Leave Yesterday Behind (21 page)

“Detective Waggoner?” Her heart twisted at the anguish in his voice.

A muffled chuckle. “Too late to say goodbye, Jessica. He didn’t crack till the end, though. I’ll bet Nick will be the same way.”

A dial tone buzzed in her ear. Callie dropped her cell, a scream building in her throat.

But what came out was a soft wheeze. “Nick. Nick!”

Chapter 29

Nick nodded to the cop in his squad car as he crossed the drive and came back in through the kitchen door. He tapped in the security code, as the system was armed at all times. Balancing two boxes of CDs and DVDs he’d hurriedly crammed in with several research books, he set them down on the kitchen table.

He wondered if he should take the boxes upstairs and unload them. That way he could use them to make another trip. Then he froze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.

Something was wrong.

Instinctively, he knew Callie was in trouble. He raced up the back stairs, opening doors, calling to her, trying to figure out which one was the red room. She wasn’t in any of them. He would have asked Miz C, but she was at her weekly hair appointment, and Gretchen had gone with her. Essie had mentioned she was going back into town, so he assumed she would be picking them up soon.

He raced back down the stairs and heard a noise. He stopped, trying to track where it came from. It was faint, a soft keening, coming from where he and Callie spent the morning. He ran to the living room doors and threw them open.

He froze, not ready for the sight in front of him.

She lay curled in a fetal position, her face deathly white, drained of all color. She held a throw pillow close, her arms wrapped tightly about it, as her head bobbed back and forth in denial. Her lips moved as the odd sound came from them. It would haunt him forever.

“Callie?”

He approached her slowly, not wanting his movement to startle her. She stared straight ahead, unseeing, as he took a series of steps in her direction. He reached the sofa and knelt beside her. She looked worse up close. The phrase ‘death warmed over’ flitted across his mind.

“Callie?” he asked again, not sure he would get a response.

But something connected deep inside her. Her eyes met his. The keening stopped. Her lips formed words, but nothing came out. Nick gripped her icy hands in his. The contact seemed to break the logjam.

“Nick?”

“I’m here, baby.”

“He’s . . . gone.”

He kneaded her hands, trying to restore some warmth. “Who’s gone?” he asked gently.

Her head bobbed furiously as a torrent of words poured out. “We have to call Eric. We have to call Eric. Now. He has to know. I need Eric to know. Now.” She jerked her hands away and clutched his shirt in desperation. “Now,” she repeated, burying her face in his chest, her arms encircling him, holding on as if her life depended on him being her anchor.

“Okay, baby. Okay.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in Eric’s number.

“Hey, buddy.” He tried to keep his tone light and casual, but Callie pulled the phone from him.

“Eric?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Come to Noble Oaks. Right away.”

He watched her nod as he sat down beside her. “Yes. It is.” She drew a deep breath and expelled it. In a flat voice, she said, “Detective Waggoner is . . . dead.”

She dropped the phone next to her and put her head in his lap. Nick was stunned by her revelation. Still, he didn’t ask anything. He stroked her hair, hoping his gesture reassured her.

Less than five minutes later, he heard a police siren approaching, followed by car doors slamming outside. She sat up, wrapping her arms about her.

“Go let him in.”

He reluctantly left her, knowing they were the only ones home. He walked to the front door and opened it, punching in the code as Eric rushed in.

His cousin had a million questions in his eyes, but Nick shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I just don’t know.” He paused. “She’s in the living room. She’s in a bad way.”

Eric laid a hand on his shoulder. “Give me a few minutes alone with her.” He crossed the foyer and entered the living room, shutting the doors behind him.

Nick paced impatiently for over ten minutes before the doors opened again. Eric stepped outside and closed them behind him.

“She seems okay, but I’m sending Doc over to see her.” Eric shook his head. “Lipstick Larry called her. She heard Waggoner dying over the phone, calling out to her. The fucker somehow got to him. Or at least he did a good enough job to convince Callie that Waggoner’s dead.”

He felt as if he were a balloon suddenly deflated. All the life whooshed out of him. What must Callie feel like?

He started toward the door. Eric stopped him. “I’ll start a search for Waggoner. He’s not answering his phone. I checked on the way over. No one’s seen him all day. But if his cell’s on, we’ll be able to locate him. Wherever he is.”

Eric’s eyes betrayed his thoughts. “Keep her here, Nick. Keep her safe.”

His cousin brought in two deputies that had been stationed outside. He situated one inside the front door and the other just outside the kitchen door with strict orders.

“Don’t leave your post for any reason. I don’t care if Jesus Himself appears for the Second Coming and invites you to Paradise for an eternal feast. You are not to move. Understand?”

Both men nodded and took their positions. Eric left to attend to business. Nick escorted him out and rearmed the alarm. He knew he had to see Callie.

As he made his way to the living room, he wondered how to comfort her.

She sat on the sofa, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her forehead, which rested on her knees, sprang up as he entered the room. He was surprised to see no tears. In fact, he witnessed no emotion at all. As he crossed the room, though, he did see a deadly calm on her face.

He sat down next to her, unsure what to do or say. He draped an arm along the back of the couch, not knowing if he should even touch her.

