by Linda Ladd
“Oh, Jules, what are we gonna do now?” she murmured softly to the dog.
Well, he knew what she was going to do. He fingered the bottle of chloroform in his hand. She wouldn’t have a chance in hell. All he had to do was clamp the chloroform-soaked rag over her nose and mouth. She was stronger than Monica, of course, but who wasn’t? Monica was a tiny little girl. He would be able to hold Annie down long enough for the drug to take effect. And, then, oh, yeah, she was gonna have quite the adventure, starting as soon as she came up those steps and went to bed. His mouth actually watered at the thought of having her totally under his control again, at being able to lick her skin and squeeze her breasts any time he wanted to. At last, at last, thank God, the time was here at last.
Chapter Nineteen
Totally depressed and demoralized, Claire glanced around her empty house. She missed Black’s company, she truly did. Even after all she’d seen and heard that night at the sheriff’s office. She shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it. She also knew his high-priced, top-notch lawyers would get him out of custody so fast that Charlie’s head would spin.
But still, all the accusations, all of Black’s betrayals and lies; everything seemed so surreal. She felt lonely to the core, like throwing herself facedown on the bed and grieving for all she’d lost. But she would not do that. If Black had seduced Monica, he wasn’t worth her misery. And if he had, he wasn’t a man she wanted to be with, for damn sure. Just when she had accepted their relationship, that they had been together, all this had to happen. Agitated, she got up, walked to the fridge, and retrieved a can of Cherry Coke. Popping the tab, she leaned against the bar and absently watched Jules run up the steps to the loft bedroom. He was ready for bed, it seemed, but she certainly wasn’t. She had lots of thinking to do, and lots of decisions to make.
Down deep inside her heart, she could not bring herself to believe that Nicholas Black would do something as stupid as kill an employee with his own belt and leave it behind for detectives to find. He was way too smart, too savvy, and too versed in forensic psychology to make those kinds of stupid mistakes. If he wanted to commit a murder, even if he’d snapped and gone into a rage, he still wouldn’t leave any clues behind for them to uncover, and he would probably find a way to get away with it.
The ugly scenario did smack of a frame-up. Of course, it did, just as Black had said, and a clumsy one at that. All of them, Charlie, Bud, Claire—they all knew something seriously wrong was going on at that crime scene, but who would want to set up Black for murder? It was likely that Black might have enemies. After all, he was a rich and successful doctor and wealthy businessman, not to mention the type of man who attracted any woman with eyes in her head. Jealous husbands, jealous ex-lovers, there were all sorts of possibilities from his past. Sometime, somewhere he might have offended somebody, intentionally or not. But he did pass the polygraph, thank God. That would go a long way to help him prove his innocence, but it wasn’t admissible in court.
Blowing out a deep breath, Claire sank onto the couch and dropped her head back on the cushions. She shut her eyes. She had almost let Black back in, almost succumbed to his charm and fallen for his loving attention. She tried to imagine how hard it had been for him to watch her lying there in that coma and then to continue to love her when she didn’t remember him as her lover. It would’ve been frustrating for him, to say the least. He had handled it pretty well, actually. But had she fallen for him all over again? The squeezing pain in her heart told her, yes.
Angry at herself, she got up and tried to shake off thoughts of Black. What she needed was to get a good night’s sleep, and then start picking apart the crime scene inch by inch. Whoever had killed Monica Wheeler must have left a clue and must be someone who could access Black’s personal belongings. Or, perhaps Monica had just taken them home as Bud had suggested. If Monica was infatuated with him, she might have taken something of his to hold on to in bed at night. How sick and obsessive was that? But then again, Black was something else to behold. He obviously had been charming enough to win her heart before the accident and was damn close to doing it again right now.
Turning on the television, she tried to get interested in something, anything, but the news of Monica Wheeler’s murder was all over the news, even down in Springfield on KY3.
“Dammit, anyway,” she muttered, then gave up and switched off the news.
