Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) (31 page)

Looking from Jase to Jake, her eyes reflected her distress. “She’s obsessed with finding him. Her obsession scares me. I’m scared it will end with her becoming another of his victims.”

Jake leaned against the bench, playing his fingers around the rim of his coffee cup. “Gena, she’s already is. She’s just alive and fighting back.” He said quietly. Seeing her annoyed look, he smirked. “Come on Gena, are you telling me you wouldn’t fight back, or be just a little obsessed with finding him? You’re not already obsessed?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he lifted the coffee cup to his lips, blowing on it softly before he took a sip. “Hell, I’m just putting it out there. I know I would be. I’d want to find out who did this and do everything I could to stop him.”

Jase nodded in agreement, a mutual look of understanding passing between him and Jake. Quickly looking at Gena, he said softly, “She’s trapped, Gena. Until he’s caught, she can’t move forward and she’s afraid to go back. She’s living in her own personal hell.”

His voice dropped to a low murmur, almost afraid to see his next words aloud. “Something she said to me last night hit me hard,” he said, recollecting Stephanie’s words with sadness. “She said she walked away from everything she loved. She said she walked away from Dominic to protect him.”

Pausing, he swallowed hard. “She left her husband because she was being stalked by this maniac. I think she did everything in her power to protect the people she loved and I think it’s the real reason she left L.A. I also doubt there’s nothing she wouldn’t do to protect you all, even if it means putting a target on her own back. She knows he will come for her and she’s willing to go with him. She’s willing to sacrifice herself, if it means protecting all of you.”

Jake swore fluently as Jase struggled for composure. “I think this maniac always knew she would never come back unless someone she loved was in pain. I think he killed Angel because he wanted her to come back to him. Once, she was back he had to get her attention, so he killed Carolyn and Ana. It’s like a game between the two of them. She advances, he retreats. She retreats, he advances. It’s nothing more than a dance. Right now, I don’t think he wants to kill her. He loves getting her attention too much. He sees her focus on him as a compliment. He wants her to be proud of him,” Jase bit out.

***

Stephanie stood outside Ana’s apartment, staring at the police tape barricading the front door. Without blinking, she broke through the tape and pushed it aside, sliding the key inside the lock. Twisting it, she opened the door and stepped inside then, closing the door behind her, she pressed her back against it and took a shaky breath.

This had been Ana’s home. He had come in and played here and he had enjoyed every minute of it. He had turned this warm, loving home into a place of terror – a cold, sterile crime scene. “Come and get me,” she whispered quietly into the silent room.

Pushing herself away from the door, she flicked on the living room light, not prepared for what she saw. A gasp fell from her lips at the photos all over the walls. Sliding her eyes over the first photos positioned together, she recognized Angel. She bit her lip, acknowledging she was studying a blueprint to Angel’s murder. She swallowed hard. He has taken several different shots.

There were the before shots – photos of Angel jogging, out to dinner with Jase, shots of her with friends – everyday snapshots. Turning her head slightly, she glanced at the next set of photos – the after shots – Angel tortured. If the L.A.P.D was still unsure these killings were connected, this would leave little doubt in their minds.

She frowned fiercely. He’d stopped torturing Angel. Midway through, he had stopped – stopped to take photos of Angel in pain. He liked to watch. Was he a photographer? She was positive he’d been at every crime scene in some capacity. Had he watched Gena study each crime scene? She grimaced. Deep inside, she knew he had. The photographs indicated he liked to participate.

Sidestepping to the next frame of photos, they confirmed her suspicions. He had photographed Gena. He’d watched her working. She stepped back from the photographs, scanning them all quickly. He had watched Gena work every crime scene. She walked to the next wall, knowing it would be another crime scene even before she saw the photos of Carolyn.

She stepped forward again; leaning over and ripping a photograph from the wall. Horror washed over her. It was a photograph of Dominic, Angel, Jesse, Ben, Gena, and herself. She’d last seen it sitting on Jesse’s fireplace mantel. The knowledge that Angel and Carolyn’s killer could take something so personal left her uneasy.

