Strip Search (20 page)

The man balanced the branding iron in his hands, measuring its weight. “Gotta heat this little baby up.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. You
are
the one.” He stopped short, his throat suddenly dry. “Look, I’ve got money. Tons of it. Look around you. You think this office was built on peanuts? I could make you a very rich individual.”

The man shook his head. “So you’ve got tons of money for me. But not a dime for your own flesh and blood.”

“What are you talking about?”

“How much money have you been sendin’ that kid of yours?”

Spencer swallowed. There was something very strange going on here. This man knew too much, knew things no one could possibly know. “In the final divorce decree, the court did not require me to make any support payments to my wife or daughter. At the time, I was flat broke.”

“On paper. Not in real life. You have a house worth more than a million bucks.”

“The law does not require you to sell your home. And since it was a gift in trust from my father, my wife did not own half of it. So—”

“Lawyer talk.” The man waved a hand in the air. “You abandoned your child.”

“She’s with her mother—”

“Did you know your Jenna was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes?”

“What?”

“Yeah. But her mother can only afford the most basic health care, and it won’t cover all the insulin and other stuff she’s gonna need if she wants to live past thirty.”

“But—then—why didn’t Abigail call—”

“Because she knew you didn’t give a damn. She knew it would be a waste of time. You’d turn her down, just like you did every other time she came to you for help.”

“You don’t understand. Abigail is very manipulative. She uses the child—”

“I understand everythin’ I need to understand.” All of a sudden, Spencer realized Tucker was crouched on the floor. A second later, before he could react, another set of handcuffs had chained his right ankle to the leg of Karen’s desk. Spencer flailed back and forth, but it was no use. He was trapped.

The man disappeared again, but this time, when he returned, he was carrying a video camera. And wearing a ski mask.

“What the hell are you going to do with that?” Spencer bellowed.

“Make a movie,” he replied. “Don’t worry about it. You’re never gonna see it.” He set the camera on the desk, pushed the Record button, then picked up the axe.

“Do you think you’re going to cut off my head, you bastard?” Spencer shouted, his voice rising. He tried to tell himself there was an errant hope that someone might hear, but he knew that in reality his panic was surfacing. “Well, you’re not. I may be tied down, but I’m not helpless. I won’t just stand here and take it! You’ll never get my head!”

“That’s all right,” Tucker said. He pinched the blade of the axe between his fingers. A spot of blood rose to the surface. The blade was sharp—very sharp. “That’s no problem at all. ’Cause I don’t want your head.” He raised the axe high above the arm stretched out from the desk to the doorknob, then lowered it.

THE MADDENING INSISTENCE of the doorbell finally got my eyelids open a centimeter or so. I hoped it would go away, like maybe it was just some kid selling magazines so he could go to Bible college or something, but it was unrelenting. So I eventually pushed myself out of bed, threw on a robe, and stumbled to the door.

“Amelia!” I said, doing a darn good job of acting as if I was glad to see her, even though the clock over the oven told me it was barely seven in the morning. With friends and associates like I’ve got, why do I bother setting an alarm? “What are you doing here so…unexpectedly?”

“When else am I going to catch you?” She didn’t need an invitation; she pushed past me and headed into the living room. “I called all last night, but you never came home.”

“Oh, sorry. I was working late. I had to do some catch-up.”

“I can imagine. You don’t want the killer to get a head.” She paused. “That was a joke.”

“I got it.”

“You didn’t laugh.”

“It wasn’t funny.” I instinctively groped toward the kitchen and started the coffeemaker. When I returned to the living room, she had her fists on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Something the matter?”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“You know perfectly well what.”

And I should, too, since I am Little Miss Empathy. But my gifts didn’t work this early in the morning. “Can you give me a hint?”

“The coffee table! The Brancusi knockoff! You’ve still got this…this…” She gestured toward the offending pine object. “…this chewed up banged up piece of—”

“Oh, did you want me to replace this table?”

“You know perfectly well I did.”

“I thought it made more sense to put it somewhere I didn’t already have a coffee table.”

“And that would be?”

