Drop Dead Gorgeous (32 page)

“It will be on the news soon enough,” Sean said. “They’ve found another body. I knew her, too. So did the rest of my friends, to the best of my knowledge. She was a fluffer, part-time call girl.”

Arnie had mused over the information. “How did they find this woman so quickly?” Arnie asked speculatively. “He’s buried them pretty well before. Was she found in town?”

“No, she was in the swamp, same as before.”

“No, not the same. She couldn’t have been deep, well hidden. I think the murderer wanted her found.”

“Why?”

“He’s growing bolder. Cocky. Maybe he’s having a little mental schism, too, getting too confident, and maybe a little more desperate. Scary, very scary. He also seems convinced of his own invincibility. He’s starting to think that he’s just too clever to be caught. In the end this could be good for the police. The killer might take some real chances now, and that
…
”

“What?”

“That makes him more dangerous than ever.”

“Thank you, Arnie, I needed that. Trent seems to think so, too.”

“Sorry, I can only tell you what I think. And you know enough about criminal psychology to know that it’s true.”

“Yeah, I know.”

When they parted, Se
an started the drive back down I
-95. As he swore while stuck in a traffic jam, he started thinking about Lori, and Brendan. It made him shake to realize that he had a child, a son, a kid like Brendan.

And because of it, he’d gone off half-cocked. Angry. And sitting in the traffic, with nothing to do but think, he realized just how self-righteous he’d been. How judgmental he’d been with Lori. He hadn’t been able to help himself. Maybe, if Brendan hadn’t been such a great kid
…

He hadn’t used the car phone yet in his rental, and it took him a minute to find the damned thing. It was located in the glove compartment between the seats. He dialed Lori’s number. He’d walked out in
a rage—
with one of those chips she’d told him about on his shoulder—and even though he’d gone back, she wouldn’t feel that he’d been back
for her—but for Brendan. He’d been angry, stunned, and he’d felt a loss he couldn’t begin to explain to her or anyone else, but now time was whittling away at him, and strangely enough, what he felt was guilt. He realized that they had to talk. He’d been out of line, not giving her a chance. Yeah, he’d been hurt. But so had she. She’d been alone, with no way to reach him.

He could suddenly see it all from her side. And it was just a damned sad situation for them both, but one they could still change. Understanding didn’t erase all the time that he had lost. Jail had been awful, Mandy’s death so tragic, his dad’s death so painful, but
…

He loved Lori. Always had, always would. Now that he’d been with her, he couldn’t imagine a life without her. He’d been hurt, and maybe he’d even been a royal ass, but hell, he’d been in shock, and surely, she would understand. He’d realized once again this morning looking into Muffy’s cold dead eyes just how uncertain, unpredictable, and cruel life could be. He wasn’t going to waste any more of it. He was going to talk to Lori. Make her listen even if she didn’t want to.

But the phone kept ringing. Lori didn’t answer.

He drummed his fingers, then tried Jan’s house. There was no answer there, but finally a machine picked up. Jan’s cheerful voice left a beeper number for herself, an office number, and a cell phone for Brad.

He had to call the machine twice and dig
around in the compartment for a pen to write down the numbers. Thankfully, traffic continued to crawl at that point, so he had no problem taking the time. He tried Jan’s beeper as he neared downtown Miami. After a few minutes he tried Brad’s office number, and when another machine picked up, he tried Brad’s cell phone.

Brad answered. “Hello?” He sounded curt, upset.

“Brad, it’s Sean. Do you know where Lori is?”

“Yeah, in the Grove, with Jan and the kids. Sean, did you hear? Muffy is dead!”

He frowned at the familiar address. “Had you seen her recently?”

Brad groaned. “Yesterday.”

“
What?”

“I hired her, Sean.”

“The threesome thing?”

“Yeah. And now
…
she’s dead.”

“Brad, sorry to change the subject, but do you happen to know if everything went all right with Lori getting her alarm in?”

“Yeah, yeah, it went fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I talked to both Andrew and Ted earlier. Jeff’s crew showed up and they did a great job, so I was told.”

“Do you know exactly where Lori, Jan, and the kids are?”

“Not exactly. Why?”

“I think we should find them.”

“Beep Jan. She’s always got her beeper on her—”

“I did. She hasn’t called back.”

