Chasing Venus (40 page)

It took some deft
maneuvering to find a satisfactory spot, given that curbside parking was at a
premium.
 
Eventually Sam did.
 
He settled in to do what he did
best.
 
Or, more accurately, what he
did most often.

Wait.
 
And watch.

Minutes passed, minutes
during which Sam informed Lionel Simpson of Gardner’s whereabouts and kept an
eye peeled for females bearing the faintest resemblance to Annette Rowell.
 
It would have been cocky—or
stupid—for the pair to hook up in such a public place.
 
But sometimes, Sam knew, people enjoyed
hiding in plain sight.
 
They got a
kick out of it.
 
And it made his job
a lot easier.

He hit the 45-minute
mark.
 
He drummed his fingers on the
steering wheel.
 
The radio was on
low volume, tuned to sports talk.
 
There was no sign of his mark.

At an hour, Sam started
to wonder.
 
It seemed a long time if
Gardner was eating alone.
 
But maybe
he’d arranged to meet someone there; Sam had no way of knowing.
 
It was also possible he’d met someone
once he got there and was talking her up.

At an hour and a
quarter, Sam decided to poke his head inside the restaurant.
 
It carried a risk, as he didn’t want to
Gardner to take note of him, perhaps have some stir of recognition later.
 
But Sam was motivated to take the
chance, as he’d gotten a niggling bad feeling, the kind he didn’t like to
ignore.

He entered the
restaurant, which looked good and smelled better.
 
The clientele was young, southern
California good-looking; the Thai female servers, given Sam’s taste for the
exotic, were sublime.

He pushed through the
packed bar area and got his usual share of sideways glances from the ladies.
 
But he was atypically stingy with his
own appraisals.
 
Tonight he wasn’t
on the make.
 
He was on the job.

One tour left him
dissatisfied.
 
He bore down and did
another.
 
This time he was seriously
concerned.

No Reid Gardner.
 
Where the hell was he?

He sidled up to the
maitre
d’ at his podium, complete with table chart and
small lamp.
 
“Hey.”

The guy, in his black
pants and white dress shirt uniform, acknowledged him with a nod.
 
“What can I do for you?”

Sam kept his voice
low.
 
“I got a favor to ask.
 
The girl I’m with swears she saw Reid
Gardner in here.
 
You know, the
Crimewatch
guy?”

The
maitre
d’ nodded.
 
“He was here.”

Sam froze on the past
tense.
 
“He’s already gone?
 
I was hoping I could get her an
autograph or something.”

“Sorry.
 
He left like an hour ago.”

Sam controlled his
reaction.
 
“So fast?”

“He didn’t even
eat.
 
Told me after like ten minutes
that something came up.
 
Left a nice
tip, though.”
 
He moved his eyes to
the couple next in line and Sam turned away.

He didn’t go out the
front door, though.
 
He wound his
way to the rear of the restaurant, past the unisex restrooms and the
telephones, past the kitchen, down the last hall he could find.
 
Which, he realized when he opened the
EXIT door, let out into an alley.
 
It smelled of garbage and urine but would do the trick.
 
Gardner hadn’t even had to hop a fence.

All he had needed was a
spare car key in his pocket.
 
And a
tail focused on the front door.

*

As Reid exited the
freeway for the last stretch of road leading to the cabin, he knew he’d used
the last trick up his sleeve.
 
He
wouldn’t be able to elude that tail again.
 
And now that he had willfully evaded whoever had him under surveillance,
Simpson would know for sure that Reid Gardner had something to hide.
 
Whatever breather Reid’s “Brandy” story
might have bought with the FBI was now gone.

He drove fast, not
allowing himself to think through what all of that meant.
 
An odd brew of panic, guilt, and
determination kept his foot heavy on the gas.
 
He barreled up the cabin’s private lane
from the main road, then had to swerve to avoid hitting the two cars parked on
the usually empty graveled lot.
 
One
was Sheila’s white Jetta.
 
The other
was an ‘80s-era red Corvette that screamed RESTORED BY RAJIV BANEERJEE!

Not good.
 
Now he’d have to waste precious time
doing PR when priority one was scouring the cabin for clues as to what the hell
had happened.
 
And then searching
the area for Annie.

Who might be
anywhere.
 
Who might be wounded, or
worse.

And the killer could be
in the vicinity, too, unless he accomplished what he came for.

Reid exited his truck,
refusing to dwell on the worst-case scenario.
 
For the time being he left his .38 in
the glove box.
 
He didn’t know what
he’d be facing later but he didn’t intend to face it unarmed.

As he approached the
cabin, he saw both car owners and a young blonde appear at the open front
door.
 
From Sheila’s scowl, he
guessed that her mood had not improved in the last ninety minutes.
 
Rajiv looked like his usual Gen X self,
with his soul patch, faded jeans and
untucked
tee
shirt.
 
Reid didn’t have to think
hard to guess how the blonde figured into the equation.

“Reid!
 
What are you doing here?” Rajiv asked.

“Yes, Reid.”
 
Sheila’s tone was challenging.
 
“Tell us why you drove up all this way.”

“You called me,
remember?”
 
He smiled, kept his
voice mild.
 
“I was hoping I could
help.
 
Reid Gardner,” he said to the
blonde and extended his hand.
 
She
took it silently, gave no sign she was capable of uttering a word.
 
He focused again on Sheila.
 
“Have you called the police?”

“Not yet.
 
We were just about to,” she added,
clearly making a point.

Rajiv spoke.
 
“Sheila just showed up herself.
 
We were giving her the—”
 
His tone turned sarcastic.
 
