by Linda Ladd
Mr. Friendly Insurance Man’s wide hazel eyes went even wider and more impressed. “Are you the Claire Morgan?” he asked, apparently awestruck.
Bud barked a short laugh and bumped her with his shoulder. “See, Morgan, I told you that you were gettin’ famous.”
The man blushed, yes, she was not kidding. Got all flustered, like they were going to cuff him for branding her detective acumen with a wow factor.
He actually stammered a response. “It’s just that you’ve been in the news around here so much, and all that. My God, that last case you were involved in was so, well, so awful… .”
“Yes, sir. I know what you mean. And you are?”
“Oh, sorry. My name’s Larry, Larry Carter. Glad to meet you both.”
“Mr. Carter, we need to ask you a few questions about Miriam Long. She was an employee of yours at one point, was she not?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Dear God, bless her little heart. I cannot believe she’s gone. Just when she got married and was so happy living up there at the lake.” He glanced at his secretary. “Gina and I plan to attend the funeral. Poor Oliver. He’s just devastated.”
Claire glanced over at Gina, who was Carter’s beauteous, gasp-inducing young secretary, and who was also a bare quarter-inch from coming out of her low-cut purple blouse, a female that Claire assumed Humpty’s wife utterly despised and distrusted. Gina nodded, and adopted a suitably sad look at the mention of their deceased former colleague, all the while batting her long, black, false eyelashes at Bud. Bud looked like he had hit the babe jackpot at the Bellagio.
“Is there somewhere private where we can talk, Mr. Carter?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Please, come back to my office.”
Bud and Claire followed him inside. Bud loitered briefly to tell Gina that she smelled really good, heavenly, in fact, but Claire didn’t smell anything particularly tantalizing on the girl’s person. The whole place smelled like bountiful bottles of sprayed-everywhere Febreze to her. Then they found themselves inside a small, extremely cluttered office. By cluttered, she meant she couldn’t see the top of Larry’s desk. He gestured to two green chenille-upholstered chairs. Hers had a torn place at the front and a stack of newspapers on the seat and was the better of the two. She picked up the papers and placed them on his desk with several other months’ worth of papers. No wonder he’d heard of her. He was well read. Bud had joined them now, and everyone sat down. Except Larry. He remained standing. She wondered why. He didn’t say. Maybe there was too tall a stack of papers in his swivel office chair.
“Is anything wrong, Mr. Carter?”
“No, why do you ask that?”
“Well, you’re standing up.”
“I have a bad back, lumbar slipped disk. You know, a herniated one. I have to stand up some throughout the day or I’ll pay for it tonight in bed. Then I’d have to sleep propped against the wall.”
“I see.”
Bud and Claire glanced at each other with we-got-us-an-odd-bird-here looks.
“Tell us about your relationship with Miriam Long.”
“Well, that girl was like a member of my family. My wife, Edith, and I loved her so much. I worried about her being a single woman going out to the listings to meet people, and such things. She carried a stun gun. I made her.”
“She carried a stun gun? Are you positive?” Bud jumped on that with both his polished Italian loafers.
“Oh, yeah, definitely. I bought it for her myself. That’s why I was so surprised that somebody got to her the way they did. And, truthfully, she was a pretty strong woman. She and Gina used to work out all the time.”
Bud took over, so Claire sat back to enjoy the ride. “Can you think of anybody who might be angry enough to hurt her? Any stalker types, maybe? She was a nice-looking woman. Ex-boyfriends, jealous wives, maybe? She was bound to attract the attention of men.”
“Yes, she was. A real lovely lady. All that shiny red hair was very nice, but she only had eyes for her captain. He was her knight in shining armor. She worshipped him, truly she did.”
“No other boyfriends?” Claire asked.
“In the past, maybe, but when she was here, she was always intent on forging ahead in her career. I was glad she got on up there at Kay Kramer’s office. Kay’s a very good Realtor.”
“Are you and Ms. Kramer friends?”