“Maybe she doesn’t recognize your number, and can’t figure out who you are. Jan is conscientious about that beeper. God, though, I just keep thinking about Muffy—”

“So do I. I really can’t help it. I was at the autopsy, and it scared the hell out of me. I want to find Lori, Jan, and the kids.”

“All right.”

“Where are you?”

He thought that Brad hesitated. Maybe there was just a little static in the cell phone. Brad said, “I’m not far from the Grove myself. I’ll meet you. Where?”

“Main Street, at the light by the mall.”

Sean couldn’t seem to make his way through the streets quickly enough. He tried to tell himself that Lori and Jan were shopping. Together. With the kids. Safe. Jan would be spilling out her heart, relaying her encounter with Muffy. Lori, in turn, might be explaining some of her own past while feeling sorry for the poor woman who met such a horrible end. They were probably both afraid. Once again, the killer had struck strangely near.

Maybe Lori and Jan wouldn’t tarry long, they’d come home.

Maybe they hadn’t heard about Muffy
…
Brad was there, on Main in the Grove, before him. “I haven’t seen them yet, but I think
they
probably went for a drink. I’m sure
they’d want to talk today. You know how women are.”

“All right, we try the bars first—wait, not like a real bar, right? A restaurant with a bar, because the kids are with them.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We’ll try Jan’s favorite Italian first, then the place on the corner
…
”

Jan and Lori hadn’t been in the Italian restaurant, nor in the next two places they tried, but then they came to the restaurant on the first floor of the Mayfair. When they described Jan and Lori, the bartender nodded.

“A pretty blonde. Yeah,” he said. He’d remembered Lori and Jan right away. “The dark-haired woman went to the rest room, and I didn’t see her come back. Then there was a call, for Lori Kelly. I remember because she said that she was Lori and had been Kelly. She talked, and she looked real sick and upset. After the call she was white as a ghost.”

Listening, Sean gripped the bar tightly. “The lady pa
id with a twenty for a ten-dol
lar check and left the change. Hey, buddy, watch it. Man, I’m sorry. There was some broken glass there. You just cut your hand—”

Sean looked at his hand. Yeah, he’d cut it, it was bleeding, and he hadn’t felt a thing. He shook his head, absently wrapping a cocktail napkin around the injury.

“What then?”

“Hey, buddy, that looks bad, you may need stitches—”

“What happened to the blonde?”

“She hurried out.”

“Which direction?”

“Uh, toward the parking lot across the street.”

“Jesus!” Brad breathed at his side.

“Thanks,” Sean told the bartender.

“Sure. Anything else I can do?”

Sean shook his head. He followed Brad, who was already halfway toward the door.

“Wait!” Sean said. “Jan—let’s check the ladies’ room.”

It was empty.

Outside, they sprinted for the parking lot but stopped cold at the sound of a faint moaning, coming from behind a dumpster. They immediately went to investigate.

There lay Jan on the ground.

“Jesus!” Brad breathed, hunkering down to her.

“She’s all right, breathing, pulse steady,” Sean said, joining him. Brad lifted Jan.

“Sweetheart?” He patted her cheek lightly with his hand. “Baby, what happened? Where’s Tina, Lori
…
Brendan?”

Jan’s eyes opened. She stared at Brad, then at Sean, blinking. “Sweet
…
something sweet
…
Oh, God, did you hear about Muffy? What am I doing here? Where’s Lori? Wait a minute. The kids, Brad, where are the kids?”

“Weren’t the kids with you?” Brad said.

“They went walking.”

“Where?”

“Around, just on the main streets, around Cocowalk and Mayfair,” Jan said. “What’s wrong. Oh, God, we have to find the kids—”

Brad’s cell phone started to ring. He answered it quickly. “Hello?”

Sean could hear Tina’s voice, she was speaking so loudly, so tearfully, and in such distress. “Daddy? I’m scared! I’m so scared.”

“Jesus, Tina, where are you?”

“At the sub shop. But, Daddy, I can’t fi
nd Mom or Lori, and, Daddy…
I think he took Brendan.”

“He who?” Brad demanded.

“He
…
oh, God, the guy in the van!” Tina wailed.

“Oh…
” Jan breathed.

Sean grabbed the phone. “Tina, did you see anything?”

“No…
but Brendan was with me, and then he wasn’t. I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared.”

“You’re okay. Your folks will be right with you.” Sean handed the phone back to Brad.

“Get Jan and Tina home, Brad,” he said, and left them. He started shouting Lori’s name, racing up and down the rows of cars. On the ground in the third row, there was a lump. Sean bent down.

