Jan Coffey Suspense Box Set: Volume Two: Three Complete Novels: Road Kill, Puppet Master, Cross Wired

by Jan Coffey

  The missing words hung in between them, his pain transparent. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be there soon.”

  Ending the call, she refused to even glance at her front door. No more temptations. No mistakes, no hurting people that she loved. She turned the car around and started back to New Haven.

  CHAPTER 42

  Down the street, Luke watched the curious episode. He had been camped out in front of Lacey’s house since last night because there was no place else left for him to go.

  Using Terri’s keys, he’d gone inside. He’d spent hours combing through every piece of mail, going through the files and drawers. He’d searched through bookcases and behind pictures and even the basement. Nothing.

  This narrowed everything down to one lead.

  Gavin MacFadyen.

  He’d been the one Alisha had called to save her sisters. And she’d called him again before Bratva’s men had picked her up in Bridgeport. He was Luke’s last resort.

  Of course, he was also the most difficult one to crack. Luke already knew the guy couldn’t be bought, and he was too damn smart to trust anyone like him.

  Starting his car, he followed Lacey at a safe distance. She might just provide the influence he needed. What was it that Jake had mentioned in his text about these two?

  CHAPTER 43

  Gavin had nearly gone into panic mode when he’d woken up this morning and found Lacey missing. His first thought was that someone had taken her. He’d searched the apartment. He even called the front desk, making sure that she hadn’t left the building accompanied by anyone else.

  Afterwards, the thought that Lacey had run from him almost crushed him.

  Their night together had been epic. He’d pushed their intimacy to the deepest level. There wasn’t an inch of her body that he hadn’t touched or kissed. He felt like he was twenty years old again, staking his claim on her in a way she wouldn’t easily be able to dismiss. He’d expected her to be a little nervous, maybe shy, even feel a touch of vulnerability after talking of their pasts. He’d felt that way. But even if she had, that hadn’t prevented her from sharing herself with him. From sharing her past and her scars—both internal and external—and that took a kind of bravery she probably didn’t realize she had. But he did. And, God, he loved that about her as much as everything else he knew about her.

  He wanted her, not only for today or tomorrow.

  The realization was jarring. And exciting. But he had to play his cards right because he knew her history. Corner her and she would make a run for it. He just hadn’t thought she’d run so quickly.

  This morning, he’d been ready to go after her, to find her wherever she was. He wanted her to see him for who he was. He’d given her no reason to think of him as another guy like her father and the kind of man he’d been.

  It was such a relief when she’d finally answered her phone. She was safe. She was coming back. Willingly, she was coming back to him.

  Gavin could breathe again. He took a quick shower, straightened the bed, though he was looking forward to bringing her back to it.

  The cell phone charging at the bedside caught his attention. It had to be Terri’s. He sat on the edge of the bed and started going through the dozens of new messages left on it.

  A number of them were from Alisha. He went through them all and listened to the last one twice.

  “I hate your fucking voice mail. But this is it. I’m leaving town. So listen. I promised you this fucking envelope. I got it and they want it bad. And I didn’t peek at no names. What if they can find me because I got the stuff in my head? Look, I’m going, so here’s the deal…”

  There was a pause in the message. Gavin listened carefully to the station announcements coming through the line. There was more he could have done that night.

  “I got no money for stamps or nothing,” she continued. “So I’m leaving the thing here. But I gotta talk to you. Make sure you know where. So answer your fucking phone if you want it. I’m calling that other guy, the one you gave me his number. He dope…he found you last time. And…thanks for getting my sisters out. You down for a cop. Okay…I’m out.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Lacey was driving south on Route 8, just past Waterbury, when Gavin called her again.

  “Where are you?” he wanted to know. She could hear the anxiety in his voice.

  She gave him the exit number she’d just passed.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  She looked in the mirror. Traffic on Sunday mornings was practically nonexistent. Just a few cars in sight. No one seemed to be in any hurry.

  “Yeah. Everything okay with you?” she asked, sensing there was something on his mind. Something had changed since the conversation they’d had not even a half hour ago.

  “When you come to my apartment, just wait there for me. I had to run out, but I left a key at the front desk. There won’t be any visitors, no one doing repairs. No one. So you shouldn’t let anyone come in for any reason while I’m gone.”

  “Yes, Detective MacFadyen,” she said, teasing him. “I know how to be careful.”

  “I know you do,” he said gruffly. “But I’m afraid that you matter too much to me.”

  There was a gentle tug at her heart. She couldn’t wait to see him, to press her face against his chest and just hold him, and to apologize for running away this morning the way she had.

  “I should be back in a couple of hours.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Bridgeport Train Station. That’s where Alisha—the teenager Terri was helping—last called from. I went through the voicemail on Terri’s phone. I want to take a look around the bus and train stations myself.”

  “Please be careful.”

  “I will,” he said.

  Ending the call, Lacey couldn’t put her finger on it. Something wasn’t right. This was the same feeling in the pit of her stomach that she’d had the morning Terri had left the house to go jogging.

