Fear coiled tight around his gut. He wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t find anything here, but that might not stop her. All she had to do was pull on the Andrew Bowman thread hard enough and she would unravel the whole deadly truth.
He wasn’t ever going back to that life.
“You heard me, Drew,” Alicia said, springing to her feet.
The contempt in her voice unleashed a cyclone of rage inside Drew. He fought against the rising pillar of anger building inside him.
“Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re going to have to spell it out for me.”
Alicia’s face flushed. She jabbed an accusing finger into his chest. The large diamond ring flashed in the light.
“Tell me the truth! Are you Andrew Bowman?”
“Are you crazy?”
Angry tears glittered in her hard blue eyes, and she shook her head. She drilled her fist into his chest.
“You’re lying.”
His hand gripped the statue tight. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She wrenched the engagement ring off her finger and hurled it at him. It ricocheted off his shoulder and skittered across the hardwood floor.
“I trusted you. I believed you, and you’ve been lying to me all along. Gretchen said there was something off about you and I ignored her. I thought she was crazy. Jealous. But she was right. I was too stupid to listen to her.”
“Stop. Stop,” he said, gripping her shoulder with his free hand. There had to be some way to reach her, some way to convince her that there was no Andrew Bowman, that this was all one huge mistake. “Calm down. You’re not making any sense.”
Alicia shook him off and rushed past him, out the bedroom door.
He grabbed her wrist and spun her around. She yanked her arm back, but he was too strong. His fingers burrowed deep into the flesh of her arm. She winced. Anger blazed in her eyes.
“Take your fucking hands off of me.”
“What did you hear, Alicia?”
“Let go.”
He pulled her closer. She jerked back.
“Who filled your head with these lies?”
“Lies?” she bellowed. “You’re the liar. You. Drew, or Andrew, or whatever the fuck your name is.”
She was so sure, so goddamned sure. But how?
Then he knew.
“Liam,” he said, spitting the word out between clenched teeth like acid.
“Where I heard it doesn’t matter. You’re still a liar.”
Drew gripped the statue.
“That fucking prick couldn’t leave well enough alone. Gretchen told me he’d keep digging.”
Her eyes flicked away from him, and he could see her replaying his words. One by one he saw the pieces click together in her addled little brain. A terrible truth dawned in her eyes.
“Gretchen.” She pressed a hand against her trembling lips. “Gretchen. Oh God. What did you do?”
Drew smiled. It was a mean smile. Terror filled Alicia’s eyes. He yanked on her wrist. She jerked to a stop, their faces inches apart.
“I did what I had to do,” he said.
“Let go of me, you fucking freak.”
Freak? The word sent another shock wave of rage blasting through him. Freak. Bastard. Pussy. He heard his father’s voice screaming inside his head. He felt the blow of hard knuckles crushing into his face, the bloodstone ring gashing his skin. Are you going to cry now, you little pussy? Faggot. Get up. On your feet. Be a man. Be a man.
Drew’s eyes burned hot as coals.
He swung the statue. It cracked against Alicia’s forehead and she lurched back. A cut opened up above her brow. Blood sluiced down the side of her face. Thrown off balance, Drew loosened his grip and Alicia broke free.
Like a spooked deer, she sprinted toward the door. He lunged after her. His hand snaked out and seized a fistful of hair. He yanked back. She shrieked. Her arms flailed wide and she crashed to the floor.
Drew pounced. He pinned her in place, knees burrowing into her heaving chest. His father’s hateful face glared up at him. His father’s lips speckled with dried spit and blood. A river of hate coursed through Drew’s veins.
Be a man.
He raised the statue above his head.
“This is your fault,” he spit between clenched teeth.
Drew brought the blunt end of the bronze statue crashing down.
Blood spurted from the wound in her head, spraying his face in a fine red mist. Alicia’s body jerked. She convulsed on the floor beneath him. Drew kept hammering until she stopped squirming, until her body went slack.
His breath came in ragged gasps. Warm drops of blood dripped down his face like thick red tears.
Minutes ticked by and his breathing finally slowed. As he released his grip, the Space Needle statue clattered to the floor. Drew opened his eyes and saw Alicia pinned under his knees.
Even now, with her fixed stare, her dark hair matted with blood and studded with gray matter, she was beautiful. He remembered the first time they’d met, how her smile had stopped his heart. He’d known in that instant they belonged together. Always.
But no matter how hard he tried, the clawing past kept dragging him back. Andrew Bowman refused to die.
This was Liam’s fault. Liam had killed her. Not him. Never him.
He knew that as long as Andrew Bowman’s family still lived, he would never be free.
Drew stretched out long trembling fingers and brushed the matted hair away from Alicia’s forehead. His blood-soaked fingertips left thick snail trails across her alabaster skin.
On shaky legs Drew rose to his feet. He turned toward the bathroom. Two feet away from Alicia’s prone body, he froze.
Someone was knocking at the door.
Chapter 51
Seth knocked a second time. Leaning in, he listened, straining to hear any sound from the condo.
Nothing.
He thought about knocking again but figured it was pointless. Matthews was likely at work. He’d give Cahill a call and get the address.
