by Tonya Muir
Papa nods. "That’s the problem: once you start running, you never stop. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be extremely cautious. This one has plans, that’s for sure."
"Do you have police protection arranged?" Robie asks.
"Ever since they found the fibers, yes. One of my buddies is on the LAPD, and we have the head of the Threat Management Unit working on the case too. We just don’t have protection while we’re on the road. He doesn’t seem to follow us on our stories. He’s local and staying local."
"Makes sense, from his point of view," Jean mutters.
"It makes no sense at all," Mama disagrees. "Comin’ after this little one makes no sense at all." I feel her hand making broad strokes across my back. It’s very soothing. My own mother never touched me like this.
"Is the FBI involved?" Gerrard inquires.
"They are. But, we’ve never talked to them," Harper explains, taking a seat next to me and wrapping her arms around me. God, it feels good to be able to sink into her arms without worrying what the people around us are thinking.
"Why not?" Mama is indignant.
"The link between my stalker and the killer was only recently made," I tell her, trying to get involved, instead of sitting here like an idiot.
"Gerrard, can’t you do something?" Mama is almost acrimonious toward him with her request. I have to chuckle a little into Harper’s shoulder. That’s what he gets for being a judge.
"I will, Mama. I have some friends in the Bureau. I’ll give them a call and find out what I can." Gerrard excuses himself from the table and goes into the living room to make the phone call.
"I’d like to see him come down here and try something." Robie leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "He’d have to go through every one of us to get to Kelsey then."
"Robie, don’t go all macho Cajun on me," Harper tells him. "This is one scary psycho and I don’t want any of us near him. For any reason."
"He knows I’ll come back to LA eventually. He doesn’t need to go anywhere. He can do it at his time on his own terms." I shake my head to help the shiver pass that runs down my spine at the mere thought of what he has in store for me.
Harper’s hold on me increases and she places a soft kiss to my hair. "Sweetheart, nothing bad is going to happen to you, I swear it. They’re gonna catch this sick son-of-a-bitch and lock him away for ever and ever."
"Amen," Mama intones. Guess Harper’s swearing is okay in this context.
I really like being a part of this family. I hope I live long enough to enjoy it.
Scenes from Next Week’s Must Read TV:
I head for the phone to call the police. I pick up the receiver and punch in 9-1-1. It’s when I wait for the operator that I realize the line is dead.
Oh shit!
I need my cell phone. Where is it? Where the fuck did I put it?
Purse. It’s in my purse. In the goddamn living room. God, I swear I’ll start picking up after myself if you don’t let anything bad happen.
Harper. Where are you? I need you.
"The management and staff of KNBC are deeply concerned for the safety of our colleague, Kelsey Stanton. We are giving the police our full cooperation and assistance in this matter. In addition, we are offering a reward of $100,000 to anyone who provides the police with the information leading to Kelsey’s safe return, and the capture of this violent criminal. We ask that anyone with such information contact our Crime Stoppers Hotline at 213-555-KNBC. KNBC staff will assist the police in answering and responding to all calls we receive."
Episode Twenty-Three: Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me
I hear the elevator doors slide open and glance at my watch. Harper isn’t due back for another two hours. I didn’t miss the buzzer, did I?
"Erik, hon, are you expecting someone?" I call across the hall to his room. Since he’s leaving for a well-deserved vacation in the Bahamas, it might well be his most recent ‘personal assistant.’
God, I’m glad I’ve never seen anyone’s name in quotes like that about me. I’d have to give up women. Well, maybe. Actually, that article really pissed me off. With everything that’s going on in my life right now, we don’t need the stress of some ass trying to ‘out’ Erik.
Even Harper, who is so out, agrees with me. In order to help the public image, while she went to The Rio to play cards the other night, Erik and I made an appearance at a trendy restaurant in Hollywood. We were followed, of course, very discreetly, by a couple of Bear’s friends on the force. Harper had her cell phone on at the game, despite the usual protocol, in case anything happened while we were out. Apparently it did little for Harper’s concentration and she lost close to a hundred dollars.
