Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) (11 page)

Her grip on the photo tightening; her pulse quickened an extra beat. She knew even before looking from her graduation photo to the one in the scrapbook they were identical.

“I’ll be god damned,” she muttered, focused on both photos with undisguised horror. Not only had she gone to the same university as Carolyn Mathers, but she’d also graduated the same year. They may have shared the same classes.

Her face blanched white, another thought hitting her. Both Stephanie and Angel had also graduated the same year. Did this mean they’d all gone to university with Carolyn’s killer? Was it someone she’d known during university?

A deep shudder ran through her at the idea she might have shared classes with a killer. Was it a coincidence they’d gone to the same university? She hoped so, but she had the sickening feeling it wasn’t.

Turning the next page, she couldn’t prevent the gasp falling involuntarily from her lips. “Hell,” she cursed, staring at the central photo.

It was one she recognized well. The same photo sat on her bedside vanity. Angel and Stephanie also had a copy. It had been taken seven years ago, the night of their graduation. The photo showed a laughing Angeline, Stephanie and herself with their university roommate Lyn Jeffreys. They’d been hamming it up, as always, for the camera. The four of them were inseparable throughout their university years. The photo had been taken on their last night together before she’d left for New York.

A wave of nausea hit her with the realization Mathers had been Lyn Jeffreys’ mother’s maiden name. She was sure of it. She fought to stay calm, her breathing coming in short gasps, and a moan creeping from her throat. Her stomach churned and she felt bile rising within her throat. Standing up, she stumbled to the kitchen sink, shakily reaching for a glass. Fumbling with the cold water tap, she turned it on, pouring herself a glass of water. Lifting it to her lips, she gulped it down quickly. Gripping the side of the bench, she fought off the waves of nausea threatening to overcome her as the same thought ricocheted through her time and time again. Not only were both Angel and Carolyn Mathers’ throats cut, but they’d also been killed within days from each other. This time she knew it wasn’t a coincidence.

Chapter Ten

Gena paced outside Starbucks agitatedly. Glancing at her watch, she rolled her eyes in annoyance. Taking an empty seat outside, she wrapped her hands tightly around her
Caffé Americano
, resisting the urge to light up a cigarette. She was trying to quit, after constant nagging from Ben. Tapping her fingers against her jeans, she bounced her leg up and down impatiently, resisting the urge to look at the time again.

Stephanie was late as usual. In all the years she’d known her she’d never known her to be early to anything, unless it was to do with her work. Hell, she was even late to her own wedding, Gena reminisced with a bittersweet smile, recalling how frantic Dominic had been. He’d been so sure Stephanie was going to change her mind. She’d shown up two hours late; completely unaware of the emotional chaos she’d caused, so caught up in a story she’d lost track of the time.

“Is that smile for me?” A voice intruded her thoughts, as a shadow fell over her. Her smile disappearing, she lifted her coffee to her lips, taking a sip. Observing the woman in front of her, she scowled in annoyance.

“I guess that’s a no then,” Stephanie said, sinking gracefully into the seat opposite Gena.

Gena ran her eyes over Stephanie, taking in the neatly pulled back ponytail, the tight white singlet top, skin-tight black denim jeans and knee-high boots. She smiled grimly at the lack of makeup save for a hint of lip gloss. It never failed to amaze her how young and fresh faced Stephanie could look.

“Do I pass inspection?” Stephanie asked, breaking through her reverie.

“You’re late.” She said, frowning.

“I was at the gym and lost track of time,” Stephanie said apologetically.“You know I lose track of time when I’m running.”

Gena rolled her eyes emphatically. “You’re never on time for anything. Hell, I’m pretty sure you’d be late to your own funeral if you could get away with it.” Her frown deepened. “Don’t tell me you ran here?”

Stephanie shook her head. “Of course I didn’t, I came straight from
Body Maxx
.”

“
Body Maxx
?” Gena asked, raising an eyebrow at the name of one of L.A’s exclusive gyms. “I see you still have expensive tastes. Does your husband know this?” she asked dryly.