  Lacey had had three back-to-back appointments scheduled that day. Group and individual pictures for a kid’s soccer team. A christening in the afternoon. A meeting with a restaurant owner two towns over who wanted new photos for his takeout menus.

  Five weeks had gone by, but it still felt like yesterday. All that terrible day, Lacey had felt this same queasiness, but she’d still gone from appointment to appointment. It wasn’t until hours later that she realized her sister hadn’t returned from her run.

  Recognizing the same feeling now, she knew she couldn’t simply pace the floor of Gavin’s apartment, waiting for him. She decided to go and wait for him at the train station in Bridgeport.

  CHAPTER 45

  This might not be Watergate, and Denise Geller might not be Richard Nixon, but Benita knew how Woodward and Bernstein felt.

  Leaving the hospital yesterday and being up all night, she had found more than the leverage she’d gone looking for. She couldn’t wait to confront Denise with it.

  Michael Phoenix’s girlfriend had been a student at the same high school. They’d started going together early in their senior year. But she’d transferred out to a private school before the Christmas holiday. That was why she hadn’t been implicated in Stephanie’s murder.

  More important to Benita, that was why Lacey Watkins didn’t know her. Lacey had transferred in after Christmas. The teenagers’ paths had never crossed. But now, they could see each other all the time in Westbury and Lacey would never have a clue that Michael’s girlfriend was watching her, waiting for her moment.

  If Denise Geller could hold a torch for Michael all these years, she could also keep the fires of revenge burning.

  The hospital elevator seemed to crawl interminably upward toward the prisoner’s floor.

  That wasn’t all Benita had been able to dig up. This morning, she’d stumbled on something quite unexpected. A couple of years ago, Denise had been charged with possession of a controlled substance with intent to distribute. A first-time offender with a good lawyer and
parents who pulled every string they could get their hands on, she had received a suspended sentence on a lesser charge…with five years probation.

  And Fay Stone was Denise Geller’s probation officer.

  Benita had the scoop of the year and she couldn’t wait to talk to her.

  When the doors finally opened, she knew immediately that something was wrong.

  With the shift change, a different nurse was manning the station, but there was no one else in sight. No police officers and Michael’s hospital door was open.

  Walking to it quickly, she went in.

  Three people were working inside. The glass in a picture on the wall was broken, and shards were still visible on the floor. The large plate-glass window had a bulls-eye crack at one end, as if something heavy had been thrown at it. A broken wooden chair with a splintered leg and a life support apparatus with twisted tubes and wires lay in a jumble in a corner.

  “What happened here?” Benita asked.

  An aide straightened up, holding a pile of linens. “I thought I’ve seen everything before. But this is bullshit. People don’t grieve like this.”

  The janitor sweeping the glass gave Benita the straight answer. “Woman came back this morning, and they told her the boyfriend was dead. She did all this. Guess you could say she lost it.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Travelers going between the bus and train stations in Bridgeport had a choice: they could take an elevated walkway that ran along the tracks, or they could go down the stairs and use the sidewalk on Water Street.

  As Gavin walked both routes, he looked for anything that might provide a clue.

  The Sunday crowd at both stations was light. Families, mostly, and college kids heading back to school.

  Gavin wasn’t sure if there was an envelope here or not. There was no way of knowing whether the people who’d snatched Alisha had gotten the list at the same time or not. But he had to find out. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance anymore. And he didn’t trust any cops in New Haven or Bridgeport to check into it.

  He’d never investigated any cases here. He was only familiar with this station from taking the Metro North train back and forth to New York City. The bus station was more exposed. There were ticket and newspaper dispensers. No place where a teenager could safely hide anything. He recalled the phone conversation he’d had with Alisha. The background announcement on the PA system told him that she had still been at the train station. The sidewalk on Water Street was the most likely place for her to get snatched. An abduction would have attracted too much attention any other place.

  If the envelope was still here, it had to be at the train station.

  Going back along the elevated walkway, Gavin tried to look at the place through the eyes of a thirteen-year-old. Again, he went through the station lobby. With its ticket window, manned concession stand, and rows and rows of benches, it also was too exposed. And for now at least, he rejected the idea of Alisha leaving the envelope in the bathroom. Daily cleaning made it unlikely that anything would still be there.

  He walked out onto the track, looking up and down at the line of benches. On this side there were two more newspaper dispensers and no good hiding places.

  Alisha would have taken a Metro North train from New Haven to here, he decided, envisioning her movements. She would have stepped out of the commuter train on this side of the tracks.

  His eyes focused on the platform for the eastbound trains across the tracks. Directly in front of him, he could see the small, glass-fronted platform entrance. An indoor staircase and an elevator opened into that space. Inside, he could clearly see a line of vending machines.

  Small, private, safe.

  He went back inside and took the stairs down to street level. A tunnel under the tracks led to the eastbound platform. Taking the stairs two at a time, he knew he was in the right place as soon as he stepped into the room. Very few chairs. Lines of tall vending machines. People didn’t seem to pause as they came up the stairs, but went straight out onto the platform.