Just then the elevator doors slid open and a man shuffled out. Lugging a grocery bag in one arm, he limped slowly down the hall. He cast Seth a curious look before turning away. Unlocking the door to the condo across the hall, he glanced back over his shoulder.
“You looking for Drew?”
“Have you seen him?”
He shifted his weight onto his good leg and propped the paper grocery bag against the doorframe.
“He left about an hour ago with a suitcase. Said he was heading out on a business trip.”
A chill raced down Seth’s spine. Was he running?
“Do you know where he was going?”
The neighbor scratched the scruffy brown beard covering his fleshy chin and shook his head.
“He didn’t say, but I’m not surprised he’s leaving town.”
“Why?”
“Dude had a hell of a fight with his girl this morning.”
Seth’s stomach dropped.
“You heard them?”
“Hell, yeah. Impossible not to. I work from home. Drew’s usually all right, sometimes plays his music too loud, but today, Christ.”
“What were they fighting about?”
The neighbor hitched his thick shoulders.
“Dunno. I put my headphones on, cranked the tunes to drown them out. They were really going at it though.”
“Do they fight a lot?”
The neighbor shook his head. “Naw.”
“You said he left about an hour ago?”
“Something like that. I was on my way to Whole Foods.”
“How did he seem?”
“Pissed. Who wouldn’t be? I told him he was loud enough to wake the dead and he apologized for the noise. Said the old lady down the hall had already knocked on the door, giving him shit. Said his girlfriend found another girl’s number on his phone and went bat-shit.”
“Did you believe him?”
A crooked smile stretched the man’s lips and his thick sho
ulders shrugged.
“Why not? It didn’t take that much to set off my ex.”
“Thanks. If he comes back, give me a call, Mr. . . .”
“Mortimer. Ross.”
Seth pulled a business card from his jacket pocket. He saw the SPD logo and frowned. The cell number was still the same, so he handed it over. It wasn’t like he was trying to pass himself off as a police officer. Besides, what were the chances Mortimer would call?
Mortimer tucked the card into his coat pocket, turned, and pushed the door to his apartment open. The door clanged shut, the noise echoing down the empty hallway. Seth stood alone, his mind racing. He thought about the duffel bag in Charles Sully’s trunk, about the argument, about the look on Luke Turner’s face. He turned back toward Drew’s door.
Exigent circumstances. Every cop knew exigent circumstances provided the only legal justification for entering a private residence without a warrant. Was Alicia Wright in the condo? Was she in trouble? Could the argument provide enough justification for exigent circumstances to apply?
No way. If they were still yelling or she was calling for help, maybe. Maybe.
Aw, fuck it.
He wasn’t a cop anymore. Worst case, he’d get nailed with breaking and entering. Seth pulled his key chain from his pocket. He glanced down the hall. He was alone. That was good.
He pinched a square-headed key between his fingers and thumb. It was a bump key, the type he’d used before to get into locked places. Never without a warrant though. Never illegally. He frowned. He was off the grid now, wading into uncharted territory. But he’d already gone this far.
The thief who’d taught him to use a bump key had used a plastic hairbrush to prime the lock. Seth didn’t have anything like that on him. He needed something solid. Heavy. Pulling his gun from its holster, he checked the safety. It was on.
He tapped the butt of the gun against the key, praying it wouldn’t accidentally go off. The sound reverberated down the narrow hallway and Seth cringed. The key shifted in the lock. He glanced over his shoulder before smacking the key again, harder this time. Wiggling the key, he grunted.
“Come on. Come on.”
A hollow thump echoed down the empty corridor as he hit the key a third time. A door opened. Not Mortimer’s, the one next to Matthews’s. An old woman’s lined face poked out. She glared at him through narrowed eyes.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Seth stiffened. He shifted his stance to shield the gun from her view.
“Knocking. Do you know if Mr. Matthews is home?”
She pursed her thin lips.
“He’s at work.”
“Thanks.”
Mortimer was right. She was a busybody. Instead of disappearing inside her door, she stepped farther out into the hallway. Seth stifled a curse.
“Are you supposed to be here?” she asked, planting a gnarled hand on her lumpy hip.
Seth forced a smile and said, “He’s heading out of town on a business trip and asked me to house-sit.”
Seth jiggled the key in the lock and heard a click.
“Bullshit,” the old woman said.
Seth turned the key. The lock popped open. He slid the gun behind his back.
“He needs someone to water his plants.”
Loose skin pouched around her suspicious eyes. She crossed her arms.
“What do you have behind your back? Is that a gun?”
“Look, Ms. . . .”
She leveled a bony finger at him. “I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, but I’m calling the cops. If I were you, I’d get out of here. Now.”
The door opened behind him, and Mortimer stuck his head out.
“What the fuck is going on?”
They both stared at Seth.
Shit. Seth’s heart slammed against his rib cage. He had two choices. He could leave now, or he could do what he’d come here to do. Goddamn it. He set his jaw. He swung back toward the condo. Ignoring the old woman’s protests, he pushed the door open and looked inside.
Red.