I made it up to her later.
Erik comes down the hallway and signals for me to be quiet. He pushes me back in my room and pulls the door closed.
Somehow, I don’t think it’s his new boyfriend.
I head for the phone to call the police. I pick up the receiver and punch in 9-1-1. It’s when I wait for the operator that I realize the line is dead.
Oh shit!
I need my cell phone. Where is it? Where the fuck did I put it?
Purse. It’s in my purse. In the goddamn living room. God, I swear I’ll start picking up after myself if you don’t let anything bad happen.
Harper. Where are you? I need you.
Erik. Are you all right? Why are you playing hero? Isn’t that why there’s a cop sitting in my foyer? Why isn’t he doing something?
Or can’t he?
Suddenly my claustrophobia rolls over me. I gasp, clutch my chest and try to remove the boulder, which must have landed on it. My heart might explode any moment.
I press my ear against the door and listen. All I hear is the blood pumping in my body. How do they get this to work in the movies? Jesus. This is bad.
I can’t leave Erik out there alone.
I pull the door open and listen again.
Nothing.
I step out and peek down the hallway.
Nothing still.
That’s good, I suppose, but it feels really bad. I just need to get to my cell phone. I’m gonna chain that thing to me in the future. I’m sorry for every bad thought I’ve ever had about it in the past.
I move down the hallway slowly, cautiously. Erik’s door is closed and I don’t even want to open it. Who knows what could be behind it?
When I reach the end, I see Erik’s stocking feet sticking out by the couch. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. God, let this be a dream, please.
I race to Erik and drop by his side. I see the little red dart sticking out of his shoulder. Pulling it out, I check him for a pulse.
He’s alive, thank God.
Okay, that’s good. Now, I just need to find my cell phone and we’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. We’re going to be fine.
I move over to the chair and dump the contents of my purse. Where in the hell is my phone? I know it was in here. I know it.
"Looking for this?"
Oh God.
I turn and see him standing there, holding my cell phone in his hand. A thousand thoughts come to my mind, but none make it past my lips before I hear the ‘puff’ noise and feel the stab. I look at the dart sticking out of my thigh.
It’s almost like it’s in someone else’s body, that’s how unreal this whole scene is to me. This is just a nightmare. I’ll wake up soon in Harper’s arms. Everything is going to be just fine.
I reach for the dart to remove it. If I take it out, the nightmare will end, I know. My vision is already cloudy and the room is spinning.
Harper, I’m sorry.
* * *
I press the buzzer.
I know the old guy who runs this thing is slow, but this is ridiculous. I mean, doesn’t he realize I want to get upstairs to Kelsey? I hated leaving earlier today, but I had errands I needed to run. And my Harley ha
d to be driven. What use is all that power if I only have it sit in my garage all the damn time? I need to get Kels a leather jacket and a helmet so we can go out cruising together. It may be the only way she can have her hands on me in public.
I snicker. Kinda like that godawful movie ‘Grease 2’ which starred Michelle Pfeiffer and that flash-in-the-pan Maxwell Caufield. He was some geek loser until he got himself a bike, something I never suffered from. I think the big song about him was ‘Cool Rider.’ Oh, did I want to give Michelle a ride when I saw that movie.
Now I have my own cute blonde. And, oh, do I want to give her a ride.
I buzz the penthouse again and wait … again.
What the fuck is wrong with this guy?
Crap. What if something is wrong? Terribly wrong.
Kelsey.
I snag my cell phone off my belt and speed dial Bear’s number. Come on, buddy, have your cell with you. And have it turned on.
"Brice here."
Two of the sweetest words I’ve heard today. "Bear, Harper. I’m standing down in the lobby of Kels’ building and I’m not getting a fuckin’ answer upstairs. Don’t you have a man up there?"
