Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced Alliance\Out for Justice\No Place to Run (26 page)

Alan pressed the brake as he neared Main Street and turned on his left signal. Booming bass reached him first, reverberating in his chest. The scream of peeling rubber followed. An ancient Impala skidded off Main onto Park, its two inner wheels almost leaving the pavement. A familiar face looked back at him over the wheel, wearing a can't-touch-this smirk.

Great. The Harmony Grove Hellion. Why wasn't he in school? Alan was getting ready to find out.

He brought the siren to life, turned the vehicle around and made his own peel-out turn. Thirty seconds later the Impala eased to a stop on the side of the road.

Alan stepped from the car and approached. The window cranked down in front of the grinning face of Duncan Alcott.

“Why aren't you in school?”

“Because I was bored. I can get Cs and Ds without being there every day.”

“Think what you could get if you applied yourself. Do your parents know you're not in school?”

“They don't care.”

Unfortunately, the kid was right. With an alcoholic father and a mother who struggled to keep food on the table, sixteen-year-old Duncan's whereabouts were usually an afterthought.

Alan pulled a long rectangular pad from his back pocket and started to write. Duncan's cocky attitude fell away like peeling paint under a sandblaster.

“Hey, man. I wasn't speeding, and there's not a stop sign there, so you can't give me a ticket.”

“I'd say taking a ninety-degree turn on two wheels at thirty miles an hour is reckless driving. What do you think?”

He leaned down to look into the car, where Johnny Davidson sat with wide eyes. At fourteen years old, he had no business hanging with the likes of Duncan.

Alan rested an elbow in the window opening and continued, “And then there's the whole contributing-to-the-delinquency-of-a-minor thing. That one comes with jail time.” Of course, Duncan was a minor himself, so the threat was baseless. But Duncan didn't know that.

The kid's eyes widened. “No way. Look, I'll get him back to school right away.”

“No, I'd better take him up to Davidson Hardware. Then it'll be up to Mr. Davidson to decide whether he'll want to press charges.”

Alan stifled a grin. If there was a contest for who looked more scared, he would have been hard-pressed to choose a winner. Johnny began to shake his head vigorously. “Officer Alan, please don't. My dad will kill me.”

“If I let you go, how do I know you won't be right back out here tomorrow?”

“I promise I won't. I'll never skip school again.”

“That would be good. Otherwise I'd have to arrest Duncan here. And we don't want that to happen, do we?”

The no came in chorus.

“All right, then. Get back to school.” He turned his attention back to his pad.

“You're not still gonna give me a ticket, are you?”

Alan answered without looking up. “Yep.”

“Aw, man.”

The kid needed to learn a lesson. Granted, he had it bad at home. But he had choices. Hopefully, with consequences, he would start making the right ones.

He watched the Impala turn around and drive away. It would be headed back to Harmony Grove Middle School, no doubt, to return Johnny to his studies. After the car rounded the corner and disappeared, Alan got back into his own car, dropping the ticket pad into the seat next to him.

The ticket pad.

His eyes widened as an almost forgotten memory flashed through his mind. Kayla. A traffic stop. An unmarked car.

Three or four weeks before Kayla had been killed, she'd told him about getting stopped. The car was unmarked, but the officer was in uniform. He'd claimed he stopped her because she hadn't signaled. She'd insisted that she had. He'd run her license, given it back to her and let her go.

Or had he just pretended to run her license?

Had she instead been stopped by a killer in a policeman's uniform driving a car with a gumball on the dash? Maybe he'd taken her license for the sole purpose of finding out where she lived. Is that what he did with all the victims?

He closed his eyes, struggling to call up the conversation. Finally he sighed. If Kayla had given him any details about the car or a description of the person who had stopped her, those facts were buried somewhere deep in his subconscious.

He started up the car and headed toward the station. He had some phone calls to make. If Kayla's license had really been run, there would be a record of it. If not, maybe he had just recalled some valuable information about the killer.

Information they could use to set a trap.

SIX

L
exi lay stretched out on the couch, a half-read paperback in her hands and Suki wedged between her legs. Itsy lay curled up on the floor next to her. Midnight was probably somewhere in the house looking for trouble. The youngest of the three, he had far too much energy and a mischievous streak three miles wide.

She laid the book across her stomach and glanced at the clock: 8:00 p.m. Alan was probably home, winding down for the evening and getting ready for the following day.

Or not. Spending so much time with her was probably putting a major crimp in his social life. Now that he had a free evening, he wasn't likely to let it go to waste. He was probably out with one of the hopeful single ladies of Harmony Grove. That thought didn't bother her. Really, it didn't.

She once again picked up the book. Whatever Alan was doing, he probably wasn't stretched out, surrounded by cats. Of course, she didn't know that. He might have a menagerie by now. She hadn't been to his place since the night Lauren had met her at the door with her shiny new engagement ring.

A faint buzz sounded behind her, her phone still on vibrate from a meeting she had attended earlier in the day. She twisted to retrieve it from the end table, and when she glanced at the screen, her heart seemed to beat a little faster. Apparently Alan
wasn't
with one of the Harmony Grove ladies.

