You Can't Hide (42 page)

157

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

in the air. “Based on the height of that hole in the wall and Bacon’s height and where it hit him on the shoulder, you were standing close to where you are now. And you’re shorter than Bacon. By about two to four inches. Bacon was five ten. You’re five six, five eight, tops.”

Aidan smiled grimly. “So we have an antisocial voyeur with a Napoleon complex. Okay, you come up behind Bacon. You shoot him in the arm? Why?”

“To force him into the tub or to force him to inhale the poison?” Murphy said.

“Or both.” Aidan. “You’re shot in the right shoulder, Jack. What do you do?”

Jack clapped his left hand over his right shoulder. “Ouch,” he deadpanned. Aidan chuckled. “And now you have a bloody left hand.”

Jack nodded. “I’l get the Luminol.”

Thirty minutes later, Jack turned off the lights, revealing the glow of shoe prints on the floor and a ful y formed handprint on the wall between the toilet and the sink. Aidan hovered his shoe above the footprint on the floor. “I’m a thirteen. This is a size nine, maybe?”

“About,” Jack said. “They look like dress shoes. So our guy is about five eight with a size nine foot. It’s a start. I’m curious about the handprint.” The bathroom had a wallpaper border with blue flowers. Above the border was painted drywall, below, solid blue wallpaper. The handprint was on the lower half. “If I’m Bacon and I’m staggering, my bloody hand’s going to hit higher, above the border. So let’s see why it doesn’t.”

Jack ran a metal file under the flowered border and gently tugged at the solid wallpaper until it came loose as a sheet. “It’s not glued down,” Murphy said. Jack looked over his shoulder. “The corners are worn. Somebody’s done this a lot.”

Aidan’s pulse kicked up a notch. “His stash of videos.” Tess would be saved all kinds of embarrassment. “Hurry, Jack.”

“You want it done fast or you want it done right?”

“I want it done both,” Aidan retorted.

“He sounds like Spinnelli,” Jack threw back and Murphy laughed.

“He does at that. Hurry, Jack.”

Jack stuck his finger through a hole in the wall. “Turn on the light, Aidan.” Jack pul ed away a drywall panel, two by three feet, exposing wooden joists.

“Well?” Aidan asked when Jack shone his flashlight around. Jack turned around, shaking his head. “It’s empty.”

Aidan dropped his chin, disappointment palpable. “I don’t want to have to tell her this.” Once again he wished he could bring Bacon to life so he could kill him himself. Jack sighed. “She’s a big girl. She can handle more than you give her credit for.”

Aidan straightened his shoulders, remembering the truth of that statement. Tess was a strong woman. He only hoped he was as strong. “You’re right.” His mouth tipped up sadly. “She said if the videos got out she’d make a calendar and do a tour.”

Jack ran his tongue around his teeth. “I ain’t touchin’ that with a ten-foot pole, Reagan. I value my marriage and,” he looked pointedly at Aidan’s fists, “my face.”

Murphy coughed. “Let’s finish this. Kid Sherlock,” he added dryly.

“Okay. I’m Bacon.” Aidan focused. “I come home from peddling to Lynne Pope-and I’m waiting for Tess to pay me a hundred grand. I’m surprised by a visitor.” He looked at Murphy, understanding dawning. “The killer came for Bacon’s video stash.”

“And he came prepared. Left all that tidy evidence stuck up in the ceiling where we’d be sure to look for cameras. What’re in those videos that our boy’s afraid of?”

“We need to find out. So you say, ‘Take me to your videos’ and I say ‘Go to hell.’”

“I shoot at you to make you show me. Graze your arm. ‘Show me,’ I say.”

Jack tapped the wall. “Your hands are bloody when you do.”

Murphy pointed to the tub. “‘Now get in the tub,’ I say because I still have my gun.”

“I do, and you make me inhale the poison.”

158

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

“We found cigarette stubs in the tub.” Jack said. “I’l get them analyzed ASAP.”

Aidan nodded. “I can’t move, so you cut me, turn on the water, watch me bleed.”

“But it takes too long or I’m just a cruel bastard,” Murphy finished. “So I hold your head under until you’re dead and leave your body for the stupid cops to find.”

Aidan stared at the tub. “Then you clean the wall, replace the shirt and plant the evidence to throw the stupid cops off the trail. Leaving you free to plan your next murder.” He turned to Murphy grimly. “The company you keep.”