“Gena, you didn’t arrange this little get together just to lecture me on my spending habits. What do you want?” Stephanie asked bluntly, refusing to let Gena bait her.

She wasn’t sure why Gena had called her. They hadn’t spoken since Dominic’s funeral. Too many angry words had been spoken between them. Too many truths aired. Even now, the words Gena had flung at her still stung deeply.

***

“Did you ever love Dominic, Stephanie?” Gena asked furiously, glaring at the woman in front of her.

Stephanie continued to stare blankly out the window, ignoring her friend. She refused to let Gena bait her today, of all days.

Gena grabbed her arm, spinning Stephanie around to face her. “Dominic loved you with everything he had. Right up until the day he died, he still loved you. But you used him. He was nothing more than a plaything, one you discarded once you were bored. To make matters worse, you moved straight onto his best friend. How could you do it Stephanie? How could you put Dominic through everything you did? And now you’re standing here, without so much as a tear, without so much as any sign of grief, no indication whatsoever you even felt anything for him. Did he mean so little to you, Stephanie?”

***

“Stephanie?” Gena questioned, noticing the battle of emotions on Stephanie’s face before she carefully hid them. Frustration welled inside her. Stephanie was always so careful around everyone. She didn’t ever let anyone see what she was really feeling inside. Shaking her head, she wondered what had happened in her friend’s past to make her so wary of anyone getting to close. It was almost as if she put a mental brick wall around herself and refused to let anyone get close enough to penetrate.

Gena tried her hardest to break down those walls at Dominic’s funeral. She’d fought with Stephanie, remembering the bitter taste of her angry words as she threw them at her. She’d thrown empty accusations at Stephanie, driven more from grief than from truth. She’d rained accusation after accusation down on her, determined to break through the barriers just for some indication her friend was grieving like everyone else was.

She grimaced, recalling how Stephanie had given as good as she’d got, accusing her of being in love with Dominic. She’d failed in her attempt to break down Stephanie’s walls. Instead Stephanie had further distanced herself from everyone and within days of Dominic’s funeral she was gone. She’d quit her job and left L.A without a word to any of them. Gena couldn’t help but wonder if she had been to blame.

“What do you want Gena?” Stephanie repeated firmly.

“Now Angel’s been laid to rest, I suppose you’ll be heading back to the rabbit hole you disappeared into after Dominic died,” Gena mused, casually taking a sip of her coffee and watching Stephanie’s gaze become shuttered at the mention of Dominic.

“Actually, I thought I’d stay here for a while,” Stephanie answered with a calmness she didn’t feel.

Gena scowled at her, not liking the answer she was given even thought she expected it after her conversation with Jesse.

“Don’t you have a job waiting for you back home? Won’t your husband expect you to go back with him?” Gena asked, running a hand through her short, auburn hair and trying to hide her frustration.

Stephanie casually shrugged one slim shoulder. “I’m taking a hiatus from work right now, and Leigh is none of your concern,” Stephanie said, adding sweetly, “But thank you for asking.”

“Damn it Stephanie, I’m serious. Go home. Forget whatever you’re plotting. Just go home. Leave it up to the professionals to find Angel’s killer,” Gena snapped, slamming her fist onto the table. She ignored the startled looks of nearby customers, her eyes narrowing angrily at Stephanie’s nonchalant behavior.

Stephanie quirked an eyebrow at Gena’s explosive reaction. “Are you trying to scare me, Detective Evans? If so, you should know me better than that. I don’t scare easily, and I’m not going anywhere until I’m good and ready.”

“I’ll have you deported,” Gena threatened.

Stephanie laughed harshly at the obvious bluff. “I’m American. You can’t deport me.”

“Then I’ll arrest you for interfering with my case,” Gena said bluntly. Watching Stephanie casually study her fingernails, she felt anger bubbling to the surface.

“No, you won’t,” Stephanie said with a smug smirk.

“What makes you think I won’t?” Gena bluffed.

Leaning forward, Stephanie said confidently, “You need me.”

“Like a hole in the head,” Gena grumbled, watching Stephanie throw back her head and laugh huskily. “I’m so glad to see I’m entertaining you,” she said sarcastically.

