Twisted Threads (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 3)

by Janice Kay Johnson

  There was silence in Sean’s SUV as they drove down the long, dirt lane from the cabin. He was the first one to speak.

  “Wonder whether the chicken or the egg came first.”

  “Are we back to brooding?” Emily asked with interest.

  He gave a shout of laughter before sobering. “No, just trying to decide whether she was full of herself and unlikeable before the rape, or whether we’re seeing the consequences of it.”

  “I’d say there’s no way of knowing, except…”

  “For Jeanette Kelley’s description of her as daddy’s little princess.”

  Emily nodded. He frowned ahead as he steered onto the narrow road that had led them east from the Coast Highway into the foothills of the coastal mountain range. Mailboxes and dirt or gravel driveways appeared every few hundred yards, but the damp woods prevented them from seeing the homes.

  “It’s pretty out here,” Emily said, thinking of the woman and girl they’d just left, “but I wouldn’t want to be this isolated.”

  “Rebecca is a cop, and a good one. I suspect she forgets that as a woman she has some vulnerability the rest of us don’t.”

  “We look enough alike to be sisters.” It just popped out.

  Sean glanced at her in surprise. “Do you?”

  “You weren’t ever, I don’t know, interested in her?”

  “Never crossed my mind.” He sounded as if he was telling the truth. “Even if it had, I can’t imagine getting involved with another cop. Especially one in my own department.”

  Emily nodded. Any workplace romance could present difficulties, but in law enforcement, they might be involved together in something like a shootout, where a distraction could be deadly.

  Let it drop, she told herself, disconcerted by her sudden insecurity. She couldn’t doubt Sean was really attracted to her. It wasn’t as if she had forgotten the way his gaze narrowed the first time they met. She’d felt as if a weapon system had just locked onto her.

  “Do we still have time to stop at the gym?” she asked.

  He glanced at the dashboard clock. “Sure.”

  “Will you tell me why we can’t go to Misty Beach?”

  His sidelong glance was wary. “I don’t want to scare you.”

  She swiveled in her seat to stare incredulously at him. “Like I’m not already scared?”

  “Okay, I don’t want you even more scared.”

  Reaching a logical conclusion wasn’t hard.

  “You think someone might…what? Ambush us? Or shoot from a distance, like a sniper?” She thought about that. “But don’t…don’t murderers stick to an M.O.? Isn’t that the term?”

  “Mode of operation.” The furrows in his forehead had deepened, as they always did when he was troubled. “To answer your question, yes and no. What counts to a killer is meeting his objectives. If rape is central, that will always be part of his assault. In this case, our guy hasn’t deviated from his method so far. Because Mrs. Lowe heard voices, we believe the killer had something he wanted to say to his victim before he killed him. He might get off from taunting him, but my guess is that he’s recounting what he sees as the victim’s sins.”

  “Here’s why you’re going to die,” she said slowly, a horrible knot tying itself in her belly.

  “That’s what I’m thinking.” Sean reached across the console and covered her hands, which she had been squeezing together. “And because he’s determined to speak to each victim, he went with a silent method of killing close at hand. Gave him a chance to leave a message for investigators, too, but he might figure that we’ve gotten the point by now.”

  She closed her eyes. “You’re saying that now everyone knows why he’s after them, there’s no need for him to talk to them in person. Or…or kill them the same way. But…how can he know we all know?” Awful sentence, but she didn’t care.

  “We can’t be sure he does. If not, he’ll probably stick to his pattern. But we’ve been interviewing his potential targets. If he’s watching any of them, he’ll have seen us. Plus, people like to talk. The targets themselves, because they’re rattled. Cops, dispatchers, forensic technicians, they all gossip. The media has been sniffing at our heels. He could have overheard someone talking in the next booth at a diner, in line at the grocery store. If so, he’ll be happy. Everybody he hates is living in fear.”

  Emily made a sound that was almost a laugh, even as she curled forward because of the cramps in her stomach. “Anticipation is half the pleasure.”

