Killer Love (46 page)

That made him more convinced than ever that Matt was behind this.

****

Matt Bingham was an attorney with an impressive office, and an even more impressive secretary. The office was all dark woods and crystal vases and leather furniture. The secretary was tall and gorgeous with platinum blonde hair and a powder blue clingy dress that was at the same time classy and alluring. When she informed Matt over the intercom that Wil and Abby were there to see him, he told her to send them in.

Bingham was less than friendly when he offered them a seat, although the smile he bestowed upon Abby dripped with smarmy charm.

“My time is limited,” he said as soon as they were seated. “So I can only spare you a few moments. What can I do for you?”

Wil tamped down his dislike of the man and said, “I’d like to ask you a few questions about Friday night.”

“What about it?”

“You took Abby and her friend, Diane, some drinks, I understand.”

“Yes,” Matt agreed slowly.

“Abby felt unwell later that evening. As a matter of fact, she was so out of it, someone managed to break into her house and kidnap her.”

Bingham raised his eyebrows, his gaze shooting to Abby. “Kidnapped you? For God’s sake, are you okay? How did you get away?”

She shrugged, keeping to the story they’d told Diane. “He didn’t hurt me and for some reason, he let me go.”

“Did you recognize him?”

Before Abby could answer, Wil cut in. “Why would you ask that?”

Matt gave him a sardonic look. “I would think it might be easier to catch the guy if she knew who he was.”

“He was disguised,” Abby said. “His voice and his face.”

Matt blew out a breath. “Damn.” His eyes narrowed. “But that may mean you know the guy. He probably disguised himself to keep you from recognizing him, right?”

Wil answered for her. “Possibly, or since he intended to let her go, he didn’t want her to ID him later.”

“Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you,” Matt said. “But I know nothing about this. And I’m sure you’re aware I don’t have to speak with you. For one, you’re not a cop, for another, I’m not being charged with anything.” His stare was challenging. “Or am I?”

Wil held his gaze for a moment, then shook his head. “Right now, we’re just gathering information.”

“You’ve gathered all the information you can here. I’d like you to leave.”

Even though he and Abby had agreed to stick with the story they’d told Diane, Wil decided to check Bingham’s reaction, see if the man could produce the same amount of shock he had before.

“Lindsey’s missing, too. We think the man who kidnapped Abby may have her.”

This time, Matt actually gasped and his skin lightened a few shades. “Lindsey? How long has she been missing? Could she just be off with her friends?”

His shock seemed genuine. Had he not read about it in the papers? It had happened too late to be in the Sunday paper and Wil hadn’t checked this morning’s, but he would bet it was in there. “No. She was kidnapped and the boy who was with her at the time was found dead.”

Matt pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed his eyes shut. “Poor thing. God.” His eyes opened and they seemed to hold sincere concern. “I hope you find her. I hope she’s okay.”

“Thanks,” Wil said grudgingly. He stood and Abby did the same. “I’ll be in touch, Bingham. If you think of anything, give me a call. For your own sake.”

Something in Bingham’s face shifted. He’d read the threat and didn’t like it. “I’m not holding anything back. Don’t expect to hear from me.”

“Okay.” Wil shrugged casually. “But Abby’s captor made it clear he had a score to settle with me. So, I figure it’s someone who thinks I’ve wronged them. You can understand why you came to mind.”

Bingham’s face reddened. It was as if he’d had a thin string holding onto his control, and the string snapped.

“Are you accusing me of something? Because, if you are, I’ll have your ass in a sling so fast you won’t know what hit you.” He came around the desk but kept his distance from Wil, his fists clenched against his sides. “Yes, I hate you, but I’m not a low-life criminal. I wouldn’t go after Abby or Lindsey to get to you.” His eyes glazed over and for a second, Wil thought he was going to cry. “You took Tara, let her die, robbed her of her life, but I would never hurt Lindsey. She’s Tara’s daughter and there was a time I hoped...” His voice trailed off and the fight seemed to leave him as he finished quietly, “...hoped she’d be mine.” At the look on Wil’s face, Matt said, “No, she couldn’t have been. I never slept with Tara. I meant that I
wanted
to be Lindsey’s father. Wanted to be with Tara and wanted you out of the picture. I think Tara eventually would have divorced you and married me. She wasn’t happy with you, you know.”