Instead, she trudged up the steps to the loft. Jules was lying half in and half out of the flowing window draperies. He wagged his tail and it swished the bottom of the curtains back and forth a bit, but the toy poodle didn’t get up and jump on the bed like he usually did.
“You must be pooped out, too, Jules. You’re not very friendly tonight. And just when I need a little TLC.”
The poodle wagged harder but didn’t budge, so Claire sat down on the end of the bed. She untied and kicked off her high-top Nikes. Okay, she’d take a long hot shower, wash her hair, and relax her tight muscles. Maybe even spend some time in the hot tub downstairs. She unbuckled her shoulder holster and laid it on the bedside table while she leaned over and unstrapped her ankle weapon. She laid the .38 beside the Glock. For a minute or two, she just sat there, thinking, trying to figure things out, and wishing things were different. She pulled off her T-shirt and stood up. She felt exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically. Maybe she wasn’t as strong as she thought. Maybe Black and Charlie were right about her needing to take it easy.
A moment later, she stood in the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror, still trying to figure out who would’ve wanted Monica Wheeler dead. If she ruled out Black having the affair with Monica, Black didn’t have any motive to kill her, not that Claire could see. Neither did anybody else. Monica had really been into Jesse, but she told Claire that he treated her like a queen. They were moving in together, for God’s sake. She wondered if Bud had gotten hold of Jesse yet. They found Monica’s cell phone on the floor with the spilled groceries, and Bud had called him. Jesse hadn’t picked up, and he hadn’t returned the call.
Maybe it was Jesse. Maybe they’d had a fight, and he lost it, and strangled her. He was a strange man, probably capable of doing it. But with Black’s belt? None of it made sense. But it was a lead to pursue, and why hadn’t he called them back? Why wasn’t he calling in, looking for Monica, asking them where she was, and what had happened to her? Yes, pursue Jesse’s alibi she would, first thing in the morning.
Just as she sat down on the side of the tub, ready to turn on the taps and enjoy a long, hot bath, she heard the unmistakable sound of a powerful motorboat entering her cove. She jumped to her feet, already knowing who it was. She hastily threw her clothes back on, grabbed her weapons, just in case Black wasn’t the nice guy everybody thought he was and had come out to strangle her, too.
Once downstairs, she took a moment to strap on both guns, and then threw open the front door. Jules was on her heels now, and once the door stood wide, he lit out toward the dock where Black had maneuvered the Cobalt 360 to berth and was tying up. Claire stood where she was, outside on the porch, and waited for him to charge up to the house and plead his case. Only thing was, he didn’t. He climbed back into the boat and disappeared from sight.
Frowning, she decided to walk down there and confront him, wondering what the devil he was doing. Was he luring her down there so he wouldn’t leave blood spatter inside the house? She just couldn’t believe that, but why was he there? He couldn’t stay, of course. She had made it clear that they were not going to see each other again. On the other hand, down deep, she was one happy gal to see him out of jail and tied up at her dock. Technically, she wasn’t on his case yet. Charlie had made it fairly obvious that she wasn’t ever going to be, either. But going down there to talk to him was not a good idea. If she was smart, she’d go back inside and lock her door, take that leisurely bath, and go to bed. However, she wasn’t that smart, she guessed, because she walked down the hill to the lake and out on the dock to his big powerful boat. Bl
ack was sitting on the stern seat, a rifle lying across his knees. He had on a black T-shirt and jeans and a frown that you just wouldn’t believe. Jules was lying on the dock watching him, also sensing his dangerous mood, no doubt.
“What are you doing here?” Claire demanded, in as unfriendly fashion as she could muster, but she kept her eyes on the high-power, scoped hunting rifle. “And what’s with the gun?”
“I am not leaving you out here alone. Somebody wants me out of the picture and went to a lot of trouble to make it happen. That’s what all this is about. So I’m going to sit out here and make sure nobody sneaks up on you the way they did Monica.”
