Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2) (34 page)

“Remember that day I came to group, and Heather let it slip about them hiring a hit man?”

Claire nodded and reached into her drawer, pulling out a tissue.

“I’m wondering just how much of a joke that was. How often did they talk about things like that?”

“Only that one time, and while you were there.” She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. “You don’t really think they’d do something like that, do you?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Angel said. “I keep going back and forth. Did one of those women kill all of those men? Did they take turns? Did they hire someone? Did Janet kill them? Or Lorraine or Heather or Debra? Or you?” Angel leaned on the counter.

“Me?” The word came out in a squeak. “How can you say that? What reason would I have?”

“Okay, then, talk to me. I need your help.” Angel had hoped to put a little fear into the woman, and she had. She needed to see those notes.

“I can’t tell you anything. I know Janet wouldn’t kill anyone. She’s kind and caring. As for the other women, I just don’t know. Sometimes they get really nasty. They say terrible things about their husbands. They’ve been through so much, but I can’t imagine any of them doing something so terrible.”

She covered her mouth with her fist as her tears continued. With her right hand, she turned back pages in the appointment book. “There is something I should tell you.” She opened the book to Tuesday, May 6, the day Phillip Jenkins had been killed. “I lied to the police about Janet being here when Phillip Jenkins . . . um . . . died. It wasn’t exactly a lie, I just told them she had clients and that she was here all day. I thought she was. She told me she was staying in to eat lunch and was going to take a nap.”

Claire threw away her used tissue and grabbed another. “I had to leave early that day to run some errands in Lincoln City with Debra. I was gone for two hours. She was here when I left and still here when I got back. Only, there was a new name written in the book—Janet said he’d come in and was upset, so she saw him. There was no reason to doubt her. But later, when I went to bill him, I realized he didn’t exist.”

“The police will eventually discover the name was a phony. That makes you an accomplice.”

“I didn’t think about it. I just wanted to protect her. Janet’s been through so much, and she’s helped so many people.”

“What about the morning I was shot? When did Janet come in to the office?”

Claire flipped the pages of the appointment book. “She had me cancel her morning appointments. She was going to talk to her attorney.”

Angel blew out a hard breath. Janet could have done it. Things were not looking good for the mild-mannered counselor. “Do you have any idea where she is now?”

“No.” Claire continued to cry. “But if you want to check her apartment, I know where there’s a key. She’s had me pick things up for her before. It’s under the flowerpot on the second step.”

Angel thanked her and hurried out of the building to her car, then drove out to Janet’s condo. After finding the key where Claire had said it would be, she opened the door. Janet wasn’t there. That didn’t surprise her, but what she found next certainly did.

Angel discovered an open suitcase and clothes tossed all over the bed. In the kitchen, she noticed two cups and plates on the table, along with crumbs from half of a small, round, decadent-looking chocolate cake that still sat on the island. Who had been here with her and when?

If Janet had been packing, where was she now? If she’d run away, why hadn’t she finished packing and taken her clothes with her? Maybe there hadn’t been time. She apparently left in a hurry.

Angel called Callen again. Still no answer. She called his house, and Kath told her she hadn’t heard from him and that dispatch had been trying to reach him. “I’m getting worried.”

Me too.
She didn’t tell Kath that. “I’m sure he’s okay.”

Janet missing. Callen missing. Douglas Stanton missing.
What’s going on?

She called Nick. “Have you seen Callen?” she asked as soon as he answered.

“No. I’ve been trying to get him all morning. Last night he said something about interviewing Janet Campbell.”

Angel sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m in her apartment right now. She’s not here. I think you’d better get over here. Get some lab guys over here too. Someone was here with her. We need to know what happened.”

“You back on duty, Delaney?”

Angel stopped pacing. “I—”

“I’m on my way,” Nick said before she could respond.

Angel studied the apartment in more depth. The techs would be able to tell what had happened, if she hadn’t already destroyed evidence by just walking through the scene. She looked at the carpet—her footprints marred the freshly vacuumed floor. Now
that was strange. Janet was in too much of a hurry to finish packing but had time to eat cake and vacuum the floor?

No way. Angel carefully made her way back outside to wait for Nick and the CSI team.

Some time later, the techs had worked their way through and were checking out Janet’s computer in the loft when they found the note from Dragonslayer. Nick and Angel read it together.

THIRTY-TWO

C
allen felt like he’d been hit on the head, but he hadn’t, not that he could recall. He’d been eating cake and drinking coffee with Dr. Campbell. Now he found himself in the dark, figuratively and literally.

He tried to rub his forehead but couldn’t raise his hand. Both hands were secured behind his back with handcuffs—probably his own. His feet were bound as well, and a wide piece of tape stretched from one ear to the other, efficiently covering his mouth. His captor had thought of everything.

He tried to sit up only to discover that he’d been cuffed to a metal pole of some sort. It was maybe two inches in diameter. Water lapping nearby and the faint smell of creosote, brackish water, dead fish, and rotting wood told him he was somewhere on the bay. A boathouse or bait shack, maybe, or the hold of a boat. He thought he heard a motorboat in the distance. Sure enough, a few minutes later water lapped against his new habitat and set it to swaying.

