Remember Murder

by Linda Ladd

  “It came back, all of it.”

  Black’s heart began to race with hope, but she’d said bad news, too. Truth be told, nothing was very good, not with Thomas Landers still on the prowl.

  “You remember everything?” he asked slowly, their gazes still locked.

  She nodded. “Everything. All of it.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know yet. I need you to help me, I think.”

  Concerned, Black moved toward her. She rarely asked for help, not from him, not from anybody. Apparently, she was not handling the memory recovery as well as she wanted to. “Sit down here and let’s talk about it.”

  Claire sat down on the leather sofa beside the door, and Black sat down beside her. She was clasping her hands tightly together. Not exactly wringing them; Claire Morgan was not the kind of woman to wring her hands. But she was more upset than she was letting on, which was very Claire Morgan. She was having trouble accepting some of it, all right. He picked up the phone on the table beside him and told Miki to tell everybody to take the rest of the day off and go home, no exceptions.

  Then he turned, took both of Claire’s hands in his, and felt the very slight tremor in them. “Okay, babe, tell me what you’re feeling.”

  Claire looked down. “I don’t know. Sorta like I’m in a daze, I guess. A little shaky, nervous inside. It’s a lot to absorb.”

  “How did it come back?”

  “Suddenly.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I felt dizzy and sick at first, but I got back in control pretty fast. When all that passed, everything became clear, all of it, every detail of my life. Or at least I think it was all of it.” She looked up, her blue eyes full of anguish. “I know how I feel about you. That’s the good thing.”

  “Yeah, a very good thing, thank God.” He smiled and squeezed her hands. She didn’t smile; she was somber in a way that he had never seen her before. “Talk to me, Claire. It will help you get through this.”

  Black could tell that was the last thing she wanted to do, but she finally said, “I think I feel a little bit afraid. I don’t usually feel that way, Black. It’s strange to me. Fear, I mean.”

  “You have good reason to be afraid of Landers. Anybody in their right mind would be afraid of him. I’m afraid of him. He’s psychotic and cruel and amoral.”

  Claire moistened her lips, and breathed out a heavy sigh. “I want to get him, Black. I have never wanted anything as much as I want to take him down.”

  “That’s a completely normal reaction to what he’s done to you and to so many of the people you love. Don’t beat yourself up. You are very strong. You can deal with this, too.”

  “I want to kill him.”

  Black was a bit startled at that remark, but hell, if anybody could relate, he could. He wasn’t sure that what he was about to say was the truth, but he had to say it. “So do I. But we won’t. We’ll let law enforcement handle it, and they will eventually catch him.”

  Troubled, Claire looked up at him. “But I’m a cop. I shouldn’t be thinking this way.”

  “You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t.”

  “I really, truly want to see him dead.”

  Black realized that Claire was appalled at her own murderous feelings, legitimate feelings though they were. She’d never voiced this kind of thing to him before. They were in new territory, but they were going in the right direction. But she didn’t need to dwell on her desire to kill Thomas Landers, not now. “We’ll get him, Claire. It’s just a matter of time. And I’ll keep you safe until then. Tell me exactly what happened today.”

  Claire sat back in her chair, pushed her blond hair behind her ears, and stared straight at him. She began to talk, haltingly at first and then quickly, as if a floodgate had opened. He was so relieved at this breakthrough that he barely breathed. For a long time, they sat there together and she told him how and when and where her memory had returned, how she felt then and before the accident. No longer was she pushing him away, burying her tragedies and horrible memories. She was owning them, thank God. Black asked her all the necessary therapy questions, but he pulled her against his chest and held her close as she talked, content that she let him do that—that she knew him again, knew what they meant to each other. She was doing well, and the more she talked, the more the shock of remembering all that happened seemed to recede.

  “Welcome back, babe. God, I missed you.”

  “I am so glad I remember you, so glad, Black.”

