Rising Heat (71 page)

It was an old-fashioned, log cabin type design with individual cabins lined up neatly in a row. He gestured for me to wait in my truck while he left his Jeep and stepped into the office to get me a room. I didn’t think it would be expensive, but I still needed to reimburse him. Cha-ching…

Moments later, he emerged and gestured for me to roll down my window. I did.

“Second to last cabin over there,” he said, pointing.

I pulled my truck out of the parking space in front of the office and slowly made my way toward the parking space in front of the motel room. Hawk left his Jeep by the office and walked up to my vehicle as I was getting out.

“I’m going to park down the street, keep watch to make sure that no one has followed you here.”

My eyes widened in dismay. “You think he might have followed us?”

My heart started pounding again. The stress certainly wasn’t doing me any good. While I had enough clothes to last me a day or two, and I did have my old laptop with me, I doubted I would be able to focus on getting much work done. I didn’t work well away from my home office. It didn’t matter whether that home office was in my Boston apartment or in grandma’s house — my house.

“It’s doubtful, Tracy, but I just want to make sure. Keep your phone battery charged up.”

“I will,” I said as I stepped to the motel room door. I inserted the key, hanging off of a brown plastic diamond that looked decades old, into the door. I stepped inside and immediately wrinkled my nose. It’s not that I’m snooty or anything, but you know how some motel rooms smell. Musty carpets, Lysol, the lingering scent of smoke or food.

“It’s nothing fancy, but for tonight it will do,” Hawk said. “Try to get a good night’s sleep. I’ll come up with a better plan tomorrow.”

I supposed he was right. I didn’t like what I was feeling at this moment. Relief. Would I feel this sense of relief only when I was away from my home? Would I ever feel comfortable going back there? My home! I felt tears once again build and blinked them back. I would not let Hawk see me cry.

“Thank you, Hawk,” I said. “I—”

“You still have the gun, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I replied, automatically reaching my hand to my back and feeling the butt of the gun. I stared up at him wide-eyed. “Do you think I’m going to need it?”

“Until we get this resolved, you’ll have to stay alert.” He started to turn and then paused. “You hungry? You want me to bring you anything to eat?”

I shook my head. The thought of food made my stomach turn. I looked at him as he gazed down at me. Go ahead, I told myself. Throw yourself into his arms. You know how he will respond. He’ll take you inside, maybe make mad, passionate love to you…

I shook my head again. I was going to give myself a headache if I kept shaking my head like this. What the hell was I thinking? I was hiding from a stalker, maybe even a killer, and all I could think of at this moment was what it would feel like to have Hawk make love to me?

“Okay then. I’ll check in on you in the morning. Close the door.”

I did. From the other side, he spoke.

“Lock it and put the chain on.”

I did, and then leaned my back against the door, my overnight bag and a satchel with my laptop dangling in one hand, the room key in the other. I sighed. The motel curtains were open. It was dark inside the room. Through the window, I watched as he walked back to his car. Then I heard his Jeep start up, the lights went on, and then he was gone, pulling out of the driveway, his tail lights disappearing as he rounded a bend in the road.

I heaved out a puff of air, placed my bag and satchel onto the small, round table in front of the window and then moved to the curtains. I pulled them shut before I even dared to flip the light switch by the door. I glanced around the room. Faded and stained rust-colored carpet, almost indoor-outdoor quality. A small table lamp screwed to a bedside table marred with water rings. Beside the lamp was an old-fashioned push button phone and a digital clock with red numbers. A huge box-style television sat on top of a small set of dresser drawers directly across from the bed.

I moved to the bathroom and turned on the light, wrinkled my nose at the sight of the stained toilet and shower faucet. Green stuff grew along the bottom of the dull white plastic shower curtain. I didn’t feel like taking a shower anyway.

I remembered one of the victims had been stabbed in the bathtub. I quickly used the toilet and then left the bathroom, closing the door behind me. All of a sudden, the weariness hit me like a ton of bricks. I sat down on the edge of the bed, unable to stave off the emotions that surged through me.

