Black Widow (18 page)

43

Stanton went to the hostess and asked for his check. Heather was behind him. She took his hand in hers and he could feel her press herself against him. She smelled sweet, but he couldn’t place the scent.

The waiter came out with the check and he paid on his credit card. It was over two hundred dollars. After he got his receipt and left the tip, they walked out of the restaurant. Her arm was in the crook of his elbow again and he walked slowly. A couple, both detectives, were coming in through the doors and he held it open for them and then for Heather. She said, “Thank you,” and walked through.

Once outside, he fell a few paces behind, pretending to place the receipt in his wallet. He spotted Jones walking toward the front doors. Two teams of two were coming in from the east and the west. Several members of SWAT were stationed around the parking lot. The couple Stanton had held the door open for had come through again behind them, cutting off every direction of escape.

An explosion of sound ripped through the air. Men were shouting and running, guns drawn. Stanton fell back and Heather’s eyes went wide as she realized what was happening. She ran backward, slamming into the couple. The male detective wrapped his arms around her waist and she swung back with an elbow and caught him in the eye. His grip loosened, and she sprinted for the doors.

Stanton stepped in front of her. He placed his hand behind his back as though reaching for a firearm tucked away in a holster. Heather froze.

“Please,” he said, “just put your hands up. Fighting won’t help.”

Jones was the first one there. He wrapped his arms around her and twisted, taking her down to the ground hard. Stanton shouted for him to take it easy, but he violently jerked back her arms to get the cuffs on, and she screamed.

Stanton slammed his shoulder into Jones, knocking him back. Anger burned in Jones’ eyes and
he stood and came at Stanton. He got off one haymaker and Stanton ducked. One of the SWAT had to grab Jones and pull him away, as two detectives pounced on Heather.

Confusion overtook the team, as no one knew what was happening. A detective pulled his gun on Stanton and told him not to move.

It took a good half-hour to sort out what had happened. By this point, Kai was on the scene and directing the post-arrest. He talked with everyone but Stanton. After he was done speaking with them, he approached Stanton, who was sitting on the hood of a police cruiser, and offered him a can of Diet Coke.

“Thanks,” Stanton said.

“What the hell happened?”

“He lost control. I think he might’ve hurt her.”

Kai looked to the ambulance in the parking lot. “Dislocated her shoulder.”

“She was unarmed. There was no need for that.”

“She’s killed two people and another one might die. I won’t lose sleep.”

“That’s not the point, Kai. He was out of line.”

Kai nodded. “He was, and I’ll talk to him. But you ain’t a lone wolf out here. We ain’t got any lone wolves out there. You work as a team. And I can’t have one of my team tackle another one during the takedown of a suspect.”

Stanton hesitated. “I’d like first crack at her.”

“You still talkin’ ’bout the case? I’m thinkin’ I should suspend you.”

“Suspend me after I take a crack at her. She’s not going to talk to Jones, or anyone else. Not after getting her arm nearly torn off. She might talk to me, though.”

Kai watched him a moment and then frowned. “Fine. Go take your crack at her. Don’t mess it up, Jon. Keep cool, man.”

Stanton arrived at the precinct near eleven o’clock at night and parked right out front. No one was here this late except a skeleton crew. Honolulu had a lot of vice but the vice was mostly tolerated by law enforcement. As long as sex crimes and murders were kept under check, prostitution, narcotics, and gambling were predominantly ignored. So at night, not as many officers
and detectives were needed as they might be in a city of similar size somewhere else.

Stanton texted Suzanne that he would be another couple of hours and would she mind putting the boys to bed. Then he went inside and rode the elevator up. A few detectives were in the bullpen, ones that had been at the takedown, but no one else. He walked back to the interrogation rooms and saw Kai sitting in a chair, staring through a glass partition at Heather Rousseau.

Stanton had dislocated both shoulders before at different times. He knew the treatments and follow up. Heather had been taken to the emergency room and they had performed a scapular manipulation. Essentially, the clinician rotated the shoulder blade until the humeral head spontaneously relocated. Stanton had to perform it on himself once, as he wasn’t anywhere near a medical facility. The pain caused him to vomit and black out.

Heather sat with her arm in a sling. Her eyelids would close and take a moment to open again. Stanton guessed she was still feeling the effects of the pain medication.

“Has she said anything?” Stanton asked.

Kai shook his head. “
Nothin’. Not even ask for a lawyer. She just stares at the walls.”

“Did your recover her purse?”

“Yeah, fake ID for Heather Hardy. Some makeup and stuff. No weapons.”

“Nothing? Not a knife or some mace?”

“No, nothing.”

Stanton watched her through the glass. Her gaze was stone, but underneath that was fear. He could see it seep through like an unwanted leak in a wall. He stood at the door a moment before going in.

Shutting the door behind him, he sat down across from her. He could see the red blinking light of the camera in the corner.

Heather grinned when she saw him. Her hair came down over half her face and looked like it was bothering her, but she didn’t move it. Stanton thought she looked melancholy, though he knew she was trying to appear tough.

“I’m sorry that happened.”