“Hey, what's up?” She was smiling, and it came through in her tone.

“I saw Sheriff Judd on the six o'clock news.”

“Yeah, it's aired a couple of times.” She'd seen it, too. Now that they finally had some information on the killer, everyone had decided it was time for another press conference.

“He definitely got the point across. If I was a young woman, I'd think twice about opening
my
door.”

“Same here.” Until talking to Denise, they'd really had nothing to report. Now they did. And maybe the information would save a young girl's life. “I'm glad it's out there.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He heaved a sigh. When he spoke again, it was with uncharacteristic somberness. “I'm worried about you, Lexi. You need to be extracareful.”

The concern in his voice warmed her from the inside out. After marriage to Lauren, a subsequent divorce and six years of living separate lives, whatever tenderness he had felt for her should be gone. But it wasn't. If she looked too deeply into his eyes, she saw it—traces of everything he had at one time professed to feel.

Like last night, in the hospital parking lot. He had looked at her with such warmth and tenderness, it had threatened to topple every wall she'd ever erected. If he had tried to kiss her then, she would have probably let him.

“Thanks, but I'll be fine, really.”

A distinct beep overrode Alan's reply. She pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at the display. “Tomlinson's calling. I'll call you back.”

She touched the screen to switch calls. At her greeting, Tomlinson's bass voice came through the phone.

“Is this a good time for you to talk?”

“I'm home alone with my cats. What's up?”

“Apparently someone doesn't appreciate all the time and effort you're putting into this.”

The ominous tone sent a chill trickling over her. She shook it off. “Of course not. He's scared. He left a live witness.”

“He also left a message. For you.”

“Me?” Her heart started to pound and her palms grew suddenly clammy. “What kind of message?”

“Sweet and to the point. A single sheet of paper, folded in thirds, taped to a light pole in the sheriff's department parking lot. It had
Detective Simmons
typed across it in about a forty-eight-point font.”

She gripped the phone more tightly. The chill seemed to have headed straight for her stomach, condensing into a solid, icy lump. “What did it say?”

“‘Back off. Or you'll be next.'”

Lexi closed her eyes and sucked in a calming breath. “He's grasping at straws. He knows he messed up, abducting Denise without thoroughly planning things out in his usual OCD way. Now there's someone out there who can identify him. And that's got to scare him to death.”

“Which is why we've been keeping such a close watch on her.”

“She wants to go stay with her aunt and uncle in Ocala. They have a horse farm up there.” Lexi had talked to her that morning. Denise wasn't adjusting well. She refused to leave the house and, according to her father, jumped at the slightest sound. A change of scenery would do her good.

“It might be the safest place for her. We'll keep it quiet but alert the authorities up there anyway, just in case. And we'll keep the detectives watching the Andrewses' house even after she leaves.”

“Good.” Denise's purse had never been recovered. The killer had probably disposed of it in a Dumpster somewhere after he'd looked up her address. His best shot at undoing his mistake would be to finish what he started. If he tried, they would be ready.

Tomlinson sighed. “Just be careful.”

She smiled at the words that so closely echoed Alan's of a few minutes ago. “I will.”

After ending the call, she redialed Alan.

“So what did Tomlinson want?”

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and tried not to grimace. Alan wasn't going to be happy. But there was no getting around telling him. That had been Tomlinson's sole reason for calling.

“Someone left me a note.”

A heavy silence stretched through the phone. “Who? What kind of note?”

“Short. ‘Back off. Or you'll be next.'”

“The killer.”

“Or a prankster impersonating the killer.”

“Lexi, this isn't good.” His tone was thick with worry. “You're a target.”

“No, he has my name. That's all. It wouldn't be that hard to get. Polk County isn't L.A. or New York City. We have a grand total of ten homicide detectives. And my name's out there. I think you and I have talked to half the population of the county.”

She shifted her position to swing her feet to the floor, disturbing Suki in the process. The cat turned with a scolding meow. “Besides,” she continued, “being a target wouldn't be such a bad thing. If he comes after me, I'll be ready for him. I'm quite willing to be bait if it will get me closer to catching Kayla's killer.”

“You might be willing, but I'm not.”

Something in his tone rubbed her the wrong way. It wasn't his decision. It was hers. “Then I guess it's a good thing for the case that it's not up to you.”

“You're making this too personal, Lexi. And I'm sure Sergeant Tomlinson would agree. This might be a good time to step down.”

Her anger flared. She recognized his not-so-subtle attempt at control. She had had plenty of practice. Her mom was the queen of manipulation.

“Don't you threaten me with Tomlinson. I haven't had quite the years in law enforcement that you have, but I'm certainly no rookie. I know what I'm doing.”

He huffed out an exasperated breath. “When did you get so stubborn?”

“When did you turn into such a control freak?”

“I'm not trying to control you.” His tone was low, but the words were thick with tension. “I'm trying to keep you alive.”

“Well, that's not your responsibility.” Maybe at one time. But he'd given that up when he'd jumped into bed with Lauren instead of waiting for her. “Look, I'm determined to catch this guy. And I won't be deterred by idle threats—yours or the killer's.”

She ended the call and put the phone on the end table with a little more force than necessary.