“Yes, but not close. We’ve passed a few listings back and forth now and again. Seen each other at conferences, and such as that.”
Claire sighed, wishing they could just get a break already. “You know the victim very well, sir. What’s your take on what happened to her?”
“I think it’s what I just said. I worried about the same thing when Miriam worked here. I think she was showing a property to somebody, and they attacked her when she wasn’t expecting it.”
“Do you have a particular client in mind? Anyone she mentioned who creeped her out, anybody like that?”
“No, but she was dealing with a property of mine that rather worried me. But she insisted on checking on it for me because she lived up there close, and I didn’t. One you two are very familiar with, I suspect.”
Claire perked up. Okay, this was the key. Her guess now was that Miriam Long had worked the house where Claire and Harve had been attacked by Landers and that meant they had definite cause to go inside. She glanced at Bud.
He had the same enlightened expression on his face. He knew, too. His voice was calm, measured. “What property is that, Mr. Carter?”
“Well, it’s that house where that Landers guy took you, Detective Morgan, you know that crazy guy who took you captive? Well, after you put him in the nuthouse, I got the property where he held you and that retired L.A. cop captive.”
“You are absolutely sure it’s the same place,” Bud asked. “And Miriam went out there to check it out for you?”
“Yes, sir. Every week or so.”
Claire stared at him, thinking about all those gory pictures she had sifted through the night before, especially the one of Harve Lester in a hospital bed and the close-up of that long line of ugly black stitches on her own chest and shoulder, examples of that self-same psycho’s handiwork after he got done hacking her with his meat cleaver.
Larry Carter wasn’t done. “Yeah, we were as shocked as you to get that listing. That woman he murdered in that house before he got you? Named Suze Eggers? Her estate hired me to sell it when it’s out of probate. It’s been closed up ever since. Like I said, after Miriam transferred up there, she insisted that she could see to it. She knew it was really inconvenient for me to drive all that distance. She was sweet, like that. Always offering to help other people.”
A distinct image welled up inside Claire’s head. She was getting more and more flashbacks, especially today, most of them grainy and black-and-white and scary. This time she got a vivid flash of a young woman in a black-and-tan uniform like Isaac’s, with short blond hair, spiked up on top with lots of gel.
Claire turned quickly to Bud. “What did Suze Eggers look like, Bud?”
“Five-six, I guess. Short blond hair, really muscular and masculine. She was a security guard at Cedar Bend.”
Excitement overwhelmed Claire. It was coming back; she could feel it coming back now, slowly but surely. Thank God, but she couldn’t dwell on that right now. This was it; this was the connection between Miriam and Thomas Landers. He had gotten to her in that house.
“Was she showing it to people?” she asked Carter. “Miriam, I mean?”
“I don’t think so. But she went out there once in a while and made sure everything was okay. I remember her telling me that it was real creepy to go inside and look around.” He hesitated, and looked apologetically at Claire. “She said it was still furnished, nothing much had been touched since you, well, you know. She said it’s still got bloodstains in the basement. We can’t clean it up for sale, can’t touch it, until the court releases it to her heirs. They live up in New Hampshire. I don’t know how they got my nam
e. Probably out of the Yellow Pages.”
Claire wondered if it was her blood he was describing on that floor, and considering the dire revelations of late, it probably was. But never mind that—she knew in her gut that Landers had been out there recently, and was probably using the place as a home base. More important by far, this info was plenty enough to get a warrant to enter that house.
“Mr. Carter, could you give us permission to legally enter that house?”
“Yes, of course. No problem. I have a key I can give you.”
“Thank you. That will be very helpful, sir. Now, the way I understand it, Mr. Carter, is that the house is your listing. Miriam and Kay Kramer don’t even have it on their books, right?”
“That’s right. But I was gonna give Miriam a big bonus when it sold, just for taking care of it for me.”
Bud said, “When was the last time she checked on it?”