Thursday, March 16, 11:00 A.M.

“Wow.” Murphy whistled as he walked through the door of Tess’s office. “Clayborn sure did a number on this place.”

“I know,” Aidan said grimly. “Last night he nearly did a number on Tess.”

Murphy’s lips twitched. “I would like to have seen him when she was done with him.”

Denise, the receptionist, came out of Harrison’s office carrying a box of trash. She did a double-take when she saw them, her eyes flickering. “Can I help you?”

“We’re here to see Tess,” Aidan said, studying her. Denise had been surprised to see them. Surprised and a little afraid. And Aidan wondered why.

“She’s been in her office all morning.” With her head she motioned to the door that stood slightly ajar. “Go on in.”

Aidan pushed at the door, revealing Tess standing in the middle of the room, a clipboard in her hand and her hair held up in a ponytail that made her look young and sexy at the same time. She turned, momentary alarm giving way to pleasure.

“Aidan! And Murphy, too,” she added when Murphy pretended to pout.

“You’ve made some progress,” Aidan noticed.

“We cleared out the broken furniture at least.” She held out her arm from which a little camera dangled. “I’m taking notes for my insurance claim.”

“Are you here alone?” Aidan asked, frowning.

“Denise is in Harrison’s office. Vito’s downstairs with the guys who hauled away the big stuff. Jon came by.” She smiled. “Robin sent soup.”

Aidan smiled back. “No soup for you.”

She laughed softly, her cheeks going a little pinker and he knew she was remembering the night before, when he’d said the same thing while lying on top of her, her thighs hugging his hips, her breasts brushing his face every time he turned his head. He shifted his weight, trying to adjust the sudden pressure against his fly.

She cleared her throat. “Amy brought a plant. She has a green thumb, but I’l probably kill the damn thing.” She bit her lip. “So what’s happened?”

“Bacon didn’t kill himself, Tess,” Aidan answered. “He was murdered.”

Her breath eased out slowly. “I see. Then… we’re not done, are we?”

“No. I want you to be careful. On your guard. Never alone, you understand?”

“I thought it was too good to be true. So did you. I’l tell Amy and Jon and Robin to be back on alert.”

Aidan wanted to kiss the scared frown from her mouth. “And you’l tell Vito.”

“Tell me what?” Vito asked, coming up behind them.

“That the saga continues. Camera-boy was murdered. My friends are still at risk.”

Vito scowled. “Terrific. So what the hell are you guys doing about this?”

“Investigating,” Aidan said calmly. “When are you leaving?”

Vito’s grin was really just a baring of teeth. “Not soon enough for you, Ace.”

Tess rol ed her eyes. “Vito. Aidan, my parents want to meet you tonight. Can I use your kitchen? I’m cooking.”

He wanted to touch her so bad he could taste it, but Vito’s glare kept his hands in his pockets.

“You still have the key?”

159

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

“Yeah. Will Dol y eat me?”

“Probably not. If she growls at you, go get Rachel. She gets home from school at three. I’l meet you back at my house at seven, okay?”

“Make it eight.” Her eyes shadowed. “Harrison’s viewing is at seven.”

“I’l go with you. Now we need to go.” He threw a look at Vito. “Investigate.”

Walking toward the elevator, Murphy gave him an amused side glance. “Parents?”

“Just donate my life insurance to a worthy charity, okay, Murphy?”

Murphy laughed. “Okay, Ace.”

Thursday, March 16, 11:00 A.M.

Andrew Poston was the son of a local circuit court judge and was therefore already out on secured bond while the other boys who’d raped Marie Koutrell, the ones from poorer families, still languished in the county jail. He’d given a very curt “not guilty” to the judge at his arraignment and was heard muttering that if he caught the person who’d turned him in, he’d rip them apart with his bare hands.

Poston had very big hands, so his threat certainly was not an idle one. His lawyer had advised him to keep his mouth shut and Poston responded with a few creative places his lawyer might shove his advice. All in all, the kid had a certain style. He might be a formidable force in a few years, as long as he could keep his ass out of jail. Which might be a difficult proposition. The victim had named him specifically. That alone wouldn’t be so bad-there were a half dozen guys who’d swear it was consensual. But another witness had independently, anonymously corroborated that identification, saying he was in the victim’s house, drunk, wild, and making unwanted sexual advances toward the victim.