Lori’s big black purse.

There were tire marks on the road beside it, as if a vehicle had quickly peeled rubber to make a speedy escape. Lori—and Brendan—had been taken away, he was convinced of it.

He closed his eyes tightly. The killer. The killer had her and their son. Desperate, and more cocky, because he thought he was invisible and invincible, he had taken mother and son.

Mandy was dead, then Ellie, Muffy, probably Sue. Only one real clue, under Muffy’s fingernails, a gritty kind of sand
…

He stood up, frowning as he realized that Brad had followed him to the parking lot.
“I told you to get your family home.”

“Jan’s all right; she’s headed over to get Tina. I called 911; the cops will be with them soon. Jan is really all right; she told me to stay with you, to he
lp you hunt out here for Lori…
”

Sean looked at Brad. His old high school friend, his old buddy, chum, pal.

Brad, here with him.

Now. Here with him
now.

Could Brad have taken Lori and Brendan away somewhere, and come back? He’d been near the Grove, on a cell phone.

Sean closed his eyes and pictured the sand, the grit, that had been in Muffy’s fingernails. He’d been right; it all related back to the past. The killer murdered his victims one place, and dumped them in the swamp. Killers, Arnie had taught him, often really did return to the scene of the crime.

He knew. He wasn’t just guessing.
He knew.

“The rock pit,” Sean said slowly. “The rock pit. The goddamned rock pit!”

“I’ll get my car; it’s fastest,” Brad said.

“Catch me outside the bar; I’ll call the cops.”

“No need!” He reached into his jacket pocket and tossed Sean his cell phone.

Sean started to dial 911, and stopped. If he called 911, the cops would head out for the
rock
pit with their sirens blaring. If the killer heard sirens, he might butcher Lori and Brendan in a frenzy. He couldn’t call 911.

He had a direct number for Lieutenant Trent. He dialed it, reached a machine, and left a message. He hesitated, gritting his teeth.

He dialed Ricky’s direct line. A woman picked up.

“Ricky Garcia, please.”

“He’s out of the office right now. He calls in every fifteen minutes. Can I give him a message?”

Sean hesitated.
Jesus Christ
,
what if Ricky was the killer?

“Tell him to come to the rock pit.”

“What rock pit?”

Sean stared at the phone. They were all suspect, he reminded himself. “He’ll know,” he told the woman quietly. “He’ll know.”

22

H
er head hurt.

At first when Lori woke, her head hurt so badly that she could feel nothing else. But then the pain subsided to a dull throb, and she became aware of other sensations. She was seated. Streaks of pain propelled up and down her back; she could feel something scratchy against her skin.

Dirt beneath her legs.

And a tree.

Her back and her arms hurt because she was
tied to a skinny tree. She was alive. For how long? Naturally, she was alive. He would want her wide awake when he tortured her to death. Panic seized her, and she tugged wildly at her arms, thinking that she was about to die, and she still didn’t know who intended to kill her.

Her movement triggered a reaction. A groan, a tug in return. She froze, and realized that she was tied
with
Brendan on the other side of the tree.

She twisted around, straining to see.

Her heart catapulted in terror. Then she reminded herself that he was still alive.

Where was the killer?

Leading his normal life somewhere? Anticipating what he would do when he returned for the two of them?

“No, no, no, no, no!” Lori breathed aloud, struggling furiously against the ties that bound her. They were tight; the rope was thick. She went still. “Brendan, Brendan, baby, wake up, please, wake up, we’ve got to get out of this!”

Brendan didn’t answer.

The ropes, she had to escape from the ropes. What did she have on her? Nothing, she had dropped her purse. Her pockets
…
empty. Empty, dammit! Oh, God
…

Brendan’s pockets. His key chain.
Keys to the house, to her car…
and the little pocketknife that Sean had given him.

She let out a strangled sob. Knife, little knife
…

Sean had given him a little knife.

She struggled, pressing against the tree the best she possibly could, reaching, stretching. She groaned with the effort, her arms feeling as if they would pop out of the sockets. She found Brendan with her f
ingertips…
his pocket. She had to get deeper, just a little deeper. She twisted. Her fingers touched
…

A pen.

A quarter.

His pocketknife.

She managed to get the knife out
…
then dropped it. She fumbled in the dirt with her fingertips. How much time did she have? Where was the killer?