His voice is immediately alert. "Yeah, we do. Let me try and reach him. Hold on." I hear him grab his radio and try to get through to the cop stationed in the apartment.
I know there won’t be an answer.
Even as I wait for Brice to confirm my fears, I am moving to the security desk where the guard has just returned from his rounds. I rap on the wood. "Do you have a key to the service elevator and the fire door to the penthouse?"
My question surprises him and he blinks at me. "Yeah, but…"
That’s all I need to hear, buddy. "Give them to me!" I bark.
"I can’t."
I reach across the desk and grab him by the front of his shirt, pulling him to me. "Give me the fucking keys!"
I see him reach for a small ring at his side and I snag it before he can.
"I’m calling the cops!" he protests.
"So am I, shithead." I release him and run to the service elevator.
"Look, Harper, I can’t reach our man. I want you to stay downstairs until I get there. I’m leaving right now."
I push the key into the slot and twist it, the doors closing in front of me. I press the penthouse floor and feel the jolt as the elevator begins to rise. "I guess you know what I’m going to say to that, Bear. Just get over here and bring the fucking cavalry!"
"We’ll be right there, Harper. Don’t do anything stupid."
Yeah, right.
I already did when I left this afternoon, I’m afraid.
* * *
The service elevator leaves me off at the back of the apartment. I step into the small alcove and fumble with the keys until I find the one that opens Kels’ fire door. Hearing the satisfying slide of the bolt, I pause for a moment to collect myself. If the bastard is in there, I don’t want to give him any more advantage over me.
I notice blood on the floor, but quickly realize it is from my own hand, from gripping the keys. Jesus, pull it together, Harper. I wipe my hand on the back of my jeans and slowly enter the kitchen.
No one else in here. Everything seems fine. I consider grabbing one of the butcher knives from the block, but refrain. Don’t need to get my damn throat slit.
Moving as quickly and as quietly as possible, I peer out into the living room.
"Oh fuck! Erik!" I can’t help but whisper.
My eyes freeze on the body. That’s what he is now – a body that the police will come and collect. I can’t seem to move as I take in every horrible thing that has been done to him. The smell of blood is overwhelming, and the dark fluid is everywhere. His face and neck have been hacked up with a knife, skin peeled back to the bone. The murder weapon is not more than a foot from his head, stuck through a picture of Erik and Kels.
My stomach lurches and I bite back the bile threatening to spill out. Lord knows I’ve seen this brutality before. But never to a friend.
"God, please don’t let me find Kels like that," I pray aloud.
Fighting down the nausea once more, I am on the move again. A glance to the foyer confirms my fear: the cop is slumped in his seat, shot once in the forehead, dead as dead can be. And lying in the elevator, feet sticking out of doors trying desperately to close but repeatedly bouncing open, is the old elevator guy. He’s been shot as well. Poor bastard. He was a nice old man.
I need to find Kelsey.
I rush headlong back into the apartment, no longer caring about being quiet or cautious. I only want to find her. And, yet, I am terrified of what I might see if I do.
I go into her bedroom, where not more than a few hours ago we were snuggled together, happy and content. It’s empty. Silent.
The bathroom door is closed. Thank God! She locked herself in there. She’s fine. She’s safe.
The door swings open when I grasp the handle.
"Kels!" I call out.
Only my own echo greets me from the tiles.
Fueled by fear, I rampage through the rest of the penthouse. I find every room empty.
She’s gone.
She’s gone.
She’s gone.
* * *
I don’t remember going back into the living room or sliding down the wall. But it’s where I find myself when Bear’s voice reaches me.
"Harper?"
"She’s gone. He’s got her," I manage to choke out past my tears. I am dimly aware of my wet cheeks and shirt. I have no idea how long I’ve been here weeping.
"I know." He kneels down next to me and lays a compassionate hand on my knee. "We’ll find her, Harper. I swear we will."
