The Perfect Murder (41 page)

When the sound of the Mustang had faded away, he peered around the corner. The exterior lights had come on about the time he'd arrived. They were brighter and more plentiful than he'd expected; obviously, someone was worried about security. But the extra light wouldn't be a problem because Jane's car was parked in a shadowy spot, and he'd been lucky enough to find her alone. No one would see him get into her car. There was no one around. He'd keep one hand on the latch, and if she spotted him as she was climbing in, he'd be able to get to her before she could summon help.

With a quick glance in both directions, he stepped out of the alley and crossed the blacktop, whistling as if he owned the car parked there. He had two door stoppers and the rubber-ended wire he'd need in a paper bag; it would take maybe a minute to break in.

He was thirty seconds into it, had barely wedged the bigger of the two door stoppers between the door and the frame, when a car on the side road came to a squealing halt. Malcolm heard the whine of reverse. Then someone yelled at him.

290

"Hey! What the hell you doin'?"

Although Malcolm couldn't really see the driver, he could tell from the voice that it was a man. He also got the impression of considerable size. But he didn't let that rattle him. He could sell anything if he remained calm.

Knowing he was too old to look like a typical car thief, he waved. "Locked myself out!"

The man's suspicion seemed to instantly dissolve. "You need me to call Triple A?"

At that moment, Malcolm tripped the unlock button he'd been fishing for inside the door. "No, I got it. Thanks, anyway!"

"You bet!" the guy said and took off.

Malcolm called him an asshole while he checked to see if all the yelling had brought Jane to the door. The inside lights were on. He would've been able to see her if it had. No one was looking out.

"Piece of cake," he muttered and climbed into her backseat. After dropping his tools on the floor so she wouldn't find them on the pavement, he locked all the doors except the closest one and crouched behind the passenger seat, where she'd be least likely to see him.

He felt conspicuous. But how many times had she come out of that building and gotten in her car to drive home? How many times had she popped the locks and hopped in without even considering the possibility that someone might be waiting for her?

Chances were she wouldn't even glance at the backseat. To her, this was a day like any other.

Only Malcolm knew that it would be her last.

291

Twenty-Eight

T
he woman wasn't going to show. Had something happened to her? Or had she simply chickened out? Jane knew that the people who most needed help were the last ones to follow through. There were a lot of reasons for that, many of which Jane understood. But she'd thought this woman had seemed ready to change her situation.

Frustrated that she'd wasted so much time waiting around for nothing, at 6:45 p.m. she grabbed her briefcase and turned off the light in her office. She'd just called Sebastian and Kate to tell them she was on her way. They'd saved her some pizza and wanted her to hurry so they could see a movie. She was still a little nervous about letting them spend a lot of time together. She was afraid the stability Sebastian offered would prove to be an illusion, as it had with Oliver. But he and Kate seemed to be getting along. Kate had sounded happy on the phone.

"You have to take some chances," she reminded herself. Sebastian wouldn't disappoint her. She'd never met anyone like him.

Her cell rang as she locked the building. She dug it out of her purse, saw that it was her mother-in-law and hit the talk button as she crossed the lot to her car.

"Hello?"

"Jane?"

They hadn't spoken since Sebastian's uncomfortable confrontation with Wendy. Jane wasn't sure she wanted to have a conversation with her just yet. She had no idea how Betty might react to what had happened Sunday night and didn't want to deal with a negative response. "Yes?"

"How are you?"

Using the button on her key ring to unlock the car, she tossed her briefcase onto the passenger seat, but she was too nervous and preoccupied to climb in. She stood next to the car, her head bowed as she kicked a pebble from foot to foot. "I'm fine. You?"

"I'm good. I just...I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a minute?"

Not really. But Betty had never used this tone of voice with her. At least, not since Oliver was killed. "Of course. What is it?"

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"I'm worried about you."

"Mom, don't be--"

"I can't help it," she interrupted. "I know I've been at you to start dating again. But that man you brought here last night...Are you sure he's the type you want to get involved with?"

