Full House

by Janet Evanovich

  "Billie probably didn't want to worry you," Max said. "But she accused Deedee of leaving the doors unlocked, and she said a set of spare house keys went missing for a day or so. Billie found them again, so she didn't get the locks changed, but there was a day or two there where she was really worried about it. Deedee told me that on the way over.

  "If Raoul took the keys, he'd have had time to make spares and return them. And he's capable of doing something like that. I don't think anything was actually taken during the burglaries, except for maybe the last one. I think they were committed by Raoul in hopes of scaring Billie so she'd maybe turn to him for help."

  "How do you know all this?" Nick said, eyeing Max suspiciously.

  "I know my way around a computer, and I know how to hack into a system and break through a few firewalls here and there. For a good cause, mind you. Raoul Hernandez has spent years working construction, where he learned to use explosives."

  The color drained from Nick's face. "What else?"

  "He's a career con man. He's got a rap sheet that would knock your socks off, and has spent time behind bars on burglary, arson, and fraud charges. His background also includes a stint in a mental health facility, so he's probably unstable to boot."

  "Where does he live?"

  "I don't know. He's moved from his old place, probably in the last day or so, and he didn't leave a forwarding address. It isn't easy catching up with this guy, Nick. He has about ten aliases. I typed in every one of them, mixed them around, played with them for hours before I hit pay dirt and found his old address. I called him, and the phone had been disconnected. His landlady said he moved out in the middle of the night. He receives his mail through a post office box. I checked it early this morning, but it was empty."

  "How did you get into his post office box?" Nick held up his hand. "Never mind, don't tell me." Nick pressed his fist against his forehead. Think, he told himself, but nothing sprang to mind. "Dammit to hell!" he yelled, drawing looks from the others. "Does it get any worse?"

  Max nodded. "I'm pretty sure he's got Billie. That's about as bad as it gets."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Billie tried to act as normal as she could, even though her pulse raced so frantically she could feel it at her throat. She did not know what to believe anymore. Raoul had sounded so convincing, almost too convincing, but the Nick Kaharchek he'd described to her was not the man she had fallen in love with. Even with all the crazy things going on around them, bombs and burning stables, Billie had had no reason to believe that Nick was not who he seemed to be. He was honest and hardworking and shared the same beliefs as she.

  Had she simply been so much in love with him that she'd failed to see him as he really was? If Raoul had meant to harm her, he would never have ordered her from the limo before it exploded. But how did he know the limo had a bomb in it to begin with?

  "What's wrong?" Raoul said.

  Billie looked up. Instinct told her to keep her mouth shut and her questions at bay for the moment. She needed answers, but she didn't even know the questions. For the time being, she would have to play along. "I was just thinking," she said. "You saved my life back there. If it weren't for you—" She shuddered.

  "You don't think I'd let anything happen to you, do you?"

  Another question for which she had no answer. "Of course not. I'm just terribly shaken."

  "How about a cup of coffee? I have your favorite brand."

  Billie smiled, even as she wondered why Raoul would have purchased her favorite brand of coffee unless he'd known ahead of time she would be there. He hadn't shown her a badge, and she hadn't thought to ask. Now she was afraid to.

  "I'd love coffee. Where's the kitchen? I'm probably better at making it than you."

  It was the first smile he'd given her since he'd ordered her into his truck. "The kitchen is through that doorway. Let me show you."

  Billie walked into a filthy room. The counters and sink and metal table were cluttered and piled high with dirty dishes. Raoul would expect her to notice.

  Billie turned to him, hands on hips. "Why is this place such a mess?"

  He looked embarrassed. "The other guys obviously didn't bother to pick up after themselves."

  Billie thought he sounded calmer. "Well, I can't tolerate a dirty kitchen. As soon as I make the coffee, I'll straighten up." He looked happy to hear it. The thought of cleaning the kitchen was not a pleasant one, but Billie knew she'd go crazy if she didn't find something to do. Besides, cleaning helped her think, and she had a lot of thinking to do. It would also give her a chance to look around for some kind of weapon, something to protect herself with, if the need arose. Kitchens were always chock-full of sharp objects. It was up to her to find a few.