Before I knew it, my shoulders were shaking, and I was crying and tears were streaming down my face. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I asked myself the question I had already asked a hundred times. Why was this happening to me?

How was Hawk or the police going to stop it? How did anybody stop a killer? Was the guy a serial killer? From what I had read, most of them didn’t get caught until they were so far gone they started making mistakes. How many women had this guy pursued? How many had he targeted? How many had he killed?

Was I next on the list?

I allowed myself a good cry and then placed the Ruger Hawk had loaned me on the bedside table. I stared at it for several moments, knowing now without a doubt that I would be able to pull the trigger if I needed to. I placed my cell phone beside it within easy reach.

I changed into a T-shirt and a pair of light blue flannel lounge pants decorated with white snowflakes. I hadn’t really paid much attention to what I stuffed into my overnight bag. It didn’t really matter.

I pulled back the bedspread and folded it neatly at the base of the bed. I turned the overhead light off and turned on the bedside table light. At least the blanket and pillow case and sheets looked clean. Maybe a good night’s sleep
would
make me feel better in the morning. Knowing that Hawk was out there watching made me feel safer, but still, every strange sound from outside made me tense up.

I left the light on as I crawled into bed, trying to force my muscles to relax. I didn’t reach up to turn off the light right away. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to imagine something pleasant, like a meadow in the middle of the woods, bright with sunshine, butterflies and flowers. No matter how hard I tried, the darkness of my reality crept around the edges.

Finally, exhausted, I fell asleep.

A sharp sound woke me up. I jolted upright, my eyes blinking at the light in the room. My heart thundered in my chest. What the hell—?

Ring
… followed by another. The phone.

It wasn’t my cell phone, but the motel phone. I squinted against the light as I glanced at the red digital numbers of the cheap clock on the bedside table. Three-thirty in the morning? Hadn’t I given Hawk my cell phone number? Of course I had. He’d called me on my phone before. I was half groggy with sleep. Maybe the motel office was calling me for something. But in the middle of the night? Damn!

I picked up the phone and answered, my voice gravelly and annoyed. “Hello?”

I didn’t hear anything for a moment, just a strange clicking sound. I was just about to hang up, thinking that somebody had called the wrong number when I heard the voice. It was deep, somewhat distorted. In the back of my head, I instantly recognized that the voice didn’t belong to Hawk.

“I know where you are.”

Then I heard the dial tone. I was still fighting off the edges of sleep. My heart skipped a beat and I felt hollow. Hollow. I don’t know how else to explain it. The words echoed through my brain.

I know where you are.

I know where you are.

I know where you are!

I
felt like my heart was going to leap right out of my chest. I lay in the bed frozen, clutching the telephone tightly in my hand until my fingers cramped up. Trembling, I placed the receiver back on the phone and then reached for my cell. It took me a couple of tries to find Hawk’s telephone number in my contact list. I pressed the button, watched as a screen notified me that the call was dialing. One ring. Two.

Oh God, how had the stalker found me here?

Had Hawk told anyone where he was bringing me? I didn’t think so, but how else could someone have found out?

Three rings. Then four. Why wasn’t he answering? He said he was going to be just down the street, watching to make sure nobody followed me here.

I didn’t know what to do. Going back to sleep was out of the question. Where was Hawk? Why wasn’t he answering his damned phone?

I made a decision. I wasn’t going to stay here. I threw back the bedcovers and reached for my clothes lying on the bottom of the bed. I wouldn’t even take the time to open the new bag of panties or grab for the bra I purchased just hours ago, still with a price tag hanging from it. I think it was probably the fastest time I had ever gotten dressed in my life. My legs felt spaghetti weak and my stomach felt like a tight, hard knot. I was afraid that if I swallowed, I was going to retch.

I tried Hawk’s phone number again. He didn’t answer. Where was he? I wasn’t going to wait around here. I would drive around in my truck all night if I had to, but I wasn’t going to stay here. I quickly stuffed my pajamas into my bag and then reached for the gun on the bedside table. With my overnight bag and laptop satchel in one hand, my gun stuffed into the back of my pants, and keys in hand, I turned off the bedside table light, then stepped toward the curtains. I moved them aside slightly, eyeing the parking lot outside.

