. Thanks to the Big C she wouldn’t live long enough to stand trial.
But now everything had changed. One more man had to die.
She peeled off the tube top, dropped it to the floor. She grabbed a fresh washcloth, ran it under warm water and started cleaning herself up.
She’d had weeks to prepare for her attack on Blake, Colin, Adam and Stone. She’d researched each one, knew where they lived, worked, ate, drank. She planned their executions down to the tiniest detail.
She wouldn’t have that luxury with her next victim. The cops would be on her tail. The one advantage she had is they would have no idea who she was after.
Alice grabbed a shirt out of Blake’s closet, a tan Tommy Bahama luau shirt that was too big for her, but the shirt tails covered her bloodstained skirt.
Time was the issue now. She had very little of it. Once the cops talked to her parents, they’d find out about her car and apartment and it wouldn’t take too much digging to find out where she lives. So Alice had to move. Fast.
And she’d need more money, enough for a cheap hotel and food for a week or two. She had about twenty two hundred, which would be cutting things close. She needed more.
She searched Blake’s bureau looking for cash or his wallet. Found nothing. It must be on him. So she went back into the living room. She had a horror movie fantasy for an instant that she’d walk into the living room and he’d be gone, and then suddenly appear behind her.
But he lay dead on the floor.
Alice knelt down, patted his pants pockets, felt the wallet in back and fished it out.
Nine hundred and twenty-three dollars. Not bad. She took the money, dropped the wallet onto his chest.
Next she went back into the office. She wanted the video of her rape.
At some point she’d make sure the cops got a copy. She wanted the world to know exactly what happened to her. She wanted the world to know that those scumbags got just what was coming to them.
But not yet. If the cops saw the tape, they’d see the fourth man and figure out what she was up to. But once he was dead, she’d make sure Blake’s masterpiece got a worldwide release.
While Alice watched the video, Blake controlled it with a remote so she didn’t know where the tape itself was. She searched the bookcases found a stack of components: receiver, DVD player, cable box. No VHS player. The recording was made on a video camera so there should have been a tape — unless he burned it to a DVD. She hit open on the DVD player and a disk slid out. It had a white paper label with the title High School Pool Party scrawled on it.
Alice grabbed it, found an empty plastic DVD case and stuck it inside. Then she noticed the video camera in the corner of the room. The one Blake used to record her reactions as she watched the rape.
The red light was still on. It was still recording.
She walked to the camera, looked at the small LCD monitor on the back. The camera was aimed at the middle of the room where the Lady in Red had been sitting, but it also saw through the door into the living room and Blake’s dead body was on the right hand side of the frame.
The camera had recorded their fight, her attacking him in the office, his shooting her in the living room and their final battle.
Alice laughed. It would have been incredible footage for his documentary. Not the ending Blake had in mind, though. Thank God.
She hit the button to stop recording. Found the button to open the camera and reached for the tape — then hesitated.
The tape showed her bound hand and foot, held captive by Blake Hunter. It showed her fighting to free herself, getting shot by Blake before finally overpowering him.
She was clearly the victim here simply defending herself. The police should see that. Realize she wasn’t just a cold-blooded killer. She cued it to the beginning of her tripping Blake in the office and struggling to get out of the handcuffs.
Then she remembered it also showed her shooting Blake in the face after he’d begged for mercy. Maybe she better take it after all. Alice grabbed the tape.
She was moving quickly now. She grabbed her purse and dropped in the DVD and tape. She did a final look around the room to see if she’d forgotten anything. Her eyes alighted on Blake’s still camera.
He’d taken those shots of her in the sunset.
She considered taking the camera then decided the cops already had those crappy surveillance photos of her; might as well let them have a couple of glamour shots.
She stepped over Blake’s body and then stopped. If there was going to be a fifth victim, she needed to finish this crime scene. After all, she had her legacy to think about.
Let’s see, he was victim number four, so… Alice spotted a deck of cards on the kitchen pass through. She picked them up, fished out the four of hearts and dropped it on Blake’s chest.
She definitely wasn’t looking forward to the next part. The thought of touching Blake again repulsed her. Alice crouched down next to Blake, unzipped his fly. He wore boxers. She reached in and pulled out his flaccid penis.
Not much now, are you, hot shot?
She grabbed the tip and pulled, stretching it out so she could lop off as much as she could — because as every woman knows, size does matter.
