Lethal Affair (41 page)

The cop followed Will's sight line and
mouthed, keep him talking. He sprinted back to his vehicle and got
on his radio.

“
Really? Those yokels
actually think they can catch up with me? I'll be long gone before
anyone gets their ass up here. But wait, we're getting off the
subject. I must say that despite your heroic driving efforts, I'm a
little disappointed. I was hoping for a spectacular crash with
screeching metal and sparks flying, maybe even an explosion, a few
mangled bodies on the highway.” He expelled a long sigh. “All I got
was a near miss. Oh well, maybe next time.”

He clicked off and disappeared from
view.

*

“
So now it's a group kill?”
said Lyle, sucking on his beer.

After having the Jeep towed to a
police yard for inspection, at Will's insistence the cops had
dropped them at a tavern and were now outside keeping vigil while
Crane sat down with them inside. The barkeep had turned a blind eye
on Dino who sat quietly at their feet.

“
It's a switch from his
usual M.O.,” said Jolene. She held out her trembling hand. “I'm
still shaking.”

Crane got right to it. “We found the
camper Hammond stole from the couple who owned the cabin abandoned
near Goldstream Park off the Malahat. The white van he used for
transporting Max and Miss Lambert had also been stolen. What he's
using right now could be any number of reported stolen vehicles
from around the city or up-island. Or he might have bought one
privately.”

“
In other words,” said Lyle,
“you have nothing.”

Crane ignored the comment. “Our
forensic psychologist suggests that the stunt he pulled today was a
play for sensationalism. He may be hoping the press will put a
moniker on him, make him famous.”

“
He's behaving erratically
because his brain is a jumbled, illogical mess,” Kylie said softly.
“The Drew I first knew, he's gone. On the boat he was fluctuating,
at war with himself. The other night I saw nothing of his former
self. His eyes were black, bottomless voids, completely soulless.”
She paused, then said what she'd been thinking all along. “He's no
longer fixated on just me. Everyone is in danger. Detective, is
there a way to put his attention back solely on me?”

“
Now hold on a minute,”
protested Will. “Get that idea right out of your head.”

“
Ditto here,” added Lyle,
cutting off Jolene's comment. “You're not a damn lure on a fishing
line.”

“
I'm already a lure. Don't
you guys get it? His ultimate prize is me! So let's give it to him.
Detective?”

Crane stroked his mustache
thoughtfully. “You mean a trap, with us waiting in the wings? While
I appreciate your input, Miss Lambert, I have to agree with your
friends.”

“
He's going to keep trying.
I'm in his spotlight. If I give him what he wants then he won't
come after anyone else. So why not create a scenario in which he
feels safe enough to try, but with your team ready to
pounce?”

Jolene sputtered over her beer glass.
“Stacie Hoyle was a trained cop and look what happened.”

Kylie was resolute. “Maybe it's
dangerous and foolish and I'm out of my mind, but it's my choice
and he's got to be stopped before he takes out one or all of you.”
A hysterical laugh trickled out. “My parents aren't safe. Has any
one of you thought of that?”

With her statement sinking in, the
group as a whole recognized the sheer determination on her face and
resignedly hunkered down to listen as Crane laid out a plan of
action.

“
Look,” Crane began, “he
knows you like to jog at Beacon Hill Park, right?”

A shower, a change of clothes and two
of Lyle's steaming hickory coffees had Kylie alert and anxious.
They'd decided to take care of phase one immediately and set the
wheels in motion.

She came out of her apartment building
and was instantly surrounded by the press. Apart from the local TV
station, two major newspapers covered the city but several of the
fringe rags had sent their reporters as well. Articles that put
Kylie Lambert at the core of the city's recent murders had already
emerged, so when they received a tip that she'd been targeted once
again along with her friends, they swarmed like wasps on a
hive.

Jolene steered her into the melee from
behind.

“
Kylie!” yelled a zealous
young man, shoving a microphone in her face. “What's your true
connection with the person behind these crimes?”

Conscious of TV cameras pointed her
way, Kylie mumbled, “We barely know one another.”

“
Miss Lambert,” began
another more polite and seasoned reporter, “we know that you were
involved in a kidnapping spree that ended with the perpetrator's
escape. Is it true that you dated him before he committed his
crimes? Do you have a personal relationship with this
person?”

It was what they all wanted to know,
if she was personally involved with the killer. If she knew him.
The police had hand fed the press only tidbits of information to
curtail the true confessions that inevitably came their way when
hunting a killer. That way they could siphon out the ones who
didn't match the modus operandi and follow up on any that
did.

So far none had. There was a fine
line, Crane had explained, between showing the public the face of a
killer and not causing an all-out panic. They'd chosen not to
publish his name or photograph until they had him in custody, which
to Kylie's mind was a mistake. People needed to know who he was so
they could steer clear. Crane's argument had been that it brought
out the vigilantes, encouraged them to act on their own. A similar
case a few years ago had resulted in a lynching. It had turned out
the man in question had been innocent, and otherwise upstanding
citizens had been convicted of manslaughter instead.

“
I can't comment on that,”
she said, but she'd found her opening and looked head on at the
cameras, speaking to Drew directly. If he was watching. The evening
newscast would be repeated on every channel and she sincerely hoped
he would be.

“
I want to make a
statement.”

Everyone stopped yelling and looked at
her expectantly.

“
Just say what we agreed
on,” Jolene buzzed in her ear.