She was uneasy at the knowledge the killer was someone who was able to slip in and out of Jesse’s house without raising any questions. The knowledge ate at her. Was it someone they knew? Someone she knew personally? She couldn’t shake the feeling it was. She wondered if this was how he got to them all. Did he weasel himself into his victims lives, get them to trust him and then strike when they least expected it?

If so, it explained a lot. It explained how Angel had built a fortress around herself, only to be killed within the confinements of her own apartment. Did she let him in? Or did he have a key? She rubbed her eyes tiredly, wondering if she could trust anyone except herself.

Scanning the walls again, she leaned up and ripped another photo down off the wall. This time it was one of Gena alone. Staring at it, she couldn’t avoid the seed of panic growing deep inside of her She quickly estimated the timeline from Gena’s location. It was taken last night. These photos were recent. She’d bet everything she owned that these photos weren’t here last night. It meant he’d been here recently. He’d come back to leave her his work of art.

She scowled when her phone vibrated again. Pulling it out of her pocket, she glanced at the screen. It was Leigh again. He wasn’t going to accept it was over; she knew this already. Cursing underneath her breath, she answered the call. “Leigh, what do you want? I’m kind of busy right now.”

***

“Sweet Jesus,” Jesse breathed from the doorway, his face pale. “I asked her to come home. I begged her to come back here. I told her I needed her,” he whispered, gripping the doorframe with one hand.

Moving into the kitchen, he sank down into a chair next to Gena and asked Jase, “Do you really think this was his plan all along? He wanted her back here?”

Jase nodded. “Angel was just another casualty for his one obsession,” he said bitterly.

“Stephanie,” Gena breathed, panic sliding across her face. Directing her question at Jesse, she asked, “Where’s Stephanie?”

A flash of annoyance crossed Jesse’s face. “Gena, why would you assume I know?” he asked calmly.

She rolled her eyes. “It is
your
bed she’s sleeping in, is it not?”

Jesse glared angrily at her. “No, it’s not. I’m not going to deny we slept together. It would be pointless. But that’s past tense. Stephanie’s made it clear I’m persona non grata from her bed. She’s got absolutely no interest in rekindling our relationship. I was a source of comfort, now I’m not. So, to answer your question, I don’t know where she slept last night. It sure as hell wasn’t with me.”

Gena opened her mouth, surprised by his angry outburst. Jase interrupted him. “She didn’t sleep. We stayed up.” Giving Jesse a wicked grin, he added, “Talking.”

“You talked
all
night long?” Jake asked sardonically, raising an eyebrow.

Jase met Jesse’s icy gaze with a mocking smile. “Up until four hours ago when she left me with her box of files and went to find Ben.” He lifted the coffee cup to his lips, draining the last dregs of coffee. Quietly he said, “It’s rather ironic, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Jesse asked testily.

“Neither of them will stop until they find each other,” he laughed bitterly. “She was right. Last night she said he was coming for her and there was nothing we could do about it.”

***

“I know,” Stephanie heard Leigh’s voice behind her. She twisted around in surprise. Moving the phone away from her ear, she glared at him.

“You followed me here?” she spat out, her voice raspy with anger.

“I had to see you. You wouldn’t return my calls,” he placated, entering the apartment hesitantly.

“There was nothing left for us to say. You attacked me,” she said between clenched teeth.

“I was angry. You caught me unaware,” he said, inching closer to her. He halted at the sight of photos all over the living room walls. “What the hell?”

Tearing his gaze from her to glance from wall to wall, his horrified gaze clashed with hers. A mixture of horror, fascinating and growing anger flooded through him. “What the hell is this?” he asked, thrusting his hand out to indicate towards the photos.

“This is a crime scene. One, you’re intruding on,” Stephanie said with an evened calmness she didn’t feel. She tucked her hand behind her back, sliding it underneath her jacket to finger the gun she had strapped to her back.

“What do you mean a crime scene?” he asked. Curiously, he moved from wall to wall, stopping at the last one. He studied the photos. “These are photos of you. Why are there photos of you up here?” he demanded.

She ignored his question, shaking her head tiredly. “Leigh, we’re over. Go home. Go back to the hick little town you came from and leave me alone.”

He turned back to the photos, ripping one off the wall and tossing it at her. “Is this the reason you’re staying in L.A? Is this why you’re trying to throw us away?”

