Charade (42 page)

She was too frightened to cry. She would cry later. After he was behind bars and she was safe, she'd give vent to her heartbreak. Right now, she had to concentrate on surviving. It had been Alex all along. There was a possibility that she had his dear Amanda's heart, so he planned to kill her as he had the others. Today was the day--the anniversary of a day that had meant new life for her, but unbearable grief for him. He'd said he was haunted by the thought of Amanda's heart beating inside another body. So he had tracked possible recipients and, using his bluffing skills, gotten close enough to kill them without

arousing suspicion. Then he conveniently moved on to his next victim and laid the next trap. Who better to commit such perfect crimes--which the authorities hadn't even deemed crimes--than a former policeman who wrote ingenious novels? He knew how to cover evidence and plug up holes in a plot. Cat shivered, and only partially because all she had on was his shirt. The leather upholstery was cold against her bare bottom, and her arms and legs were pimpled with goosebumps. As soon as she reached her house, she would call Lieutenant Hunsaker. But first she had to get there. She kept one eye on the rearview mirror. Although she'd left him afoot, he was resourceful. She half-expected another car to overtake her. That would be perfect, wouldn't it? He could force her off an overpass, then speed away. Her death would be ruled an accident, and no one would suspect him because she'd been killed while driving his car. Yes. That would make a believable story. She'd spent the night with him, but had left early in the morning to return home. He'd loaned her his car. "I can't believe it," he'd say when notified of her death. He would mourn and look bereaved. And they'd believe his innocence. Just as she had. Why hadn't she listened to Dean? To Bill? They'd warned her about him. They'd sensed his duplicity. Why hadn't she? His "dark side," as she'd preferred to call it, was so dark it was murderous. He'd played his role so well, with the finesse and skill of a master. First he'd pursued her, disarming her and charming her. Then he'd spurned her, making her want him even more. Then he'd become her friend and confidant just when she most needed one. And finally he'd become her lover in the strictest sense of the word. She'd professed her love out loud. And all the while-She was sobbing dryly as she took the exit ramp at triple the recommended speed. She tightly gripped the steering wheel and navigated the few remaining blocks to her house, reminding herself that she couldn't dwell on the personal aspects now. If she lived through this, there would be plenty of time to nurse her broken heart. She wheeled into her driveway and brought the car to a jarring

halt. Shoving open the door, she barreled out and dashed to the house. When she reached the porch steps, she stumbled against someone sitting on the top one. She cried out in alarm. Her unexpected guest surged to his feet and grabbed her arms. "Cat! Where have you been?" She almost collapsed, first from fright, then with relief. "Jeff, thank God!" Clutching the sleeves of his jacket, she leaned against him and tried to catch her breath. "You've got to help me." "Good God, Cat, you're virtually . . . Where are your clothes?" he stammered. "It's a long story." She unlocked her front door and disengaged the alarm. He followed her inside. "I've got to call the police," she told him. "Alex Pierce is the one who's been terrorizing me." "What?" "Because of a woman he loved. She died giving birth to their son. He consented for her heart to be harvested." While explaining Alex's motivation, she pillaged the contents of her handbag, looking for Lieutenant Hunsaker's business card. "Where is that damn thing? I know it's in here somewhere. I've got to call him right away. Today's the anniversary--" "I know. I realized it at midnight. I got worried because I hadn't heard from you all day. I came over to see if you were okay and to stay with you if you were alone." "He'll come after me, Jeff. If for no other reason than to shut me up about the other three murders. He's incredibly resourceful. And relentless. You wouldn't believe how methodically he's carried out his plan." The doorbell rang, followed by a hard knocking. "Cat!" They froze. Then Jeff stepped in front of her and faced the door, using his body to shield her. At any other time, Cat would have laughed at his heroic but comic attempt to protect her. "The police are on their way," Jeff shouted. "Cat? It's Bill." She moved Jeff aside and rushed to open the door. Bill Webster strode in. "What the hell is going on? What are you doing here, Doyle? Cat, why're you dressed like that?" "Alex Pierce is the one who sent her those clippings," Jeff told him. "He killed those other transplantees and now he's after Cat."