Callie’s eyes met his. Determination began to set in. Her eyes focused. Her jaw locked.

“I will kill him myself,” she said coldly, her voice void of any emotion. “I will kill this motherfucker.”

Nick didn’t doubt her for a moment. “Can you talk about it?”

She drew in a few long, deep breaths, and he knew she’d reverted to her yoga training. “He tortured him, Nick. And Waggoner was a tough, tough cop. I can’t imagine what it took to break him, or what he might’ve told this creep.” She shuddered. “I don’t want to. But it’s beyond personal now.”

His hand found her neck and began massaging the tension from it. “So what do you want us to do?”

She met his gaze. “Remember when you said you wanted to be the bait?” She paused. “I’m ready to draw him out now. Me.
I’m
the one he wants.
I’m
who he’ll get.”

His heart slammed against his ribcage in violent protest. “No way, Callie. Absolutely not.”

She jerked away from him. “I have to do this. If not . . .” Her voice faded out. She stared out the large bay window that overlooked the front lawn.

“If not, what?” he demanded.

She turned back to him. “You’ll be next. And he’ll make it even worse. Because somehow he knows how much I love you.”

His stomach clenched in fear. For Callie. For himself. He’d just found this amazing woman. He couldn’t risk losing her. He would do whatever it took to protect her. And he’d racked his brain for the past two days, trying to figure out a plan himself. Nothing had materialized.

Nick took Callie’s hands in his, his own determination to end this nightmare equal to hers.

“What do you have in mind?”

Chapter 30

He was so proud of himself. He believed this was his best work yet. He’d filmed the entire incident on his phone, as well as done a separate audiocassette for back-up purposes. Ah, the joys of technology!

It had been so easy. Just like every time before, no one ever suspected him. He appeared so average. So trustworthy. Waggoner hadn’t seen what hit him.

He hated to brag, but to do what he had done, especially to a seasoned NYPD detective? It made him float as if on air. Of course, the Rohypnol helped accomplish part of the plan. He had to give credit where it was due, and roofies ruled his blueprint of pain.

Naturally, he’d shared with Paul—he guessed they were close enough that he could use the man’s first name—who he was once he came to his full senses. Too bad he’d hollered himself hoarse, screaming obscenities in that lovely Brooklyn (or was it a Bronx?) accent. He didn’t have much of a voice when the fun really began.

But fortunately, he’d gotten every lovely moment. He just loved the ease of using his iPhone. And after downloading it to his laptop, with a few minor shifts through the magic of editing, he’d had a nice little condensed snippet to play for Jessica. Oh, she’d sounded beyond frightened. He’d gotten under her skin. Figuratively. Not literally, of course.

That fun was yet to come.

He was ready now. Ready to take on his most important work. It would be his crowning achievement. He’d learned a lot about a person’s threshold of pain while he’d diligently practiced.

And all that practice would now make for the perfect kill.

No—kills. He couldn’t forget about Nick.

Chapter 31

Both Callie and Nick met her aunt, Essie, and Gretchen as they arrived home from their visit to Aurora’s only beauty salon.

“What do you think of my new cut?” Gretchen twirled in front of them, her hand primping her hair. “It cost a third of what I would pay in New York. And look at this shade of pink.” She held out a hand for Callie’s inspection as she peered over her shoulder. “Did she call this shell pink, Miz C?”

Essie wheeled Callandra Chennault in. Her aunt immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”

Gretchen stopped admiring her new manicure. She glanced around, spying the patrolman standing inside the front door.

“Something’s happened.” Callie tried to keep the tightness from her voice. “He’s . . . Eric will be here soon.”

Gretchen took her hand. “Are you okay? Is it Lipstick Larry? Has he sent another note?”

Nick spoke up. “We’re not sure yet. Eric will be getting back to us really soon. Why don’t we go sit in the kitchen and see if Essie can rustle us up something sweet?”

She fought the urge to blurt out what she’d heard to Gretchen. After all, it was her uncle. But maybe Eric would prove her wrong. Maybe this maniac had only toyed with her. Made her believe that Detective Waggoner was dead.

But in her heart, she knew that wasn’t the case. She tried to keep the guilt at bay. She had gotten Paul Waggoner involved in this case.

And now he was dead. How on earth would Gretchen handle this horrible truth?

The shrill ring of the phone interrupted her thoughts.

“I’ll get it.” She walked over to the table by the front stairs and lifted the receiver, trying not to show any hesitancy in case it was him again.

“Noble Oaks.”

“Cal? It’s Eric. I’m on my way over.”

“Is it . . . what we thought?”

“Yeah. We pinged Waggoner’s cell and found him inside that abandoned gas station out on Route Thirty.”

She knew the answer but asked anyway. “Was it bad, Eric? Did he suffer?”

Her friend’s silence spoke volumes. Finally, he said, “Try not to think about it, Cal. You don’t want those images in your head. That’s exactly what this bastard wants.” He paused. “Is Gretchen there? If she is, don’t say anything about Paul till I get there. I’d like to break it to her in person. She seemed to really think highly of him and his wife. They really stood by her after her divorce from that jerk Phil.”