"Erik." I gesture futilely toward where his body is. "It’s so horrible … what he did."
"I know. Come with me. Let’s get you something to drink."
"We have to find her, Bear! My God, before he hurts her!" I grab his shirt and hold him close.
He hugs me gently. "We will. Let’s get you out of here."
* * *
I am in a daze as Bear takes me down the service elevator, to the apartment basement where a squad car awaits us. He helps me into the back seat, keeping me from smacking my head, as if I care anymore.
It’s dark as we pull out of the garage. The sun sets early in the winter months, even in Southern California. I see a few paparazzi gathered at the building’s entrance already. Fuckin’ vultures.
I endure the short ride to the station house and follow Bear inside. He puts me at his desk and motions to the phone. "You want to call anyone, Harper?"
I nod. My fingers grasp the hard plastic of the phone. "Thanks, Bear." I give him a grateful smile. "You get to work. I’ll be here."
"I’m gonna get the latest information. Sit tight."
Not like I have a choice. I punch in my parents’ phone number. The phone rings twice before it’s picked up by my father. I listen to his greeting several times before I can respond. "Papa," I whisper.
"Harper?" I hear him call for Mama in the background. "What’s wrong, baby?"
"He took her. He took Kelsey and he killed Erik." I’m surprised at how calm my voice sounds. It can’t be mine.
"Where are you?"
"I’m at the police station with Bear. I need to get going. I have to tell the station and prepare a press release. I didn’t want you to hear it over the news. And, then I need to find the fucking bastard and rip his heart out through his chest."
"Don’t you do anything stupid, Harper Lee. That little girl is going to need you when she gets back."
"If she gets back, Papa."
"No," he corrects me strongly, "when she gets back. You have your cell phone with you, sweetheart?"
I pat my hip absently, confirming its presence. "Yeah, why?"
"We’ll call you as soon as we get in town."
"You don’t need to come here. It’s going to be crazy. The paparazzi are everywhere already. It’s …"
"Be quiet. We’ll be
there. We love you, baby."
I am about to say good-bye when Mama’s voice reaches me. "Mon Coeur?"
"Mama," I whisper, my heart breaking.
"Ecoutes bien ton Papa. Tu seras bien forte pour ta petiet copine. On sera la, avec toi, fort ensemble. On t'aime." You listen to your Papa. You be strong for the little one. We will be there and be strong for you. We love you.
"Bye," I manage and hang up. I give myself a few more moments to cry. Because that’s all I have.
Time to get my game face on. Gotta go be Kels’ senior producer and pull together the story of a lifetime.
Just hope it’s not our last one.
* * *
Next call. Franklin Saunders, the General Manager of the station. I have to tell him that his million-dollar-a-year talent has been kidnapped by a murderous psycho. And somehow I’ve got to do it without losing it myself.
"Saunders," he answers the phone the same way, whether at work or at home,
which is where I now reach him.
"Kingsley here. We’ve got a crisis. Stanton has become the evening’s top story, rather than reporting it."
"Tell me more." I hear him down the rest of whatever he was drinking.
"It appears the serial killer in LA has been following a pattern based on Kelsey: young, blonde, beautiful, athletic. As of a couple hours ago, he kidnapped Kelsey from her apartment and killed her live-in boyfriend, Erik Collins."
"Holy shit. Do they think she’s still alive?"
"As of right now, they do. The FBI is here as well. They’re worried the serial killer has reached a crisis point and he’s changing his pattern. They’re moving fast to try to find him and save her."
"Jesus H. Christ. That’s a hell of a story, any way you cut it."
"Yes, sir, and it’s ours. Send me some new talent down here and I can go live. The cops are organizing a press conference for an hour from now. I can do our breaking report beforehand and give us an exclusive."
I can hear Saunders thinking. Finally, he says, "I’m sending Jessica down there. You want your regular crew? That orange haired kid?"