“They dislocated my shoulder. I was in the ER for three fucking hours.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looked away. “I can’t believe you’re a cop. You seemed really nice.”

“You did, too.”

“Then why bust me? Can’t you just let me slide this one time?”

Stanton watched her quietly a moment. “Let you slide on murder?”

“Murder?”

“I’m talking about the two men that were found dead in their hotel rooms. I’m talking about Nathan Thomas, who might not make it to the weekend.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

A rush of anxiety went through Stanton as she said it. Her face contorted in just the right way. A slight raise of the eyebrow, a bunching up of the cheeks… the shock of it. If he had been watching this without knowing the context, he would believe she really didn’t know what was going on.

“We know you were there, Heather. I have your schedule from Autumn.”

“Where do you think I was?”

“In the hotel room with Alex Waters and Hugh Neal when they were killed.”

She leaned forward, anger flashing on her face. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Then why would they be on your schedules?”

“I have no idea. Why don’t you ask Autumn.”

“So, two people end up dead, your boss says they were with you on the nights they were killed, and you’re telling me you weren’t with them. Why would Autumn lie?”

“I don’t know. Ask her.”

Stanton paused. “I’ve talked to your sister, Heather. I know the things you’ve done. The type of person you are. You’re not alone. I know it feels like it, but you’re not.”

Her face went slack and turned pale. She didn’t say anything, but a slight quiver overtook her lower lip. Her eyes glistened. “My sister’s here?” she whispered.

Stanton leaned back in the chair. “Don’t tell me you don’t know her either.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s not the focus of this, Heather.”

“Where the fuck is she?”

Stanton felt confusion creeping over him. He knew, somewhere in his gut, that he believed her. This wasn’t an act. “She told me about your IQ. About your intelligence. I’m sure you’re used to manipulating everyone around you, but this isn’t the place for—”

“Whatever my sister told you is a lie.”

“So you don’t have a two hundred IQ?”

She leaned back again, the motion causing a slight twinge of pain that showed on her face. “Would I be a fucking escort if I had a two hundred IQ?” There was a long pause in their conversation. Heather shook her head. “That’s her.”

“What is?”

“The IQ. She went to medical school. She’s a doctor. I didn’t get that part of it. My father was a doctor, too. I didn’t get the intelligence, I just got all the flaws.” She looked up and caught his eyes. “You want your killer? It’s my sister. She’s been chasing me around the country since we were teenagers. I can’t have a relationship, I can’t have a job, I can’t do anything. There’s nothing I have that she doesn’t destroy.”

Stanton shook his head. “No, that’s not true.”

She smirked. “Why? Are you in love with her?” Stanton didn’t reply. “Holy shit, you are.” She laughed. It felt like a hot needle going into Stanton’s chest.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. Where is she? Go pick her up. I bet she won’t come.”

Stanton sat still a moment. He felt like shoving the table into this woman, but he restrained himself. Instead, he stood up and walked to the camera and flipped it off. He took out his cell phone and dialed Heidi’s number. It went to voicemail.

“She’s not answering, is she? She’s long gone. This is what she does.”

Stanton fell into the chair. It felt like the wind was knocked out of him. His shoulders slumped and he had to put his elbows on the table to support himself.

The record made sense now. It wasn’t Heather using her identity, racking up criminal charges. It was her. And then she would work the system to get them expunged. And what better cover than a twin sister?

“That can’t be true,” he said, more to himself than her.

“Don’t take it personal, this is just her. She gets men to fall in love with her and then tears their hearts out. Or sometimes worse. You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

“Why… why would she kill those men?”

“Because that’s what she enjoys. It brings her pleasure. When we were five years old, my parents knew. They knew something was wrong with her. But they couldn’t put their finger on it. Not until she pushed the neighbor’s kid down the stairs and broke his neck. Everyone thought it was an accident, but I knew it wasn’t. I told my parents but they didn’t want to believe me. She was born this way. That’s who she is.”

Stanton tried to straighten up but couldn’t. A weight was pushing down on him, crushing him.
His chest was tight and he was breathing through a straw. Within a few seconds, the pace of his breathing quickened and his vision became rounded and the edges blurred. He was in the middle of a panic attack.

He rose and nearly tripped over the chair. Catching himself on the wall, he inhaled gulps of air until he got out of the room and slammed the door behind him. He had to get outside. Running for the elevator, he heard Kai’s voice but couldn’t make out what he said. Instead of waiting for the elevator, he took the stairs, hanging tightly to the railing.

Stanton burst out the front doors of the precinct into the warm night air. He held his arms above his head, expanding his lungs, and walked slowly up the street. Focusing on his breathing, he felt the hammering of his heart and the slow crawl of a migraine coming over him.

He sat down at the curb and watched the trees across the street sway in a breeze. Closing his eyes, he emptied his mind. He began counting, focusing on nothing but the numbers that appeared blue on a white background in his head. He got to ten and his heart was calming. The dizziness was subsiding, and he put his arms on his knees and relaxed his neck.

Once the attack had calmed, he rose and walked around the block to a convenience store. The fluorescent lights always brought a headache, so he could never stay long. He picked out a Diet Coke and a packet of Excedrin and paid for them. He couldn’t see the lights on the register to know how much it came to. He only saw blurry lines. But he signed the receipt and went outside and sat on the curb in front of the store.