Only three other cars were parked at the motel. None of them looked to be running. I didn’t see any exhaust and I heard no engine sounds. Even the motel office was dark. I unchained and unlocked the door, then cautiously opened it. I already had my key out to unlock my truck door. In ten steps, I could be out of the motel room and inside my truck.

I was so scared, I was surprised I didn’t pee my pants. I should’ve gone to the bathroom before I left, but I couldn’t worry about that now. Small outdoor lights on two of the occupied cabins cast dual triangles of light in front of them. I hadn’t turned mine on, so I quickly stepped outside, shut the door, and paused. Listened for any sound. Any movement.

Nothing.

I took a deep breath and rushed toward my truck, my eyes scanning the parking lot and the myriad of deep shadows that crossed it. Was the stalker waiting out there, somewhere in the shadows to grab me? Was he watching me rush from the motel room to my truck? Would he follow me?

I quickly unlocked my truck, climbed inside, shut the door quietly and locked it. It took me two tries to shove the ignition key into its slot, but the minute it slid home, I started the truck, slammed it into reverse, and quickly pulled out of the parking spot.

In a matter of seconds, I was driving away from the motel. I flicked my headlights on as I turned down the street in the same direction I had seen Hawk leave. I drove down the paved street, looking for Hawk’s Jeep parked somewhere along the side of the road. I didn’t see anything.

I went about a mile, but it was dark and isolated. The road grew narrower, the trees closer. I was headed out of town into nothing but wild darkness. I didn’t know where I was or where this road would take me, so I made a U-turn and headed back toward town. Maybe he had pulled his Jeep off the side of the road, parked it behind some trees. That made sense. But why hadn’t he answered my calls? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tried again. This time I let it go to voicemail.

“Hawk, where the hell are you?”

I didn’t know what to do or where to go. Should I try another motel? No. I didn’t have much cash on me and decided I’d better save it for gas. I had my debit card and a few hundred dollars in the bank, but was afraid to deplete my funds. What if I had to be away from my house for more than a few days? Yes, my business was getting better, but I didn’t have thousands of dollars in a savings account. I still had to work to get paid. How and where could I do that when I was running from a stalker?

I drove a couple of miles back toward town, and finally began to see lights. At this time of night, the town looked quiet, serene, and peaceful. Should I go to the police? What would I tell them? I didn’t think Detective Cutter nor Detective Westin would be there. They were probably home, tucked nice and warm in their beds, while I was out here, driving around in the middle of the night, frightened to death. I was not only frightened, but I was getting pissed. Where was Hawk?

I decided against another motel. If the stalker had found me at one, he could find me at another. A coffee shop? Were there any all-night coffee shops in Seneca? I had no idea. I’d never had occasion to be out this late. The clock on my dashboard said three-fifty-five a.m… Even the bars were closed.

I glanced at my gas gauge. Half a tank. Maybe I should just drive to the local Walmart we had passed on the way here and park in their parking lot. To my surprise, it was still open. I thought about going inside, maybe strolling the aisles just to distract myself, but decided not to. Better to stay out of sight. I parked my truck near the front of the store, but not directly under any of the parking lot lights.

I pulled the gun from my waistband and placed it on the seat beside me, tucking it halfway underneath my overnight bag. There weren’t that many vehicles in the parking lot, but I carefully watched the entrances for any sign of a vehicle pulling in after mine. One car did and my heart began to pound erratically in my chest. The car door opened and I watched a middle-aged woman wearing medical scrubs quickly emerge from the car and head into the store.

I decided to just sit tight until it was light outside, or until I heard from Hawk. I tried his cell phone one more time, but he didn’t answer. Damn him! He was supposed to be watching the motel! If he wasn’t… where was he and what was he doing?

I must’ve dozed off. The ring tone of my cell shattered the silence. I startled and bit back a cry of alarm. For a second, I didn’t know where I was, but then I remembered. I was sitting in the cab of my truck in the Walmart parking lot. The stalker had somehow found me.