Slash, slice, cut, cut. And that was that. Then she opened Blake’s mouth, and jammed in the penis.
One final detail left; Alice picked up Blake’s wallet, checked inside and yes, there it was, a Platinum American Express. She took it and dropped the wallet.
Okay, time to go. Alice crossed the room, threw open the front door and let out a startled scream.
Syd stood in the doorway, her Glock pointed at the Lady in Red’s heart. “Hello, Alice,” Syd said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
FORTY-SIX
Syd’s going to totally freak out.
That’s what Ryan was thinking as he showered in Anne’s hotel room. Syd had been worried about Ryan spending so much time with his ex-wife and Ryan had assured Syd and re-assured her she had nothing to worry about.
Yeah, right.
Ryan knew firsthand the emotional devastation of being dumped and wanted to find a way to spare Syd. He cared deeply about her, loved her even, he did. But not in the same way as he loved Anne. Would she understand that if he tried to explain it?
No, of course not. How could she?
And Syd was a fabulous partner. Would there be any way she would want to remain his partner?
No, of course not. How could she?
The big question then became when and how to tell Syd about Anne? Ryan thought of something his father told him. When Joseph Magee got tired of one of his wives, he’d start doing things he knew she hated. He’d drive her crazy so that she’d be the one who wanted to end the relationship. Now that took a lot of time and patience. And it certainly wasn’t a very honest way to solve a problem. But it did put the women in the control position, saved them the humiliation of being dumped and the subsequent heartache. Ryan’s dad was also convinced it saved him a little alimony since the women filed first and felt guilty about it.
Syd certainly deserved better than that. And they were in the middle of a crucial murder case and he didn’t want personal business to jeopardize the Lady in Red investigation.
So it would be prudent to wait. At least a few days.
Ryan dried himself off and stepped into the bedroom. Anne had put on a black nightgown. She’d also retouched her make-up. Ryan’s heart did a little flip when he saw her. She just looked so… beautiful.
“I better go,” he said slipping into his boxer shorts. “I need to touch base with Syd before the presentation tomorrow.”
“Speaking of Syd,” Anne said. “What’re you going to tell her?”
Ryan stepped into his pants. “That I care deeply about her, but I’ve realized I’m still in love with you and that you and I have reconciled.”
“Reconciled,” she said, pronouncing the word slowly as if tasting it. “Not a very pretty word for such a wonderful thing. It sounds so legal.”
“I thought you loved legalese.”
She got up, moved to him. “I speak legalese, I love you.” She put her arms around him and gave him a quick kiss. “Stay with me tonight. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up tomorrow.”
Ryan was tempted, but shook his head. “I just can’t, I’m sorry.” He picked up his shirt, put it on.
Anne reached out, started buttoning his buttons. “Are you going to tell Syd about tonight?”
“No, I thought I’d wait a few days, at least until we’ve wrapped up the Lady in Red
investigation.”
“A couple of days? What’re we supposed to do until then, pretend there’s nothing going on between us?”
She’d finished with the buttons. Ryan tucked in his shirt. “If you don’t mind. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be pretty ugly and I don’t want anything jeopardizing the case right now.” He picked up his jacket. The cell phone tumbled out and hit the floor.
Anne’s eyes locked on it. Would he notice she turned it off?
Ryan picked up the phone and stuck it in his pocket without even looking at it. “Syd’s a good kid and this is going to kill her. I just want to make sure I handle it the best way possible.”
“You’re sweet. Have I told you that?”
“Not in seven years.”
“You’re my sweet boy.” She kissed him again, deeper this time.
“You taste so good,” Ryan said. “I love you, Beautiful.”
“Me too, you, Handsome.”
Ryan crossed to the door, opened it.
“You know, it’s kind of funny,” Anne said. “You’ve now got two women in your life you have to pretend with. You’re hiding your relationship with Syd from the police department and you’re hiding your relationship with me from Syd.”
“Soon everyone will know about us. I promise.” He blew her a kiss and closed the door.
Ryan walked down the hall as happy as he could remember. There was a bounce to his step and he felt absolutely wonderful.
He pressed the button for the elevator thinking about tomorrow. So much was happening tomorrow; the lottery presentation and the Lady in Red investigation on the brink of an arrest. He was filled with confidence about both. About everything.
Ain’t love grand?
