The Chilling Spree (32 page)

“He’ll figure it out.”

“You already know how that happened?”

“Not the first clue in the world,” I
said. 

“Would your opinion change if you knew what
Tippet does for a living?”

“From your tone and the fact that you’re
teasing me with information I don’t have, I assume you find his
profession significant.”

“He’s got a car dealership in Bay
View.  Some custom import place.”

“So he’s got money.  What does money
grant the wealthy that ordinary citizens lack without some kind of
direct link, Devlin?”

“You tell me, Yoda.”

I waved my knife at him playfully. 
“Money can buy your way into a hell of a lot more than backstage
access at some silly rock concert, Dev, not to disparage your
favorite band.  Who knows what Tippet could’ve done to get his
hands on a pass.  He’s certainly smart enough to make sure his
name never would turn up on some guest list, and technically, Kyle
Goddard died long before Pan Demon’s party festivities
started.  We know Goddard wasn’t technically killed backstage
anyway.  It seems pretty clear to me that someone from the
band, probably your old buddy Underwood, found the body bled out
into Madden’s amplifier stack and figured that somebody in the band
was involved in the murder, so he decided to get a little payback,
either by embarrassing the band or framing someone he dislikes very
much.”

“You make it sound so simple.  Why did
Maya find evidence that Goddard had engaged in some sort of sexual
activity close to the time of death if Tippet of all people did the
murder?”

“Who knows?” I said. 

“And if Bobbi and Kyle were best friends,
wouldn’t Kyle have recognized the guy’s parents? And why would they
strip their own son naked after killing him?”

“Look, I get it.  You’re not sold on
what I believe really happened to those boys.  The
investigation is far from over.  I’m not saying that Tippet
killed Goddard himself, but I do believe that he’s ultimately
responsible for setting what happened into motion.  Like I
said.  People with money can afford not to dirty their
hands.  I doubt Tippet would’ve stooped to soil his hands on
those he found guilty of corrupting his son.  At the same
time, he could’ve easily been the perp in Bobbi’s murder. 
There was no sign of struggle in that dressing room.”

“So Bobbi knew his attacker.”

“Uh-huh, or at least wasn’t disturbed by his
presence in that dressing room.” I started chopping tomatoes. 
“And he trusted that person enough to leave himself in a very
vulnerable position.”

“At face value, I find no flaws in your
theory, Helen.”

I snorted softly.  “But?”

“The way Johnny tells the story, Randy
Tippet was the last person in the world that Bobbi would’ve trusted
to walk into that dressing room.”

“Believe me when I tell you this.  When
parents are estranged from their children, and suddenly show up
bearing an olive branch, even if it isn’t sincere, we lack the
detachment to be suspicious.  We want a relationship with our
parents.  Say Tippet shows up hat in hand, telling Bobbi that
he and Joanne have had a change of heart.  They embrace, and
wham.  He’s got his son right where he wants him.  I
forgive you son, but now you have to atone for the abomination that
you are.”

“Huh,” Devlin muttered.  “Well, when
you put it that way…”

“Don’t doubt what I know, Dev.  This
profiling thing has been my gig for a very long time.”

But by the time the clock chimed midnight, I
was convinced that pride really was a deadly sin.

Johnny came home around nine, wiped out from
sleep deprivation and too many interviews in one day.  That
didn’t take into account the emotion spent on Belle’s story, or the
loss of his old friend and colleague Ned Williams.

I offered left over Italian.

Johnny waved it aside.  “I need a
shower and a warm bed.”

It was doubtful that he meant a bed warmed
by me.  I gestured toward the master bedroom.  “You know
the way.”

Concern bled into the fine lines around his
eyes.  “You look alarmingly calm.  Do I need to add
something else to my list of worries tonight?”

“I’m fine,” I said, followed by a genuine
smile that eased the tension building around his wide
shoulders.  “I am concerned about you burning the candle at
both ends and in the middle.  Do you want to talk about the
case?”

His jaw cracked around a gaping yawn. 
“Goddard’s parents still haven’t shown up yet.  Other than
that, you know what I know.”  Johnny glanced in the general
direction of the bedroom before returning the gaze to me. 
“Don’t suppose it’s late enough for my night owl to turn in, is
it?”