Alan didn't understand. He would never understand.

She put her all into every case. She had no choice. It was at her very core, a driving need to bring to justice those who held no regard for human life. If her best chance of catching the killer would be to let the department use her as bait, then so be it.

For Kayla, she would do it.

Actually, she would do it for any one of the other four victims, too.

* * *

Alan punched in Lexi's number and waited through the first ring. He hadn't spoken with her since last night, when she'd hung up on him. At the moment he probably wasn't her favorite person.

Another ring.

He understood where she was coming from. He wanted Kayla's killer caught, too. But Lexi was too stubborn for her own good.

A third ring.

Maybe she was debating whether to take his call. She was going to have to talk to him sooner or later. But she could always let him stew awhile. If she would pick up the phone, she would agree he had a good reason for calling. He had information on Kayla's case. He had made some phone calls, and it was just as he expected.

Lexi answered midway through the fourth ring.

“Hey. I was afraid you were going to avoid me.”

“I thought about it, but I figured you'd just keep calling.”

Her tone was flat. Either she seriously didn't want to talk to him or she was joking. He couldn't tell which. He used to know her inside out. But things had changed.

“Look, I'm sorry about last night.” An apology never hurt.

“Yeah, me, too.”

“I didn't mean to upset you.”

“It's all right. I might have gotten a little bit defensive.”

A tension he didn't even realize he had seemed to drain from him. Now that they had fallen into a sort of cautious friendship, he didn't like being at odds with her. “Where are you?”

“Leaving Harmony Grove. I checked in on Mom.”

“How about swinging by the house? Or better yet, meet me at Pappy's for an early supper. I've got some information on Kayla.”

“Can't you just tell me over the phone? I need to get home and feed the cats.”

“It's early. If they eat at seven instead of five-thirty, I don't think it'll hurt them. From what I've seen, none of them look to be on the brink of starvation.”

“I'm tired.”

He picked up his car keys and headed for the door. She was weakening. He could tell.

“Then you could use a relaxing dinner out.”

A heavy sigh came through the phone. “All right. But I don't want to stay too long.”

“We'll be in and out before the late crowd gets there. I promise.”

When he pulled into Pappy's parking lot, the blue Mazda was already there.

Edith DelRoss led him to a booth in the back, where Lexi sat with a glass of iced tea.

He slid in opposite her. “You got here fast.”

“I was driving past when you called.”

Edith returned with a second glass of tea. As soon as she had taken their order, Lexi nailed him with an eager gaze.

“Okay, we're here and pizza is on the way. So tell me what you learned.”

“About two weeks before Kayla was killed, she told me that she got stopped by a cop in an unmarked vehicle. Of course, I didn't think anything of it at the time. She said that he insisted she'd made a turn and didn't signal, but she was positive she did. He supposedly ran her license, then told her he was going to let her go with a verbal warning.”

Lexi's brows shot up. “Do you think he's our guy?”

“Possibly. I didn't make the connection until I stopped the Alcott boy for reckless driving. Knowing our killer is impersonating a cop, it got me thinking about Kayla.”

“And?”

“According to Kayla, her tag and license were run, but the Florida Department of Law Enforcement has no record of it.”

Lexi leaned forward in her seat, body tense with excitement. “Maybe he sees women who fit the description of what he's looking for, then stops them and pretends to run their license...”

He finished her thought. “And what he's really doing is taking note of their addresses. He stakes out the houses to make sure the women are alone, then abducts and murders them.”

“We need to find out if any of the other victims reported traffic stops by a cop in an unmarked vehicle. Are you busy the next few days?”

“Yep, but not too busy to fit in some phone calls and visits.”

“Good. Because if this is what he's doing, we can use it to catch him.” She took a long swig of her tea. “Kayla didn't happen to mention anything about him, did she? What he looked like? What agency he appeared to be with? Anything?”

He shook his head. “I've racked my brain trying to remember. If she mentioned anything, it's somewhere inside this thick skull of mine, buried deep.”

She sat in silence, lips pursed. Then she brightened. “Well, I have a little information of my own. There's an orange grove next to the woods where Denise was found with some tire tracks going in. Looks like whoever made them left in a hurry, spun up quite a bit of dirt. Almost got stuck. Detectives recovered a ring.”

“What kind of ring?”

“A class ring. Lake Region High School, class of 2002.”

“Any distinguishing symbols or anything?”

“Yeah, ROTC.”

“That narrows it down a bit.”

“And,” she added, “the stone is a garnet. Lake Region's colors are black, silver and blue, so my guess is the garnet is a birthstone.”

“For?”

“January.”

He nodded. “That narrows it down a lot.”

“We're hoping the company that made the ring will be able to provide us with a name, if they keep records back that far.”

“If not, just taking those in the 2002 graduating class who have January birthdays and were in ROTC should give us a workable number.”

“I hope so. I'm ready for this to be over.”

The heaviness in her tone shot straight to his heart. For five months she had been trying to catch this guy. Now, at the end of another long day, her expressive green eyes seemed to have lost some of their sparkle and the lines of her face reflected her fatigue.

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. “We're getting closer. At least now we have a live witness.”