Before She Dies (34 page)
Sinclair must have picked up on the extra tension in his voice. “He holds his victims for several days.”
“Which is why we might have a chance this time.” Patrol cars arrived in minutes, and soon the scene was filled with uniforms and a forensics team.
The shop owner was summoned and he arrived blurry-eyed and annoyed to unlock the front door. While forensics worked inside the store and around the truck, Rokov and Sinclair walked up and down Washington Street showing copies of Sooner’s mug shot, which Sinclair had brought.
Most of the stores were closed this time of night but a couple of restaurants and a movie-rental store remained open. The clerk in the movie-rental store reported that he’d seen a black SUV parked in front of Sooner’s.
“What made you notice it?” Rokov said.
The kid with red hair and freckles shrugged. “Everyone on the street has noticed Sooner. She’s something to look at. We all knew she was set to open today.”
“And did she?”
“Not until the end of the day. I saw her flip her sign from
Closed
to
Open
late in the day.”
Closed
to
Open
late in the day.”
“Late as in when?” Sinclair said.
“I’d been watching
Braveheart,
and it was the final battle scene. What’s that, a couple of hours into the movie? Anyway, I started the flick when I arrived at three. So about five.”
Braveheart,
and it was the final battle scene. What’s that, a couple of hours into the movie? Anyway, I started the flick when I arrived at three. So about five.”
She’d been scheduled to arrive at Charlotte’s party by seven. “How was she dressed?” Rokov said.
“Smoking H.O.T. She had on this long white dress that hugged her curves. Her hair was pinned up, and she wore a lot of makeup. Not too much, but enough to make her look supersexy.”
“You saw all that from here?” Rokov said.
The kid grinned and pulled a pair of binoculars out from behind his desk. “I like to keep an eye on stuff.”
“What can you tell me about the SUV?” He glanced toward the store’s security camera and wondered if it cast its lens toward Sooner’s.
“Black. Tinted windows. I kinda thought she had a date with a big shot. She’s the kind of gal who dates big shots. But the car pulled away and drove off.”
“You see the big shot?”
“He never got out of the car.” Maybe he pulled around back and picked her up in the alley? Maybe the big shot didn’t want to be noticed.
“You see anyone go into the shop?”
“I had a couple of customers so I got a little distracted. I don’t know. Hey, is Sooner okay?”
“We hope so.” He glanced toward the surveillance camera. “That work?”
The kid glanced at the camera. “Not exactly.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It works, but the outlet it’s plugged into is dead. The owner has an electrician coming.”
“Great.”
“But check with the pub on the corner. I hear he keeps his cameras on and running all the time.”
“I’ll do that.”
They moved four stores down and into the pub. The sound of laughter mingled with the steady beat of music. Smoke filled the air. A bouncer, a six-foot-eight black dude with a name tag that read RJ, greeted Rokov and Sinclair.
“What do the cops want?” RJ said.
There’d been a time during Rokov’s undercover days when he’d never have been pegged for a cop. He’d been the master at blending and vanishing. Rokov tucked his ID back in his pocket. “We need to see your tapes.”
With a nod, RJ indicated a reed-thin white guy talking to a waitress. The guy had dark, balding hair slicked back away from an angular face. His side vision caught sight of Rokov and Sinclair, and he quickly excused the waitress and moved toward them.
“What can I do for you officers?”
“Surveillance tapes,” Rokov said.
The thin man shrugged and motioned them toward a side office. Once he shut the door, the blare of the music eased. “There a problem?”
“We don’t know,” Rokov said. He glanced at a bank of six television screens behind a desk abutting a wall. “But I’d like to see the tapes from the camera you have out front.”
The thin man turned. “Number one. East on Washington. Sure.” He punched a couple of buttons. “What time frame?”
“Let’s start with today around five.”
“Pretty specific.”
“Can you pull it up?”
“Sure.” He tapped a couple of buttons and the image of 4:45 p.m. popped up. The camera didn’t take in all of Sooner’s storefront, only the far west side. The thin man played the images frame by frame. Cars passed. People passed. But without a direct angle on the front door, it was impossible to see who entered the shop.
The black SUV that the video kid had mentioned drove slowly by the shop.
Rokov leaned in. The tape caught a portion of the license.
AD
EJ. “Can you copy that for me?”
AD
EJ. “Can you copy that for me?”
“Sure.”
He downloaded the images, shoved a CD into a slot, and hit record. “You’ll have a copy in a minute. What happened?”
“You noticed the new age shop across the street?”
“And the new psychic? Yeah. She’s a looker. What’s she done? Drugs. Prostitution?”
“What makes you think she’s done something?”
“She’s been in business less than a day, and she’s got cops on my doorstep. Plus that weird old guy has been lurking around.”
“What weird old guy?”
“I don’t know who he is, but I caught him watching her shop a couple of times. He never stayed long.”