Callen’s stomach rebelled at the wavelike movement. He took several long, deep breaths, willing it to calm down. Willing his brain to come up with some answers as to what had happened and why he was here.

It hurt to think. Hurt to move. He managed to sit up, almost pulling his arm out of the socket in the process. He leaned back against the pole, trying to figure out how he’d ended up here.

He remembered paying a visit to the counselor, intent on finding out what she was hiding. Janet had seemed glad to see him.

“I knew someone would be by to talk to me about Charles.” She motioned him in. “I’m glad you came tonight. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

He’d made a courtesy call to her on the way over, wanting to make certain she wasn’t asleep or in her pajamas. She hadn’t been.

“I guess my first question would have to be why you lied to Angel. You told her you hadn’t gone to the hotel, yet the manager identified you.”

She sighed and poured them coffee from a full pot, then sliced a piece of cake for each of them. Sitting down at the table with him, she said, “That wasn’t very smart of me. I couldn’t believe he’d been killed, and I was afraid my having been there would put a nail in my coffin for sure. My first inclination was to run away.” She nodded toward the bedroom. “Even started packing.”

Callen noticed the suitcase on the bed and clothes tossed haphazardly about. “You changed your mind?” He put a bite of cake in his mouth. The cake tasted like a piece of heaven. He’d missed dinner and could have eaten the whole thing.

“Not entirely.” She cut off a small piece with her fork and put it in her mouth. “I decided that running isn’t the answer. Especially since I didn’t kill him.”

“And you went to see him because . . . ?”

“To tell him I was going to the police. To let him know that he wasn’t going to get another penny from me.” She paused to take another bite.

“How long were you there?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. He didn’t believe I’d follow through on my threat. I told him he could expect a visit from the police.”

Callen finished off the cake and almost asked for another slice. “Good cake.” He pushed the empty plate away.

“Mm. I wish I could take the credit. I didn’t make it. It was
here when I got home from work. My housekeeper probably left it for me. She knows I love chocolate.”

“Who’s your housekeeper?”

“Heather Davis. She’s one of the women from the shelter. She doesn’t stay there anymore. I hired her as a housekeeper several months ago, and since then she’s developed quite a business. She’ll make goodies for me every once in a while.” Janet yawned. “I’m sorry.”

Callen couldn’t remember much past that, other than feeling dizzy and light-headed. He’d tried to stand for some reason and fell to the floor like a stumbling drunk.

Thinking about it now, he realized he’d been drugged. Had Janet put something in the cake or the coffee? He closed his eyes. Stupid. Stupid. He never should have accepted the coffee and cake. But she’d eaten it too. She’d had coffee from the same pot, hadn’t she?

A stifled groan told him he wasn’t alone.

THIRTY-THREE

D
aylight came and went. Still no word from Callen or Janet. Angel had stayed at Janet’s until the lab techs left. Nick promised to let her know the test results as soon as they came in.

Angel called Rachael at 7:30 to fill her in.

“Are you hungry?” Rachael asked when she’d finished.

“Not really, but I suppose I should eat something.”

“I’ll meet you at the Burger Shed.”

A few minutes later, they were sitting in a booth, placing their orders.

“You have no idea what happened to them?” Rachael asked.

Angel sipped at her water. “None.”

“You don’t suppose they’ve gone somewhere together?”

“Callen and Janet?” Angel shook her head. “Callen wouldn’t do that. Besides, both their cars are gone. I think they might have been abducted. I know that sounds crazy. He’s big and strong and he carries a gun. Still, something is just not right about the whole thing. Maybe he never made it to her place. Maybe he’s out there somewhere . . .” She bit her lip, thinking once again of her conversation with Janet in which she’d said she suspected Callen might be abusive. She told Rachael about that conversation. “If Janet is the Dragonslayer, she might’ve gone after Callen.”

Rachael stared at her. “You actually think Callen is abusive?”

“No . . . I don’t know. The point is, I told Janet I thought he might be.”

“What did she say?”

“Her first reaction was like yours—surprise. Then she told me to take my time to be sure one way or the other.”

“Doesn’t sound vindictive.”

“No, but I didn’t tell anyone else. And I don’t think with all her confidentiality issues she’d tell anyone either.” Angel leaned back when her burger and fries arrived. She topped her burger with all the condiments and took a large bite. Rachael worked on her fried chicken. “Something just doesn’t fit,” she told Rachael.

“What do you mean?”

“Janet. I mean, yeah, she was abused. Her husband caused her to lose her baby, then turns around and blackmails her. Major trauma. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d snapped.”

“Is that what you think? That she’s working as a counselor and killing off abusive men in her spare time?”

“That’s what I mean. In a twisted way it makes sense. Only, then again, it doesn’t. Callen is missing. Janet’s gone and so is her car. But she left her clothes and her purse and a chocolate cake.”