Remember Murder

by Linda Ladd

  “Okay, let’s get started. This task force is a joint operation, under me and Michael White, the FBI Special Agent-in-Charge out of Springfield. As you know, there has been a series of murders and shootings”—Charlie glanced at Black and Claire, and then continued—“in the lake area. We have now confirmed by both DNA tests and fingerprint analysis that the perpetrator is one Thomas Landers. Our evidence also shows that he was involved in the murders perpetrated in Ozark, Missouri. Three men were killed there and Canton County homicide detective Claire Morgan was abducted and injured in a car accident as Landers fled the scene. As you all know, she was severely hurt but is doing fine and is now back at work.”

  Everybody looked at Claire and applauded. Her face grew hot. Okay, maybe she was famous. Infamous was probably more like it. Even so, she was highly embarrassed. She just sat there and didn’t react, uncomfortable as hell, and not liking the attention, either. Black chose that moment to place his good arm on the back of her chair, just to show everybody that she was his property, she supposed.

  At the front of the room, Charlie continued his rundown. “Thomas Landers is still on the loose and extremely dangerous. We believe his object in this killing spree is the same as it was before. This perpetrator has a pathological obsession with Detective Morgan and won’t rest until he’s got her under his control. He will stay in this area and create havoc as long as she is here. He’ll only leave if she does.”

  “You are not going to be anybody’s bait, no way,” Black muttered under his breath.

  “I am, if it’ll bring him down. Whether you like it, or whether Charlie likes it, or not. He’s already killed three innocent women, Black.”

  Black didn’t answer that remark, but she knew he understood what had to go down. She would never again feel safe in this world until this guy was dead or captured. So they had to get him. Simple as that.

  The FBI profiler had taken the podium and was talking now. “Landers is deadly, but he’s also smart. He is a master of disguises and is brazen in his attempts to overpower his targets. He will do anything, and I mean anything, to get to Detective Morgan. The ultimate goal in his delusional mind, and this is according to his psychiatrists at the mental hospital where he was incarcerated, is for him and Detective Morgan to become a family and live happily together. That’s why he pursues her time after time, killing anybody who gets in his way.”

  Claire shivered. She couldn’t help it. Black noticed and squeezed her shoulder. At that moment, she was glad he was beside her. She was glad she was heavily armed, too. Black had eventually helped her alleviate her nerves and confusion and urge to kill. Now she was just ready to get Landers in custody and put him away. That was her mantra.

  The task force meeting continued, the first objective being to surround the Eggers house and try to take Landers alive. The parameters were discussed. The SWAT team was to go in first with a flash/bang incendiary. If the suspect was not there, then the sheriff had marked off grids to be searched, and a statewide BOLO would be called in. At that time, the news media would be alerted to warn citizens not to open their doors to strangers and to keep an eye on their children. A picture of Jesse Jordan that they’d found on Monica Wheeler’s computer was to be circulated as the murder suspect.

  The department was to conduct a door-to-door search in the county neighborhoods and question anybody who called in with suspicious behavior. Claire stood when the meeting ended and watched the various detectives, profilers, SWAT team members, Missouri State Highway Patrol, and officers from every other conceivable law enforcement agency, as they filed outside, discussing the case among themselves. Black was still hanging around and not letting her out of his sight. The guy was a basket case of nerves, not the unruffled psychiatrist he usually was, unh-uh. He’d probably go in the ladies’ room with her, too.

  “Detective Morgan, I want to see you in my office,” Charlie called out to her from across the room.

  Uh-oh.

  At that point, Black was forced to let go of her leash long enough to allow her to follow Charlie into his private domain. But he stood guard outside the door, bless his furious little heart.

  “Shut the door, detective, and take a seat,” Charlie said without preamble, or any other attempt at social graces.

  Double uh-ohs, triple even. She obeyed.

  But then he attempted to do friendly. Halfhearted, true, but he tried. “You’re looking a lot better. Bud says you’ve totally regained your memory.”

  “That’s right, sir.”