Grady Tate. “If I get a few pictures, could you identify him?”
“Sure.”
Charlotte saw the flashing police lights in front of Sooner’s the instant she pulled onto Washington Street. She parked and got out of her car. It was easy to spot Rokov.
She hurried to him, her high heels clicking against the pavement. “Daniel.”
Rokov turned, as did his partner.
Sinclair raised a questioning and amused brow. “Daniel? Christ, can I call them or what?”
Rokov moved toward Charlotte. “You were right to call. There were signs of a struggle in the alley.”
Her stomach clenched. “Did you find Sooner?”
“Not yet. But we’re doing all that we can.”
Feeling both helpless and angry, she shook her head. “I knew something was wrong.”
“Detective.” Rokov turned toward a forensics tech. “Yes.”
“We found a twenty-dollar bill in the desk. I dusted it and pulled two nice thumb and index prints from the edge.”
“Thanks. Let me know the second you have an ID.”
“Do you think the killer gave it to her?” Charlotte gripped his arm, uncaring if anyone saw her.
He patted her on her hand. “If he did, then we might be able to identify him and find her.”
Sooner awoke in stages as the fog cleared from her brain. Her eyelids felt heavy and her mouth dry. She realized she was sitting in a metal chair. Her arms were tied to the chair’s arms and her feet to the legs. She tried to rock from side to side and knock the chair to the side but discovered it was bolted to the floor.
Her vision cleared to a dimly lit, plain windowless room made of concrete. All she could see in front of her was a metal door. The room was empty to the right and to the left. She craned her neck behind her but could only make out some sort of tub and a stack of cinderblocks.
Heart now hitting her ribs, she tried to twist her hands free. All she managed to do was cut the tender flesh of her wrists as she twisted and turned.
“Shit. Where am I?” She screamed but the thick walls boomeranged her voice right back. She’d been in fixes: drunken townies looking for fun or a mugger aiming to grab her cash. But nothing, nothing like this had happened to her before.
The door opened and a brighter light switched on and drowned the room in light. The brightness made her wince and turn away.
“What do you want?” she said.
“Your confession.”
Her pupils adjusted and she looked up. Whoever this creep was, he stood just behind the light so that she couldn’t see his face clearly. She did make out the outline of a robe and hood. What was he, some motherfucking monk? God help her. This wasn’t about sex or money. This guy was crazy. “Why do I have to confess?”
“I can’t send you to God without a confession.”
She strained against her bindings, letting the rope dig into her skin. Pain kept her mind focused and her panic tethered. She’d been dealing with crazies since she was a kid and knew the futility of arguing. They believed what they believed. “God doesn’t want me with or without a confession.”
“God wants you clean and pure,” he said.
His kind got off on fear and control. He had control, but she’d withhold fear as long as possible. She managed a laugh. “That ship has sailed.”
“Redemption is always possible no matter how unclean you once were.”
“Not in my case. God will want more from me than just a simple confession. I’ve lied so much. The words will be meaningless to him.”
Tension rippled through his body. Good. Keep him off balance. Keep him thinking.
“How would you know what God wants?” he said.
“I know.” Her voice didn’t wobble or betray the fear tearing her gut.
He crossed the room, grabbed the back of her hair, and jerked hard. “How do you know what God wants, witch?”
Pain pulsed across her scalp. “I know He wants more. You need to find more like me or He will be angry.”
Her captor released her hair and stepped back. He studied her with narrowed eyes. “He wants the other witch, too, doesn’t He?”
“That’s right. He wants us both.”
“I’d thought to wait and save her for last, but maybe not.”
She didn’t know who he referenced, but hoped she could buy enough time to get free and get out of here before he returned.
He stepped back and moved to the door. “I’ll take care of you both. It seems right that you two go to God together.”
When he slammed the door behind him, she closed her eyes and started to weep. “Forgive me.”
Chapter 23
Sunday, October 31, 1 a.m.
Daniel had told Charlotte to go home. He wanted her locked behind her apartment door, safe and secure. But just sitting on her hands and waiting for someone else to save Sooner wasn’t an option. She did go home, but only to change quickly into jeans, a thick sweater, and sneakers.
As she hurried back to her car, she thought about Sooner lost and afraid and calling for her. She hoped to put aside all the time and memories they’d lost. She’d hoped they’d make new memories. Now she feared that window into the future was closing quickly.
She stiffened her spine. “Feel sorry for yourself later, Grace.”
Daniel was still trying to get a warrant to search Grady’s trailer. Likely it wouldn’t be until midday when the judge signed it. But she didn’t need a search warrant. She wasn’t concerned about convictions or due process. She simply wanted to find Sooner.
She slid behind the wheel, fired up the engine, and backed out. “Find Sooner. Find Sooner.”