“Brendan, wake up, please, Brendan
…
”

She felt the ropes ripping her flesh, and she strained even harder to f
ind the knife again. Finally…
her fingers closed around it.

Her hand cramped as she tried to locate the catch and flick it open. Yet finally, she did it. She tried not to sob aloud as she twisted and turned again in an effort to saw the ropes— and not her hands or Brendan’s—with the sharp side of the knife.

It had grown dark, night had come, but a three-quarter moon illuminated the pines and scruff foliage and rocky flooring of the area surrounding the dug-out pit with a strange, misted glow. Low ground fog had set in with the night. Staring straight ahead, constantly searching the swirling, silver-tinted mist in terror, Lori kept sawing. In the dead quiet of the night, she could hear the knife moving against
the rope. And then, the miracle she had prayed for occurred. The rope gave.

Trying not to shout out with her sense of pure triumph, Lori wrenched at her wrists, managing to nearly dislocate her shoulder, and drawing another groan from Brendan. She tugged more carefully, allowing the severed piece of rope to disentangle the rest, then she leapt to her feet, rushing around to her son. Untied, he had slumped down to the ground. She grabbed his wrist, scared to death that he had been overdosed with whatever had knocked them out. But his pulse was strong. He simply wasn’t waking up.

She looked around wildly, certain that they had to hide. She didn’t know how much time had passed since she’d been brought here. She pocketed Brendan’s knife, and caught him by the shoulders, dragging him from the tree and into an area of denser foliage. How did she get out of here? In the distance through the trees, she could see a glinting, and she realized with a sinking heart that the whole area of the rock pit was now surrounded by a high wire fence. The city had probably ordered the place fenced to keep from losing another child to the dangerous water. “How am I going to get you out of here, baby?” she whispered desperately.

Then she froze. She heard her name, called through the night. The sound seemed to come from everywhere.

“Lori!” From the west?

“Lori, Lori!’’From the east?

“Loriiiiiii!” From the south…
?

She listened to the disembodied voices.

Sean? Brad?

Her brother, Andrew? Josh
…
Someone else? She coul
dn’t tell, the sound was so dis
torted by the fog and the echo off the rocks.

How many men were at the rock pit? For a moment she had a horrible vision of them all being in it together, a team of homicidal maniacs, all ready to rip out her throat.

No! It could only be one madman. And help was out there.

She opened her mouth to answer, but then caught herself. They were not all homicidal maniacs, and they weren’t all part of a killer cult. Someone out there had surely come to rescue her.

But one of them
was
a killer.

She heard thrashing in the foliage, and a sense of overwhelming panic descended upon her. She quickly dragged Brendan more deeply into the bushes. Hunched down in the foliage, she saw Sean appear at the spot where she and Brendan had been tied to the tree, and she breathed a sigh of relief, about to leap back out into the clearing, calling his name.

But then she saw the
…

Blood.

His hand was dripping with it. He was carrying a man’s utility knife, a bigger version of the one he had given Brendan, and his hand, and the knife, were dripping with blood.

No!

The pain and disbelief inside her nearly crippled her. She bent over as she watched him bend low, finding the ropes she had severed. He stood, tense, jaw locked, blue eyes ebony in the darkness and shadows. His head fell back. “Lori!” he shoute
d, “Lori, for the love of God…
”

Hands and knees on the ground, she tried to breathe, closing her eyes tightly. She looked up. He had moved away. Sean. She closed her eyes, shaking, her mouth dead dry.

What was she doing? She believed in him. She’d said that she believed in him. She should have run to him, despite the blood
…

But what if
he had just butchered someone…
one of the men out to rescue her? He was carrying a knife. Blood dripped from his hand. She couldn’t see him clearly, but she could see the blade glinting in the moonlight, she could see blood, dripping
…

It was a pocketknife that he carried. A Swiss army knife, a utility piece.

But not a butcher knife, or a long knife, or the kind of weapon that could easily be used to maim and rip
…

Still, there had been blood all over his hand. Was she in love, and therefore blind?

“Lori!”

“Lori!”

“Loriiii!”

Her name was shouted again and again, in the darkness and shadows and eerie streaks of moonlight, and it seemed again that the sound was coming from everywhere, from out of
the darkness, out of the fog. A rustling from her left drove her to her feet, and she turned around quickly, trying to discover from where the danger was coming. Taking a single step backward, she crashed into a pair of arms. She spun around.

Brad. With a look of tension on his handsome face, he drew a finger quickly to his lips, warning her that they were in danger.