  She glanced at the window, noting that it was rigged with some sort of battery and wired to what appeared to be a plugged test tube. Two needles pierced the stopper, each connected to a different wire. What did it mean?

  "What are you looking at?" Raoul asked, coming up behind her.

  Billie felt the hair prickle on the back of her neck. "Is that some kind of security device?"

  "Yeah. Just ignore it and make the coffee, okay?"

  Billie winced when she opened the old metal percolator. No telling when it had last been cleaned. She scrubbed it thoroughly before putting the coffee on. Behind her, Raoul paced.

  "You seem nervous," she said. "Are you afraid Max will find this place?"

  Raoul chuckled. "Nobody is going to find us. But if they do, they won't live to regret it."

  * * * * *

  "I need to speak to the detective in charge," Nick told a tall man with thinning sandy-colored hair. He wore a dark suit and a serious expression.

  "You're talking to him. I'm Detective Ferrell."

  "You need to hear this."

  Max repeated his story quickly while the detective looked on in awe. Nick wasn't certain the man believed Max or not. As far as the police were concerned, Max was probably their main suspect. Nevertheless, the man asked questions and took brief notes as Max's tale unfolded, jotting down the numerous aliases Raoul Hernandez was known to have used. Ferrell phoned the station and waited as the person on the other end of the line fed information into the police computer. He made more notes.

  "Have someone run the data over here."

  Ferrell hung up the phone and looked at Nick. "I'll get right on it. By the way, we've checked airlines, train, and bus stations. We've questioned all the neighbors, and spoken with Mrs. Pearce's friends—"

  Nick met his gaze. "My fiancee would never leave town without her children."

  "That is our assessment, as well. Unless she was forced. Sounds like that's a possibility." The cop put his hand on Nick's shoulder. "We'll find her."

  Nick took a deep steadying breath. "How long will it take?"

  "I can't answer that, but we're doing everything we can." The detective hurried to his car and got on the radio.

  * * * * *

  Billie knocked the stack of pictures from the top of the refrigerator as she tried to dust. They scattered to the floor. Raoul glanced over at her. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't see these."

  He shrugged. "They're just pictures of my kids."

  She knelt down and began to pick them up. Her hand froze in mid-air when she noted the little girl with the dark hair. It was Julie Favor, the girl from Nick's neighborhood.

  "That's my daughter," Raoul said.

  Billie felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. "Yes, you've shown me her picture before. She's lovely."

  Raoul put the photographs back on top of the refrigerator. "I like to carry pictures of my kids with me on assignment. Keeps me company."

  Billie smiled, even as a chill of fear crept up her spine. She'd been had. Tricked. As she cleaned, she began to put together the pieces of a puzzle that had been bothering her for days.

  Raoul had only pretended to be her friend, spraying her house almost daily since her pest-control problems had appeared, mak
ing home repairs that never truly got fixed. He obviously wasn't a good bug killer, because the spiders had continued to invade her home.

  Raoul knew she had once feared spiders. When she'd hired him, she'd told him how one of her brothers had been bitten by a brown recluse when they were kids. He still had a terrible scar. It had taken her years to get past the sheer terror of seeing even a tiny harmless spider. Raoul had confessed his fear of the dangerous insects, as well.

  "I would rather face a rattlesnake than a brown recluse spider," he'd said the day she'd confided her old fears to him. Which had made her wonder why he'd gone into the pest control business to begin with.

  But what about the infestation that had occurred in the neighborhood? she wondered. Maybe it was too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence. Had he been doing the same thing to her neighbors, pretending to fight the war on bugs when, in fact, the bug population was growing? If so, why?

  Did Raoul have some sort of fixation on her? He'd certainly hinted that she needed a good man in her life, but he hadn't actually made a play for her. Besides, he had a family. Or so he'd said. Now she knew differently.