“It’s not too early,” I said.  “Then
again, I doubt my presence will help you fall asleep as soon as
your mind and body need the rest.”

One strong hand dragged me off the
sofa.  “What if my heart needs you more than the rest of me
needs sleep?”

This is where the battle inside me becomes
moot.  Heart wins, hands down.  “Well, when you put it
that way, how can I say no?”

His head jerked toward somewhere other than
where we were.  “Where’s Mackenzie?  All tucked in for
the night?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Good,” he nibbled at my lips.  “I want
you all to myself tonight.”

“Done.  I’ll give you a few to shower
–”

“Now,” he murmured.  “No more
waiting.”

Anxiety stabbed my heart.  Lust is one
thing.  Could I settle for that after what once offered me
such surety?  Maybe Karma is real, and the universe is
repaying what I put Johnny through for months when I refused to see
how I really felt about him.

That book known as Helen Eriksson, the one I
was deluded into believing inscrutable, flipped wide open under
probing eyes.  “Baby, you gotta know that even though I don’t
remember every single detail about us, my feelings for you haven’t
changed one little bit,” Johnny said softly.  “Come with me
now.  Please?”

Close to the real thing.  So
close.  My heart latched onto it like it was the genuine
declaration of love I was certain he intended.  Five minutes
later, our soapy bodies were sliding together with a frantic need
that burned hot enough to melt the tiles in the enormous walk-in
shower.  The rest of the world blurred into oblivion. 
There were no murders, no reporters making nasty insinuations, no
lies, no hidden past.  All of it was gone. 

Johnny panted heavily against my neck. 
I was pressed in a bruising crush against the wall of the shower
while he struggled to regain himself.  “Did I hurt you? 
God you’re so thin.”

“I’ve gained almost ten pounds.  I’m
fine.”  My fingers sifted through clumps of wet hair.  “I
love you, Johnny.  I needed this more than you could ever
know.  Please don’t think I’m too fragile.  I won’t break
if you ...”

His grin stretched across my throat. 
“Get carried away like this again?  God, we didn’t even use
protection.”

“No worries,” I whispered.  Yeah, I’m
thirty-eight years old, and ostensibly fertile.  If it hadn’t
happened by now, I doubted it ever would.

“I wouldn’t mind you know,” nibbling ensued
and reignited something in both of us.  “Or was this something
we never discussed before?”

We hadn’t, honestly.  I think Johnny
knew then that I was on the verge of absolute emotional
retreat.  Things were very different now than they had been in
the beginning.  “I believe at that point, I bought the legend
of Johnny Orion, and you knew it.”

“Ah, so I was protecting you from my sordid
past,” he chuckled.  “Is that still a concern?”

My arms tightened around his neck. 
“God no.”

“Would you be repulsed if I inadvertently…
well, I’m Catholic, Doc.”  He pulled away far enough for a
stare I couldn’t escape.

“Maybe we should be careful in the
future.  Just in case.”

“Oh…”

“Not because I’m not sure how I feel about
you, or that I’d do something that would violate what you believe,
Johnny.  It seems a little soon to think about something like
that.”  My lips rolled inward on the lie.  Hell yes, I’d
do something that defied his antiquated belief system.  I’d
done it before in a very different context and would do it again if
the circumstances warranted it. After all, I doubt that Moses had
the fetus in mind when he said
thou shalt not kill
.

“Rationally, I know you’re right.  At
the same time,” he left the idea hanging out there like some kind
of wishful jinx on my freedom. 

I shivered.

“Let’s get you dried off and tucked in for
the night,” Johnny kissed the tip of my nose.  “One
request.”

“Name it.”

“No sweats tonight.”

By the time he finished drying me off,
clothing, pajamas, sweats, lingerie or otherwise seemed a foolish
idea.  We drifted off into satiated sleep by ten thirty, limbs
tangled as much as our hearts meshed again. 

So when the phone started ringing less than
two hours later, I wanted to swat the damned thing off the
nightstand.  Johnny stilled my fumbling hand and reached over
me.  He pressed the receiver to his ear, smothering me nicely
beneath his body and rasped, “Yeah,” lowly into the phone.

“Uh-huh.”