By the time the Diet Coke was half-gone, the attack had fully subsided. He rose and walked back to the precinct. As his hand grasped the door handle to open the door, he considered that Heather was just such a fantastic liar that he couldn’t pick up on it. But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d picked up on the cues she gave off, something that couldn’t be put into words but that humans could read in each other, and he knew that she was telling the truth. She hadn’t killed those men. Heidi had.

A thought suddenly popped into his head and it made his heart sink. He lost his breath.

He turned and ran for his jeep.

44

Stanton blew through red lights and stop signs. His tires squealed on turns and he went up on the curb near his house but didn’t slow down. He took out a mailbox before he corrected and was back on the road.

Screeching to a stop in front of his house, he jumped out of the jeep and forgot to grab the keys or turn off the engine. He sprinted up to his house and flung open the door, and froze.

The house was quiet. The television was off, and he knew the television was never off. Not until he got home at night and turned it off.

“Matt, Johnny,” he shouted. There was no reply.

He stepped inside. Suzanne should have been there. She had a massive television and a hot tub. It was possible she took the boys over to her place. He would go over there, but decided to search his own house first.

The living room was empty, as was the kitchen. He went down the hallway to the bedrooms. Mathew’s was empty, as was Johnny’s. The master bedroom was last and he glanced inside. A lump was underneath the covers on the bed. He walked to his bed, staring down at the mass buried underneath the covers. It was the length of a person.

He pulled the covers back.

Suzanne’s blank, lifeless face stared up at him. Stab wounds speckled her chest, the blood soaking her clothing and his sheets. He reached down and felt for a pulse, but there was none.

Stanton ran through the house and then went outside. He searched Suzanne’s house and then the beach. As he was standing on the shore, he called Heidi’s cell phone.

“I’m sorry, Jon.”

“Where are my children?”

“They’re safe. They’re with me. They’ll stay safe as long as you do what I say.”

He hesitated. “What do you want?”

“I want to leave. And you’re going to help me.”

Stanton glanced around. It was possible she was still nearby. But if he were her, he would have gotten as far away from here as possible. He heard a voice in the background.

Dad, is that you?

“See,” Heidi said, “they’re just fine. Here’s what I want you to do, you’re going to book a private flight for me. Me and your two boys. It’s going to take us to Mexico. Mazatlan. Once we land, and I know that no one is there to meet me, I’m going to drop your boys off at the nearest police station. At any point, Jon, if I see a single cop, I’ll kill them both. Do you understand?”

He stared out over the ocean. “Yes, I understand. I won’t do that.”

“I know you won’t. I’ll be waiting.”

The line went dead.

“Heidi, Heidi?” Stanton put his phone away. He collapsed onto the beach, every ounce of strength fleeing from his body.

The darkness was pronounced. The only thing breaking it was the moonlight but even that seemed weak.

Stanton thought of his wife. What she would say. What she did say. That everyone around him would always be in danger. And he knew that the boys should never have been with him.

He thought of his own father, who had tried to talk him out of going into law enforcement. Who told him that power corrupts, and eventually it would lead him to disaster. If his father had been here…

But most of all, he thought of his former partner, Eli Sherman. A man who had warned Stanton that the job would eat him alive. That he should get out while he could.

After Sherman’s arrest for the murder of two young women, Stanton thought back to his constant push to get Stanton out of law enforcement as a selfish act. He didn’t want to be caught and thought that Stanton could catch him. But now, Stanton thought, maybe that wasn’t it. That maybe, somewhere in the cavernous wickedness of Sherman’s heart, he felt for Stanton and wanted to warn him that this day would come.

Stanton rose and walked into the ocean. The water was cool. He walked in up to his waist, letting the waves hit him and knock him back. Awash in blackness, he could see nothing but glimmers of light. Shards. He closed his eyes and fell back into the water, and sank. He opened his eyes and could see the blurry outline of the sky. It was loud underneath the waves. The motion carried him back to shore, but he wished it’d carry him out to sea. To be caught in a riptide and pulled out into nothingness.

He had allowed the only two people in his life to be caught in his madness. Something he had promised himself would never happen.

But they had no one else. Their mother’s marriage had disintegrated, and the few times Stanton had spoken to her she seemed lost. He figured she had barely enough energy to keep herself going, much less two boys. His sons had only him to rely on. And he would do anything for them.

Something he’d been trying to remember that Sherman told him came to him now.

You might lose, but if you give up you’ll definitely lose.

He didn’t know if Heidi was going to let his children live. From a tactical standpoint, the correct move would have been to simply kill them as quickly as possible. They would slow her down. But she must’ve known that Stanton would be waiting for her when the plane touched down in Mexico. If his kids weren’t on it, he would kill her.

Stanton decided in the end that the kids would stay alive as insurance. She would use them to manipulate him and get away. But once their use was over, she had no reason to keep them alive. He didn’t have a choice; he had to find her as quickly as possible. And there was one person who might know where she was.

He pulled himself out of the water and slogged back to the beach.