“Yeah? Was her suicide the first indication?”

Matt lifted his chin, glaring hostility at Wil, but didn’t answer.

Wil tossed a business card on Matt’s desk. “Give me a call if you think of anything.”

They left the office building and stopped just outside the door. Abby touched Wil’s arm and searched his face. “Are you okay?”

Standing on the sidewalk, Wil watched the cars whiz by, the pedestrians passing them. A plump woman pushing a toddler in a stroller glanced at them and smiled.

Keep an eye on your baby,
Wil told her silently,
don’t ever let her out of your sight.

“Wil?” Abby repeated. “Are you okay?”

Wil nodded. “Yeah,” he said tightly.

“Hearing he was in love with your wife couldn’t have been easy.”

Wil shrugged. “I’ve known it for years. All I’m concerned about now is whether he had anything to do with Lindsey’s disappearance.”

“What does your gut tell you?”

“I don’t know. My gut hasn’t been normal since Lindsey was taken.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless smile. “Actually, since you ended things between us.”

“I’m sorry, Wil. I didn’t want to do that, but—”

“No. You were right. You wanted to avoid conflict. Wanted peace. You can’t have that as long as you’re involved with me. I think what’s happening now pretty emphatically confirms that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No?” Wil gave a derisive snort of laughter. He turned to Abby and gripped her upper arms, pulling her close, heedless of the fact they were in public and might draw attention. “A fucking lunatic planted a
bomb
inside your body to get back at me. So, in what possible way, on what fucking planet, could this not be my fault? Huh? Can you tell me that?”

“Let me go,” Abby said through gritted teeth.

“First, you have to tell me how the
fuck
it’s not my fault.”

“Okay, fine,” Abby hissed. “It
is
your fault. Do you feel better now? I mean, even though you don’t know what you did to piss this guy off, obviously you did something. Maybe you cut him off in traffic, or fucked his girlfriend, or stole his hot wheels in grade school. I don’t know and neither do you. But that’s not the important thing. What we need to worry about is getting this goddamned thing out of me and finding your daughter. So why don’t you quit being a dick and let’s figure out a way to do that!”

As quickly as it came, the fight went out of him, and all he felt was hollow and ashamed. “Christ, Abby. I’m sorry.

She nodded and pulled free, silently making her way to the truck.

Once they were both seated in the cab, Wil sat staring out the windshield, not starting the engine.

“Did Matt’s voice sound familiar?” he asked. “I know the kidnapper used a voice box, but when you were outside the motel room, it was his real voice, right?”

Abby nodded. “Yes, but as I said, it still sounded like he was trying to disguise it. It seemed a little high-pitched, unnatural. It didn’t sound at all like Matt Bingham.”

“What about his height? Does that match?”

She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure. I was in shock, drugged. My perception was off. It seems like he was a little taller than Matt, but I just can’t be sure.”

“It’s okay.” He tapped on the steering wheel for a few seconds, then said, “You think you can find that motel?”

“I doubt it. I was unconscious on the way there and blindfolded on the way back.”

“Do you know about how long it took you to get to where he dropped you off?”

“It seemed like forever, but I’d say probably fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“There’s water on one side of town, and east of here is residential. Only a few areas that have motels within fifteen or twenty minutes of here. It wasn’t a nice motel, right?”

“No. It was a bit seedy.”

“The motels west of here are seedy. We’ll head that direction. Might get lucky.”

****

They found the correct one on the third attempt.

At each motel, they asked to see the rooms. One manager let them in at no charge. At the second one, they had to pay for a night. But neither of the room setups looked familiar to Abby.

The third motel was called ‘Pelican Cove’, its name lending a more pleasant ambiance than it actually provided. The clerk, Gerald according to his name tag, was a short, thin man with close-set eyes. His hair was dyed black and his stained tan pants were belted just below his rib cage.

Gerald made them pay, but this motel rented by the hour, so it didn’t cost much to look.

