Deadly Lies (30 page)

“Did you find his wallet? Was there anything missing?”

“Cash and credit cards seemed to be intact,” McLean answered.

Taking another long look around the hotel room, Luka saw nothing else that seemed oddly out of place. The crime scene looked too clean for a crime of passion. Careful. Calculated. Whoever did this took their time.

Luka stepped back toward the bed, his eyes taking in every detail of the body. It looked like one clean shot through the chest. If death wasn’t instantaneous, it didn’t take long for the victim to bleed out. His eyes focused in on the hand dangling off the bed, and he took a step closer.

“Have you found the guy’s wedding ring?”

“What?” McLean asked.

“His wedding ring. It’s missing.”

“How do you know he was wearing one?”

Luka gestured toward the victim’s ring finger. “Look, there’s tan line where his wedding ring should have been. If he deliberately removed it, then it’s probably somewhere in this room.”

McLean shook his head. “No sign of it yet, but we’ll keep looking.”

Luka scratched his neck and took another look around the hotel room. It was going to be a long day.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

J
ill arrived home from the airport late Friday night. The smell of the Christmas tree filled the room with a clean, piney scent. Molly did not come to greet her, and Jill looked up to see two eyes staring down at her from the top of the stairs. The dog’s demeanor was problematic. Even Alex had noticed her response to Jill. He’d asked her if it was possible that Molly was going senile. Seven years old seemed a little young for that kind of behavior, but still, in Alex’s mind, it was the most plausible explanation. Jill had mumbled something mildly reassuring before changing the subject.

She discarded her suitcase at the foot of the landing and continued through the house into the kitchen. The lights were low, and she could see Alex standing with his back to her, his face reflected in the windowpane as he stared out at the darkened night. A warning flare shot off in her head, and she slowed to a halt.

There was something about the rigid line of his shoulders that caused her pulse to lurch into an uneven gallop. Grasping the corner of the granite counter top, she broke the silence.

“Hi.” She sounded casual, but her insides tightened like a vice. No way he knew what she’d been up to in San Francisco. She’d been careful, but still, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling unfurling at the pit of her stomach.

“How was your flight?” He turned at last. He did not smile, and instinctively, she took a step back, toward the door.

“Uneventful.” She took in a deep breath, and forced her tone to remain light. “Have you eaten?”

“Not hungry. Thanks.” The tinkle of ice in his glass drew her gaze to his hands. In the dim light she could see his long fingers wrapped tightly around a tumbler. Alex was drinking alone, a sure sign that whatever he was holding back had him tied up in knots. This had become a more frequent occurrence since he had taken on the Watson case.

“How was your week?” Rummaging through the refrigerator, she extracted the fixings for a sandwich. Busying her hands was an excellent way to steady her frayed nerves. She couldn’t afford to jump to conclusions. Keeping a cool head was top priority. Besides, if Alex did know her secrets, there would be plenty of time to panic. Decades, as she rotted in jail.

Silence stretched out between them, and finally Jill looked up. Alex was staring at the empty glass in his hand. Meeting her gaze, he deliberately set it on the island, where it made a soft, clinking sound.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, quelling the flutter of panic in the pit of her stomach.

Alex shifted his weight and took a step toward her, his hands splayed on the granite countertop.

“Could we sit?” He gestured toward the table. Jill set the knife down before following him across the room. She sank down into the chair opposite Alex, keeping her eyes glued to his face as she searched for some indication of what was bothering him. Typically Alex didn’t play games.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He rubbed his hands across his face and then sat back with a sober stare. Jill’s anxiety grew.

“So there’s been a development in the Honeywell case,” he began, voice halting.

Relief flooded through Jill, the respite so strong that she felt light-headed. The breath she’d been unconsciously holding let out in a rush. This wasn’t about her. This wasn’t about the string of dead
bodies she’d left behind in California. This was about Alex’s pet case. If she wasn’t so relieved, she might actually be irritated. His whole world seemed to revolve around the damned case. Abby Watson’s damned case.

“What kind of development? Do you know where he is?”

