The Christine Murders (23 page)

Finally she parked across the street from Sutter Court. Every speck of the positive confidence she’d felt this morning had left her.

She had to call John Kinsella. She must tell him she had seen Luther, disguised, but still in the city, watching her building. Waiting for a chance to kill me, she thought. But was it really Luther she had seen or was her mind playing tricks on her?

Her body started to quiver. Her legs would never hold her up, should she attempt to step out of the car. Her stomach wretched violently. She put her head down on the steering wheel and gulped down the bitterness rising in her throat.

She had no idea how long she remained there in the car before a neighbor, finding her slumped across the wheel, helped her back to the building and the safety of her apartment.

***

Having made up a story about a fainting spell, Christine thanked her neighbor for her help and refused any further assistance. She needed to call John. She was still shaking as she punched in the numbers, only to find that he wasn’t in. The call went directly to his voicemail. Should she leave a message? She still wasn’t sure it was Luther she had seen, and she didn’t want him to think she was becoming hysterical, or worse, a nuisance.

Not sure what to do, she ended the call and climbed into the window seat to watch the streets below, looking to see if there was any sign of the man in the jeans.

She wondered where John Kinsella was now, or if he had found anything new. She wished the police could search Luther’s home and office, but realized they probably didn’t have enough solid evidence to get permission to do that. In spite of what she’d told Kinsella, did he have probable cause for a search?

When she began to feel stronger she decided she couldn’t stay home any longer. She would be safer at the hospital. She would stay there with Bill today as long as they allowed her to. And she would call John again and let him know where she was and what had happened this morning.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she called for a taxi to take her to the hospital.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Luther arrived at the café across the street from Sutter Court before Christine returned home. There he remained, warm and comfortable, drinking cup after cup of tea while he watched the apartment complex. Finally, he saw Christine step from a taxi in the rapidly thickening fog and glance quickly up and down the street before dashing into the building. On a cold foggy night like this she would probably not be leaving her apartment again.

Luther pulled out the cheap prepaid cell phone he was using today and made two calls, one after the other. When he was finished, he was disturbed and angry again.

He sipped another cup of scalding tea, trying to calm down. It would not be wise to lose control here. The café would be closing in another few minutes. He still had his plans for the rest of the evening, and perhaps the violent anger Christine had just caused him would make it all the easier to carry them out.

***

Christine knew she wouldn’t have been brave enough to come home alone tonight if John hadn’t asked to see her again. The thought of staying alone in the apartment tonight terrified her. At the hospital, she had considered coming back only to get Tommy and take him with her to Bill’s apartment. She could stay there safely as long as she needed to. She might still do that later tonight, but at least she could look forward to being with John for a short time this evening.

She had spoken to him late in the afternoon and told him what she thought she had seen. He told her not to get herself agitated over the man in the jeans; she wasn’t sure after all that it really had been Luther. Trick of the mind, just as she had feared about herself. But then he had asked if he could meet her when she left the hospital, so they made a plan for Christine to call him when she was ready to go home and he would join her there as soon as he was able to.

She didn’t want him to know how desperately frightened she was, or how deeply attracted she was to him. In spite of her fear, she had been elated when he’d asked to see her again, even though she knew his interest was purely professional.

She took a quick shower and changed clothes, toweling as much water from her hair as she could and combing it out. There wouldn’t be time to fix it properly now. As she finished dressing, the kitchen phone rang. She grabbed it up quickly. John was early, and he was probably down at the gate.

“Hi John, that was fast. Are you downstairs?”

There was only the sound of someone breathing deeply on the other end. “John, is that you?” she repeated.

No response. Luther again, no doubt. She slammed down the receiver, but after only seconds it rang again. She picked it up and listened without speaking. Again there was only deep breathing, before the call clicked off and the caller was gone.

She dropped the receiver and pressed her hands into her eyes. She could not continue to allow this man to terrorize her. Never in her life had she let anyone walk over her. But she had never been faced with anything like this, a stalker, a killer who had already taken three lives.

The phone rang a third time. It took every bit of courage she possessed to pick it up, but this time it really was John, and she eagerly buzzed him into the building.

“Are you all right?” he asked her when he reached the apartment. “You sounded frightened again. What happened?”

“Right before you called, I had two other calls in a row. Nobody spoke, all I heard was breathing. I know it was Luther, it had to be. Nobody else I know would do that. And John, I just know that was Luther I saw this morning.”

“Okay, Christine, calm down, please.” He led her to the couch.

She pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. “It is simply not in my nature to be a victim, and yet that’s what he has made me. I can’t go on like this.”

“How about a drink? I could use one too. Or better yet, let’s leave here and I can take you someplace where we can both relax a bit and talk about all this business. What do you say to that? Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I guess I am. I don’t know. I haven’t thought much about food all day, but I haven’t eaten in hours.”

Tommy trotted over to Kinsella. He bent down to pet the cat, who rolled from side to side while Kinsella played with him and stroked his fur.

Christine watched him. Somehow just having him here with her made things so much better. “I’ll get my coat, John.” He stood up and looked at her. Maybe she was fanciful as well as hysterical, but what Christine saw in his eyes was far more than just a professional interest in a lonely frightened woman.

***

Luther, still at the café window, saw them leave together a few minutes before the café closed. So this must be John, he thought. The slut had picked up someone else. This would certainly ruin his plan for the evening.