  Picking up his black pipe, he spent a few minutes cradling it in his palm, messing with it, as was his usual habit. She resisted fidgeting, as was her usual habit. It was better to sit still and wait and not annoy him into a cursing tirade with all those F-bombs he liked to throw around. She didn’t know what he wanted to say to her, but she was pretty damn sure that she wasn’t going to like it. Not even a little bit.

  “Well, I might as well just get down to it, Claire. You’re off this investigation until we get Landers into custody.”

  Absorbing that, and not in a good way, she felt her temperature rising about, say, a hundred degrees a second. “I’m fine now, sir. I remember everything. I’ve worked through some of the troubling things with Black. There’s no reason for you to desk me.”

  “There is a reason, deputy, and you know that full well.”

  The deputy part was his way of reminding Claire that he was her boss, and she was his minion. “I’m fully capable of joining the task force, sir. Please believe me.”

  “This is about your safety. You are the target of this maniac, and I’m not about to put your life in danger again. You’ve been hurt enough by this man. It’s time to sit back and let us handle it.”

  “I appreciate that, Sheriff, I do. But to jerk me off the case completely, that’s unnecessary. I can help. I’ll stay with Bud at all times. I won’t go out to Eggers’s place.”

  “No. I want you to go home and stay with Nick. Sit tight until we bring this guy in.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” She set her jaw, angry, oh, yes. “Is Black behind this?”

  “Nope, I don’t take orders from Nick Black, as you well know. I haven’t even talked to Nick since he got shot. How is he, by the way?”

  “He’s doing fine, but, Sheriff—”

  “That’s an order, deputy,” he interrupted abruptly. “I can see that you’re yourself again. You didn’t argue with me like this when I brought you back in.”

  Claire frowned but gave up the fight. She knew Charlie well enough to know he wasn’t going to change his mind. The stern and massive grimace darkening his countenance was also taken into account. She learned a long time ago, from personal experience, that one did not ignore the boss when he was this shade of burgundy. She held her tongue, had to, no choice whatsoever. Her subordinate capitulation to absolute authority did not come easily and was not easy to affect. In other words, she almost choked to death on her next response. “Yes, sir.”

  “Then go get Nick and go home to Cedar Bend where you’ll be safe for a change. You’re on paid leave of absence until I tell you otherwise.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Once outside, Claire found Bud first and told him the bad news. He didn’t seem upset. He seemed more relieved than anything. But not as relieved as Black looked when she told him.

  “Well, thank God, for Charlie’s good common sense. Especially since you’ve lost any hold on yours, whatsoever.”

  “I should be here. I could help.” That’s what she said, but inside, in the dark corners of her newly restored memory banks, she saw Thomas Landers’s face, his crazy, wild-eyed excitement when he had her tied up and helpless in his truck, and in other dark and scary places. She saw him when he was about to slice open Harve with a fillet knife, which acted to set her nerves on edge again, oh, yeah. Swallowing down the fear that rose up inside and numbed her mind, she felt big-time creeped out, to be sure, more than that even. The guy was fearsome, loathsome, completely a
nd utterly bonkers. She’d been in his clutches twice before, and she didn’t want to contemplate how awful a third time would be.

  Now that Black got his own way, he appeared solicitous and soothing. “You can help from home. Maybe we can figure out where he is, if they don’t find him out at Suze’s house.”

  On their way back to the resort, they were stopped twice by roadblocks. Claire flashed her badge, but the Missouri State Highway patrolman thoroughly checked out Black’s giant black-and-chrome Hummer anyway. This officer was serious business, especially when he found Black and Claire both armed to the teeth. A second look at her badge and remembering her from the task force meeting mollified his concern.

  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a whole helluva lot better now,” Black said, turning the vehicle into the great, stacked-brown-rock entrance gate at Cedar Bend Lodge.

