“Good work. I’ll mobilize a SWAT team.”
Candice gives Greg the address and when she hangs up, the front door to the Flynn house opens. Candice’s heart stops. Vanessa is walking toward the red Mercedes.
The captor is out of the house. Away from the captive. An opportunity to take her in. Opportunities like this come and go quickly. And when they’re gone, they’re gone.
Vanessa opens the passenger door of the Mercedes and slides into the seat.
Candice slips out of the car, gun drawn, and moves quickly toward her. When she reaches the Mercedes, the door is still open and Vanessa is closing the glove compartment.
“Step out of the car with your hands in the air,” Candice says.
Vanessa rolls her eyes and gets out. Both hands shoot in the air. In one hand, she’s gripping a clear plastic bag with a white gathering string.
“I’m pregnant,” Vanessa says. “You shoot me, you shoot a baby.”
Candice doesn’t flinch, but her mind is reeling. Backup. She needs it now.
CHAPTER 37
VANESSA TURNS AWAY and moves toward the house. Shoot her and I shoot a baby. Candice holds the gun steady, aimed at Vanessa’s back.
Option one, shoot to kill. She’s the notorious Napa Valley Killer, for Christ’s sake. The Sheriff’s report will read, the suspect was shot in the back. She was unarmed and pregnant.
Option two, shoot to disable. Candice lowers the gun and aims for a calf, but her legs are moving targets, and if she misses, that report will not be pretty either.
Vanessa is almost to the door when she turns back and smiles softly.
Candice is raising and lowering the gun. Chest, leg, chest, leg.
With the plastic bag, Vanessa waves Candice in and says, “Come watch. I’ll show you how justice is served.”
The killer is luring Candice in. Into the hostage situation. Where are the backups?
Candice stiffens her voice. “Is there a firearm in the house?”
Nicely, Vanessa says, “That’s not my style.” She winks and waves Candice in again.
It’s not like serial killers tell the truth. Keep stalling. Keep her outside. Even though Candice knows Vanessa is torturing her husband, she asks, “Is anyone else in the house?”
And in a flash, a monster awakens. Everything about Vanessa changes. Her eyes shoot daggers at Candice. Her jaw clenches. She shouts, “Get inside. Now!”
Going inside would put Vanessa in control, a tactical error. But it’s the only way to protect Hunter from being killed.
Calmly, Candice says. “I’m keeping my firearm drawn. You touch a weapon, I shoot.” Like the plastic bag in her hand isn’t a weapon.
Slow her down. Keep slowing her down.
CHAPTER 38
METAL MUSIC BLARES when the door opens. Candice follows Vanessa in, weapon drawn. If Candice tells Vanessa she’s called for backup, Vanessa may kill Hunter quickly. Talk to her. Drag it out. That’s the plan.
Vanessa must know it’s over. How could she not? She’s intelligent, that’s for sure.
She wants something. One last thing before it ends. Perhaps she wants to punish Candice by making her watch up close and personal. Or maybe she wants Candice to agree with her form of justice.
They get to the room where TV light is flickering, the room where Hunter is duct taped to the recliner. On the table next to the recliner is a needle. A tiny needle, like the kind used on infants. And next to the needle, a bottle of grain alcohol. She’s injected him. He’s inebriated.
The TV flashes selfies of Vanessa and Hunter. Music pounds through Candice’s head. Candice lowers her weapon and shouts, “Turn down the music.”
Vanessa, still holding the plastic bag, smiles at Candice with a faraway gaze. As if walking on a cloud, Vanessa crosses the room and presses the remote until the music is mere background noise.
Candice keeps the gun aimed steady at Vanessa.
Vanessa’s in heaven. This is her thing. A situation where she’s in complete control. Overcompensating for her lack of control during her mother’s brutal rape and murder.
“I get it,” Candice says. “You’re avenging your mother’s death.”
Vanessa’s voice is cool and composed, almost tranquil. “Oh, it’s so much more than that.”
Even though she’s freaking inside, Candice’s face reveals nothing.
Keep her relaxed and talking.
Candice moves to the sofa and slowly sits. Finger still on the trigger, she rests the gun on her lap.
Vanessa asks Candice, “Did you invite anyone else to this party?”
Candice maintains eye contact and says, “No, it’s just us.”
Vanessa’s eyes are darting back and forth. Her demeanor is shifting. “My favorite photos are coming up.” She glares at Candice and points the plastic bag at the TV. “They prove you’re lousy at your job. You should consider another career.”
What she says doesn’t matter. Keep her talking.
On the large TV screen, an image appears of victim number one, bag over his head.
Candice stays focused. She has that same crime scene photo.
“I’m doing your job. Ridding the streets of rapists. Do you have any idea how many rapes I’ve prevented? Huh?” Vanessa shakes the plastic bag at Candice. “More than you!”
Keep her talking.