Bill was as astonished by this development as Jeff had been. "How do you know it's Pierce? Where is he now?" "I just left him." Both men took uneasy glances at her bare legs. She didn't have time to be embarrassed. "I'm calling Lieutenant Hunsaker." She quickly described to them Alex's locked room, the files she'd discovered, the vast amount of information he had collected. "It all makes sense now," she said. "He must have been gloating on the inside when I pleaded with him to help me find my stalker. He fed me the clues about Sparky. He 'discovered' Paul Reyes and needlessly put that poor man and his family through a terrible ordeal today." "Who's Reyes?" Bill asked. She gave them a thumbnail sketch of the trip to Fort Worth. They were as astounded as she by the lengths to which Alex had gone to throw her off track. "Here it is." She held up Hunsaker's card and reached for the telephone. "I'll do that while you change," Jeff suggested. "Thanks." She headed for her bedroom, but Bill detained her. "Cat, are we still friends? Can you forgive me for Melia?" he asked in an undertone. It was strange how quickly a life-threatening experience snapped everything into a new perspective. Priorities came into sharper focus. "I was angry and disappointed in you. But it's not my place to forgive you, Bill. And of course we're still friends." It suddenly struck her as curious that he was there. "What brought you to my door at this hour?" Before he could answer, Jeff told them that Hunsaker was on his way. "He said he'll be here asap." "Will you stay with me until he arrives?" In unison, the two men agreed to. Cat thanked them and retreated to the privacy of her bedroom.

Dr. Dean Spicer laid the plastic key on the dresser and left his hotel room. It was early. The corridors were deserted. He was alone in the elevator. As he made his way across the lobby, he noticed only one sleepy clerk at the reception desk. The clerk didn't see him.

He'd arrived in San Antonio just after midnight on a flight from LAX that had stopped for an hour layover in Dallas. He had tried to call Cat from D-FW Airport, then again upon his arrival in San Antonio. She hadn't answered either time. He had considered leaving messages on her answering machine, but decided against it. On the chance that Pierce was there with her, he didn't want to appear a fool and have his voice broadcast into the bedroom where they were making love. Besides, he was uncertain of the welcome he'd receive from her. The last time they spoke, she'd hung up on him. He'd told her about the fatal shooting of a Houston undercover police officer that was attributed to Pierce. Where Pierce was concerned, she was thinking with her heart rather than her head. But what woman didn't? Upon reflection, maybe it was better that he hadn't reached her by telephone. His visit would come as a complete surprise. Although it shouldn't. Today was the anniversary of her transplant.

The street was dark and quiet. Cyc parked his bike in the deep shadows of a live oak tree at the opposite end of the block and squinted his good eye into focus on Cat Delaney's house. He recognized the car in the driveway--it belonged to Pierce. There was another car parked at the curb. The lights were on in the front rooms. "Shit." Things just weren't working out for him these days. Obviously it would be stupid to barge in while her cop friend was with her. He was considering his next move, when a man he'd never seen before opened her front door. He said something over his shoulder, then came out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. He glanced around furtively. Cyclops held his breath, but he went unnoticed in his shadowy hiding place. The man walked quickly to Pierce's car and drove it into the garage. He came out moments later and manually lowered the heavy door. He then hurried to the car at the curb, and, after juggling a set of keys, got in and drove away in the opposite direction from where Cyclops was hiding. He ruminated on the peculiar activity. He didn't know for certain

that the car in the driveway belonged to Pierce, did he? He'd only seen Pierce driving it. It might, in fact, belong to her. And maybe she had something going with someone besides Pierce. Why else would the dude be leaving her house at this time of morning, real sneaky-like? Now that he'd left, was she alone? Cyc left his bike beneath the live oak and started up the street on foot.

Cat felt the need to cleanse herself of Alex's touch, his smell, all essence of him. She could spare a few minutes in the tub before Hunsaker arrived. What would happen after that was anybody's guess. With a heavy sigh, she sank into the hot bubble bath and laid her head against the rim of the tub. She longed to immerse herself just as completely in her despair, to cry until she was hollow. But she couldn't allow her emotions to surface now. She had to be pragmatic, cold, hard, as ruthless as he had been. Heartless, she thought cynically. She closed her eyes in an effort to blot out images of Alex, but still she envisioned his face in all its various modes--while making love, while talking intently about his work, while speaking of his devotion to Amanda. Rising emotion caused a catch in her throat. She cleared it away, impatiently, aggressively. That's probably why she didn't hear the bathroom door open. In fact, if it hadn't been for a faint draft, she probably wouldn't have opened her eyes. When she did, she jerked erect, sloshing water over the rim of the tub. "What are you doing?" "Surprised?" She was stunned. Too stunned even to scream. Bewildered, she watched as her hair dryer was plugged into the wall socket above her dressing table. When the switch was flicked, it began to whir softly. "I'm sorry, Cat." The sad-sweet smile caused her blood to turn cold. "You're about to become the victim of a tragic accident."