“Not exactly.” Alex shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. “But we do know where he’s been.”

Jill cocked her head, eyebrows arching as she tried to grasp his meaning. Where he’d been. Why did it matter, unless it provided some kind of clue to his whereabouts? And why was Alex being so careful in the way he shared this information with her? This sounded like the kind of news they’d talk about over wine. Why did it warrant a family meeting?

Alex leaned forward, placing an object on the table between them. Jill hitched in a breath as she caught sight of the gun. What the hell?

“There’s no good way to say this, Jill. Honeywell has been following you. Or at least, he was.” Alex sat back, staring at her as she put the pieces together.

“What do you mean? Where?” She felt short of breath, and her pulse throbbed at the base of her throat.

“He sent me pictures of you at Alki Bakery. He must have followed you there.”

Jill’s lips parted as the image flashed into her head of the man she’d found watching her.

“Shoulder-length blonde hair, blue eyes. He had a cell phone …” The words tumbled out in a rush.

“You saw him?”

“I caught a guy staring at me. There was something creepy about the look on his face. He didn’t stay long. Once he knew I’d seen him, he dialed a number on his phone and left.”

“Do you remember what time?”

“Around ten-thirty I think. Why? Is it important?”

Alex didn’t answer. His eyes still rested on her, but she could see that his focus had turned inward. Maybe he was putting this information together with a set of assumptions. Whatever it was, he was not sharing.

“He’s using me to get to you,” she said at last.

Alex nodded, his eyes shifting to the gun. His hand reached across the table to cover hers, and she could feel the warmth of his fingers penetrate her skin. The hairs on her arm prickled. Her racing pulse slowed. She knew she should be worried about the psychopath following her, but things would have been so much worse if Alex—

The thought stopped suddenly as she caught the shift in Alex’s expression. He looked perplexed. There was no other word that seemed to fit.

Jill eased back in her chair and pulled her hand out from underneath his. Crossing her arms, she waited for him to speak.

“This is serious, Jill. He’s killed other women—girls.”

“I know,” she said quickly.

“Then why don’t you look more worried?”

Hard as she tried to stifle it, she couldn’t stop the crooked smile that curved her lips.

“I’m wearing my fear on the inside.”

He clearly didn’t appreciate the joke, so she continued, nodding toward the pistol.

“Look, I’m assuming that this is what the gun is about. You want to make sure I can protect myself. I don’t actually think freaking out is going to help the situation or make you feel better. If I’m wrong, let me know, but be warned, it will take me a few minutes to work myself up into a full-blown frenzy.”

He raked his hands through his hair and shook his head.

“This isn’t funny, Jill. I want you to start carrying the gun with you. I can’t be with you every second to make sure you’re okay.”

His lips flattened into a grim line. Her attempts at humor fell flat.

Jill could read the concern on his face. It was evident in the dark circles under his eyes and the tense lines etched into his forehead. There was no way to put him at ease. No matter what she said, he would worry, so Jill quit trying to reassure him. Instead, she picked up the gun and examined it.

The grip fit nicely in her hand. Alex had chosen well. She checked the magazine before setting it down again.

“It’s registered in my name. I’ve picked up ammo.”

His voice trailed off, as if the surreal nature of the situation gave him pause.

“Try not to worry. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“I’ll also need your phone.”

“What for?”

“The department is testing a new cell phone application. It works with your phone’s GPS software to feed the location of the originating call into the 911 emergency system.”

“Doesn’t it automatically do that?”

“Well, not exactly. Even though today over half of all 911 calls are made from cell phones, in most cases the best we can do is to get a general location-based on the closest cell phone tower. We can narrow it down to an area within a several-block radius, but not an exact location. This application will provide more info on where you’re located, so if you hang up, they know where you called from. I’ve been testing it on mine already, and it seems to work pretty well.”

Alex fell silent. He ran a weary hand across his eyes before meeting her gaze.

“Look, Jill, I’m really sorry about this.”

“Sorry?”