“I can take care of myself. I’m armed to the hilt. It doesn’t look good for you to be here when we’re investigating you.”
“I don’t care. I’m not leaving. I guess you can have me arrested again. You seemed to enjoy that well enough the first time around.”
“That’s not fair, Black.”
“You’re in danger out here by yourself, and if you’re smart, you’ll listen to me.”
“How did you get out of custody this fast?”
“Charlie decided not to charge me until he and Bud checked out my alibi. Which is ironclad, by the way, just in case you’re interested in whether I killed her, or not.”
That felt like a slap in the face, but she could take the hit. She merely said, “I don’t think you killed Monica.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Black was so angry that it radiated off him in waves, like heat off a radiator. In the soft moonlight and the distant glow of the dusk-to-dawn light at the end of her dock, his face was carved with deep shadows that made it hard to read his expression. But his voice nearly shook with contained rage.
“I’m a law enforcement officer, Black. I’ve got to remain unbiased and stay away from you until you’re completely cleared. If your alibi pans out, believe me, I’ll be the happiest person around.”
“Get in the boat and sit down. I want to talk to you.”
Hesitating, she decided that they did need to talk it out. She climbed down and took a seat a few feet away from him.
“Now don’t get too close. I bite, you know. I also, for no apparent reason, kill innocent young women who’re good friends of mine.”
Ooh, sarcasm, executed quite well, too. “You need to listen to reason, Black. You’re in very deep trouble here. It’s gonna be hard for Charlie to ignore all this evidence.”
“All this so-called evidence was planted and we all know it. Who planted it—that’s what we’ve got to figure out.”
He was right. None of it made a lick of sense. It really didn’t. “Okay. I’ve been thinking about it, too, and I agree with you. But if not you, then who?”
“I think I know, but I’m not sure how I can ever prove it. I’ve already got my private investigator working on it.”
“John Booker?”
“That’s right. And he’s damn good. He’ll come up with something to help me.”
“You need to tell us what you suspect so we can go after this guy. He’s twisted, if he can do something like that to Monica.”
“You just don’t know.”
Claire was getting a little peeved at this secret speak he was tossing around. “Okay, you give it to me straight, Black. I need to know, especially if you think I’m in danger enough that you’re willing to sit out here on guard duty all night.”
Black hesitated for several beats, just staring at her. He was still irate; she could see how his fists were clenched. He was ready to erupt; all he needed was a trigger. But who could blame him?
Black finally answered, very low, very tight. “I didn’t want to tell you this. I still don’t think you’re psychologically ready for it, but you need to know the truth. You need to stay with me at Cedar Bend. Your place is too isolated, too vulnerable to intruders. And don’t tell me you can take care of yourself, goddammit. You can’t always take care of yourself, and it’s time that you face that.”
She hadn’t seen him this furious and antagonistic before, so she didn’t argue with him. “Then go ahead and tell me. Otherwise, I’m staying right here. By myself. And you’re going home.”
Black was veritably clenching his teeth now. She could almost hear them grinding against each other. “Okay, you know that guy who took you off that bridge with him. I think he’s still alive and stalking you again.”
Stunned by that, Claire said, “You told me he was dead.”
“Well, I don’t think so anymore. This murder frame-up is exactly something he’d pull. He’s been locked up in a hospital for the criminally insane since the last time he went after you, but he’s as clever as hell and pathologically obsessed with you. He loves you and thinks you love him.”
Mightily taken aback now, she tried to absorb all that. “Who is it?”
“His name is Thomas Landers, but if he is the killer, he’s using an alias, you can bet on that. He’s good at changing his appearance, too. He’s disguised himself as a woman in the past, for God’s sake.”
“No way.”
“Good enough to fool both of us, Claire, and everybody else around here. Including Harve.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Then sit there and listen to me for a change. You’re in for quite a ride. I wanted you to remember all this on your own, if you had to remember it at all. I don’t know if you can handle some of the stuff you’ve been through.”