Finding signs to the I-395 on-ramp, she headed south and then followed the interstate and back roads to the carnival. Even this early the road was crowding with traffic. When her phone rang, she was glancing in her rearview mirror at a black truck that was annoyingly close to her bumper. She slid into the right lane as she hit Send. “Charlotte Wellington.”
“It’s Angie.” Her voice sounded rough with fatigue.
“Have the police found Sooner?”
“I haven’t heard. I’m headed to Grady’s now.”
“Are you going alone?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Malcolm says Grady is a suspect.”
“I don’t care what they are calling him now, I just want to find Sooner.”
“Charlotte, does Daniel know where you are?” Concern dripped from the words.
“No.”
“He needs to know.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve handled Grady before and I will again.”
“Daniel should know what you’re doing.”
“I’ll tell him.” The SUV’s headlights bounced off her rearview mirror, temporarily blinding her.
Angie hesitated. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. No.” She softened her tone. “But thank you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Charlotte raised her chin. “Thanks.”
“I know this isn’t the best time, but thanks for last night. You were a big hit. We raised over two hundred thousand.”
The truck passed her and zoomed ahead. “Well done.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Sure you could have.” Her exit approaching, she put on her blinker and took it.
“Call me when you find Sooner.”
“I will.”
Tears glistened as she hung up, checked her screen to make sure no one had called while she was on with Angie, and then wove through the back streets toward the carnival. As she approached the carnival entrance, she picked up her phone and called Daniel. It rang once. Twice.
“Charlotte.” His deep even voice sounded tired yet chocked with a familiarity shared between people who were intimate.
She could have argued, dismissed, or ignored the tone but didn’t. She loved him. “Have you found her?”
“Not yet, we’re running those prints through AFIS now.”
She parked her car. “No one has seen her?”
“No.”
“Have you found Grady?”
“He’s still missing. We’ve had cruisers at the carnival several times, but no one can find him. The cops walked the grounds, but without a warrant, we can’t search the structures. We should have that warrant in a couple of hours.”
She set her handbrake and turned off the ignition. “Good. Call me if you find something.”
“Charlotte, where are you?”
“I’m at the carnival.”
“What are you doing there?” The urgency rocketed in his voice.
“I’m looking for Grady. And when I find him, I’ll call you.”
“Damn it, Charlotte. Go back home. Stay in your apartment today. Keep the door locked. Unpack. I’ll call you when I have something.”
“I’m not very good at staying put, Daniel.”
His voice dropped to a low growl. “Charlotte, get in your car now and drive home.”
“I can’t do that. I have to find Grady.”
“That’s my job.” He sounded as if he wanted to come through the phone and shake her.
“I know his little tricks and hiding places. I’ll find him before you get your warrant.”
“Exactly. And then I won’t be able to use the evidence.”
“Your warrant has nothing to do with me.”
“Do not go looking for Grady.”
She got out of her car. A breeze blew, chilling her skin. “If it’s any consolation, I think I love you.”
“Charlotte,” he groaned. “Please, go home.”
“I’ll call back in a few minutes.”
She closed the phone and shut it off. The carnival was quiet and all but deserted. The crew would have had a late Friday night and everyone would be sleeping for at least another hour because tonight was the closing and the place would see big crowds.
She spotted Grady’s trailer and moved toward it. She tried the silver, chipped handle but discovered it was locked. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Grady.”
Digging in her purse, she pulled out a metal nail file. Mariah had taught her how to wedge open the lock on Grady’s trailer when they were kids. A couple of times they’d pry open the lock and take beers from the fridge and cigarettes from his desk drawer. Mariah had handled the beer and smokes well. Charlotte, after half a cigarette and some beer, had grown light-headed and nauseated. She’d thrown up several times.
“Good times,” she quipped.
She reached for the lock when she heard the crunch of footsteps behind her. “Ms. Wellington.”
She slid her file between her fingers, a defensive technique she’d learned after the attack several years ago. Slowly, she turned and saw Lonnie White striding toward her. Behind him sat the black SUV she’d noticed following her on the highway.
He jabbed his index finger at her. “I want to talk to you.”
She moved away from the trailer, knowing it cut off one of her avenues of retreat. Keeping her expression neutral, she searched around him for signs of anyone else. They were alone.
“It’s time you and I talked.” Red-rimmed eyes broadcast a hangover, sadness, and anger.
“I don’t have time for you.”
“We need to talk.”
“We have talked. There is nothing else to say.” Her hands trembled as she walked toward her car.
He moved quickly in front of her and blocked her path. “Bullshit. You bitched at me enough, but I didn’t get to say my piece.”
“Sober up, Lonnie, and then we’ll talk.” The sternness behind the words belied her rising fears. She tried to sidestep him.
Lonnie blocked her, curling dirty, rough fingers into a fist. “You saw to it that Samantha went free. She’s a damn witch, and she doesn’t deserve to live, let alone walk the streets free.”