  Nevertheless, her mind reeled with more unanswered questions.

  If Raoul did have feelings for her, and he knew she didn't share his sentiments, what would he do to try and win her over? The answer was suddenly clear. Raoul had been trying to scare her, and the spiders were only the beginning. She thought of the sounds outside her bedroom window that had kept her awake much of the night when her children were gone. Was Raoul responsible for those as well? And what about the burglaries in the neighborhood? A single mother with two children would certainly be afraid of break-ins on her street, and Raoul had access to some of the homes. People trusted him.

  She had trusted him.

  When Nick Kaharchek appeared in her life it surely must've put a damper on Raoul's hope of winning her heart, if he had indeed hoped to do so.

  Another chilling thought hit her. Raoul serviced Nick's place, as well. That's how he'd ended up with pictures of Julie. Nick's sudden appearance in her life had blown all Raoul's plans for a relationship with her. Had he blown up Nick's car and set fire to the stable in return? And what about the cake at the wedding reception?

  The security guards would have thought nothing of letting Raoul spray the lawn for bugs the morning of the wedding, especially a man who came and went in the Kaharchek household and was well known throughout the community. And they would have been way too busy to follow him around. Raoul could easily have placed a bomb beneath the table where the cake was to sit. And, as devious as he was, he could have put a bomb in the limo when he saw her sitting in the back seat. Then he'd pulled her out of the car before it detonated. There was no other explanation for why the limo she'd climbed into, the one she and Nick were supposed to ride away in after the wedding, had exploded.

  Billie's stomach knotted, her anxiety growing with every breath she took. If she was right, that could only mean one thing. Raoul would rather see her dead than married to another man.

  She pushed the thoughts aside, at least for the moment. It was too much to consider at once, and she had to try and act natural if she wanted to survive. If Raoul even suspected she knew what was going on, she was a dead woman.

  She filled the sink with hot water and began putting dirty dishes in it. Finally, she walked into the living room to check for more dirty dishes. Raoul sat on the faded sofa, obviously lost in thought. She picked up several coffee cups and found a plate on a far table, crusted with old food that was unrecognizable. Something fishy, now rancid, the smell that had greeted her the minute she'd walked through the door. The odor hit her hard, and she gagged.

  "What's wrong with you?" Raoul said.

  Billie covered her mouth and shook her head. Her stomach pitched, and her jaw muscles ached. She was going to be sick. Quickly, she turned for the kitchen, but her shoe caught the table leg and she tripped. Coffee cups crashed against the floor and shattered, but she continued to hold the plate, almost falling face first into the food.

  Raoul groaned on the sofa. "Do you need help?"

  Fighting dry heaves, Billie tried to raise her head. It was then that she saw them, several gallon-sized jars beneath the table, a large spider pressed against the glass of one. She screamed.

  "Jesus Christ!" Raoul shouted, coming to his feet. "What is wrong with you?"

  Billie was too sick to get up at first. She stared at the jars, all housing various insects and spiders, from the small black spiders she often found in her house to the small brown German roaches. One jar contained several brown recluse spiders. She screamed again.

  "Get away from there," Raoul snapped. "What's wrong with you, have you lost your mind? Look at this mess."

  Billie's throat began to close on her. "You're—" She paused and gagged once more. "Storing insects in here."

  "I'm not storing anything," he said angrily. "I'm conducting experiments." He looked agitated. "I've, uh, been working on a new insect spray. Actually, it's better than anything you can buy on the market. I'm looking to have it patented. I expect to make a ton of money on it."

  Billie's stomach continued heaving. The filth and stench, and finally the insects, had gotten to her. She needed air. She turned for the front door and reached for the doorknob.

  "Don't touch that!" Raoul yelled so loudly that Billie snatched her hand away as though she'd just burned herself. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her away from it.

  "What's wrong?" she cried.

  "You'll blow up the place."