  After a while spent just sitting there together, they got up and left the deserted office wing and walked back to the apartment. Once there, Claire became agitated again, and paced some, back and forth in front of him. Black knew then that she was still holding something back. He wanted to know what it was, but also knew it would come out in time. He could wait on that, but there was something else he didn’t want to wait on.

  “Come here, Claire.”

  When she stood in front of him, he pulled her down onto his lap. She came willingly, sliding her arms around his neck, and he let go of all his suppressed needs, kissing her the way he had wanted to kiss her for weeks on end. She responded in kind, just the way she always had, and they lost themselves in touching and kissing, and then somehow they were in the bedroom, smiling as they undressed each other. Black brought her bodily against his naked chest, his good arm around her waist.

  She stopped him, palms against his chest, and breathed out, “Are you sure you’re up to this? You know, your arm?”

  Black only laughed at that. Then his overwhelming need to possess her won out, and he took her down onto the bed with him, seeking all the pleasure he’d been denied, the need that Claire could ignite in him more than any woman ever had. All of it, all came together, and ripped through him, and he thought of nothing else. After that, they were gone to each other, thinking only of feelings and desires and pleasures. Black savored the moment, surrendered completely, and thought of nothing else, just enjoyed having her in his arms again.

  A long time later, Black ordered up dinner, but it got cold before they finished yet another round between those soft black satin sheets. It just felt so good. There were no barriers any longer, no doubts, no fears. They were as they had been before she lost her memory, even after having to relive the terrible nightmare that was the reality of her life. She seemed happy now, as happy as he was to have her back. But there was more she hadn’t told him, and he was unwilling to force the issue and break the mood. She obviously wanted to hold back as long as possible, because bad things were still happening all around her, even now while they got reacquainted, and would continue to happen until Thomas Landers was out of their lives for good. Unfortunately, this lovely little respite from real life was not going to last long enough, and he knew that, all too well.

  “Wow, Black,” Claire said, when he brought in the dinner tray from where room service had left it outside the elevator door. She lifted off the engraved silver domes and looked at the feast he’d ordered. “Look at this, would you? Caviar and shrimp cocktail and Dom Pérignon and steak and baked potatoes. Chocolate fudge cake. Oreos. You are going all out on the celebration thing. Are you hungry, or what?”

  “You just don’t know.”

  They sat cross-legged across from each other on the rumpled bed, wearing matching white Cedar Bend robes, the large tray between them, and sampled all the culinary goodies. Then Claire casually threw a bombshell square into his lap, as had been her wont in days gone by. “Hey, Black, remember when I told you I had good news and bad news?”

  Black stopped eating, afraid to move. “Yeah?”

  Claire’s tone had a light turn to it now, but she often spoke that way when she was the most uptight. He’d learned that a long time ago and the hard way. So he played along with the kind of banter with which she masked her serious side and waited, on edge, and not sure what to expect.

  “Well, since we’re finished with round one of saying hello, and you know that I do l
ove you back …”

  “Who says we’re done with round one?”

  “You need to know this, Black. Really, you do.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  Bad choice of words, yes, but Claire was waxing serious now. She kept her eyes on his face, intense and guarded and searching all at the same time. Her real life had reared its ugly head, as black and awful as ever. “You were dead-on. It’s been Thomas Landers all along. He’s the one who shot you. The one who killed Monica and Miriam Long.”

  Okay, that came as no surprise to Black. He’d told them that all along. “So you found evidence of his guilt? Did Booker turn up something?”

  “Yes, that’s when I started to remember, standing out there on that bridge with Bud and Booker, and looking down at the water. Oh, and by the way, thanks for pulling me out of the river that night.”

  “Same back to you for getting me to the hospital so fast. Saving each other’s lives is a habit that we need to break, starting now.”

  “I’d say it’s better than the alternative.”

  They shared a brief smile, but none of it was amusing and all levity was now out the window. They were serious, and they needed to be. She began talking about what happened at the bridge again. Good—the more she spoke about it, the better. He sat and listened without comment.