I held up a finger. “I think the coffee’s ready.”

“Don’t run away from me, you coward. Where is it?”

I shuffled my bare feet. “It’s, um, in the bathroom.”

“The bathroom! You put an expensive Brancusi-like coffee table from the Venetian in the bathroom!”

“You know how much trouble I have reaching the top shelves in there. I thought—”

“Susan Lynn Pulaski, you march up there right now and bring down that coffee table!”

“Amelia, I—”

“Susan, this thing you’ve got is a piece of junk. I’m going to have it burned. Go get the new table!”

“Amelia…”
Sure, I was mad at the time, but I got over it. Because I loved him.
“I’m really too tired to do any heavy lifting. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Her demeanor changed immediately. “You didn’t? Why not?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. “I just…couldn’t let go of the case, I guess. Everyone is counting on me to lead them to the killer.”

“I know. When the detectives are floundering, they always start blaming you. When are you going to quit this lousy cop shop and get an office job? Help losers patch up their marriages for a hundred dollars an hour.”

“Oh, I’ll get over it. But in the meantime…” I looked down at the carpet. “I know you said no more, but I thought if you gave me another one of those little blue pills…”

She frowned, then started rummaging through her purse. “That’s funny. Must’ve left them somewhere.” Of course I knew she wouldn’t be able to find her Valium bottle, since I was the one who took it. But I also knew that eventually she would notice, and I would be her prime suspect. Unless I threw her off the scent by asking for some. After all, if I were the thief, I wouldn’t have asked, right? This is the way you learn to think in the police department. I had deviousness down to an art. “Just as well. You don’t need any medication. Just try…running around the block or something. Soak in a hot bath.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“So once you’ve imbibed some caffeine and gotten yourself together, wanna go play around?”

“Can’t. Work.”

“On Saturday? They don’t even expect me to come in today.”

“’Fraid so.”

She grunted, then headed for the door. “Get that overpriced piece of pseudo-art out of the bathroom, understand, girlfriend?”

“Understood.”

She blew me a kiss and disappeared. I grabbed some java and fell in a heap on the sofa. I hated to disappoint Amelia. Hated stealing from her and lying to her even worse. But that table…

You can’t imagine how I felt when I found out. But he didn’t mean any harm. And I loved him.

I headed for the bathroom, but not for the table. For two of those little blue wonder pills. And then I held my head under a spigot of cold running water for about half an hour. It did not make me feel better. But it did, at least, sort of deaden the pain.

SINCE IT WASN’T A SCHOOL DAY, I called Rachel on my cell during the drive out. She was in good spirits, but busy. Basketball season. We gossiped a little and exchanged terms of endearment, but it made me realize how dramatically things had changed. It wasn’t that we’d grown apart so much as just…separated. I suppose this was what all empty-nest parents experience. I just didn’t expect it to happen while she was still in high school.

I agreed to meet Darcy at a bus stop, rather than picking him up at his home, as I normally would do. He didn’t specify why, and I didn’t inquire, but I could guess. We had to leave early to get crosstown by nine, so his father was probably still at home. And since Darcy wasn’t supposed to be a part of this investigation, he just acted as if it were any other ordinary kind of day, leaving to catch the bus for the day care center.

Eventually, O’Bannon would figure it out. He was a detective, after all. But if I wanted to catch this killer, I’d be crazy to refuse Darcy’s help. We just had to keep it under the radar. And hope it didn’t cost me my job.

When he saw me coming, he wiggled his fingers, put on that goofy grin of his, and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Morning, Darcy.”

“Allegro Vanilla Bean Espresso!”

Only took me a minute. Maybe two. Slowly but surely, I was learning to speak Darcy. “That’s very good. I suppose you smelled it on my breath. Shouldn’t have grabbed that last cup on my way out the door.”

“Or brought it in the car,” Darcy added. “Or spilled it on your blouse.”

“Where?” I said, looking down, and practically having a wreck in the process.

“I think that you should look at the road and I should look at your blouse,” Darcy said excitedly, his hands flapping. “Does that seem like a good idea?”

“Reasonable enough.”