“I want to know. I’m telling you I can handle it.”
“This sicko lunatic’s been in your life since you were a little girl. He has this sick and twisted fantasy that the two of you belong together, and he’ll do anything to make it happen. And I mean anything.”
“Since I was little? That doesn’t seem possible.”
Black barked a short laugh, utterly humorless. “It’s possible, all right. He just got me accused of murder when I’m totally innocent, didn’t he? This guy’s a psychopath, driven completely insane from severe childhood abuse. Terrible stuff was done to him. He will not stop until he’s got you in his hands, and he’ll do anything: commit murder, lie, steal, behead, anything, I tell you, to get you back under his control.”
Despite the warm night breeze, a shiver rippled its way down over Claire’s bare arms, just at the thought of being stalked by that kind of man, but no awful memories welled up to enlighten her. So she didn’t say anything else. She only sat there, silent, trying to digest what he’d said and what she needed to do about it. Trouble was, this time she didn’t know what to do.
Black didn’t wait for her to respond. This time his tone was calmer, which made his words even more effective. “Claire, listen to me, please. I love you. I’m scared for you. This man is truly psychotic, but criminally brilliant. He’s after you right now. I feel in it my gut. If you won’t come with me, let me stay here with you. I’m begging you, Claire. You don’t remember how dangerous this guy is. If you did, you would know that you need my help. Oh, God, please, Claire, listen to me, just this once, listen to what I’m saying.”
Claire sat there and heard him out, pleading from his heart, no question about it. And she was also pretty sure that Black was not a weak man, not fearful, not one to be afraid of anything. He seemed about as strong and self-confident and tough as any man she’d ever known. Yet he was scared for her. And that did scare her.
“Okay. You can stay here, but come inside the house. It’s stupid for you to sit out here with mosquitoes eating you up.”
They both jumped when Jules suddenly bounded up and raced off toward the house, barking his head off. Black was on his feet in an instant, moving up into the bow and looking up toward the house. Somewhere out in the darkness, Jules yelped and raced straight back to them, as if frightened by something. Claire scooped him off the dock and put him down in the boat with them. Black turned around and faced her, and she could see the seriousness on his face reflected in the dim cockpit lights.
“C’mon, Claire, take Jules and spend the night at Ced
ar Bend with me. This is not a safe place, even with me standing guard. I’ll stay clear of you. I’ll move down into one of the bungalows, if you want, and you can have the penthouse. This guy’s not going to stop until we get him. You are his life’s obsession. His reason for living.”
Before Claire could answer that, a shot rang out, shattering the stillness. She saw the flash of a gun muzzle in the nearby trees, about the same time Black tried to duck down, but not fast enough. The slug hit him in the back, and he crumpled like a dropped marionette and fell forward to his knees and then facedown in the bottom of the boat. She took cover behind the cockpit, pulled her Glock, and unloaded six quick slugs at the spot where the shooter had fired his weapon.
Their assailant returned fire almost at once, now closer to them, but she couldn’t spot him, couldn’t get a bead on where he would be next. In a heartbeat, she had the boat untied and was idling the Cobalt out away from the dock. Once clear, she shoved the controls forward, and the boat nearly stood on end before it surged off toward the entrance to the cove. Once she got out into the open lake channel, she crouched down beside Black.
“How bad is it?”
“Just get us outta here,” he rasped out, trying to turn over.
Claire held the wheel with one hand and grabbed Black’s Windbreaker out of the storage pocket and pressed down hard on his chest wound. It looked like the bullet had hit his back and exited somewhere under his clavicle. She tried to steer the boat and get a towel under his back at the entry wound. He groaned when she tried to lift him, and then went unconscious and just lay there bleeding. She stood back up and pushed the boat even harder, jerking out her cell and calling ahead to Cedar Bend to have an ambulance waiting at the marina. She had to get him to a doctor. His wound was bad, oh, God, it was really, really bad.
Jesse’s Girl