The elevator arrived and Ryan got in, pressed the button for the Lobby. It suddenly occurred to him that Syd hadn’t called. The last time he talked to her she was knee-deep collating Colin Wood and Adam Devlin’s phone books and she should have checked in by now. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone and flipped it open checking for messages.
The phone was off. Ryan never turned his cell phone off. He even kept it on as he recharged it. What’s with that? Must be a technical thing, he decided. He pressed the button turning it on.
The phone beeped as it started up. His screen lit up — just the shrink-wrap Verizon logo — Ryan never downloaded a personal picture. Didn’t know how and didn’t care.
DING. The elevator door opened as he reached the lobby. He stepped out of the elevator. Sure enough, there was a missed call from Syd. And she had left a voicemail. Ryan was about to play the voicemail when he was interrupted. “Detective Magee?”
Ryan looked up to find a handsome blond man in a Brooks Brother’s suit. “Yes?”
“Could I have a minute of your time?”
There was something about the man that was vaguely familiar. And he was intense, a man on a mission.
“Sure.” Ryan put his phone in his pocket.
The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Rick Rogers, Anne’s husband. Or should I say soon to be ex-husband.”
Ryan shook the man’s hand warily. Every cop knows jilted husbands can do crazy things. “I don’t want any trouble,” Ryan said.
“Don’t worry,” Rick said. “You carry a gun, I carry a Blackberry. But there are some things about Anne I think you ought to know.” He indicated a couple of chairs in the lobby. “Shall we?”
Ryan wasn’t comfortable having any conversation with the man who stole Anne from him seven years ago, but he was curious about what Rick Rogers would have to say. They sat down.
“You were in Anne’s room a long time,” Rick said with a knowing look.
“Are you following her?”
“Let’s just call it idle curiosity.”
“I think the legal term is stalking.”
Rick sat back in his chair, smiled. “She’s good, I’ll give her that.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Did Anne tell you she was leaving the firm?”
“Yes. She said she was sick of the rat race and she’s decided it’s time for her to give something back. She’s going to run my charitable foundation.”
“Did she mention that she was given an ultimatum by my father, resign or go to jail?”
“What?”
“Look, Ryan, I feel bad about what happened to you seven years ago. I’d never met you so there was nothing personal. But now that I’m the one who’s been dumped and I’ve got a taste of what you must have gone through. And it sucks, big time.”
Rogers was rambling a bit and Ryan began to think he’d been drinking. “What does this have to do with your father’s ultimatum?”
“It’s the reason I’m telling
you all this in the first place. To warn you. About Anne.”
Ryan had heard enough. “Thanks, consider me warned. Nice to meet you.” Ryan got up, started to walk away.
“Doesn’t it strike you as a little coincidental that Anne suddenly appears back in your life the day after you hit the Lotto?”
That stopped Ryan.
“Did she tell you we were broke? That we’re filing for bankruptcy?”
That turned Ryan around.
“Did she tell you that we forged my father’s signature to get a loan?”
That got Ryan back into the chair.
“Our marriage was shit, I’ll be the first to admit it,” Rick said. “But as long as Annie lived in a great house, drove a German car, wore French designer clothes and had a black AMEX card, she didn’t seem to care. But the minute we lost all our money, she started looking around.”
“Tell me about the forgery.”
“I bet wrong on the market. I lost all our money and our beach house. I went to my father on bended knee and he bought us a condo. Suddenly we were living on a budget and Anne hated it. Then I got a tip from a friend that a new stock was going to double. It was supposed to be a sure thing. A chance to get back on our feet. So Anne and I forged dad’s signature and took out a million dollar loan on the condo. The plan was to get in and out quickly, pay off the loan, and have a nice little profit left over. But the stock went down instead of up and we lost everything.”
“And your father found out?”
Rick nodded. “We couldn’t pay the mortgage and the bank called him. Now he’s threatened to go the police and the California Bar Association unless we resign from the firm immediately.” Rick waited a moment to let his words soak in. Then he continued, “So, let’s be very clear, Anne wants to run your foundation because she doesn’t have a job. And Anne wants you back in her life because she doesn’t have any money. That’s all Anne cares about, it’s all she’s ever cared about, money.”
Ryan didn’t want to believe it. He’d held Anne in his arms, looked into her eyes. He saw love there, the same adoration he remembered from college, he was sure of it.
In Cold Blonde Page 24