  Billie glanced at the door where she saw something wired to the front door—it looked like the thing on the kitchen window. What did it mean? "What is that?"

  "Something to keep people out," he said harshly. "Someone even tries to come through that door, and that baby will take off their head."

  Billie looked at the door, then at Raoul. "But how do we get out?"

  He met her gaze. "We don't."

  * * * * *

  Nick felt more helpless as the day wore on, and the afternoon sun sank into the horizon. He was not a man accustomed to sitting around doing nothing, or depending on others for help. He was a mover and a shaker, a man who got things done no matter what. As he listened to Detective Farrell discuss his strategy with a local FBI agent named Dwight Hawkins, he realized the likelihood of finding Billie was growing dimmer with every second that passed.

  They needed to move now.

  Nick motioned for Max to follow him outside to the garden Billie loved. Her gardening tools and gloves sat on a patio table, waiting. He wondered if she would ever again get to do any of the simple little things she loved. If she lost her life it would be his fault, and he would spend his own life blaming himself. He wouldn't blame her if she no longer wished to marry him, but he wanted her alive more than he wanted his next breath.

  "This isn't going to work," Nick said. "I'm going to lose it if something doesn't happen soon."

  Max nodded. "That's my feeling exactly. At the rate they're going, it'll take forever for them to find Billie. If they find her."

  "You got any better ideas?"

  "I might have one or two."

  They were interrupted when Detective Ferrell stepped out with Agent Hawkins. "I know what you must be going through," he told Nick. "I'm sorry."

  Nick didn't think he looked sorry at all. This was just another case to the law-enforcement personnel, and Ferrell's only reason for solving it was so he could close the file. Nick realized he was probably being overly cynical, but he couldn't help himself. He had to stay angry in order to maintain any control over his emotions. "Thanks," he muttered.

  Agent Hawkins stepped forward. "One of our agents entered all of Hernandez's aliases into our main computer and came up with a driver's license that Ms. Holt positively identified as the man we're looking for."

  "We have an APB out on this Raoul guy," Ferrell said, "and I've got half the force flashing his picture and questioning people at convenience
stores, gas stations, and fast-food restaurants near the neighborhoods he worked." Ferrell paused and looked at Agent Hawkins. "We've since had some disturbing news."

  Nick steeled himself for the worst. "Billie's dead?"

  "No, Mr. Kaharchek, we have no information on Mrs. Pearce at this time, although we're doing everything possible. We ran Hernandez's prints through our automated fingerprint identification system and got a hit. Mr. Hernandez is wanted by the FBI for questioning in an unsolved murder case. An old girlfriend of his has been missing for close to five years. The family says she walked out on Hernandez after having been battered by him numerous times." He paused once more. "The family suspects foul play."

  Nick tried to listen to what the man had to say after that, but he could barely keep his impatience hidden. He'd heard enough. It was time to take matters into his own hands. He waited until the two law officers disappeared inside before turning to Max.

  "Tell me your idea, Max."

  "It's kinda illegal."

  "I'm listening."

  "If Raoul just moved somewhere new, he would have to notify the utility companies and get the electricity and water turned on. And I bet he'd use one of his aliases. I figure the police will check it out soon enough, but it'll take them a while to get the info. They gotta go through channels, and stuff."

  "Any delay, and it could be too late."

  "Right. But I could do it now."

  Nick looked at him. "How?"

  He shrugged as if it were no big deal. "Simple. I break into the water company's computer. I've done it before. Not in this town, of course. I was protesting a bogus rate increase by the water and sewer department back home, and I needed vital information to prove how unnecessary—"

  "You hacked into the water company?" Nick asked. "Did you get caught?"

  "Yeah, they busted me, but I was only eleven years old at the time. Didn't take the necessary precautions." He smiled. "Still managed to get the information I was looking for, though. It'll be fastest if we can do it on-site. I bet they don't have any security for the on-site computers—maybe not even a decent firewall on the system—if we access it in-house."