The second and third victims fade in and out on the TV. And then, Hunter’s father.
“What about Hunter’s dad? He didn’t rape anyone.”
Vanessa’s tone shifts. “He was a lying, cheating pig. His wife is dead because of it. Why should he get to go on living if she’s dead?”
Candice feels her phone vibrate once in her pocket. A text. She keeps her eyes steady on Vanessa and says, “So this is about justice.”
Vanessa’s whole face tightens. “Are you not hearing me? This is about you!”
Candice studies Vanessa. If her mother’s killer had been caught, would she have turned out this way?
Don’t let her get in my head.
CHAPTER 39
THE SWAT TEAM has to drive up from San Francisco. The Sheriff’s department has to wake up in the middle of the night and get dressed. Todd has to sober up. It’s anyone’s guess who will arrive first.
Get her to turn around. Pull out the phone. Read the text.
“You’re right,” Candice says. “And Hunter’s like his father. A lying, cheating pig.”
“Let’s get real,” Vanessa says. “After tonight, I’m letting you arrest me. And then I’m going to prison for life. Why should Hunter live?”
Vanessa turns and rips the duct tape off Hunter’s mouth. She forces more blood infused wine down Hunter’s throat.
Candice pulls out the phone. Text from unknown sender. SWAT in place. Sheriff standing down. Say when.
While Hunter gags and coughs, Candice moves around the room, staying behind Vanessa, and she sends a text back.
Now. No shooting.
“Your backups already here, huh?” Vanessa bags Hunter’s head and pulls the string tight. “I normally like to take my time with this part, but once again, you’re screwing everything up.”
Hunter gasps for air and sucks the plastic bag into his mouth. A look of distant observation comes over Vanessa’s face. The plastic bag is like a meat vacuum sealer on his face and Hunter turns purple.
It sounds like an explosion when the front door breaks, and like giant spiders, SWAT team members crawl through the house.
The moment Vanessa is seized and handcuffed, Candice rips the plastic bag open and Hunter gasps for air. She cuts the string around Hunter’s neck.
“You’re as guilty as those rapists!” Vanessa shouts at Candice.
No, dear lady. You’re as guilty.
Now Sheriff Lee is coming through the door, and no doubt, he’ll say something equally condescending. Candice turns her back to him and calls Greg.
“I heard nobody got killed,” Greg says.
“That’s rig
ht.”
“Good work, Candy.”
CHAPTER 40
ANNIE’S HOT DOGS and pretzels has a line around the corner. Agent Greg Hansen picked the spot. He wants to talk. The fresh ocean breeze at Fisherman’s Wharf helps Candice clear her head after the debriefing on Monday.
Good thing the FBI insisted on participating in the Sheriff’s debriefing. Agent Greg Hansen and his boss sat in. It was clear the Sheriff was there to reprimand Candice when he started the debriefing off by explaining the Department’s policy on stakeouts. “All stakeouts must be conducted with a partner,” he said. “No grandstanding.”
That’s when Greg’s supervisor intervened and commended Candice for solving the case of the Napa Valley Killer, for making the arrest without any loss of life. “You did this,” he said. “You.”
That shut up the Sheriff for the rest of the debriefing. After that, Candice gave a step by step account of what happened that night. And then she ran through all the evidence, including the screen shots of Spa di Venus client lists on Vanessa’s phone. By the time Candice connected all the evidence, including the testimony of the Uber driver, Vanessa was being held on seven counts of murder and one attempted murder.
“Hey, Candy,” comes Greg’s voice from behind. “Nice view of Alcatraz, eh?”
“Please tell me you didn’t invite me to San Francisco to stare at a defunct prison.”
They order two hot dogs and find a bench with a view of the bay. Greg brushes bread crumbs off his lap. “Ever thought of joining the FBI?”
“Can’t say that I have.” Candice sips root beer through a straw.
Greg glances over. “Anything preventing you?”
Candice sighs. Peter wants a divorce and he wants custody of the girls. Candice plans to contest it at the hearing, but that may do more harm than good. If Peter has custody, he swears Candice can see the girls whenever she wants.
Candice twists the wedding band on her finger. “How do you balance it? Family and work?”
Greg furrows his brows and stares at the bay. “I hate to say this, but it’s probably easier for a guy.”
“Well, nothing’s stopping me anymore.”
“Excellent,” Greg says. “Because my supervisor wants you.”
A rush passes through Candice. The FBI.
“You’ve already been vetted.” Greg glances sideways at Candice. “You just have to take the exam. And I promise, you’ll have a real partner this time.”
“You?”
Greg beams. “Yours truly.”
Candice elbows him. “I don’t know.”
“Need time to think about it?”
“No,” Candice says. “I’m in.”
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced
or distributed in any printed or electronic form
without permission from the author.
Copyright © 2017 by Tina Laningham
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, and incidents are the product of
the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
organizations, or events is entirely coincidental.
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