Cause for Alarm

by Erica Spindler

  70

  Julianna's description of John's apartment had been disturbingly accurate. Naked, Kate thought, taking a step farther inside. Bloodless and cold. Like the man.

  She moved her gaze over the room before her, taking in the leather couch and wine-and-forest print side chairs, the perfectly appointed and organized bookshelves, the generic prints on the walls. John Powers didn't live here; no one did. It was a shell, like a furniture store display, decorated with expensive and classic items, yet with none of the human touches that made a dwelling a home. The only exception was a framed photo on the sofa table.

  "Julianna," Luke said, turning to face her, "you've done this before. Any ideas where we should start?"

  The young woman stood just inside the front door. She shook her head.

  "What should we be looking for?" Kate asked, setting Emma's carrier down, her daughter sound asleep in it.

  "Correspondence," he answered. "Phone bills, credit card receipts, or anything else that might help us link him to a place, date or event. Of course, the big find would be the key to his code, though I'd bet he carries that around in his head." Luke turned to Kate. "Why don't you and Julianna search here and in the kitchen. I'll start in the master bedroom."

  Kate nodded. "Sounds good to me." She glanced at Julianna-the younger woman hadn't moved from her position just inside the door. She looked as if she might bolt at any moment.

  "You okay?" she asked.

  Julianna looked at Kate. "What?"

  "Are you okay?"

  Julianna blinked, her gaze suddenly focusing on Kate. "Fine. Ready?"

  "I'll start in here, why don't you take the kitchen?"

  Julianna nodded and made her way past Kate. Kate watched her go, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. The other woman's movements were halting, as if her legs weren't completely cooperating with her brain, and her cheeks were pasty, as if she might be sick at any moment.

  It might not be such a good idea for her to be here. Kate glanced toward the bedroom, wondering if she should discuss it with Luke. She shook her head, deciding that she was overreacting. The best thing to do was get busy so they could all get out. Being here gave her the creeps, too.

  Kate started with the piece of furniture closest to her, one of the print side chairs, a wingback. She checked under the cushion, then turned the chair over, inspecting the bottom lining carefully, looking for a gap in the stitching, a flap that could be pulled away and some small item tucked inside. Finding nothing, she went to the next chair, then the built-in bookshelves.

  While she worked, she heard Julianna in the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, rummaging through the freezer. Every so often, she would say something to herself, though Kate couldn't make out what.

  Luke emerged from the master bedroom, crossing to her. "Take a look at this."

  It was a copy of the New Orleans Times Picayune, dated two months before. Kate stared at it, a queasy sensation in the pit of her gut. She met Luke's gaze. "This means that-"

  "Two months ago he had discovered Julianna's whereabouts and was planning his trip to New Orleans."

  Kate sucked in a sharp breath. How long had he been watching them? Stalking them, waiting for just the right time to strike?

  Gooseflesh crawled up her arms, and she rubbed them. "Anything else?"

  He shook his head. "Unfortunately not. This guy makes spartan look cluttered. How about you?"

  "Nada. Let's check with Julianna."

  They did, but she'd had the same results as Kate.

  Luke made a sound of frustration. "You're checking inside containers, aren't you? Pulling things out to look behind them?"

  "What there is to check behind and inside, I am. Take a peak." She swung open one of the cabinets. It was empty save for a half dozen plates, glasses and bowls. "Check out the fridge." Except for a bottle of champagne, it, too, was empty. "Same with the freezer and pantry."

  "Was it always like this?" Kate asked, moving her gaze over the room, taking in the white cabinets, walls and tile floor. The surfaces were all so clean they gleamed.

  "Not so empty, no. I mean, he always had to have things just so. John hates any kind of dirt or clutter, won't tolerate them, but he used to have food in the refrigerator and pantry."

  "Even the trash cans are empty," Luke murmured, checking the one under the sink. "I wonder what it means?"

  "Maybe he thinks of this as a kamikaze mission," Kate offered.