“All right. Why don’t you come around to the back? We’ll be in the kitchen.”

She turned. Everyone had already left the foyer. She counted on all her acting skills now. She didn’t want to cry. She certainly didn’t want to reveal anything to Gretchen.

Instead, she let the Jessica part of her take over. The part that could keep a cool head in a hot situation. The part that could let anger burn inside while she appeared composed and collected to anyone observing her.

She entered the kitchen. Essie had opened Tupperware containers of oatmeal raisin and chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Nick was pouring iced tea into tall glasses. She shared a knowing look with Aunt C, who probably knew something bad was afoot but was smart enough to wait for Eric and not press the matter further.

They didn’t wait long. Aurora’s sheriff arrived within ten minutes of his call. Callie spotted him park his car and stride across the yard to the back door.

Gretchen jumped up. “I’ll let him in.” She punched in the code and opened the door and spoke to Eric a moment before murmuring, “All right.” She stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

Callandra motioned for Essie to sit and join them. “What is this about, Callie?”

She maintained her air of calm, though her insides churned. “Lipstick Larry phoned my cell while you were out. He had Detective Waggoner with him.” She paused. “Paul is dead, Aunt C. Eric is telling Gretchen now.”

Callandra took her hand. “Are you all right, dear?”

She nodded grimly. “I’m holding it together.”

They all turned to look out the window. Gretchen sobbed, holding onto Eric with whitened knuckles.

Callandra glanced at Nick. “Have you thought about eloping? And staying away for a very long time?”

Nick sighed heavily. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it, Miz C. And not around the world in eighty days, either. More like five thousand and eighty. Moving to Paris or Rome or Timbuktu permanently. At this point, I’d be willing to enter the witness protection program.”

He shrugged. “But Callie didn’t like any of the names the marshals picked out for her. Myrtle. Eloise. Maybelle. Can’t say I blame her.” He shook his head. “No, seriously. We will definitely hang around to see this S.O.B.’s hide nailed to the wall.”

He took her free hand in his. “And we will see this creep brought down. Else we’ll be looking over our shoulders the rest of our lives.”

The door opened. Eric and a shaken Gretchen, her face stained with tears, entered. Callie immediately went to her friend and enveloped her in a hug.

“I’m so sorry, Gretch. I feel it’s my fault since he came down here to help me.”

Gretchen pulled away, shaking her head. “Don’t ever say that, Callie. Uncle Paul loved you like his own kid. He would’ve done anything to see you safe.” Her voice broke. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to go call my aunt and see about making the arrangements to take Uncle Paul back to New York.”

“Of course, dear.” After Gretchen left the room, Callandra turned to Eric. “Please. Sit,” she commanded. “Tell us what you can.”

He took a chair at the table and absently reached for a cookie. “You don’t need to hear details.” He looked at Callie. “It was similar to what was done to the girls in New York, the ones who resembled you. Although the coroner believes Paul died early this morning. He’s doing the autopsy now, so we’ll know more after that.”

Eric frowned as he chewed. “Could it have been a tape you heard, Cal? A killer of this caliber would think nothing of recording his crimes and playing them back multiple times for his pleasure.”

She thought a moment. “It’s possible. I heard Paul in pain. He called my name and told me to hang up. Then . . .
he
. . . came back on the phone. It very well could have been recorded previously. Or somehow edited and spliced together.” She shuddered. “I cannot comprehend the diabolical cruelty, though.”

Eric stood. “I have a lot to do. I’ve already alerted NYPD. The FBI is totally in charge at this point. They had one field agent on the case, but we’re about to be overrun by them. Things will pretty much be out of my hands at that point.”

“Thanks for everything you’ve done, Eric.”

He hesitated. “I don’t want you to think I’m bailing on you, Cal.” He swallowed. “But the FBI does things their way. I may be cut out of the loop as far as details of the investigation go. I didn’t want you to think I was letting you down in any way.”

She stood and gave him a hug. “I would never think that. Besides, I don’t know how much I really want to be apprised of. At any rate, I have Nick to watch over me.”

Eric laughed. “That’s like letting the wolf in to guard the sheep, Cal.” He kissed her cheek. “Thanks for understanding my position—or lack of it now. And tell Gretchen I’ll call later, as soon as I can. I’ve got to get over for the autopsy.”

“Will do.” She let him out and reset the alarm.

“I am feeling drained,” she declared. “I think I’ll go lie down for a while.” She looked at Essie. “I’m not really hungry for dinner. If I want something later, I’ll just make a sandwich.”

“I’ll walk you upstairs.” Nick pushed back from the table and let her lead them up the back staircase to her room without a word.

He opened the door and did his usual once-over before allowing her in. She sat on the bed, her hands absently twisting.

Nick joined her. “Are you going to be okay? I know you’re made of strong stuff to withstand everything you’ve been through up till now, but Waggoner’s death is a pretty severe blow.”

Callie knew in that moment what she needed. She was ready. She wanted to lose herself and find salvation the only way she knew how.

She looked at him with clear eyes, knowing her face held a determined expression.

“Make love to me, Nick. Take me away from all this if only for a little while.”