That anonymous witness had to go or Andrew Poston could very realistically find himself with a felony record. One little night of fun with a slut who’d asked for it could ruin a young man’s life. So the witness had to go.

Of course that the witness was also the fastest way to Aidan Reagan was pure luck. Kismet. Really good karma. Because Aidan Reagan had to go. He was too close to Ciccotelli. For the first time since her fiancй left her, she was… having sex.

It had to stop. Reagan had to go. Killing a cop was dangerous and would not go unnoticed or unpunished. Scaring him away was a more palatable solution. He was home now, Andrew and his father, the judge. Pul ing into the driveway in a Lexus SUV. Mrs. Poston met them at the door, a worried expression on her face and a padded envelope in her hand.

It had been delivered that very morning, addressed to Andrew. Of course if his mother had opened it, the impact would have been spoiled. She would have reported the contents. Or maybe not. At any rate Andrew had the envelope in his hands and based on the feed coming from the microphone inside the envelope’s padding, he was opening it, finding the CD with the Post-it note attached. “Play me,” it said. There was a long pause. The recording was poor, unclear, but it would tell him everything he wanted to know. A violent, rather creative curse exploded from Andrews’s lips. He’d found it. Excel ent. There was more scuffling, then the boy spoke.

“Hey. It’s me,” he said, his voice muffled. “I know who turned me in… Rachel Reagan. Little bitch, spying on us.” He listened, then laughed. “You’re right there. She would have been a hell of lot better than Marie. Do me a favor, okay? Show her my appreciation for her phone call to the cops. Make sure she knows that we know it was her and if she doesn’t back down, she’l be sorry. And do it today. Thanks, buddy. I’d do it myself, but I’ve got to keep low key for a few days till all this blows over.”

A blast of painful y loud hard rock music fol owed, signaling the end of his conversation. The cacophony ceased with the flick of a switch inside the car. The wheels were in motion, figurative and literal. A touch to the gas pedal sent the car rol ing down the Postons’ street toward the main

160

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

road. It was time to get back to work. And time to tune into the local news to see if Marge Hooper had been discovered yet.

Ciccotelli would truly be distraught by the news.
Excellent.
She’d lost a friend in Hughes, an acquaintance in Hooper. Soon she’d lose Reagan, her lover. There would be no way he’d stay with her when he learned his sister’s safety was at risk. Once young Rachel was properly warned by Poston’s friends, Detective Reagan would get a message threatening far worse harm to his sister because of the company he kept. Being a smart man, he’d choose the right path.

The next strike would be far more remote. A perfect stranger who just happened to be unlucky enough to come into casual contact with Tess Ciccotelli. It would drive her crazy. She’d feel so guilty. She’d be afraid to leave her apartment. Afraid to say “boo” to another living soul. A delightful thought.

Of course the coup de grвce would be closer to home. Family. The choices had become wider with the arrival of her brother and parents from Philly. It was an unexpected development. One of those dual-edged swords. On one hand, her family issues had been resolved, so she was no longer alone in a big city. This was bad. On the other hand, it made for delicious irony. Just when her family is reunited, they bite the dust. So which one? Her brother or her parents? Which would hurt her the most?

But first… One stranger coming up.

Thursday, March 16, 12:15 P.M.

“This isn’t right,” Tess murmured, standing outside Dr. Fenwick’s licensing board office, Vito at her side. “They know I haven’t done anything wrong, but they insist on this suspension. It makes me look even guiltier.”

“We should have brought Amy,” Vito said. “She could have cut through all this shit.”

“You’re right. I just didn’t think they’d be so unfair.” Next time Tess wouldn’t attempt to talk to Fenwick without a lawyer. It seemed that was the only thing the man understood. “Let’s go. Dad should be awake and ready for lunch.” She passed the elevator on her way to the stairs.

“Dr. Ciccotelli?”

She stiffened at the voice behind her, her hand on the doorknob.

“Reporters,” Vito growled softly. “Go, now.”

“Wait.” It was a young woman, professionally dressed. “Are you Dr. Ciccotelli?”

“I am,” Tess replied. “Who are you?”

The woman held a thick sheaf of papers, her face blank. “You’re served, ma’am.”

Stunned, Tess accepted the papers, then skimmed the top page. “I’m being sued.”

Vito grabbed the paper. “By who?” Quickly he read the page. “Your patients are suing because you turned the records over to the police.” He looked up, frowning. “You were subpoenaed. You didn’t have a choice.”