She took a deep breath. “It's true
I've been targeted. The person behind all of this is most likely
clinically insane and needs to be brought to justice to receive the
help he so obviously needs. I've been living in the shadows, unable
to live my life freely, looking over my shoulder and always having
someone breathing down my neck in the interest of protecting me.
From now on I'm declining protection and I'm going about my
business as usual.”

A raucous broke out and she held up
her hand for silence, then ran her hand over her belly in a
meaningful way to Drew but that would escape the attention of the
press. “He tried to get to me on several occasions and failed, but
not for lack of ability but because he doesn't really want to hurt
me. He knows why.” She paused for effect. “That's all.”

Immediately questions were
hurled.

“
What does he
know?”

“
How did he fail,
Kylie?”

“
What's business as usual
for you?”

“
Don't leave us hanging,
Miss Lambert!”

Their demands fell on a mute response
as Jolene turned Kylie around and ushered her back into their
building.

Mission accomplished. Now it was just
a matter of time.

*

Later that night they tuned in to the
late local news.

Kylie's so-called press statement was
the lead story. The reporter expressed the same astonishment as the
others, verbally wondering what the killer knew, according to Kylie
Lambert. An inside joke perhaps? Some kind of personal ditty
between the two of them? It was a real head scratcher.

Crane called. “You did good, Kylie.
We're taking all visible signs of protection out of the equation,
the key word being visible. By the way, we got Jay Humphrey's
report back. He said Hammond performed an intricate hack job worthy
of a pro. Sounds like he's educating himself on rudimentary
crime.”

“
Thanks Detective. We'll be
heading out bright and early. Hope your team will be
awake.”

“
No worries
there.”

“
Promise?”

“
Get some rest, Miss
Lambert.”

They all bedded down for the night.
Facing her, Will felt her anxiety. “Try to sleep,” he suggested
quietly.

She closed her eyes. Moments later
they popped back open. Will was still watching her with deep
concern.

“
I give up.” She rolled on
top of him, began to feed on his mouth. She felt him go from
dormant to active in seconds. Hands roving, Will flipped her over
and gently kissed her throat where a thumb had crushed her larynx,
soothing with fingertips and lips where there had been cold, sharp
metal, taking her only when she moaned and begged for
release.

For Kylie it was a sweet torture that
held her suspended on the verge, then sent her surging into
mindless oblivion, all the while being held with reverence as
though she were so fragile she might break. Will's total
concentration, his entire focus solely on her pleasure was a
testament to the depth of his love.

When he'd found his own point of
release and tumbled onto the bed beside her, Kylie leaned up on one
elbow and smoothed her hand over his skin as it cooled. “Thank
you,” she said, simply.

He raised his eyebrows. “And I thank
you, too.”

“
What I mean is... Will,
we've told each other we love one another. I want you to know that
I feel your love. You could bow out, you could say this is too much
to have to handle, hell, you could want to strangle me yourself for
bringing all this down on you. Instead, you just...” She stopped,
her eyes welling.

“
I just kill you softly?” he
said jokingly, while his eyes said something more
profound.

She laughed then, the tears spilling,
salty on her lips. “You always know just the right thing to say
too. Damn it, Will Delaney, you're just about perfect, you know
that?”

“
Just about?”

“
Okay, you're spot on
perfect. Satisfied?”

Will pulled her closer. “Not just yet.
Let's work on that.”

*

At seven in the a.m. Kylie wondered if
Drew would even be up and at 'em, plotting his evil
deeds.

Decked out in running gear and fueled
with power smoothies, she and Jolene headed out for a light jog
through the Village toward Beacon Hill Park. Much discussion had
gone into it as Jolene had insisted on shadowing Kylie, her
argument being that it would seem more natural for Kylie to be out
with her usual running partner. Lyle had fought that one tooth and
nail but in the end had lost out to her reasoning.

Neither spoke, but both sets of eyes
darted into morning shadows and still dark crevices as they stepped
up the pace, approaching the park.

Not a soul in sight. Wait, there was
an old woman walking a dog. Or was it?

Over there. A park employee opening
the vehicle entrance gates. Was that earpiece he was wearing police
issue, or was he just enjoying some early morning tunes?

Hold on. A single jogger had entered
the park just behind them and was gaining fast. They both held
their breath as he passed them with a friendly wave.

Nerves were being stretched taut
here.

What was that? A squirrel, scurrying
up a tree.

Each tiny movement sent shimmies up
Kylie's spine. Beside her, Jolene kept her head low, hiding the
anxiety in her eyes beneath the brim of her cap. They appeared to
be typical young women working on their fitness, but Kylie felt
Jolene's tension in each stride as surely as she felt her
own.

As instructed, they followed a route
to where the path narrowed, with tall trees and bushes on either
side. Surely if there was a place to pounce, it would be
there.

They came out on the other side of it
unscathed, and kept moving.

Sweating now, the two women turned
back into the depths of the park where tall pine encrusted firs cut
off sunbeams at their knees. They jogged on through, their hearts
hammering from exertion as well as anxiety, a deadly combination at
best. Each massive tree trunk provided cover for a lurking figure,
just as the tall hedges lining a pond to their left were dense
enough to camouflage a stalker.

This was their sanctuary, a place to
run off their frustrations and harmonize with nature, but today in
this eerie morning light the park felt sinister and
foreboding.

Jolene looked at her watch and broke
the silence. It had been forty-five minutes. “Time's almost up.
Let's head back.”

Kylie relaxed by degrees. If Drew was
watching them, he wasn't giving up the ghost. Probably snoring in
oblivion while here they were at the crack of dawn hoping to snare
him.