Stephanie smiled brilliantly at Gena, before wrinkling her nose in disgust when Gena pulled out a packet of Marlboro’s from her jacket pocket. “You know those things will kill you,” she said.

Gena grunted, sticking a cigarette between her lips and lighting it. “I’m trying to quit,” she said, adding defensively, “I’ve cut back to four or five cigarettes a day.”

Stephanie said nothing, suddenly leaning forward, her expression serious. Watching Gena cup her hand around her cigarette as she lit it, she waited until Gena took her first drag before she spoke.

“Now Gena, do you want to tell me why you really invited me down here? I’m guessing it’s not to reminisce on what great friends we used to be, or because you want to know what I’ve been doing for the past six months. If you’d really wanted to know, you would have picked up the phone. So just tell me, what the hell do you want?”

***

He watched them from across the road. His eyes moved over Gena in contempt, assessing the Detective with a smirk. She still thought she knew everything. The bitch always did think she was better than everyone else, even him. In fact she hadn’t even been aware of his existence despite the fact they’d had a couple of classes together.

He couldn’t wait to make her pay for all her sins. He planned on spending hours inflicting torture upon torture, making her suffer as he had suffered. He’d make sure she, not only remembered his face, but also his name while she took her last breath. He dismissed her coldly, feeling nothing but loathing for the woman who had treated him so callously.

Turning his attention to Stephanie, his breath caught in his throat. Lovingly, he ran his eyes over her lithe figure. She took care of herself and he could have spent hours watching her on the treadmill at
Body Maxx.
He loved to watch her. He always had. He’d spent many hours watching her run the track at U.C.L.A. He’d admired her concentration, her ability to concentrate on nothing but the path in front of her. She kept her own pace, her only connection to the world her music; oblivious to the tiny trickles of sweat running between the vee of her breasts. His tongue ran along his parched lip, unable to hide the anticipation of applying a soft whip to her skin. He would take his time breaking her.

He closed his eyes. She
had
noticed him in University. She’d always had a smile for him and taken the time to acknowledge his existence, even when her friends hadn’t. He’d always known he loved her the most. Known she was the special one. Known it would take time and practice before he was skilled enough to show her his love.

Turning the key in the ignition, he started the car, smiling coldly. He was finally ready to show her the real him, to give her all of his love. But first, he would court her.

Chapter Eleven

Gena leaned against the store counter, the feel of her concealed gun digging into her side soothingly. Watching Stephanie pay for their coffees, she rolled her eyes at the way the teenager, behind the counter, fell over himself to serve Stephanie.

Scanning the busy café, she didn’t like what she saw. Twenty-Something’s, drinking their coffees and typing busily on their laptops, so immersed in writing the next great American novel that she doubted they even knew what was going on around them. Those not attached to their laptops were permanently attached to their cells, or hooked into an IPod. All of them were so wrapped up in their own worlds, without even a care.

Had they even bothered to read today’s newspaper? Would they be so self-absorbed if they knew there was a serial killer on the loose? Would they even give a damn? No doubt they’d think they were safe in their little bubbles. She knew differently.

Shaking her head ruefully, she wondered when L.A had made her so jaded. Impatiently, she picked up a copy of the
L.A Times,
dropping a dollar bill onto the counter, and skimming the paper for news of her latest murder victim.

“I figured you could use another fix. You still drink
Caffé Americano’s,
right?” Stephanie interrupted Gena’s musings, handing her a Grande.

Gena nodded, raising her eyes from the paper to take the coffee cup from her. She jerked her head towards the teenage boy who’d just served Stephanie. “I see another fell under your spell.”

Stephanie snorted. “Men don’t fall under my spell, as you put it.”

“No. They just fall at your feet,” Gena shot back. “Ben is a perfect example. You snap your fingers and he drops everything, including poor Ana, to do as you command.”

Stephanie frowned at Gena, opening her mouth to argue. She closed it again, pursing her lips together, unsure why Gena disliked her so much. There was a time when they had been close. Not just Sorority Sisters, but also best friends. “You still haven’t told me why you called me," she reminded Gena.