  Probably because John Booker was standing there, checking every car that went in or out of Cedar Bend. He waved Black on, and they drove under the portico that led to Black’s private elevator. Claire had to admit that she did a pretty thorough gander around the immediate area before she stepped out of the car, too. It was amazing that one raving psychopath could cause this much fear and uproar. But Thomas Landers was unique and left a trail of corpses behind him that put Jack the Ripper to shame. Ted Bundy, too. As they rode up to the penthouse, Claire wondered where Thomas Landers was and what he was doing. Then she shuddered at the thought and tried not to contemplate it.

  Jesse’s Girl

  Right now

  Joe McKay was really beginning to get on Jesse’s nerves. He was way too good of a daddy. He kept such a close eye on his darling little girl that Jesse couldn’t even get near her. No, wait, now she was Jesse’s and Annie’s little girl, or soon would be. The daddy’s constant attention made it hard for Jesse to snatch her, of course, but not impossible. Nothing was ever impossible. Just after nightfall, Jesse parked behind a tall hedge at the rear of an unoccupied mansion down the alley behind McKay’s house. He’d parked there lots of times without being noticed. He moved through the shadows to a large bed of crepe myrtles lining McKay’s driveway and concealed himself there in the dark where he couldn’t be seen from McKay’s house or from passersby on the street.

  Lucky for Jesse, however, Joe McKay was a creature of habit. Jesse had recognized that about him from the very first day he had followed McKay home. No doubt one of those diehard military types, the kind who kept such rigid schedules. For several nights, Jesse had watched Joe McKay play with the kid after dinner, either in the front room or outside in the backyard. After that, like clockwork, he took the child, Lizzie, upstairs to bed at precisely eight o’clock.

  Right now it was eight-thirty, dark and humid with crickets chirping. Lizzie was no doubt fast asleep and dreaming her sweet little princess dreams. McKay would come out the front door any minute now, dressed the same way he dressed every single night. No shirt, black nylon shorts, and black Adidas running shoes. He would take his run, leaving his live-in nanny in charge while he was gone. Jesse had followed him from afar, and traced his route down to the single second. McKay ran exactly three miles, down the length of Walnut Street, then over to Glenstone Avenue and back again. He ran fast, at a nice steady pace, and it didn’t take him long. Joe McKay was in very good shape.

  Staring down at Miss Rosie’s dead husband’s gold Timex watch, Jesse gave Joe enough time to reach the busy thoroughfare of Glenstone. Then, as McKay’s neighborhood of old Victorian mansions settled down for the night and residents enjoyed their favorite television shows, Jesse walked quickly up the front sidewalk, past the neat pots of pansies and ivy sitting around the bright red front door. He pressed his forefinger on the doorbell and heard a faint tinkling of chimes inside.

  Moments later, McKay’s gray-haired nanny opened the door. She looked exactly like somebody’s sweet grandma and wore a pink-and-white-striped cotton housecoat that zipped up the front. She looked inquiringly up at Jesse, and he said nothing, just watched her attention move away from his face, down his chest, and to the handgun affixed with a silencer that he held pointed at her chest. Her mouth fell open to scream, but Jesse pulled the trigger way too fast for her to get it out, before she could utter a sound, in fact. The bullet hit her at close range and knocked her backwards a good five feet and onto her back on the red-and-black Persian carpet in the entrance foyer. She was already dead by the time she hit the floor, of course, her faded brown eyes staring at the ceiling, killed instantly by a bullet through her heart.

  Quickly shutting the door, Jesse dropped the note addressed to Joe McKay beside the woman’s corpse and took the magnificently restored and varnished staircase two steps at a time. He wished he could take the nanny’s head and introduce her to Miss Rosie. They’d be such good friends, about the same age and all, but he had very little time. He knew that little Lizzie had a bedroom at the front of the house, the one with the large bay window right over the front room. He had watched through the open curtains when Joe McKay read her to sleep.

  When he opened Lizzie’s door, she was sitting up in her little white twin bed. The walls were painted pink with lots of Disney princess sequined stuff hanging all over the place. He kept his pistol tucked in his waistband under his T-shirt and out of Lizzie’s sight as he walked to the bed and carefully scooped up the child, and her soft pink-and-yellow princess comforter, sheets, pillow, and all.