Jane hadn't been sure about anything, but she immediately felt defensive of Sebastian. Maybe he'd interfered with something he should've left alone, but he'd done it to protect her. She believed that much. She also believed it was more than Oliver would've done. "I know he might not have given you the best impression.

But he's a very nice person."

"You're
sure?
You haven't known him long. That's what surprised me--that he'd attack Wendy when he's not really part of your life."

He
was
part of her life. He just wasn't part of their family. That was the real difficulty for Betty, and Jane knew it. As much as she wanted Jane to be happy, she also didn't want Jane to be with someone who threatened the existing relationships.

"He's...different from us," she explained. "If he has a problem with you, he makes it clear. He doesn't pretend."

"But...is that
polite
?"

Jane nearly chuckled. Oliver had been a serial killer, but he'd always been polite. "Maybe not. It's honest, though. I think I need
honest
more than I need
polite
at this stage of my life." Jane checked the time on her phone. If she didn't get moving, they'd miss the movie.

"So you like him."

There was some disappointment in that statement, but Jane took it at face value. She thought of Sebastian's confidence and no-nonsense approach to life and smiled as she got behind the wheel. "Yeah, I like him."

"A lot?"

Jane was fairly certain that what she felt was much stronger than "like," but it was premature to admit it. "Enough that I'd like you to give him a chance."

Betty hesitated but ultimately acquiesced. "If that's what you want, that's what we'll do."

Jane smiled. "Thanks, Mom."

"Be careful," she said, and Jane didn't ask her to explain. They both knew what was at stake.

"I will. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

293

When they hung up, Jane was still preoccupied by the conversation and by the cautious hope she was feeling. She made a move to set her phone on the console so she could start the car, but it was wrenched from her grasp--and a pair of strong hands cut off her breath before she could scream.

Where the hell was she?

Sebastian paced the living room of Jane's condo. She'd said she was leaving the office, but that was more than thirty minutes ago. It didn't take thirty minutes to drive to Howe Avenue. He might've thought her appointment had shown up at the last second, but if that was the case, why hadn't she called him?

With a curse, he dialed her cell again. He'd already tried half a dozen times to reach her. Every call went straight to voice mail.

This one was no different. "Damn it!" he said and threw his phone on the couch in frustration.

"What's wrong?"

Kate stood at the entrance of the hall, her expression worried. After pizza, Sebastian had encouraged her to get her homework done so they could go to the movie. She'd been in her room long enough that he'd assumed she was engrossed in her math.

"Nothing," he mumbled, but he was too upset to sit down. It felt as if he should be doing something with his hands. What, he had no idea, so he thrust them in his pockets.

"Where's Mom? Didn't she say she was on her way home?"

"She probably stopped off at the store." He spoke casually, but when his phone rang, he snatched it off the couch.

Unidentified
appeared on caller ID.

He punched the talk button. "Hello?"

"I've got something you want," a man said.

Sebastian's chest constricted until he could hardly breathe. He recognized that voice. Although it had been a while, he'd talked to this person at least every weekend for several years. It was Malcolm Turner, Colton's stepfather and murderer, the man he'd spent an entire year searching for. "What is it?" he asked, but he was stalling, trying to come to grips with what might be going on. In his heart, he knew Malcolm was talking about Jane. He'd have to be an idiot not to know. He could tell by Malcolm's self-satisfaction.

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"You can't guess? She's not very big. She's a half-pint, really, especially compared to you. But she sure is a handful. Oooeee, what a feisty thing. Pretty, too. I can see why you'd like her, although she doesn't seem like the snobbish type you used to date."

Nausea roiled in Sebastian's stomach. He knew what Malcolm was capable of doing and felt helpless to stop him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't?
Tsk, tsk.
I thought you might be skeptical. But, here, I'll make it easy."

Sebastian's grip tightened on the phone as he heard Malcolm encourage someone to speak. Then Jane's voice came through, her words a frantic rush.

