Killing Spree (28 page)

The driver’s cell phone went off just as he turned into a driveway. Gillian noticed Chase’s address on the mailbox. The long driveway wound through a wooded lot. The driver mumbled into the phone while he drove. Gillian saw the house ahead—a surprisingly modest ranch house. It was even a bit dilapidated, and in need of a paint job. The lawn was patchy and brown in spots, and the bushes around the house needed trimming.

“I’m sorry, but I have another fare to pick up,” the driver said, pulling in front of the house. “I can’t stay. But I can pick you up. You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes, thanks.” Gillian saw the meter on the dash, and then she fished some money out of her purse, throwing in a five-dollar tip. “So I’ll see you in a half hour?”

“You bet. Thanks.” The driver took the money.

Gillian climbed out of the cab and approached Chase’s front door. She rang the bell. She waited a moment, and glanced back as the taxi turned around. Then it started down the driveway. After
“You sure you’ll be okay?”
and
“You want I should stick around?
” she thought the cabbie might have at least waited until someone answered the front door. Gillian rang again, then knocked. Still no answer.

She peeked into a tall, thin window by the door. She saw a hallway with stone tiles and a mission-style dresser. But there wasn’t anyone in sight.

She took another glance over her shoulder. The cab was now at the other end of the driveway. It turned on to Overlook Drive and disappeared. Gillian suddenly felt very alone—and stranded.

She rang the bell again. After a few moments, she tried the doorknob. It was locked. Just as well, she figured; she wouldn’t have wanted to walk in there by herself.

Stepping away from the door, she dug into her purse. She pulled out her cell phone and the business card the cabbie had given her. Gillian dialed the number. She was uncertain about the reception up on this bluff. She hoped to God the call would go through. It rang several times.

“Bremerton Taxi,” a dispatcher answered—at last.

“Hi, yes,” Gillian said. She nervously eyed the wooded lot in front of her. “I just got dropped off at 1954 Overlook Drive, and no one’s home. The driver pulled out of the driveway only a minute ago. Could you get him to turn back and pick me up?”

There was a pause. “We can have someone there in—twenty-five minutes.”

“Yes, I know. The driver said he’d be back in a half hour to pick me up. But he just left, you see. If you radio him now, he could turn around and be here right away. If he could just come get me, I’d appreciate it. I really can’t stay here. I—”

“Twenty-five minutes is the soonest we can have someone there,” the dispatcher repeated.

“All right,” Gillian muttered. “Thank you.” She clicked off the phone.

She’d spoken with Chase only forty minutes ago, and told him she was on her way. It didn’t make sense that he wasn’t here. She clicked the phone back on, and dialed his number. From inside the house, she could hear the muted ringing. Then it stopped. On the cell phone, she listened to Chase’s machine click on:
“Hey, you almost got me. Try, try again or leave me a message. Ciao.”

“Hello, Chase?” she said after the beep. “It’s Gillian, and I’m here outside your house. It’s about twenty after two. Where are you? Call me as soon as you get this message, okay?” She left her cell phone number, then clicked off the line.

Gillian kept the phone in her hand—in case he called back, or in case she had to dial 911. With trepidation, she walked around toward the back of his house. All the while, she wondered what could have happened to Chase. Why wasn’t he answering his door—or his phone?

The backyard had a sweeping view of the water. Dark gray clouds moved across the horizon. The wind kicked up. Trees and bushes around the house rustled. She remembered what Chase had said about the “weird goings-on around here.” Someone claimed to be watching him. Was that same someone watching her now? Was Chase’s “prowler” back?

“Quit spooking yourself out,” she muttered.

She approached the house, her eyes fixed on the back door—with a little diamond-shaped window in it. She figured this was the kitchen entrance. Gillian paused at the three steps leading up to the door. What if Chase was dead in there? She realized it would have to match a scene from one of her books—a murder in a kitchen. She remembered a grisly murder scene in her fourth book,
Flowers for Her Grave.
A charming gardener used a sickle to hack up his employer, a young widow. The scene had occurred in her kitchen. Gillian remembered her own description of the blood beading up on the Spanish tiles. Her villain had dug a grave for his victim ahead of time, in her dahlia garden.