  “Emily—”

  She shook her head fiercely. “I’d rather know.”

  He let out a long breath. “All right. If he’s aware of what we know, he may be increasingly nervous about breaking in during the night the way he has been. We might have prepared traps. His victims are forewarned. Some of them are probably armed. He’s had the couple of close calls already when he went after you. For you, especially, I doubt he’ll try the same approach again. You’re already scared, you already know what he blames you for, so it makes sense for him to avoid risk while, uh, achieving his objective.”

  Killing her, was what he meant.

  “We’re assuming he’s former military,” Sean added, tension threading every word. “He could have had sniper training.”

  A small sound escaped her, as well as all the remaining air in her lungs. Any time she was outside, she could be in the crosshairs of a rifle sight. Even the thought made her skin crawl. She wanted to duck down and crouch on the floor instead of sitting here, exposed.

  “I don’t even dare go out to get my mail,” she said, sounding more numb than she felt.

  “I don’t want you outside any more than we can help,” Sean agreed, more grim than she’d ever heard him.

  All she could do was nod. Unlike Kimberly, she didn’t whimper, Why me? Because she knew. She knew.

  Suddenly gentle, Sean said, “I’m sorry,” and she could only nod.

  *****

  Sean hated to wake her up, but the alarm he’d earlier set on his phone had buzzed, letting him know it was time for the great stakeout. Since he’d laid down beside her fully dressed, all he had to do was shove his feet in his athletic shoes and tie laces. “Emily.”

  “I’m awake,” she said tensely.

  “I have to go.” But, man, he didn’t like leaving her alone. When Daniel had asked him for backup, he hadn’t been able to say no. Given the level of trust and respect they shared, how could he have? But right now, Sean wished he had told him to find someone else.

  Emily already had his instructions. Lock herself in the hall bathroom, which had no window, and sit in the bathtub where she wouldn’t be vulnerable to a shot through the door. Keep his backup gun within reach. Shoot anyone who tried to come through the door without satisfactorily identifying him- or herself.

  She had to be scared, but she nodded, grabbed the comforter from the bed and scuttled for the bathroom. He waited for the door to close and the lock to click, then hopped out the bedroom window in an attempt to keep his departure unseen – just in case Daniel was wrong and the killer was here, watching his house.

  Then he set off jogging, having allowed himself plenty of time to cover the half mile or so across town to where the Fisks lived.

  *****

  Damn, he was getting cold. Hiding behind a lilac bush in the Fisk’s backyard, Daniel had moved only enough to keep from stiffening up like a rusted piece of machinery. He’d forgotten how much he hated stakeouts. The boredom was bad enough, but mostly he had trouble staying still for long. The twitchiness overcoming him, he gave himself permission to rise carefully from a crouch to standing upright.

  Really, he doubted he could be seen by anyone more than a couple feet away. With the moon behind the cloud cover, it was next thing to pitch black beyond the limited reach of the street lamps. His bigger worry was whether he would see the killer should he appear.

  Daniel rolled his shoulders, flexed and unflexed muscles, curled and uncurled toes and fingers. If the moment came, he di
dn’t want to fall flat on his face because his limbs wouldn’t obey nervous-system commands.

  He’d left Sophie behind at home stewing. He doubted she would sleep until he was home. She’d argued against his plan until he had literally closed the front door in her face. He didn’t like scaring her, but he had to do his job. And, while he’d sympathized with Detective Payne’s feelings about Ed Fisk, Daniel also shared Lieutenant Wilcynski’s beliefs. God knew there were plenty of Cape Trouble citizens Daniel didn’t much like. He’d been hired to protect and serve. His oath of office didn’t say, protect and serve the decent folks and forget the rest.

  Fortunately, Sean agreed with him. He was serving as backup tonight, waiting a block away in the shadow of a currently unoccupied house. They’d decided this yard was too damn small for two of them to lurk unseen.