Bud and Claire were actually leaning forward in their chairs. More proof that Thomas Landers was the perpetrator. It was strange he’d risk going back there to the scene of past crimes, but after all, he was insane. Nobody could predict his actions.
“Probably before she planned to leave town. She was a very dependable young lady.”
Claire nearly held her breath because she knew what Bud was going to ask next. Turned out she was right, too.
“Mr. Carter, did she ever take her boat out there to check on it?”
Larry Carter looked from Claire to Bud and then back to Claire. “Yeah, she always went by water. That property is situated way back in the woods. She said it was a lot quicker to go in by water.”
“Did she ever see anybody out there?”
“No, and she would’ve told me, if she had. Like I said, she thought the place was spooky.”
Claire said, “Can you let us take a look at your file on this property?”
“Of course. You can have a copy of the file, if you need it. Gina will run one for you.” He called out through the open door and gave the order.
“Thank you, sir. That would be most helpful. One more question, Mr. Carter. Did Miriam Long ever mention a client named Jesse Jordan?”
Larry Carter shook his head. “Not that I recall.”
Outside, after thanking Larry and Gina, and with said house key and photocopy in hand, they almost danced a jig on the sidewalk. The new information was definitely pointing to the fact that Thomas Landers was probably in and out of there at will, planning who to bludgeon next, and using his old haunt as his killing field.
“This’s major, Claire. I think we got him. He might be out there right now, holed up in the basement, nursing the bullet wound you gave him. He might’ve even been inside when we checked it out the first time.”
“You bet your life, it’s major.” She pulled out her phone and found she’d missed a call from Charlie. “Charlie called while we were in there. I turned my phone off for the interview.”
Bud was checking his cell, too. “Yeah, me, too. I better get back to him. He’s gonna be mad as hell that neither of us picked up.”
Claire looked up at the threatening gray sky and feared a thunderstorm was brewing. Lightning flashed on cue to verify her observation, and then came the rumbling thunder that lasted a good ten seconds before fading away.
“Sheriff, sorry I missed your call… .”
After that, Bud didn’t get out another word, just listened intently, his gaze holding Claire’s the whole time. After maybe twenty seconds, he said, “Yes, sir,” but Charlie kept going. Something was up, all right. Bud didn’t say two words more, and finally got a chance to tell the sheriff what they’d found at the very end of the call. More listening, and then he ended the call with another quick “Yes sir.”
“Black called Charlie. His investigator, that Booker guy, thinks he’s found the place where Landers came out of the river. Charlie’s trying to get an expedited warrant from Ozark P.D. and wants us to go down there and pick it up at the station. Then we’re supposed to take Booker and serve it.”
“It’s looking more and more like this guy’s alive and well and killing people.” Claire shuddered. She couldn’t help it. Her scars all seemed to be throbbing with bad memories. Mental, true, psychosomatic, even, but it still got to her.
“Yeah,” said Bud. “But we’re gonna get him for good this time.”
“What about the lake property where he’s holed up?”
“He wants us to check it out, too, as soon as we get home.”
Claire filled up quickly with a mild kind of dread at the thought of entering a place where she had nearly died in a most gruesome manner. Her gut told her that was where Miriam Long’s life had been snuffed out, too. And that’s where they’d find the clues they needed to prove Thomas Landers was back in the murder game, if not Landers himself. Hopefully, they would capture him inside that house and have him back in cuffs before the day was done.
“How far is Ozark from here, Bud?”
“About thirty minutes.”
They got in the Bronco, and Bud quickly fired the ignition. The engine revved up and lapsed into a steady purr, but he didn’t put the vehicle into reverse. He stared straight ahead, and then leaned on the steering wheel, and turned to face her.
“Do you remember anything about Ozark, Claire?”
“Nope. I think I’m glad I don’t.”
“That’s where the bridge is, the one where you went off into the river.”
Claire stared at him, but this time no familiar flashes painted her a vivid picture. “I’ve been getting more flashbacks today than usual, Bud. I think I’m on the verge of remembering everything I’ve blocked out.”