An instant later, he shot off the bed,
yanking the phone off my nightstand in the process.  Thank God
the cord on the wall was long enough to accommodate the appliance’s
abrupt flight over me and onto the opposite side of the bed. 
Phone cord sliced across my face and startled me into full
wakefulness.

“When?”  Johnny was pacing.

I untangled from the cord and sat up. 
“Johnny?”

He held up one hand.  “Seriously? 
Tony, this can’t be happening.”

“What can’t be happening?”  I crawled
to the opposite side of the bed and stilled his pace with one hand
to his bare hip.

“Where’s Crevan? Does he know?” His pause
stretched interminably. “Good. Good. Don’t wake him. Get Shelly to
division so if he wakes up and you’re gone, he won’t freak out and
figure out what happened. She can notify him… uh-huh. Yeah, she’s
here, wide awake now. We’ll meet you at the scene.”

Johnny dropped the phone onto the bed, not
bothering with actually disconnecting the call.  He dragged
one hand over his face and cursed expansively while I did what he
neglected.

“What’s wrong?”

“Another victim,” he rasped.

“And we’re sure it’s related to Tippet and
Goddard?”  My mind blended half the conversation I heard and
struggled to make sense of who on earth might’ve been murdered now,
linked to the other cases, that would necessitate keeping Crevan in
the dark.

“Shit,” he muttered from behind that hand
covering his goatee.

“Johnny, you need to tell me what’s going
on.”

“It’s Belle,” he rasped.

Was that suspicion I saw in the eyes peering
down at me?  I had threatened to kill her a little over twelve
hours ago, but this wasn’t one that would be added to my Karmic
tally someday.

“How could it be unrelated in light of that
scathing lie she printed today?  Did you see the other
story?  They had it on page two.”

I shook my head.  “Why?  What else
did she have to say?”

Johnny yanked on a pair of boxer briefs and
stalked out of the bedroom.  I was half way out the door
behind him when it occurred to me that I should detour into the
closet.  A moment later, he held up the folded pulp in front
of my face when it popped through the hole of a warm sweater.

My eyes bulged.  “Shit is right! 
When did she talk to Waters?”

“Apparently after our uniformed officers
delivered his drunk ass home,” Johnny growled.  “Wasn’t good
enough for Ms. Fair-and-Balanced Wannabe.  She had to drag
Crevan’s dad into the fray.”

I looked at the inset photos next to the
story.  Aidan Conall.  Alex Waters.  Another name I
didn’t recognize.  “Who is Reverend Luke Napier?”

“Head bible beater at Foundations Baptist,
and if you want my gut instinct, leading candidate for Waters’
Reverend Hellfire.”

The implications of Belle’s murder slowly
sunk into my brain.  “Ah crap.  If her murder is related
to Goddard and Tippet –”

“No way is this a hate crime,” Johnny
muttered.  “Which puts us exactly back at square one.  I
don’t get it, dammit.  This article makes Alex Waters look
like a raving lunatic and Conall and Napier like the salvation of
mankind’s eternal soul.”

“Take a step back.  Let’s go to the
crime scene and make sure that this isn’t something else
entirely.  What on earth made Briscoe leap to the notion that
they’re related?”

Johnny’s chest expanded with a sucking deep
breath.  “He hasn’t been there yet, obviously, but the
uniforms on the scene who called him said there’s another
message.  Something that Briscoe thinks fits with that whole
abomination thing from Tippet last night, though God knows why,
since he hasn’t seen anything yet.”

“All right.  If it is, we’ll readjust
the profile.”

He rolled his eyes.  “So are we going
to get to the point where you actually give me one, or do you
intend to let me continue to flounder through this one
indefinitely, Helen?”

“Hey –”

“I understand what you’re doing, really, I
do, and under any other circumstances, I’d find it the sweetest
gesture in the world.”  He tapped one finger against the side
of my head.  “But I need you here, in the case working it with
me.  All I ask is that you share with me all of those thoughts
you normally hold close to the vest.  I don’t want you running
off and closing it while the rest of us look like a bunch of
stoned, knuckle-dragging lackeys.  Deal?”

“I wasn’t holding anything back. 
Didn’t you think that the Tippets were behind this?”