“What did you call her?”
“A goddamned witch. She cast a fucking spell on my brother, and she killed him. Then you used that legal bullshit and made the jury think she was innocent.”
She took a step back. He’d talked about witches and spells. He lived in Raleigh, but he’d been back in Virginia for several weeks. He could have killed those two women in Alexandria.
“Go home, Lonnie. Get some sleep and we will talk later.” She fished in her purse for her phone.
His hand shot out, he grabbed her by the collar, and he tugged hard. She stumbled forward and her phone flew out of her hands and skidded across the hard ground.
In a panic, she drove the flat of her hand into his nose, just as a self-defense instructor had explained. The nose was a sensitive spot, and if hit hard enough, could kill. The force of her strike wasn’t deadly, but the sharp painful jolt would slow him down enough so she could get to her car.
He seized her throat and squeezed. “I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.”
She clawed at his hands, screamed, and kicked at his shins. He dodged her kicks and tightened his grip. White spots appeared as she grasped for a full breath. Was her life going to end on the grounds of the carnival? Grady would have a laugh over that.
Somewhere her fogged brain registered the thunder of footsteps running toward her. Daniel? Hope exploded. As he got close, she realized her savior wasn’t Daniel but Levi. Where had he come from?
Levi grabbed Lonnie by the back of his head and twisted hard. Lonnie screamed and, now off balance, was forced to release Charlotte’s neck. She sucked in a breath and stumbled back as Lonnie fell to the ground. Levi had Lonnie on the ground and his knee in his back.
“Levi?”
“Yes. You’re fine.”
Lonnie lay on the ground, struggling and squirming. “Let me up. That bitch is gonna pay!”
Levi ground his knee deeper into the man’s spine until Lonnie winced and cried out in pain. “I will break your spine in two before I let you get away.”
Lonnie shouted several expletives but pain forced him to go limp on the ground. “Charlotte, are you all right?”
“Levi. Where did you come from?”
“I brought my kids back out here last night. My daughter left her coat behind. It’s her favorite. Shit, what are the chances I’d be here?”
“I’m just glad you were.” Her fingers traced long scratches made by Lonnie’s fingernails as he gripped her neck. As adrenaline faded, the wounds grew painful.
“You better get those looked at,” Levi said.
“Yeah. You’re right.”
Lonnie growled. “Let me go. You ain’t a cop and you can’t hold me.”
Levi ground his knee again into Lonnie’s spine.
“And yet I am.”
“I’m gonna sue.”
Levi laughed. “I know a good defense attorney who just might help me out with the case.”
Charlotte nodded. “My services will be free of charge.”
Levi winked at her. “Appreciate it.”
Charlotte spotted her phone on the ground and reached for it. “I’ll call the cops.”
“Open your trunk.”
“Why?”
“I need to stow this bird somewhere.”
“You can’t put me in a car trunk!” Lonnie screamed.
Levi twisted the guy’s thumb until he screamed. “Get in the trunk, or I will break your hand.”
Lonnie screamed when Levi manipulated his thumb backward. He scrambled to his feet and moved toward Charlotte’s BMW as she hurried ahead and fumbled for her keys. With a shaking hand, she opened the trunk. The rising trunk blocked her view of Lonnie and Levi for a moment, and she used the interlude to run a shaking hand through her hair and gather her wits.
Thankfully, Daniel had not been the one to rescue her. He’d have been upset and she sensed he wouldn’t have been afraid to lecture. At least Levi didn’t have an emotional stake in her life, so he would be cool.
As she tried to calm herself, she heard a grunt and the whoosh of air. She moved around the open trunk door and saw Levi moving toward her. Blood covered his hands.
She glanced at him and then at Lonnie, who now lay on the ground in a thickening pool of his own blood.
“Levi?”
He jumped forward, and before she could process the situation, he drove a needle into her arm and jammed his thumb down on the plunger.
She stared at him, struggling to mesh realities.
“Levi?”
He held her as she relaxed involuntarily into his arms. “I’ve been waiting for you for eighteen years, Grace.”
“What?”
Instead of answering, he scooped her up in his arms and laid her in the trunk of her own car. She stared up at his smiling face as he slammed the lid closed.
Rokov got the call fifteen minutes after he’d hung up with Charlotte. Annoyed, tired, and frustrated as he sped toward the carnival, he’d snapped into the phone, “Rokov.”
“This is Garrison.”
He shoved out a breath. “Yeah.”
“A patrol returned to the carnival. They found a body.”
His thoughts jumped to Charlotte. “Who?” “Lonnie White. His throat was cut.”
“Was there any sign of Charlotte?”
“No. Why would there be?”
“She called me just minutes ago and told me she was looking for Grady. She thought he could help us find Sooner.”
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