“Hold still! Hold still!” he whispered.

She was very still, listening. Waiting. Seconds ticked by. The place had been alive with shouting and now
…

No shouts. No footfalls. Silence.

Just Brad behind her. Brad, holding her too tightly.

“
Brad…
”

“Shh!”

“Who—”

“I don’t know!”

His arms around her hurt. She started to struggle. “Lori, don’t, you’re making it so hard—”

Making it so hard! For him to kill her?

She elbowed him for all she was worth, slamming into his ribs. She turned around and kicked him with her boot. He gasped with pain, the air sucked out of him. Unable to speak, he fell to his knees. She turned and started to run.

“Sean!” she shrieked his name in the night. Oh, God, she had to find him fast, get back, before Brad could find Brendan, hurt him, oh, God, what had Brad done to his own daughter, his wife
…

“Lori, here!”

She stopped, looking around wildly. She breathed a sigh of relief when Jeff Olin suddenly stepped from the trees. “Lori, poor Lo
ri, come here, we’ll find him…
”

“Oh, God, Jeff! What are you doing here, how can you be here—”

“Sean called us all for help,” he told her, flashing his spectacular smile. He smoothed back his rich auburn hair, and his brown eyes touched hers with a relieved look. “I was hoping so badly I’d find you first.”

He stepped forward. Then she saw that he, too, carried a knife.

A real knife, with a slim, stiletto-sharp blade, at least six inches in length.

She had hidden from Sean. She had crippled Brad. And now Jeff Olin was going to kill her. “Jeff!” she breathed, staring at him.

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have come back home, Lori. New York was a lot better for your health.”

“Jeff! You
…
you did it? You killed those women—”

“Yes, of course. Sue, too. She was such a fool, such a poor desperate fool, too damned eager for any man. She just walked hand in hand with me, too stupid to realize until she was bleeding.”

Lori swallowed, fighting a terrible feeling of nausea. She felt a sense of fatality, a numbness. She was praying, but praying more than anything that someone would find Brendan before Jeff did.

“Jeff, I—I can’t believe this. Did you kill Mandy? How could you—she was your sister.”

“Mandy was a whore. A cunt. I can’t begin to tell you what it was like being her brother. She went after men, hell, she went after me. My old man didn’t help—I think he was the first one to stick it to her. You never knew Mandy. I’m not even sure that I meant to kill her when I did, but there she was, underwater, and there I was, and the vine
…
first, I just thought it would be funny to pay her back for all the prick-teasing she did
…
then I saw her face, and I realized, wow, Mandy was in my power and she could die, and that sure as hell would get her, especially with me there, watching. So she died. And old Sean got the blame for it, which was good, because she was better about being such a bitch when she was with him, because she knew that he wouldn’t have it, except that—he’d quit caring. It was because of you, wasn’t it? The kid is Sean’s, huh, not Brad’s. You were a slimy little snake, not miss goody two shoes at all. Kind of makes it a nice justice that you’re going to die here. I wanted you to be last, but old Sean has just about moved in these days, so I thought I should strike while I had the chance. Jan’s girl was damned tempting
…
I almost snagged her tonight instead. I’ll have to wait until I can have lots and lots of time with her. Too bad, I’m going to have to kill you quicker than I wanted. I really wanted to play with you, Lori. Pretty, pretty, Lori. So untouchable. Well, baby, you’re going to be touched. And I’m going
to have to kill your son quickly, too. He knows who I am.”

Lori desperately fought a rising sense of pure terror. He moved the knife in his hand as he spoke to her, wielding it almost absently. He could step forward and kill her in a split second, long before a scream ever left her lips. She had to stall for time, pray that someone would come.

“Jeff, don’t be an ass. Everyone will know who you are, you idiot! You’re going to be caught!”

He shook his head. “Me, never. I’m the caring friend. I had a very reliable company install an alarm for you today. I’m a respected lawyer, a man who suffered terrible tragedy, and made the most of his life despite that fact.”

She shook her head. “Jeff, you’re here now, they’ll figure it out. You will be caught, and you won’t find Brendan.”

“Why?”

“He’s gone.”

Jeff grinned. It was frightening to see how handsome he was when he grinned. How
…
Drop dead gorgeous.

“The kid is around here somewhere. I’ll find him.”

“Sean is here, Brad is here
…
what if they find Brendan first? And surely, they’ll have called the cops by now.”