“—grand tour.”
 
He turned, waved an arm at the cabin’s
interior.

Reid pushed past the
trio to go inside.
 
He headed
immediately for the bathroom, which clearly had taken the brunt of the
action.
 
Outwardly he donned the
demeanor of Cop Investigating Crime Scene.
 
But it was difficult on this occasion to produce the clinical dispassion
he’d maintained when he wore a badge.
 
Not when he knew the victim.
 
Not when the victim was Annie.

Those were her
footprints on the toilet, her handprints on the window.
 
He leaned closer.
 
Flecks of blood on the chipped white
paint.
 
Hers no doubt, from trying
to open the window.
 
While that
bastard tried to kick down the door.
 
And eventually succeeded.

Reid stared at the
windowsill as if he were examining evidence when in fact he was trying to
control his emotions for his audience of three.
 
He could only too easily imagine what
had gone down here.
 
It was as if
the tiled walls were screaming at him the story of Annie’s terror, berating him
for having left her alone.

What choice did I have?

The other voice in his
head didn’t think much of that reasoning.
 
You had a choice.
 
You always do.

He turned away from the
window.
 
“Have you looked around
outside?”

Rajiv spoke.
 
“There are a few footprints.
 
You wanna see?”

He did.
 
Rajiv handed him the lone flashlight and
Reid led the group like a grim bandleader out the front door and around the
cabin to the rear.
 
He focused the
beam on the ground beneath the bathroom window.
 
The dried-out golden-brown oat grass was
flattened and a few fresh footprints were visible in the dirt.

He let out a
breath.
 
Good girl.
 
You made it out
.

He panned the area more
widely.
 
Here in the cabin’s
open-ended back yard, which was partly oat grass and partly dirt, he could see
a faint track of prints leading toward the hill.
 
He gazed at the
treeline
,
perhaps thirty yards distant.
 
Oaks
poked into the night sky, more densely packed as the ground rose.
 
During the day it was a pretty pastoral
scene.
 
At night it was forbidding.

Annie went in there,
Reid knew.
 
And he bet the killer
followed.

He wanted to join
them.
 
But first he had to get rid
of Rajiv and the blonde.
 
And
convince Sheila to hold her fire with the cops and the FBI.

From behind Reid, Rajiv
spoke.
 
“Mom and Dad are gonna freak
about this.
 
But the really weird
part is that whoever was here didn’t take a thing.
 
And even weirder—”
 
He laughed.
 
“—they left something really
valuable.
 
So it’s gotta be a
dumb-ass crook.”

Reid frowned.
 
“What do you mean, left something
valuable?”

“A diamond ring.
 
Can you believe it?”

That gave Reid
pause.
 
This time Rajiv led them
back into the cabin.
 
Once inside,
he produced exactly what he’d described.
 
Reid examined the ring, acutely aware of Sheila’s eyes boring into his
back.

Where the hell did this come from?
 
He knew how Sheila would answer that
question.
 
And that explained, at
least in part, her hostility.
 
But
he had never seen this ring before.
 
And it was the one thing in this cabin he couldn’t begin to explain.

For a moment, just a
moment, doubt about Annie tripped across his brain.
 
Was this all some elaborate scheme she’d
concocted with another man?
 
An
accomplice?
 
A lover?
 
Could she be involved in these murders
after all?
 
Had she been lying to
him from the start, using him for some purpose of her own?
 
Naturally, like the weakness-seeking
missile she was, Sheila chose this moment to home in.

“It’s time to call the
cops and stop playing amateur detective.
 
Rajiv, Carrie, you go.
 
I’ll
handle this.
 
And I’ll call mom and
dad.”
 
She very nearly pushed her
brother and his girlfriend out the door.

Reid was not sorry to
hear Rajiv’s spryly tuned engine roar to life.
 
He eyed Sheila with wariness as the
engine’s rumble receded in the distance.
 
“How you holding up?” he asked.

She crossed her arms
over her chest.
 
“How do you think?”

“Look.”
 
He waved his hand to indicate the
damaged cabin.
 
“I’m sorry about all
this.
 
I truly am.
 
But it can be repaired.”

“You’re going to pay
for every last dime of it.”

“Of course.”
 
And he’d upgrade a few things, too.
 
That was the least he could do.
 
And now for another form of damage
control.
 
“Sheila, let me say it
again.
 
I really appreciate how much
you’ve helped me out.
 
I wouldn’t be
able to do this without you.”

“You know, I’ve been
thinking that, too.
 
So maybe I’m partly
to blame for all this.
 
I’m a, what
is it called?
 
That psychology
term?”
 
She frowned, then snapped
her fingers.
 
“That’s right.
 
I’m an enabler.
 
Well, I’m about to stop enabling this
ridiculous enterprise.
 
It’s over
for me.
 
Over.”

“Sheila—”
 
He moved closer.
 
She stepped back and raised a
restraining hand.
 
He approached her
anyway, while she shook her head in a determined movement.

“No, I mean it.
 
This is absurd.
 
You are jeopardizing everything, your
safety, your reputation, your livelihood, for this woman who could well be a
serial killer.
 
You have slept with
her, I know you have—”
 
She
raised her voice over his attempt to interrupt her.
 
“I’ve seen the goddamn state of that bed
so don’t insult my intelligence by trying to deny it.
 
And that!”
 
She thrust a finger at the diamond ring
he’d set down on the dining table.
 
Her face twisted in a grimace that was part disgust, part pain.
 
“You proposed marriage to her?
 
What is wrong with you?
 
What the hell’s happened to you?
 
Where’s the Reid Gardner I used to
know?”