Gillian ascended those three steps, wondering if she’d see Chase’s hacked-up remains on his kitchen floor.
You’re the one who came up with the idea,
she told herself. Her copycat was simply making it real.

Gillian nervously peeked through the diamond-shaped window in the door. It was a modern kitchen with granite countertops, shiny white appliances, and a black-and-white tiled floor. There was no corpse lying on it, thank God.

She sighed, and then tried the doorknob. Locked, just like the front door.

Gillian backed away, and moved toward the garage—attached to the other side of the house. All the while, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She was uncertain whether it was Chase or his “prowler.” But someone else was there, she could feel it.

She hadn’t noticed a car in Chase’s driveway earlier. She wandered over to the side of the garage, and peeked in the window. It took her a moment to focus past the dirty glass on anything in the darkened garage. There was no car, just a couple of bikes, some scuba gear, an outboard motor for a boat, a lawn mower, and other yard equipment. It didn’t make any sense that he’d driven off somewhere.

Gillian heard a twig snap—and then another. She swiveled around. No one. Still, with all the trees and bushes bordering Chase’s yard, it would be easy for somebody to hide. “Hello?” Gillian called. “Chase? Who’s there?”

The wind blew, and a few leaves scattered across the patchy, brown lawn at the side of the garage. Gillian quickly wound her way around to the driveway in front. She wasn’t going to stay there another minute. She couldn’t wait around for the cab.

Gillian started up the driveway toward the road. If she ended up walking all the way to the ferry, she would. She kept glancing around, expecting to spot someone in the wooded lot. She was shaking inside.

She just couldn’t get away from there fast enough.

“I can’t exactly
show
you what Chris and I did, not here,” Joe said, grinning. “There are people around. Want me to fucking get arrested for lewd conduct and indecent exposure?”

Ethan leaned against a railing to some steps that went from the park restrooms down to the beach area. Glancing around, he noticed two couples on the beach—and a group of kids, playing in the sand. Only a few minutes ago, he’d relished being alone with Joe. But now, he wasn’t going to let that happen.

Joe had suggested a stroll through the woods—and then they could follow the railroad tracks back to his car.

“I screwed up my foot,” Ethan lied. “It hurts now when I put weight on it. I really think we should take a cab back to your car—and then I can go on and catch the game before it ends.”

Joe nudged him. “You don’t want to go into the woods with me?”

Ethan pulled away. “Sorry. I need to get back, I really do.” He glanced over toward the parking lot.

“What’s wrong with you all of a sudden?”

“Nothing.” Ethan couldn’t look at him. He knew what Joe was trying to do. He knew what he’d been trying to do most of the afternoon. It was all about flirting with him and telling secrets—so Joe and his mobster buddies could find out where his dad was. Ethan realized now that the Mustang hadn’t followed them to this beach. Joe must have told them ahead of time where to meet him. The Mustang was still in the lot. Were they giving Joe a few more minutes at the seduction route? Then what were they going to do? Ethan wondered if Joe would turn him over to his pals so they could try beating the information out of him.

Joe touched his arm. “Are you pissed at me or something?”

Ethan shrugged. “Of course not—”

A car engine started up. Ethan turned in time to see the black Mustang pull out of the lot.

“Do you recognize that car?” Joe asked.

Ethan didn’t answer.

“The driver was asking me for directions earlier—while you were in the can.”

Ethan gave him a wary sidelong glance. “What did you say to the guy? Did you ask him for a few more minutes alone with me—so you can find out more about my dad?”

Joe stared back at him, then chuckled. “Then you
have
seen that car before. When?”

“The day before yesterday,” Ethan said. “It drove by my bus stop a couple of times in the morning. Then it showed up again near the playfield during my gym class.”