The smell inside the condo was a dark, coppery red. The breath caught in Seth’s throat. Broad streaks of dark blood smeared across the hardwood floor.
He ran his hands through his hair. Christ. He was too late.
“I’m calling the cops,” the old woman crowed.
Seth scowled. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911.
“Don’t bother, lady. I’m already on it.”
#
Linda Garcia arrived on scene, a forensics crew close on her heels. Seth had been careful not to do anything to contaminate the crime scene. Word traveled fast around the precinct, and while she didn’t look surprised to see him, she wasn’t pleased either.
“Do you want to explain exactly what you’re doing here, Crawford?” she asked, snapping on a pair of latex gloves.
Seth burrowed his hands in his pants pockets and met Linda’s glare directly.
“I’m working as an investigator for the Holt Foundation. I was following up on a lead.”
“And you broke into an apartment? Really? Care to explain yourself?”
“Exigent circumstances.”
Garcia’s eyebrows pinched together low on her forehead, and she shot him a cynical look.
“You expect me to buy that? Did you hear yelling? Did you hear anything or see anything that made you think someone’s life was in imminent danger? Make it good, Crawford, otherwise I’ll have to bust you for breaking and entering.”
“You mean other than the blood on the floor?”
Garcia glared at Seth and listened while he relayed the chain of events that had led him to this point. Her face remained a stern mask. She waited until he was finished before she spoke.
“Are you still on the job, Crawford?”
“I’m still trying to find Brooke Parker, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“And did you think she was in here?”
Seth shrugged. “I think Andrew Matthews knows something about Brooke’s disappearance.”
“We found Parker’s MedicAlert dog tags in the trunk of Sully’s car. You got some reason to believe Sully and Matthews were working together?”
“I think Matthews set Sully up.”
Garcia shook her head slowly, looking grave. “Alvarez isn’t going to like this.”
“Probably not, but the way I see it, I’ve done you a huge favor.”
“A favor?”
“How long would it have taken you to find this if I hadn’t called you?” Seth gestured toward the blood on the floor and Garcia grunted. “You can charge me if you want, but right now I think you’ve got bigger problems. You have no body. You need to figure out whose blood is on the floor.”
Garcia frowned. “You think it belongs to the girlfriend?”
“That would be my guess.”
“Fucking great.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
Pulling his hands from his pockets, Seth strolled to the door.
“Wait. Where do you think you’re going?” Garcia asked.
“You don’t want me mucking up your crime scene, do you?”
She swore under her breath.
“Don’t screw with my case, Crawford.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Seth said.
Chapter 52
Fucking morons. Drew clenched the steering wheel hard and glared at the sluggish line of red taillights heading south on I-5. He didn’t have time for this shit. Alicia finding out about Andrew Bowman had forced his hand, and now he was scrambling to tie up any more loose ends before his whole life fell apart.
How long before someone came looking for her? Days? Hours? Fuck.
With no time to waste, he crawled along in traffic, wishing he had a Hummer or a tank or some other means of rolling over the cars blocking his way.
Gnawing on his thumbnail, Drew flicked his restless gaze toward the Tacoma Dome. The bulbous structure reminded him of a bleache
d WWI German Army helmet, complete with a spike. Ugly. All the towns sprawling south of Seattle were dirty, ugly places. The only redeeming part of making this trip was knowing it would be the very last time he would ever come this way. Soon he’d leave this shithole behind and never look back. He would bury Andrew Bowman and his checkered past so deep, no one would ever find him.
Like every other shitty driver in the Pacific Northwest, the asshole in front of him slammed on his brakes for no reason at all. Drew swore and cranked on the wheel, narrowly avoiding plowing into the truck. He scowled at the pickup driver as he sped past.
Shaggy hair, worn ball cap, flannel shirt, and canvas jacket. A construction worker or truck driver or whatever. No doubt he worked some shitty blue-collar job, lived in an even shittier bungalow down in Lakewood. He probably spent his nights beating his wife and drinking beer. Just like his dear old dad, Drew thought. Just like he might have turned out too, if he hadn’t clawed his way out of this hellhole and built himself a better life.
A good job, a nice car, a downtown condo, and a beautiful fiancée—all a testament to his hard work. But now, thanks to Liam fucking Burke, that life was gone. After all he’d done to get where he was. After all the work, the planning, the sacrifice—he’d lost everything because Liam wanted Alicia back.
The coppery smell of blood wafted from the suitcase in the back of the jeep. Drew’s lips twisted into an ugly sneer. He should pitch the suitcase into the Green River and be rid of Alicia for good. But that would be sloppy. That could get him caught.
No, this time he had to do everything right. No more mistakes. No more crazy father or snot-nosed stepsisters. No more Marissa. He would eliminate everyone close to Andrew Bowman. This time he’d emerge from the ashes clean. New. Stronger than ever. This time no one would touch him.
Drew pulled off the Interstate south of Tacoma. Fat raindrops pattered against the windshield. Alicia’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and checked the call display.
The great and powerful Alistair Wright was calling, and if Alistair was already looking for Alicia, it was only a matter of hours until the cops started breathing down his neck.
He needed a plan. Fast.
In the Dark Page 29