  Luke considered that a moment, then inclined his head. "Or maybe this is a further sign of him coming unglued. A compulsion gone haywire."

  "Interesting," Kate murmured, "he can't stand a mess but kills people for a living. What does he do when he gets blood on his hands?"

  For a moment, the three were silent. Then Julianna sighed. "We're not going to find anything here, are we?"

  "We don't know that," Luke said. "We're here, let's finish what we started."

  They agreed and returned to their respective rooms. Kate finished the bookshelves, disappointed when her exhaustive and painstaking search yielded nothing out of the ordinary. Frustrated, she turned toward the sofa. Her eyes landed on the framed photo. Perhaps John had hidden something between the photo and the frame's back? Maybe even the key for his code?

  She went to the photo, bent and studied. It was a picture of a much younger Julianna, standing beside a man she presumed to be John Powers. He was wearing a baseball cap; his face was partially in shadow. Still, he looked familiar. She tilted her head, studying the man, certain they had met before.

  And then she knew.

  John Powers and Nick Winters were the same person.

  Kate took an involuntary step backward, her mind spinning with the ramifications of it. As Nick Winters, John had been stalking her and Emma for weeks now. He had flirted with her and bounced Emma on his knee.

  He had been in her home. She had invited him in. The night Richard had been murdered. The night he had murdered Richard.

  It all made sense now, the way he had acted that night, the things he had said. Horrified, Kate brought a hand to her mouth. It'll all be over soon, Kate. Sooner than you can imagine.

  He could have killed her then. He could have killed Emma. Easily. They had been alone, defenseless.

  Obviously, he had known that. Obviously. She brought the heels of her hands to her eyes. Why hadn't he? He'd had them both where he wanted them.

  Because he didn't work that way, she thought, dropping her hands. He was a methodical bastard. Everything in its time and place, first things first. Oh, yes, the John Powers she had come to know through Nick Winters always crossed his Ts and dotted his Is.

  With hands that shook, she picked up the photo. Gazing at his image, she recalled other things he had said-about loyalty and trust, about honor.

  Tess.

  She wasn't like us, Kate. She wasn't loyal.

  Kate sank to the couch. Tess's boyfriend had always proclaimed his innocence. He and Tess had been arguing, he'd said. He had dropped her at her car, parked behind The Uncommon Bean, then furious with her, he had torn off without waiting to make sure she had gotten safely into her vehicle and on her way.

  That, he had sworn, was the last time he'd seen her.

  Kate, like everyone else, had thought him lying. Even though she had always wondered why he had smashed her stained glass. To her, that had seemed such a personal act of rage, one directed at her, not Tess.

  That afternoon, Kate remembered suddenly, she had asked Nick Winters if she could buy back her piece of stained glass. She remembered their conversation about artists and the act of creation and how creepy he had seemed, how uncomfortable his words had made her feel.

  "How do you feel knowing I own a piece of your soul?"

  That's the way he had wanted her to feel. He had been toying with her. Enjoying his game of cat and mouse, enjoying that the poor little mouse didn't have the first inkling she was about to be eaten.

  John had killed Tess; she knew it without proof. He
had destroyed her stained glass. But why? Kate wondered, searching the photograph as if it would yield a clue. What could he have had against Tess? Why would he have wished her ill?

  Maybe her employee had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe she had caught him snooping around and…

  Her Rolodex. Dear God.

  Kate leaped to her feet. The photo slipped from her fingers. It hit the floor; the glass shattered.

  With her address file, John knew everyone Kate knew. He knew where they lived, their phone numbers and from the notations beside each listing, whether they were friend, family or business associate.

  Luke's address was there, she realized, panic taking her breath. John knew about Luke. And as Nick Winters, he had not only access to her employees, but to their trust as well.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember exactly what she had told Blake and Marilyn when she'd called from Luke's that first day. She had talked to both her managers; she had told them she was in Houston. Visiting a friend. That it had been too painful for her at home, so she had taken Emma and gone. She had asked them not to discuss her whereabouts with anyone.