“About all of this.” With a broad sweep of his hand, he gestured toward the gun. “I’m sorry my job brought this crazy son of a bitch into our lives, and now I’ve put you at risk. This isn’t how it should work. Ever. I’m so sorry, Jill.”

Pushing her chair back, she rose and rounded the table, stopping behind him. She planted a kiss on his hair, fingers kneading his knotted shoulders. She could smell the liquor on his breath, and she wondered how much he’d had to drink before she’d arrived. The smell of boozy breath conjured an image of her stepfather. Sam had been a mean drunk, but Alex was nothing like him. He was the one person she could trust.

“Not your fault. But I wouldn’t complain if you decided to quit your job and become a real-estate agent, or something.”

That won her a low chuckle, and at last, Jill could feel the tension in his body ease.

“Sure I can’t make you a sandwich? I’m starving.”

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

W
eeks after Kenneth Cox’s body had been planted in the ground of a Miami cemetery, Christmas passed in a blur of brightly colored paper and twinkling lights. There were family celebrations and quiet nights at home. But after three days of sleeping in late and getting caught up on prerecorded television programs, Alex looked twitchy and decided to go into work. He told Jill that he was worried the headway he had made on his recent backlog of cases was disappearing as new ones flooded in. She knew the real reason, of course. He was still searching for Jerry Honeywell, and while the case had dipped on the overall department priority list, it was still at the top of Alex’s.

Jill, on the other hand, opted to camp out at Alki Bakery and use their free Wi-Fi to check Lilith’s mail. Kenneth Cox, a.k.a. Casanova, was dead. One down, but there was still one to go. She had to find the dark-haired man from the video.

Seated at a table near the back of the bakery, Jill nibbled on biscotti as she looked out the window. For once it wasn’t raining, and the locals were taking advantage of the “good weather” to take a chilly stroll along Alki Beach. The bakery teemed with life as folks ducked through the door to warm up with a cup of coffee and a treat.

Jill’s thoughts strayed back to the hotel in San Francisco and the encounter with Kenneth Cox. A search of the hotel room had uncovered a small hidden camera. No doubt intended to capture their tryst
for upload onto his private pornographic website. Putting a stop to his covert activities felt pretty damn good, and the careful planning increased her confidence that she hadn’t left a trail. She was safe. All those years of listening to Alex drone on about how they tracked their suspects hadn’t been a waste of time.

“Penny for your thoughts,” a man at the next table said.

Jill started visibly at the interruption. Her knee hit the table, and the coffee mug rattled against the scarred surface, slopping over the edges. She swore softly, her fingers rubbing her throbbing knee, and glanced over. The man was in his thirties, with the coloring of a Siberian husky—dark hair and freaky blue eyes. Small silver hoops twinkled from his ears.

“Trust me, they’re not worth that much.” Jill forced a quick grin, careful not to maintain eye contact for long. Shifting back to her laptop, she busied her fingers on the keys, hoping that he would just go away. An uneasy tingle raced down her spine. Paranoia or intuition? She didn’t know which.

Regardless, Jill reached down to edge the laptop bag closer to the leg of her chair. The gun Alex had given her was safely tucked inside, close by in case she needed it.

“I doubt that. I’ll bet there are all sorts of interesting things going on in that pretty head of yours,” the man persisted. His smile seemed disarming enough, and reluctantly Jill looked up.

“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude,” she began, careful to keep her tone friendly, “but I’ve got a lot of work to do.” Despite her efforts, an edge crept into her voice.

He raised his hands in a quick movement that had her scraping her chair back and gripping her bag. The stab of panic she felt must have flashed on her face. His palms-up gesture was designed to put her at ease.

“Okay, calm down. Just trying to make conversation.”

Jill gave a brief nod and looked away, releasing the tight grip she had on her bag. Jill glanced at the cell phone she had sitting beside her computer. She could call Alex if she needed to, but that was a last resort.

With a muttered curse under his breath, the man stood and moved to a table closer to the window. A long sigh escaped her as she felt the tension drain from her body. Maybe she’d overreacted, but a girl couldn’t be too careful, especially with creeps like Jerry Honeywell lurking.