  “I went inside the warehouse where they took me. That’s when everything else hit me. Then Booker led us to a house that he’d located downriver.” She hesitated. It seemed that every time she hesitated, his muscles tensed up to the consistency of granite. It wasn’t any different this time.

  “That’s where we found the body,” she told him, averting her eyes.

  Not expecting that, Black tried to hide his alarm. “What body?”

  “There was a corpse in a chest freezer in the pantry. We think it was the owner of the house. An elderly lady named Rosalee Filamount.” She paused, longer this time, the next revelation coming out hard, probably because she did remember everything now, all the terror, all the threats, all the dark things that Thomas Landers had done to her. “She was decapitated.”

  Black pushed himself up off the bed and took a few agitated strides across the room. He couldn’t help it; he had reached his limit with patience and understanding. Thomas Landers was back in the picture, just as he thought, and that meant Claire was in serious peril again. “Oh, God, Claire, and now it all starts up all over again. I knew it was him, I knew it inside my gut. I tried to tell you, and Charlie, too. Thank God I got Booker down there to look around.” He stopped in his tracks and stared at her. “Why didn’t Book call me? Damn it, I told him to call me the minute he found out anything. He should’ve called me the minute you started remembering.”

  Now Claire was the serene one, just sitting there and watching his anger, hands lying palms-up on her knees, relaxed, almost in a yoga pose. Black knew he had to get hold of himself. This was not good for her. He had to stay calm. He fought down his agitation.

  Quietly, she said, “I told him not to. I wanted to tell you myself. See your face. And talk it out with you at home, in private.”

  “Okay, you did the right thing, I guess.” But Black’s mind was whirling, fully latched on to Landers now, what his next move would be. There was always a next move. Black wanted to get his hands on that bastard so badly that he could taste the bitterness rising in his throat. “So now we’ve got to go after him. We can’t wait. He’s so twisted, there’s no telling what he’ll do next. What innocent victim will die by his hand while we sit around and do nothing.”

  Claire frowned. “Bring it down a notch, Black. Take a page from your own mental health notebook. Charlie’s putting together a task force, and we’re meeting at the sheriff’s office before light tomorrow morning. You don’t need to worry. He’s going down this time.”

  Black did sit down, and faked a composed expression, but his blood ran hot and he knew what he had to do and he hungered to do it. Claire was still talking.

  “Bud and I think Miriam Long was murdered at Suze Eggers’s house out on the lake. Apparently, it’s been empty since the day we caught Landers the last time. He’s been holed up out there. Is there now, we’re almost positive.”

  “Thank God. Then we can surprise him.”

  “That’s the plan. Call in the cavalry and surround him in his own lair. There’s no way on earth he knows we’re this close. Charlie thinks it’ll go down better this way, waiting till morning instead of tonight, just in case he tries to flee. He doesn’t want to take any chances of losing him in the dark, but he’s got officers watching the road in now and water patrol patrolling the end of his cove. We’ll get his fingerprints back from Buck’s office soon enough, and if they find the murder weapon with him, they can get him on ballistics for your attempted murder, as well as the other murders. All of this dismisses any charges pending against you, of course. We’ll get him this time, Black, trust me. I feel better about that now after talking with you. The police will get him, not you.”

  At that, Black could only stare at her, not that he was surprised. Claire was not one to back down. “Claire, use your head. You’ve got to back off. You’re his primary target. He’s hurt you already, abducted you twice, hacked you with a meat cleaver, for Christ’s sake. You need to keep your distance and stay out of this capture. Finish getting well. Work through your recovered memories. Let Charlie and Bud and the other guys handle it. Think, Claire, think about what you’re walking into.”

  As soon as he vented his frustration on her, he knew his harsh words would seem offensive to her. He didn’t care. They’d both been through enough. They weren’t going to endure more torture from this man, not if he could stop it. He waited for her to jump on him, tell him that he didn’t own her and couldn’t tell her what to do. That was par for the course and always had been.