  A hysterical laugh rose from her throat. When had Marilyn and Blake ever been able to keep quiet about anything? How long until John Powers discovered who she was with, then her whereabouts?

  Or had he already?

  She swung to face the door, heart thundering, half expecting the man to walk through.

  "Kate?" Julianna came in from the kitchen, her expression concerned. "What's wrong?"

  Kate wheeled around to face the other woman. "I think we're in trouble."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He might know where we are. He might know we're with Luke."

  Julianna frowned and came around the couch. She saw the picture frame and stopped short. The blood drained from her face.

  "We need to get out of here, quick." Kate dragged a shaking hand through her hair. "Have you finished the kitchen?"

  Julianna didn't answer, and Kate frowned. "Julianna? Are you all right?"

  "I gave that to him," she murmured after a moment, her voice curiously flat. "I wanted to make this house nice. Like a real home."

  "I'm sorry," Kate said softly. "I didn't mean to break it."

  Julianna knelt and with her bare hands began sweeping the shards of glass into a pile. The fragments cut her fingers, and they began to bleed.

  "Julianna, you're hurting yourself."

  She acted as if she didn't even hear Kate. "He would bring me here. Mama said it was all right. She didn't know."

  Kate squatted beside her, reaching for her hands. "Julianna, stop. You're bleeding."

  She knocked Kate's hands away, and reached for the crystal frame. Though it had cracked in half, Julianna carefully opened the back, slid out the photograph then set the frame gingerly down. She passed her hand over the photo, as if brushing away the splinters of glass, leaving a red smear in its wake.

  Kate jumped to her feet and took a step backward. "Luke," she called softly, afraid to raise her voice. "Could you come here, please?"

  "I was pretty, don't you think?" Julianna studied the picture, head cocked as if trying to remember something. "Was I ten or eleven here?" She lifted her face to Kate's. "Do you know?"

  Ten or eleven. Dear God. Not trusting her voice, Kate shook her head.

  "It doesn't matter, I guess." She touched the photo again, this time with the tip of her index finger. "But I was pretty?"

  "You were beautiful," Kate murmured, pressing a hand to her stomach, sick with what she suspected had been the true character of Julianna's relationship with John Powers. "You still are."

  "No," Julianna said, her tone taking on a singsong quality. "Mama's beautiful and Julianna's pretty. Be a good little girl, mustn't forget." Her voice cracked slightly. "John's good little girl."

  "Luke," she called again, louder this time, not taking her gaze from the other woman. "You'd better get out h-"

  "I'm here." He laid a hand on her shoulder and bent close to her ear. "Take Emma to the bedroom."

  Kate looked over her shoulder at him, uneasy. "Why? What do you-"

  "I don't know. Do it, just in case."

  She nodded and went for the car carrier and Emma, skirting wide around Julianna. She needn't have worried. The other woman didn't even notice her.

  Kate set the carrier in the bedroom, then shut the door partway. She didn't know what Luke feared was going to happen but she wasn't about to take any chance of her daughter getting hurt.

  When she returned to the living room, Julianna had the photo clutched to her chest. Her hands were riddled with cuts and bleeding; she had rubbed blood across her face and onto her khaki trousers. She was humming under her breath and rocking.

  Kate met Luke's gaze. "We have to do something. That glass is tearing her hands to pieces."

  He nodded and squatted down beside her. "Julianna, honey, come on. You're hurting yourself."

  "It's me," she said, showing him the picture. "And John."

  "I see that." He cupped her elbow. "You can bring it back to the motel, if you like."

  "I don't understand." She lifted her gaze to his-Kate saw that her eyes were filled with tears. "How could he do that to me? I was just a…just a child. A little girl."

  "I know, sweetheart. But it's over now. It's okay."

  He took her elbow, but she shook off his hand, turning her gaze back to the photo. She dragged in a shuddering breath. When she released it, it came out as a high, thin wail of grief. Another one followed. Then another.