Abby knew it was the right one as soon as she stepped through the door. The décor was a little different. The other drapes had been one solid color, sort of a dirty butterscotch. These were the same shade, but also had blue vertical stripes running through them. Where the other carpet had been dark brown, this was a dusky blue.

She raised her gaze to the ceiling. The water stains were different, too. She’d stared at the others enough that she was certain she would be able to identify their pattern. She dragged her gaze to the bed. Yes. The metal headboard and dingy leaf-patterned bedspread were the same.

Your life, and those around you, depends on your lover. He holds your fate in his hands.

She felt trembles start from deep within, traveling up through her stomach and into her arms and legs.

She walked slowly to the bathroom and saw the cracked vinyl shower curtain, so much like the one that had stood between her and the glittering eyes of—

“Abby?”

She let out a small yelp and whirled to find Wil standing behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach.

“This is it,” she told him breathlessly as a film of sweat broke out over her skin. “This is where he held me.”

“Come here,” he said, and pulled her into his arms. Holding her gently, he stroked her hair, murmuring reassurances until the trembles stopped.

After a while, he released her and brushed the damp hair back from her face. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

They went back to the manager’s office, and Wil said to the clerk, “We’ll need to look at your registrations for this past weekend.”

The guy shook his head. “Sorry, can’t let you do that. Private.”

Wil leaned on the counter, so close he could have whispered in the guy’s hairy ear.

“I’m gonna do you a favor,” Wil told him in a cool, controlled voice. “I’ll look at them, look at just those few days. Just me. I won’t have the sheriff’s department issue a warrant for all your records. I won’t have the cops methodically and thoroughly examine all your documents. I won’t have them upset your regular customers and most likely find something that would earn you a few years in the pen.” He smiled benignly. “Because that’s just the sort of nice fellow I am.”

The guy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple working up and down. “Hold on a second.”

He bent under the counter and Abby tensed, thinking he might come up with a shotgun, but when he rose, he held a large, bound book in his hands. He slammed it on the counter and opened it, flipping pages. He found what he wanted and turned it around for Wil to read.

Wil was silent as his gaze scanned the page. He took out a notebook and wrote a list of names, then pushed the log book back across the counter.

He and Abby left and when they were in the truck, Wil shook his head. “Nothing on the list raised any flags.” He passed the notebook to her. “You might take a look.”

She did but also didn’t recognize any names. “I’m sure he used an alias.”

“Yeah. But I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.” Wil’s phone rang and he listened for a moment, then said, “No shit? Who is it? Okay, we’ll be right there.”

“What?” Abby asked.

“They have a suspect. Ray wants you to come in and see if you can ID him. Or the mask.”

Chapter Ten

The suspect in Ray’s office claimed his name was Jesus Christ, and he was a carpenter from Galilee.

Wil didn’t believe him because he didn’t think Jesus would have been wearing dirty thermal underwear pants with a Jeff Gordon Nascar T-shirt, or that he would smell like body odor and stale urine.

Beach patrol had picked Jesus up for panhandling. When they ran a check, they found out his AKA was Harris Thompson and he’d been hauled in several times before. This time, he had a hockey mask in his possession. He claimed he’d found it in a trash can along the pier.

“When did you find the mask? Where was the trash can located? Did you notice anything else of interest in the same can? Where were you on Saturday evening between the hours of midnight and six a.m.? Was anyone with you?”

Ray fired the questions at the transient and most were answered with incoherent, nonsensical responses.

Wil stepped outside the office and went to Abby’s side, where she watched through the glass window.

“What do you think?” Wil asked.

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “No way. For one, I don’t think he’s fit for such an undertaking. But mainly I don’t think it was him because I would most definitely have remembered that smell.”

“Yeah. He’s not our guy.”

“Wil?” a voice said behind them.

Abby and Wil turned and saw Mayor Micah Bingham heading toward them, flanked by a middle-aged blonde woman in a power suit, and a frail looking, bespectacled man. The two of them held back as Micah approached.

Tall and John Wayne rugged, Micah had dark hair lightly dusted with gray and his face was tanned from many hours on the golf course. He patted Wil on both shoulders, squeezing before he dropped his hands. “I’m so sorry about Lindsey. Don’t worry, they’ll find her. She’ll be fine.”