  His head turned when headlights appeared on the street. Approaching slowly, the vehicle came to a near stop in front of the Fisk’s before continuing on. The patrol drive-by Daniel had ordered. This was the third time he’d seen the CTPD unit pass. The intervals were about forty-five minutes. His young officer was following instructions. As the sound of the engine receded, Daniel regretted not adding a second officer to work this night shift. It would be just his luck if Diaz was doing the extra lap through Jasper Beach at the wrong time.

  Too late.

  Daniel listened hard. He couldn’t hear any other traffic. Only the ever-present roar of the surf kept the quiet from being absolute. That wasn’t unusual; not much happened at night in Cape Trouble.

  Not a creature was stirring…

  He pushed a button on his watch to check the time. 1:56. Daniel felt a prickling sense of awareness that hadn’t been there a minute before. If I were going to do it, now is when I’d pick.

  He scanned the back of the house, then the one side he could see from this position. His eyes had long since adjusted as much as possible to the limited light. By now, he knew the shape of every bush in the yard.

  A dark figure separated itself from one of those bushes, stopping right below a bedroom window.

  *****

  An hour or more had passed. Worrying about Emily had occupied Sean for the first while, but boredom brought sleepiness in its wake. Despite his half doze, he snapped instantly awake when his phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket.

  The text had only one word: Now.

  Sean ran, sticking to lawns where he could to muffle his footsteps.

  The initial silence as he approached the Fisks’ had him slowing to a jog. He searched the darkness. Had Daniel made his move yet? Damn, Sean didn’t want to be responsible for spooking their target.

  Then a voice cut through the night. “Police! Don’t move!”

  *****

  Shockingly fast, the man twisted and dove for Daniel, hitting him before he could pull the trigger. Icy pain shot down his arm as he fell back. His Glock dropped from his nerveless hand.

  Daniel managed to flip his attacker so he came out on top, and he got in a punch on a masked face. Light glinted off a blade that stabbed his chest.

  They rolled again, fighting wordlessly, the only sounds grunts as blows landed. Where was Sean, damn it? Daniel felt himself weakening. His head rang. Maybe blood loss.

  Just when the blade lifted above him again, he heard the hard pound of running footsteps.

  The raised arm and knife went still; the guy launched himself off Daniel and took off into the deeper darkness behind the house. The back fence rattled, and Daniel swore aloud.

  *****

  It was so goddamn dark back here, Sean almost fell over the man sitting hunched on the ground. Before he could switch on his flashlight, a light came on in the house above them. It let him see Daniel Colburn, clutching his arm and swearing.

  “The bastard cut me.”

  “No shit. You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.” Blood spilled between Daniel’s fingers, covering the wound. Other slices through his shirt let Sean see the Kevlar vest beneath.

  The window scraped open. A man leaned out the window, snarling, “Who the hell are you, and what’s going on out here?”

  Had to be Ed Fisk.

  “Cops.” Sean held up his shield even as he lifted his phone. He called 911, asking for police backup and an ambulance.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Fisk sounded shaken. As well he should. If not for the stakeout, chances were good he’d be dead by now.

  “Can you toss a couple of hand towels down?”

  The guy disappeared.

  “He went over the back fence,” Daniel mumbled.

  “I thought you were going to wait for me.”

  “He was going in the window. How he heard me, I don’t know. I was going to grab his legs and yank his ass down. And then, damn, it all happened so fast.”

  Sean spotted the handgun. “Did he touch it?”

  “No.” Grimacing, Daniel swore some more. Had to hurt. “Wore gloves.”

  Of course he had. Sean picked up the gun and slid it into Daniel’s shoulder holster.

  Something landed softly almost on his lap. Towels. He folded one and pressed it to the wound, not looking up when Ed Fisk started complaining because they’d let the guy get away.

  “What kind of incompetent…?”

  Sean really wanted to shoot him.

  *****

  With no light at all in the bathroom, Emily’s eyes couldn’t adjust. The blackness was absolute. It was like being shut in a coffin, buried alive.