  Surprisingly, Claire remained unruffled, didn’t retort, or turn icy. She merely gazed at him, sober-faced and resolute. “You better get yourself under control, Black, or you’re gonna lose that shrink license you’ve got. Take a pain pill or two. And just so you know, I am using my head. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’m not going to kill him in cold blood, even though I hate him and would like to. Believe it or not, I’ve learned my lesson, and in the worst possible way, as you well know.”

  Okay, anger didn’t work. He’d told her that little platitude himself, and plenty of times. Maybe pleading would do it. “Okay, Claire, I’m calm now, and I’m begging you. Stay here with me where you’ll be safe. This guy is a crazed killer, but he’s proven himself clever. He’ll try to get to you again. He always does. Let the others deal with him.”

  “Well, he won’t get me. Because I won’t go off on my own, I swear to God. I’ll stay with Bud and the other officers. And would you stop rubbing your shoulder like that? You’re going to open up the stitches again, if you already haven’t. You’ve done more today than you should’ve, a lot more.”

  Black did stop. In his tracks. He sank down on the bed. God help him, nobody on God’s green earth frustrated him more than Claire Morgan did. “He’ll get you again, he will,” he repeated, but with less discernible emotion, because he had to resign himself that she was going to do this her way. There wasn’t much he could do about it. He just shook his head.

  Claire crawled over to him, leaned against his back, and put her arms around his neck. “Don’t worry, Black. I’ll be careful, I promise. Don’t you see? We’re going to get him this time, put him away for good. I think he’s been living and working here at the hotel under the name of Jesse Jordan. I think he killed Miriam Long when she surprised him at Suze Eggers’s house. He got rid of Monica, probably when she outlived her usefulness. Jesse is Thomas Landers, all right. That’s how he got in here. He’s coming after me, true, and if we don’t find him at the Eggers place, then that’s the only way we can get him is by using his obsession with me.”

  “Goddamn it, Claire. What the hell’s the matter with you? Do you have a death wish—is that
why you do these things?”

  Claire resorted then to lightness, no doubt hoping to deflect his attention to more pleasurable pursuits. “I hope not. Not after the way you just made love to me. We have all night before the task force comes together, you know. Let’s use it wisely.”

  “Don’t try to distract me, Claire! This is too damn serious!”

  She only smiled. “I’m ready for round two now. What’d you say? Or are you too tired? Did I hurt you?”

  “You’re going to get yourself killed—”

  Claire stopped his words with her mouth, and he was fully aware that she was done talking about Landers. He knew they should, that he was right in everything he’d just said. He also knew that she didn’t want to think about that right now, and she didn’t want him to think about it, either. She wanted him to think about how she was opening his robe, her mouth moving over his chest.

  “This is not fair. You are not playing fair.”

  “Shut up, Black. Please,” she murmured, untying the robe and pushing it off his shoulders.

  “Damn you, Claire,” he said tightly, but that’s about all he got out for about the next hour or so, except, of course, for some pleasurable sighs and moans. Claire didn’t say much, either. She was showing him how she felt about him and in no uncertain terms, and he was enjoying it way too much to start another argument. But he would have to, sooner rather than later.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  At four-thirty the next morning, Claire sat beside Bud in the small conference room in the Canton County Sheriff’s Office. Black sat on the other side of her. He wasn’t supposed to be there, of course, but he was doing so against her wishes, as well the sheriff’s orders. Nobody tried to stop him, though, probably because of the try-to-stop-me-and-I’ll-kill-you look on his face. Her expression was similar, she had to admit. Most of the area police officers were there, as well as some Springfield P.D. officials, and an FBI SWAT team out of Kansas City, geared up in their black assault attire and ready to roll. Thomas Landers was facing some extremely serious police involvement now.