Chapter fifty five

"Shit!" Alex banged his fist against the BMW's steering wheel. These sons of bitches weren't supposed to run out of gas! Of all the damn luck--to steal a car with an empty gas tank. He twisted the wheel hard enough to get the car onto the shoulder of the freeway, flung the door open, and took off at a full run. It would serve his yuppie neighbor right if the goddamn thing got stolen and stripped. Out of gas, for crissake! There was little traffic. He raised his thumb to several passing vehicles, but he doubted that anyone would stop for him. He didn't look very trustworthy--hair uncombed, unshaven, shirttail flapping. He took the exit ramp, his feet pounding the pavement while he mentally counted the number of blocks he had to cover before reaching Cat's street. He was afraid to think about what he might find when he got there. He'd awakened that morning with the solution to the mystery. While he was asleep, his subconscious had worked it out. A key

piece to this complicated chessboard had been missing all along. That empty space seemed so glaring to him now. Why hadn't he noticed it before three innocent people were killed? He cursed his stupidity. Everyone in this tangle of intertwined lives was present and accounted for except one. Unfortunately, it was the lethal one. Legs pumping, arms churning, he turned a corner and would have maimed himself on a fireplug if he hadn't seen it in the nick of time. He hurdled it, barely breaking stride. "Live, Cat. Don't die on me. Not you, too."

Cat's teeth were chattering. "Why are you doing this? I don't understand." "Of course you do. Your death by electrocution will be just like the others. A lamentable accident." "Well, you couldn't make your intention any plainer than that, could you?" "Cat Delaney. Ever the joker." "You won't get away with it this time. Lieutenant Hunsaker is on his way here." Jeff Doyle merely smiled. "I called time and temperature, not the police." "Bill--" "I sent him out on an errand. His unexpected arrival was a glitch, but I devised a way to get rid of him. I suggested that he move his car away from the house, so that when Pierce shows up to do you in, he won't be warned off." "Very clever." "Oh yes. I've learned to cover my tracks well. When Bill gets back, he'll find me on the phone demanding to know why Hunsaker isn't here yet. We'll eventually get worried about you and come looking. We'll discover your body. "I'll get hysterical, as gay men are wont to do in times of stress," he said with a short laugh. "I'll berate myself for not urging you to update the wiring in this old house. You should have had a ground fault interrupter installed to prevent this kind of catastrophe. "I'll theorize that you were so upset over Pierce's treachery, you weren't thinking straight and reached for your hair dryer. Webster

will back my story. He saw how shaken you were to discover that your lover was planning to kill you." "Which Alex will deny." "No doubt. But he'll also be implicated in the other deaths when the authorities see that incriminating evidence in his apartment. Thank you for telling me about his secret room, Cat. Apparently he kept extensive files of those interviews." "Interviews?" "His interviews with the heart transplantees. He makes quite an impression on people, you know. Each of them mentioned him to me. All were flattered that he'd interviewed them for his book. Mr. Pierce is very clever and extremely charming. None realized that he was actually searching for Amanda's heart. "Even I fell for his ruse and believed he was researching a book. That is, until I began doing research for you and discovered that his lady love had been a heart donor. "Once the police find those files, he'll have some fancy explaining to do, won't he?" He gave a high-pitched giggle. "I must admit I was quite taken aback when he suddenly appeared on the scene. I was afraid he'd ruin everything by catching on to me. He obviously began to smell a rat when the heart transplantees he'd interviewed began turning up dead. Granted, a year apart. But to a former crime-solver the pattern would be too curious to ignore. "Besides wanting to find his Amanda in you, the dear man probably wanted to save you from the same fate as the others. His desire to protect you was really quite noble. "I even suspected that he was the one who sent you those articles. They threw me for a loop. It made me nervous to learn that someone had figured out my plan. Not that that would have stopped me. "Pierce did, however, add some excitement. He made the situation more complex and therefore more interesting. The other disposals were almost too easily accomplished. I came to regard him as a challenge. And now he'll make an excellent scapegoat that I hadn't planned on." He shook his head and smacked his lips with regret. "It doesn't bode well for our bestselling author, does it? Especially considering all those files that he keeps under lock and key. It sounds as though the man is positively obsessed, doesn't it?"