“Did you know that more car accidents occur because women are putting on their makeup while they drive than because people use cell phones?”

“Then you’re in good hands. Since I rarely wear makeup.”

“It’s probably hard to look at the road while you are putting that black stuff on your eyelashes.”

“I’d imagine.”

“Why do women put that black stuff on their eyelashes?”

How to explain. “Some men find it attractive. Or at least women think men find it attractive.”

“Does it make them want to make babies?”

“Whoa now.” I put my foot on the brake. “Where did that come from?”

He looked away, fidgeting with his hands. “I just…wondered.”

“Well, it has nothing to do with that.” Actually, it did, in a way, but I wasn’t going into it with Darcy. “Kid, did your father ever have that…talk with you?”

“Talk about what?”

“You know. Birds and bees.”

“I know lots about birds and bees. Did you know that it is aerodynamically impossible for a bumblebee—”

“No, I mean about men and women. About how babies are made.”

His face turned blood clot red. “You mean about doing sex.”

“Umm, yeah.”

“We talked a little. He gave me a book with lots of pictures.”

I suppressed a grin. Better than nothing, I suppose. Especially for the kid who remembers everything he reads. “Darcy, have you ever…”

“What?”

I shook my head. “Never mind. None of my business.” What was I thinking? When would he? And with whom?

“I got a kiss from a girl once, in the sixth grade. Beatrice McKenzie.”

Damn mind reader. “That was it? A kiss?”

“No. She, um, she let me…”

“Yes?”

“She let me touch her top part. Just for a second.”

Aha. A little childhood playing-doctor. “And did you…get anything out of it?”

“Yes. I got thrown out of school for the rest of the semester. I had to go to a special school for kids with problems. Most of them were in wheel-chairs.”

“And since then?”

“I do not want to get thrown out of anything. So I am very careful.”

“Of course you are.” When we stopped at the next light, I leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “There. Now you’ve had a second kiss.”

“Am—Am I going to get thrown out of something? Does this mean—?”

“It doesn’t mean anything, Darcy. Except that you and I are friends. Right?”

“Right. Friends.” He paused. “I like being friends with you, Susan.”

“Feeling’s mutual, kiddo.” I saw the house and parked next to the curb. “All right, Sherlock. Showtime.”

“ALL DONE?” Esther asked.

“Yeah,” Tucker said, scrubbing his hands in the sink. “Done.”

“No mistakes?”

“None. Hell, the porn actress fought harder than that miserable lawyer. What a crybaby he turned out to be.”

“And you left nothing behind.”

“Nothin’. I wore gloves. Put paper on the floor. Didn’t leave any blood or anything else. Brought back the weapons. Left the secretary tied up in the closet. Just like you told me.”

“And the arm?”

“Still there. Tonight I’ll take care of the body.”

“Perfect. Just perfect. You’ve done very well, Tucker. Very well indeed.”

With a speed that startled her, he spun around from the sink. “How much longer is this gonna go on?”

Esther stepped back, surprised by this sudden display of emotion. “You know the plan, Tucker. You always have. The Sefirot has seven divine components. Disassembling those components will complete the act of summoning. It’s a simple equation.”

“Simple. Yeah. You’re not the one who’s out there killin’ people.”

“Are you saying…you don’t wish to continue?”

“I’m sayin’ it ain’t that easy, killin’ people.”

“I know that, Tucker,” she said, gently laying her hand on his shoulder. “That’s why you were chosen. You are my instrument.”

“I’m your hired killer! And—And—” His face crumbled into his hands. “It’s hard.”

“Of course it is.” She stepped closer, letting him feel the body heat radiating from her. “It’s a test. We approach the divine by destroying it, a daunting task. If it were easy, it would have no meaning.”

“I know that,” he said, not looking at her, staring at the floor. “I just—I don’t know how much longer I can go on doin’ this.”

“I’m still your guide, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are.”

“And we are the wandering angels, are we not? Like those cast out and left behind in the Book of Enoch?”

“Yes, but—”

She pressed her cheek against his and held it there, very still. “You want to please me, don’t you?” she whispered.