The photograph floated to land at her feet. Impatiently, she looked down at the photograph of Jesse and her in an embrace. Pursuing her lips, she snapped, “This is none of your business, Leigh. We’re over. Get it through that thick head of yours.”

“It’s none of my business? We’ve been married barely a month and you’re already shacking up with your ex-boyfriend,” Leigh spat, moving closer to her. “You’re my wife. I own you. I will not be made a fool of. Not by you, not by anyone.”

“Stay away from me, Leigh,” she warned, inching back from him.

“I did not spend all the money, time and effort, to follow you to that stupid little town, only to have you just throw us away,” he shouted, his face mottled with rage.

“You followed me? What do you mean you followed me?” she gasped, her face turning white with fury. She gripped the gun firmly, pulling it out from its holster.

Leigh took another step towards her. “I knew I loved you. I knew I had to make you love me back. I’ve always loved you,” he said, adding savagely, “And you did. Everything was perfect. Then you ruined it by returning to L.A. You returned to
him,
” he spat, advancing forward.

He froze at the sound of a distinct click. He lifted his eyes from the carpet to the gun she was aiming at him. “Now honey, you don’t want to do this. You might hurt someone,” Leigh cajoled, cautiously eyeing Stephanie.

“Actually
honey,
you’re quite wrong. This is exactly what I want to do,” she said venomously. Not letting him out of sight, she continued to aim the gun at him. “Just in case you think I’m bluffing, this is a Glock 17c. It has a 17-round capacity and is nifty as hell for situations like this. My husband Dominic gave it to me for my last birthday and I’m a damn fine shot. So, I can assure you, if you take a step closer, I’ll have no qualms about putting a bullet in you, you psycho.”

***

Frank Delucci whistled softly, making his way up to Ana Ferrier’s apartment. Last night’s events had definitely taken an interesting twist. He’d gone to Jesse Carlisle’s with Gena and Jase, hoping to discover why Ana was murdered and how Stephanie Carovella was involved. Instead he’d found so much more. When the sealed file was brought up, Pandora’s Box had been split wide open.

Reaching Ana’s apartment, he stopped abruptly. He automatically pulled his gun from its holster, the sight of the broken police tape and the front door of the apartment wide open, jolting him into action.

He stepped inside, pausing at the sound of raised voices coming from within the apartment. Hearing the sound of a gunshot, he burst into the living room, freezing in surprise at the sight of Stephanie Carovella calmly holding a gun aimed at a man. He scowled at the sight of a bullet hole in the wall, his eyes moving to study the man cowering in front of one of his crime scene walls.

“Would you like to tell me what the hell is going on?” he roared, tearing his eyes off the man to glare at Stephanie with a mixture of anger, irritation and amusement. He didn’t know whether he wanted to arrest her for breaking in and compromising a crime scene, or ask her why she was trying to shoot someone.

“Detective Delucci, it’s lovely of you to join us,” Stephanie said cordially, nodding her head towards Leigh. “Meet my psychotic soon-to-be ex-husband.”

Delucci turned towards the man slowly rising to his feet. “Arrest this bitch. She tried to kill me,” the man spluttered, pointing his finger at Stephanie. “She’s a psycho.”

“Right back at you, you piece of crap. I’m not the one who’s been acting like a crazy-assed stalker. Nor did I hit you,” Stephanie spat, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Delucci assessed Stephanie Carovella, taking in the discolored cheekbone and slight bruising around her left eye. He’d noticed it last night but had been too caught up in the sealed file to ask her about it. Seeing the devilish gleam in her eyes, he held out his hand patiently. “The gun please, Ms Carovella.”

Stephanie’s expression was hard. Their eyes clashed before she relented. “Why, of course, Detective Delucci. I’m going to want it back, though.”

Walking towards him, she calmly placed the gun into his outstretched palm. Her expression softened slightly when she met his amused gaze, before it hardened again when she looked over towards Leigh. “Is it too late for me to press assault charges against this jack-ass?” She jerked her head towards Leigh.

“I want to press charges against her, too. She tried to shoot me,” Leigh growled, his face reddening with embarrassment.

“Oh please, if I’d wanted to shoot you, I would have. I was married to a Texan, who taught me to be a crack shot,” she said, smirking.