Now he was really furious. She had still another man. He hadn’t expected that. Not at all. The only thing he was happy about was her fear. He knew she had recognized him this morning, clever girl that she was. Everything was set for this day and night had it not been for the sudden appearance of this John.

“Sir?” The waitress’ voice startled him. “Sir, we’re about to close. Can I get you any last thing?”

Luther looked at her, knowing she probably thought, by the look of him, that he was homeless. “No, I wouldn’t dream of troubling you for anything else. I’ve taken up enough of your time. You’ve been very kind.” He took a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet and put it on the table, watching the girl’s eyes widen. “All the change is for you.” Looking the way he did now, she had probably been wondering if he’d be able to pay her at all, he thought.

“Gee, thanks. Thanks so much.” She was practically bowing in front of him.

Luther wished the girl a good night. One or two final customers made last minute purchases at the bakery counter. Luther left and walked quickly out into the foggy night.

Walking briskly through the cold, he headed back toward the Tenderloin. He wondered when Christine would return home and if she would be alone. That seemed unlikely, and it wasn’t worth testing. No matter what she did, there was no safe place for him to hide and watch for her this evening.

There was nothing else for him to do but admit defeat again tonight. John, whoever he was, was responsible for that. First Bill, and now John. Christine would pay dearly for this. Very soon.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Christine only picked at the substantial meal Kinsella had bought for her. Worried that she was under enough stress without adding starvation, he gently encouraged her to eat more until, eventually, she managed to finish almost everything on her plate.

He had been disturbed by how upset she was today, so sure that it had been Ross-Wilkerson she’d seen outside her building. He had no way of knowing whether it had been Luther or not, especially since Christine herself had only met the man once.

She smiled across the table at him, the color attractively returned to her face. “Do you buy such nice dinners for everyone who brings you leads, or am I special?”

He considered his words carefully before answering. “Yes, perhaps you are. Maybe I have a greater interest than usual in protecting you.”

She blushed, making her look even more attractive. “I’m flattered,” she said.

Kinsella kept looking at her. In a little more than twenty-four hours this woman had managed to captivate him totally. He could not get her out of his mind. He felt foolishly giddy and deliriously happy that he had met her. With an effort, he reminded himself that Christine might not share his feelings at all. To her, a lovely and sophisticated woman who spent her time travelling the world, who had been the girlfriend of one of the wealthiest men in San Francisco, he might be nothing more than a cop, just somebody she was relying on for protection against a man she believed to be a killer.

He couldn’t think of a single sensible thing to say to her now. “How about some coffee, or some dessert?” he blurted finally. She shook her head no. Kinsella raised a hand and beckoned for their waiter. “I’ll take you home then. What you need now is some rest.”

“You know we didn’t discuss Luther or what is happening with the serial killer case, not once during dinner.”

Kinsella helped her with her coat. “That, my dear lady, was the idea.”

***

“The dinner was delicious, John,” she told him once they’d arrived back at her apartment. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. How about some coffee now, here with me? That is, if I’m not keeping you from anything. Or anyone.” She waited, seeming to be making up her mind about something before going on. “Actually, I’d like to have you stay here, if you could.”

He smiled at her. “The only thing you’d be keeping me from is a cold lonely apartment. I don’t even have a cat to keep me company. And there isn’t anyone else, Christine. There hasn’t been in a long while.”

“That’s nice to hear. Hard to believe, but nice,” she said softly, and walked to the kitchen.

When she returned, carrying a tray with two sturdy mugs of coffee, Kinsella was on the couch holding Tommy again in his lap. He started to get up to help her, but Christine shook her head no.

“Don’t get up. I don’t want to spoil your love fest with Tommy. He really has taken to you.” She placed the tray on the coffee table. “Why don’t you get a cat?”

“Because with my schedule, the poor thing would starve to death or die of boredom. Sometimes days go by when I don’t get home, Christine.”

She climbed onto the couch next to him, her legs folded under her. “Tell me about it. Tell me all about what your life is like, John.”

Kinsella, relaxing fully into the soft cushions of the couch, found it easy to talk to her, to tell her about growing up in the city, about his original plans to be a psychologist, and how they had eventually been put aside because of a lifelong fascination with police work. He had taken a degree in psychology and was about to start on a master’s program when he made his decision to switch instead to what he really wanted, criminology and police work.

Eventually, he had joined the San Francisco Police Department and had been far happier with his career change; but his new wife hadn’t been pleased. Their marriage in college had been hasty and rocky from the start; it was, finally, his work in homicide that had caused her to leave him, in spite of how fast he had risen within his department.

He talked about his work. But he didn’t tell her about the dire emptiness that filled his life now, the loneliness he lived with, or that all he really wanted now was one special woman to spend his life with.

Christine was very close to him as he talked, and soon it seemed perfectly natural to put his arm around her. Her slender body felt soft and warm against his, deliciously inviting as she slid even closer and rested her head on his shoulder. The room was cozy and silent, only the cat’s soft purring audible as he held her. He wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

“Why couldn’t I have met you in a different place, John, under different circumstances?” she whispered. “Why such a bad way to come together?”

“Does it really matter how we met?” he said. “Some good should come out of this. Didn’t it bring you to me?”

Her lips closed against his in answer.

***

Deep in the night, she woke from another terrifying dream in which Luther was chasing her down an endless dark alley. She couldn’t move any faster, and in the distance she saw the three murdered women, all trying to help her. But she couldn’t get away, and too soon Luther was upon her, grabbing her . . .