  She drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest, beginning to cry, wracking sobs that seemed to come from the very center of her being. When they eased slightly, Luke bent and scooped her up. "Come on, honey. You're hurting yourself."

  At first she lay limply in his arms, crying softly. Then, suddenly and with a roar, she fought him, squirming, kicking, trying to claw. He lost his grip on her, and she broke free.

  With a howl of rage, she grabbed the lamp off the end table and flung it. It hit the wall and shattered. "I was just a baby!" She screamed. She took the phone and yanked it from the wall. "How could he do that to me! How! I loved him!"

  Her gaze landed on the photograph and she fell on it, ripping and tearing at it until she could no longer grasp the pieces, they were too small. "I trusted him!" Panting, grunting with exertion, she ran, stumbling, to the bookshelves and began tearing the volumes from the shelves, flinging them as far and hard as she could.

  As suddenly as the rampage had begun, it ended. She collapsed to the floor, spent, whimpering like a wounded animal.

  Kate went to her. Kneeling beside her, she took the younger woman into her arms, holding her as she would Emma, rocking and murmuring sounds of comfort.

  Julianna turned her face into Kate's chest, clinging to her. "I was just a little girl. How could he do that to me? How?"

  "I don't know, baby. But you're safe now." Kate stroked her hair, and lifted her gaze to Luke's, her heart breaking for the younger woman. "We won't let him near you, not ever again."

  71

  Luke finished the search while Kate comforted Julianna. She helped the younger woman clean her wounds, carefully washing and drying her hands, picking out slivers of glass, then disinfecting each cut with the rubbing alcohol she found underneath the sink in the master bath.

  Julianna sat unmoving on the couch while Kate applied the alcohol with a cotton swab, not even wincing though Kate knew how much it must burn. It was as if she had spent one hundred percent of her emotional energy, leaving her a shell, disconnected and empty.

  Kate's heart hurt for her, and she wished she could say or do something that would make everything all right, repair the damage John had inflicted on the mind and spirit of the trusting little girl Julianna had been.

  But there was no such thing, Kate knew. The damage was done, and it ran deep.

  She capped the alcohol and set the bottle on the coffee table. "Why don't you la
y back and rest a moment," she said. "I'm going to check on Luke."

  Julianna did as Kate suggested, though she didn't close her eyes. She stared blankly at the ceiling, her expression devoid of emotion. Kate gazed at her a moment, wishing again that she could do or say something to help her, then went in search of Luke.

  She found him in the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder at her when she entered. "Find anything?" she asked.

  "Nothing."

  "We've got a problem." She told him about the photograph, about realizing that John Powers and a regular patron of The Bean's, a man named Nick Winters, were one and the same person. "If, as I suspect, he's the one who murdered Tess, he has my Rolodex. Your name and address were in it."

  "Son of a bitch. That means he could have figured out we're together."

  "Yes."

  "Then we do have a problem." Luke swore again. "The motel, Kate. I registered under my own name. I thought it would be safe, I assumed he wouldn't know we were together. Dammit to hell, that was stupid. I put us in jeopardy."

  "I thought the same, Luke. That we would be safe. I never would have dragged you into this if I'd known who Nick Winters was."

  "I'm glad you didn't know."

  Their gazes held a moment, then he made a sound of frustration and looked away. "We're going to have to change motels. As soon as possible."

  "I don't know if Julianna's up to it. She's pretty traumatized."

  As if cued, Julianna began to whimper in the other room. Luke's jaw tightened. "I hate this man, Kate. If he had walked through that door earlier, I swear I could have killed him. With my bare hands. I-" He drew in a steadying breath. "I never thought I could say something like that and really mean it. But I do mean it. I could have done it."

  She laid a hand on his arm, and he covered it with one of his own. "How old do you think she was when he… when he began molesting her?"

  "I don't know," he murmured. "Really young, I think."

  She thought of her own daughter and of the girl Julianna might have been and tears stung her eyes. "Do you think she's going to make it? She's lost so much."