“That’s good.”
Problem was he didn’t look like he thought it was good. He looked wary and like he didn’t want to be with her when she got punched in the gut with the ugly truth.
“Let’s get going. I’ve got to face my past someday. It’s all coming out soon, I can feel it.”
He nodded, backed out, and shifted into drive. Neither of them spoke again. For the next thirty minutes, Claire sat there and stared straight ahead and steeled herself inside for whatever was about to happen. Seemed she was doing a lot of that lately.
Chapter Twenty-five
“There’s the Riverside Inn. Too bad they went bottom up. I dug their food.”
Claire glanced over at the deserted building that Bud was alluding to. It had a long parking lot with only one silver-gray Ford SUV parked in it. Truthfully, she was more worried about the sudden thudding cadence going on inside her heart, and the bizarre and scary sense of dread that was firing up every nerve ending in her body. She’d been there before, all right, seen that very building. She remembered driving past it, just like now, and each detail came back in a forceful gush of terror. Oh, God, this was not going to be good.
When they started over a narrow one-lane bridge just past the old eatery, Bud stopped the car and said, “Okay, here we go. You went into the water right down there on the far side and landed upside-down in the river.”
Pulse absolutely racing, Claire stared at it, silent for a moment. “I don’t remember it looking like this. I always figured it was a big bridge with iron guardrails and a wide rushing river.”
“Nope, this is it. But the river was flooded that night. Water comes up over the bridge sometimes, makes it impassable. Sometimes it takes the bridge out completely.”
Claire’s mind was going a hundred miles a second, working hard; she could almost feel it straining, straining, please, please, remember what happened in this spot. She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone rapped on her window. She breathed easier when she saw it was John Booker.
“Sorry if I scared you,” he said, as she slid down her window.
“I’m jumpy, I guess. First time I’ve been back here since … whatever happened.”
“Okay, I parked over there at the Riverside. Why don’t you go ahead and cross the bridge, Bud? Park over there on the shoulder.”
As Bud
drove across to the far side, Claire stared down at the small running stream, still amazed that she had almost perished in that water. Once they parked, they both got out and met Booker in the middle of the old bridge.
“I’ve been hiking down along the stream bank, down that way.” Booker was still wearing all camouflage clothing and clutching a Remington scoped rifle in his right hand. He had a small hatchet and a bottle of water attached to his belt. He must’ve been an Eagle Scout. Or a Navy Seal. He pointed downstream. “Down there, looking for Thomas Landers’s body.”
Bud said, “Did you find anything?”
“I found a place where he might’ve dragged himself out of the water. There’s an old farmhouse near that spot that I wanna check out. Nobody appears to live there. It’s all closed up and locked. But I found a few drops of blood on the front porch. I’ve just got a gut feeling. Did you get the warrant?”
“Yeah, we stopped at Ozark P.D. on our way out here,” she said, but more thoughts, more crisp images were burgeoning, dying to be set free. Excited, but frightened at the way her mind was jerking her around, she tried to relax and let it happen. Then, it felt like some kind of mental wall quivered dangerously and then partially collapsed like a dam in a storm surge, and memories of that night poured over in a distant roar. Then she felt like she was inside a car with Thomas Landers again. She could see him clearly in the driver’s seat, his profile reflected in the dashboard lights, driving recklessly, calling her Annie, telling her he loved her. Her hands were bound and she was terrified about what he was going to do to her. Breathing hard, groaning with reaction, she dropped to her hands and knees on the ground, and let it come.
Worried, Bud said, “What? Hey, Claire? What’sa matter? You okay?”
Claire barely heard him, seeing only the rushing, terrible filmstrip playing at a furious rate inside her head. “We went off right there, Bud,” she got out somehow. “Black was coming at us in the Hummer, and we rammed him. I can almost hear the metal rending, the grinding, and the glass shattering.”