Joe kicked at a little stone on the steps. “I told that idiot he was driving too close the other day, the dumb shit.” He let out long sigh. “Okay, kid, here’s the deal. You know what I’m after. Just tell me where Daddy is, and we can still take that walk in the woods. I’ll put on a private little show for you. How does that sound?”

Ethan scowled. “Do you really think I’m so sleazy I’d sell out my father for a—a lap dance in the woods?”

“Don’t act so goddamn high-and-mighty. I know you want it. And what the hell has your old man done for you lately? They don’t want to hurt him. They just want to talk with him.”

“Really? They don’t want to hurt anybody?” Ethan said, deadpan. “Well, a couple of years ago, one of your buddies beat up my mother. He beat her up bad.”

“Well, maybe she mouthed off to him. Do you know who it was? Did you see what the guy looked like?”

“He was short with black hair and a goatee.”

“Perfect!” Joe let out an abrupt laugh. “That was Leo. How’s this for karmic retribution? Old Leo hasn’t been doing so hot since his girlfriend shot him in the balls last year. I never could stand that son of a bitch. Anyway, if she has a grudge, tell Mama her prayers have been answered.” Joe’s hand came up around his shoulder. “Now, how about it, Ethan? How about some answers for me?”

Ethan wiggled away. “Quit trying to act like you’re my friend,” he muttered. His voice cracked a little. He hated that his eyes were tearing up, because he didn’t want this jerk to know how hurt he was. “What were you planning to do to me in the woods? Why were you so anxious to get me there alone? Were you going to kill me?”

“You’re no good to anybody dead—unless your old man would get lured back to the funeral.” Joe slowly shook his head. “No, I was just going to lean on you a little bit, kid.”

He’d seen what Joe had done to Tate Barringer. He knew what he was capable of. He’d never been in a fight before. He didn’t know what it was like to get hit in the face—or punched in the gut. But he figured he would be finding out very, very soon. He quickly wiped his eyes, and stared at Joe. But he was shaking. “I already told you, I don’t have any idea where my dad is. You know I wasn’t lying before. I trusted you—up until just a few minutes ago. And I liked you, Joe—if that’s your name. I liked you a lot.”

“You know something, dude? I believe you.”

“I was telling you the truth about my mother too,” Ethan said, still trembling. “She doesn’t know where my dad is any more than I do.”

“I believe you there too. You can relax, sport. I’m through with you.” He slapped Ethan on the shoulder. “We’re through with both you and Mama—for a while.”

But Ethan couldn’t relax. He couldn’t stop shaking. “All those stories you told were lies, weren’t they?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, except for the story about my prick of a stepfather. That’s true.”

“I guess you figured it was pretty funny—leading me on like that, making me think you really liked me.”

Joe shook his head. “It wasn’t funny at all. I didn’t like this assignment, kid. In fact, I was pretty disgusted with myself—and how I acted with you.”

Ethan could see that Joe was being honest with him now. He seemed genuinely ashamed. A tiny smile came to Ethan’s face. He almost reached out to touch Joe’s arm. But he hesitated. “Really? You felt bad?”

“Of course I felt bad,” Joe replied. “How would you expect me to feel? I had to hang around with you all afternoon and pretend I like you.” With his lip curled in disgust, he glared at him. “Sorry, kid, but I fucking can’t stand queers. I’m glad as hell this is over. I couldn’t take another minute with you.”

Joe started up the steps toward the parking area. “I’d punch your faggoty face in, but I don’t want to touch you again. You make me sick.”

Devastated, Ethan clung to the railing and watched him walk away. Joe might as well have sucker-punched him in the stomach.

It couldn’t have hurt any worse.

“Hi, honey,” Gillian said into her cell phone, a little out of breath. She was hiking along the roadside of Overlook Drive, about two blocks from Chase’s house. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was behind her. “I’m in Bremerton, following up a—a story idea,” she continued for the answering machine. “I’m catching the three-thirty ferry, and should be home before five. You’ll get there before me. Could you do me a big favor and just stay put and keep the door double-locked? I know it’s a drag, honey, but I’m worried about this stalker. We’re still on alert. Okay? See you soon. I love you.”