  “Shh, it’s all right, little Lizzie. Your daddy wants me to take you to see Claire. He had to go somewhere. It’s okay now, just go back to sleep. I’ve got you. Don’t worry now, sweetie. Nobody’s going to hurt you, I promise.”

  Still very drowsy, the child quieted almost at once and rested her head on his shoulder. Pleased that she wasn’t going to put up a struggle, he hugged her close. She felt so tiny and warm and smelled like Johnson’s Baby Powder. He couldn’t wait to lick her. He bet she tasted like sugar, she was so sweet. What a good little girl he’d adopted! She would be just perfect for Annie and him. He took the back stairs and soon found himself in a newly remodeled kitchen. He opened the rear door with his gloved hand and crept across the deserted veranda and across the backyard. More than relieved, he dissolved into the concealing darkness of the oak trees crouching over the narrow alley. Oh, yes, now, at long last, everything was going according to his plans. All he had to do was get Lizzie to the boat and then go get Annie and their wonderful life together could begin anew. He began to weep as he carried away the sleeping child, so warm and small in his arms, pure joy overwhelming every other emotion.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Without doubt, today had seemed the longest day in Claire’s entire life, bar none. She’d been striding the length and width of Black’s plush digs since she got back from the sheriff’s office that morning. She’d called Bud several times since the SWAT team had rushed Suze Eggers’s house and found that Thomas Landers was long gone. But they had found a woman’s head in the freezer and a bloody meat cleaver and a lot of new blood spatter in the basement, so it was pretty evident he’d been there playing his usual gruesome games. She watched the local news religiously, but there was no trace yet of Thomas Landers or his vehicle.

  It was after dinner now, getting late. Black was lounging comfortably on the couch with Jules Verne curled on his lap, watching her walk the floor and fret and worry, his arm held immobile in the black sling again. He was as calm and collected as he’d been ever since Charlie banned her from working the case.

  “You might as well relax, Claire. You can’t make things happen by sheer force of will. There’s a pretty good chance that nothing’s going to happen tonight. And if it does, we’ll be the first to know. Bud will call you.”

  Claire paused and stood in front of him. “I know, but I’m going crazy. I should be out there searching with everybody else. I’ve got to do something. I’m going crazy.”

  “I can think of a couple of things. Come here and I’ll show you.”

  “Be seriou
s, Black.”

  “I am serious. We have a lot of time to make up from all those days you drove me insane with your no-touch, no-sir policy.”

  “He’s out there. No telling what he’s doing while we sit around here waiting.”

  Black switched off his reading lamp. “Our hands are tied. It’s getting late. Let’s go to bed. Maybe we can find a way to help them tomorrow morning.”

  She nodded, giving up the fight, but then they both jumped when Black’s phone chirped. He answered, listened, and then said, “Yeah, Isaac, go ahead. Send him up.”

  “Bud?” she asked, heart beating faster. Maybe they got him, maybe it was over.

  “No. Joe McKay.”

  “McKay’s here at this hour? Something’s wrong, or he wouldn’t be here.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  A minute later, the elevator pinged open down the hallway. Two seconds later, Joe McKay bounded into the room at a full run. He was dressed for running; his face was grim, his jaw set hard. He was teetering on the edge of panic, no doubt about it.

  “He’s got Lizzie! Landers took her!”

  “Oh, God,” Claire got out, but horror gripped her with icy fingers and froze her in place. “How? When?”

  “I was out runnin’. He came to the house and shot my housekeeper. She’s dead.”

  “Oh, God,” she said again, her mind reeling with the idea of his darling little baby in Landers’s hands. What was happening to her? What was he doing to her?

  “Did you call the police?” That was Black.

  “Not yet. He left this.”

  Claire snatched the folded piece of typing paper out of his hand. One corner of it was soaked in blood. Black looked over her shoulder as she opened it.

  Lizzie’s a dead little princess if you contact the police. Find Claire Morgan and we’ll make a trade.