  Don’t get hysterical, she ordered herself. She’d known Sean would be gone for up to several hours. She should have been able to sleep.

  A rap on the bathroom door sent a jolt through her body. Emily went as still as a mouse that sees a prowling cat.

  “It’s me,” Sean said. “Let me in.”

  Oh, thank God, thank God. He was back. Safe.

  “Okay.” She untangled herself from the comforter and climbed out of the bathtub, opening the door. He switched on the light, momentarily blinding her anew. She blinked a couple of times, ready to wrap her arms around him…until she saw the blood. “Oh, my God. You’re hurt.”

  He shook his head. “Daniel’s blood. The scumbag cut him before I could get there.”

  She recognized the anger and frustration thinning his mouth and darkening his eyes. “It was him?”

  “Oh, yeah. Shit.” He yanked his bloody shirt off, the motion jerky and violent. “If there’d been two of us there—”

  Emily hesitated, then laid a hand on his arm. “Daniel could have brought in an officer from his own department, or one of the others from your task force.”

  “Yeah.” He let his head fall forward and squeezed the back of his neck. “You mind if we go to the hospital?”

  Her breath froze in her lungs. “How badly is he hurt?” she whispered. “Does Sophie know?”

  “He was wearing a vest. He has a hell of a slice on his arm, though. And, yeah, I called her. She should be there by now.”

  Emily stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. For just a second, he didn’t move, but then he grabbed onto her, bent his head to rest against hers, and held her until some of the tension in his body eased.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  During the short drive, Sean called his lieutenant. Voice terse, he described events in more detail than he’d yet told Emily, and said he was on the way to the hospital.

  He listened, then said, “With Fisk hanging out the window listening, we couldn’t talk. If Daniel had recognized the guy or been able to give any kind of useful description, he’d have said so. Anything else can wait until he gets stitched up.” Emily could just hear a rumbling voice, but not make out words. “The CTPD patrol officer got there fast. He’s still driving patterns, keeping his eye out, but he hasn’t seen anyone on foot or bike yet. I called dispatch for any patrols we had nearby, but the closest was twenty minutes out.” A moment later he laid the phone on the console and then reached for Emily’s hand, seeming to know where it was without
even looking.

  “Your boss?”

  “Yeah, Wilcynski. Guess you’ll get to meet him. He says he’s coming to the hospital, too.”

  She couldn’t make out his face very well with only dashboard lights. “You don’t sound thrilled.”

  “He’s okay.”

  There was something in his voice that alerted her. He hadn’t expressed doubt before about the lieutenant, but it was there now. Or maybe just irritation? She couldn’t tell.

  At the hospital, he pulled into a parking slot marked for official vehicles that was only steps from the emergency room doors. Picking up her purse from the floorboards, she was momentarily startled by the weight. It would take some getting used to.

  Once she’d admitted to having done some target shooting with her grandfather, Sean had decided she should carry with her at all times his usual backup gun, a small semi-automatic, the one she’d clutched while she was in the bathtub waiting for him. He hadn’t bent even when she pointed out the likelihood of the safety getting bumped off in her cluttered handbag and accidentally firing.

  He kept her slightly in front of him as he ushered her the short distance, his head turning nonstop. As they passed through the automatic doors, she was disturbed by the flat look in his eyes. He feared the killer would have guessed that he would be bringing her with him to the hospital, she realized with a thrill of fear. Or had followed them here.

  The waiting room was empty. Sean spoke quietly to the woman behind the counter, who used her phone and a moment later unlocked the doors to let them go back into the ER proper.

  This was a small hospital, and there were only half a dozen glass-fronted rooms back here. Emily saw that most were empty, like the waiting room. She and Sean passed one that was occupied by a young couple, the man holding a fretful, flushed baby. Two darkened rooms separated them from the one bustling with activity. Sophie hovered just inside, watching as a doctor worked over Daniel, who lay on the bed.