  A young man had the front of one of the snack units open, restocking it.

  Gavin examined the machines. Each unit was butted up close to the next but there was certainly enough room for someone to slip a piece of paper or an envelope between them.

  Alisha said she’d call Terri and tell her where to look for the envelope.

  Gavin crouched down next to the vending guy, looking.

  “Can I help you?”

  Gavin reached inside his pocket and took out a business card, handing it to him. The young man looked at the card, at his face, then back at the card.

  “Are you a cop?”

  “No,” Gavin knew this was the right answer in Bridgeport. “I do private work. Working the case of a missing thirteen-year-old. Last anyone heard from her, she made a call from here. She had an envelope that she might have hidden here. Maybe slipped it under these, or between the machines. Looks like they’d be tough to move.”

  “Yeah, they weigh a ton.” Reaching into a box of tools, the young man pulled out a long stiff wire with a hook on the end. “But maybe you could use this.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Lacey found Gavin’s car parked behind the bus terminal at Bridgeport’s Transportation Center. Pulling into a nearby space, she turned off the car and took out her cell phone to send him a text message.

  She knew she’d been impulsive coming here. Most likely, she would be adding to his stress. Still, she wasn’t going to get out of the car and wander around. She’d wait for him here.

  He wrote right back.

  Getting close. Might have it. Stay there. I’ll be down soon. Lock your door.

  Lacey double-checked the lock on the door. She didn’t know what the it was that he was getting close to, but whatever it was, it had to be important.

  She’d been on a mad dash since opening her eyes this morning. She checked her reflection in the mirror. She needed a shower. Her hair was a crazy mass of curls. But there was a spark in her green eyes that reflected what was in her heart. She’d spent the night with Gavin and—ignoring a couple of hours of panic—she was happy. Satisfied. Hopeful. She couldn’t wait to have him holding her again. He made all of her worries, everything that had ever gone wrong in her life, seem…manageable. Almost distant, somehow.

  Her thoughts turned to Amy. She hadn’t spoken to her since Friday night. Lacey dialed Amy’s number, but she didn’t pick up. When the voice mail kicked in, Lacey left a message.

  Her friend had promised to ask Nick to stay with her overnight. But what about the rest of the time? Or the second night? She wished Amy would answer her phone.

  Lacey’s understanding was that Gavin was working one of Terri’s cases. But this wouldn’t provide answers to who had sent those photos of Terri and Fay. And what about the dead animals around the property?

  Lacey hadn’t checked her email for two days now. What if there were pictures of another victim?

  The worry was back.

  She searched her list of contacts for Nick. He’d know where Amy was and if she was okay.

  No sooner had she found Nick’s number when there was a soft tap on her window. Startled, she looked up at a man with dark sunglasses. His shaved head gleamed in the morning sun. Polo shirt, a light windbreaker, wide shoulders, medium height. There was something vaguely familiar about him. He motioned to her to lower the window.

  “Can I help you?” she asked instead. Her hand moved to the ignition key.

  “Lacey. We’ve met before. I was friend of your sister Terri. I just saw you in the parking lot and stopped to say hi.”

  Warning bells rang in her head. He was standing too close to the car. She couldn’t see his right hand. He was a cop. He was one of the faces at Terri’s funeral.

  Lacey turned the key in the ignition, starting the car just as her window was exploded, smashed from the outside. She had no chance to even scream as she was showered with glass and his hand reached inside and wrapped around her throat.r />
  CHAPTER 48

  Gavin looked almost in disbelief at the paper that slid out from between the vending machines.

  The dirty envelope had been used and folded and discarded and used again. He turned it over in his hand. The name and address of the person who’d been the last recipient was crossed off. Just above it, in childish handwriting, Alisha had scribbled Terri Watkins.

  She’d done it. Alisha had left the list.

  “Is that what you were looking for?” the vending machine attendee asked.

  “It sure is.” Gavin pulled a ten out of his pocket and tipped the young man.

  “You don’t really have to do that,” he said, pocketing the money with a shrug and putting the tool away.

  Gavin knew he was tampering with evidence when he decided to open the envelope. At this point, he didn’t care. It was more important for him to have a back-up of the contents rather than hand off the information and having it possibly disappear.

  Lifting the flap, he took out three folded pages that seemed to have been ripped out of a notebook. Names, phone numbers, method of payment, dates of visits, amounts paid. He immediately recognized some of the people. Politicians, city officials, media people. The list covered who was comped and who paid.

  The list wasn’t nail-in-the-coffin evidence, but important nonetheless. Investigating the credit card transactions alone would provide vital details on the trail of Bratva money. Knowing how the organizations worked, Gavin was certain Bratva had started covering his tracks as soon as he knew these pages were missing.

  But the list could be used to expose quite a few people, and the public loved seeing the high and mighty humiliated. And there was enough drama packed into this document to affect the election next month. Some of the names on this list were on those ballots.