"Don't do it, Sebastian! Don't do
anything
he asks! Take care of Kate and stay away--"

The scream that cut off those words went through Sebastian like a shard of glass. Swallowing hard, he glanced at Jane's daughter. She was still standing in the hall, watching him curiously. "Malcolm, don't you dare...."

"Don't dare what?" he taunted. "Don't
kill
her? I might've broken her jaw, but she's not dead. Yet.
You're
the one who'll decide her fate. Not me."

Somehow, he had to remove Malcolm's power. "You're punishing the wrong person," he said. "I don't care about her. Not like you think. There's no way to hurt me through her."

Sebastian had struggled to make that lie convincing, but his performance evoked a laugh. "Nice try. But I know better. You dropped Constance for her, didn't you?"

"No. Constance and I grew apart." Jane was proof of how far they'd drifted.

But there was no denying that she made him whole in a way Constance never had.

"That's not what Constance told me," Malcolm said.

"You're lying. Constance might be angry, but she'd never contact you. She hates you, just like I do."

"Well, you know what they say about a woman scorned. I can forward you the e-mail, if you like."

It was true, then. Malcolm was taking as much pleasure in letting him know that Constance had betrayed him as he was in having the upper hand with Jane.

Closing his eyes, Sebastian kneaded his forehead. What could he do?

"Sebastian? Is everything okay?" Kate asked.

She was getting frightened. He spoke to her openly, so Malcolm wouldn't 295

feel threatened by any whispering and harm Jane. "It's fine. Are you done with your homework?"

"Except a couple of really hard problems."

"Can you work on them a little longer?" he asked. "I'd help you but this is a very important business call."

"So it has nothing to do with my mom?"

He winced at the hope in her eyes. "No." Would he have to recant later?

Would he have to tell her that her mother was dead?

Visions of Emily's lifeless body, of Colton's, stole his strength.
No
...

"Who's that?" Malcolm demanded.

"Can't you tell? It's a child."

"Whose child?"

Sebastian waited until Kate was back in her room. "Jane's," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "If you kill Jane, you'll make this child an orphan."

"If you care about Jane or her child, I suggest you do everything I say."

"What?" he asked.

"I'm offering you a trade--your life for hers."

"How?"

"Come to the farmhouse."

Sebastian preferred to keep Malcolm in town, if possible, where there'd be a better chance of escaping or getting help. "I don't know where that is."

"Then get a pen. I'll give you the address."

What should he do?

"You still there, tough guy?" Malcolm asked.

"I'm here," Sebastian said from between clenched teeth and pretended to write down the address he rattled off. "When can we meet?"

"Now."

"You're asking for trouble, Malcolm. The police haven't even finished processing the house. They could be there for all you know."

"Crime-scene techs don't work this late, not when they've got most of it done. And the police are in no hurry because they can't even find the suspect. We'll be fine."

As usual, it was too easy for Malcolm. Sebastian wanted to tell him he'd go to prison or hell--preferably the latter. But Kate had come out of her room again, this time on the pretense of getting a glass of water. "She's your only leverage," he 296

said.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

He chuckled. "That's one hell of a way to make your point, Sebastian.
She's
your only leverage.
That's all you've got to say?"

That was all he could say in front of Kate. "I'll make the trade. Just...see that you don't--" he glanced over at Kate, who was watching him as she sipped from a glass "--you know."

"I won't hurt her. Unless you call the police. Do that and she's dead."

Sebastian knew that unless they got very lucky, Malcolm would kill her regardless. "I'm on my way."

"Clock's ticking," he said. Then he was gone.

Jane was handcuffed to a rod in the back of a utility van that had no windows, other than those in the front. She could feel the tires thrumming against the pavement, could hear music playing on the radio. And once she'd managed to focus her blurry vision, she could see the back of the man who'd attacked her when she'd gotten into her car. It was Malcolm Turner. She would've known him even if she hadn't carried his picture around with her every minute for a week. She hadn't found him; he'd found her.