Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) (13 page)

She mockingly shook her finger at Gena. “I know what you’re doing, Detective Evans. Stop trying to avoid my question. You mentioned a photo. What photo?” She asked, repeating her earlier question.

Gena bent down and retrieved her handbag from between her feet. Rummaging through it, she pulled out a photo and handed it to Stephanie.

Stephanie snorted in laughter at the butterflies decorating the photo frame. It was so
not
Gena, but it was; tough as old army boots but girly in her own kind of way. She gripped the framed photo tightly, smiling in remembrance as she stared at the photo. Angel, Carolyn, Gena and she, goofing it off at their graduation party. She traced her finger over Angel, her smile fading as she did the same to Lynn.

“I found this photo in the scrapbook,” Gena said quietly.

Stephanie dropped the photo frame onto the table in horror, jumping when it clattered loudly. She tentatively picked it up again, avoiding Gena’s eyes. “Then it’s not a coincidence.”

Gena shook her head silently, taking a long drag of her cigarette. Stephanie surprised her when she leaned over the table, taking the cigarette from her fingers and taking a drag. Shakily she joked, “These things will kill you, you know.”

“I think they’re probably the least of our worries, don’t you?” Stephanie asked, handing the cigarette back to Gena with a twisted smile. “Gena, I doubt the fact that you’re the lead Detective on these cases is a coincidence. I think the killer wanted you to find Carolyn. He wanted you to see his artwork. It’s possible he wanted to show you what he was capable of. He wanted you to see Carolyn exposed. He put the photo into the scrapbook because he knew you would pour over it for hours. He wanted you to see the photo and make the connection between Carolyn and Lyn Jeffreys. It’s why he dumped the body where he did. He knew it was your precinct that would take the call and investigate. More importantly, and this part’s the kicker, he wanted you to make the connection between Carolyn and Angel.”

“In other words, you think this son of a bitch is toying with me,” Gena snapped, trying to control the rage she felt boiling inside her.

Stephanie paused, her thoughts racing. “Yes and no. I think it runs deeper than that. I think it’s his way of establishing a personal connection with you. He’s
forcing
a personal connection on you.”

Watching the play of emotions darting across Gena’s face, Stephanie softened her tone. “You should check through Angel’s personal effects. There’s a good chance the photo in the scrapbook is Angel’s. Only four copies were made, one for each of us. And check to see if anything else is missing. He may take trophies.”

Gena spat out curses, disgusted at herself. “God damn it, I didn’t even consider it could be Angel’s. I was just so shocked to see it. I’ll need to check, but you’re probably right. Hell, why didn’t I think of this?” She broke off, angry at letting something so monumental escape her.

Stephanie smiled ruefully at Gena, her voice husky with raw emotion. “I want to see the scrapbook.”

“You know I can’t let you see it. It’s not possible. It’s part of a chain of evidence. I can’t risk contamination. I shouldn’t be discussing this case with you right now. If anyone even found out I was discussing an open murder investigation, or the possibility of a serial killer, with
The Times
’ former crime reporter and recipient of the Dart, I’d get my ass served to the Disciplinary Board on a platter. Hell, if they even had any indication I knew you, or knew these victims...”

Gena scowled fiercely. “Damn it, you should know better than to ask me.”

Seeing Stephanie’s mutinous expression, she softened her tone. “You know as well as I do that I shouldn’t even be involving you, but it was the quickest way of finding out whether this was Lyn or not.”

Swallowing hard, she didn’t know how to ask Stephanie the question plaguing her since she’d seen the photo in the scrapbook. Her conscience pricked at her for even bringing it up. “You said you kept in touch with Lyn, right?” She began, refusing to call Lyn, Carolyn. Even thought part of her held onto the very slim chance Lyn Jeffreys and Carolyn Mathers weren’t the same person, this wasn’t the reason she refused. It was because she didn’t want to imagine her former roommate and friend as the tortured, nameless victim she had seen exposed on the morgue’s slab.

Now here she was, preparing to ask Stephanie to do the very same thing, she refused to do. She felt like the world’s biggest hypocrite, even while she rationalized she needed someone to officially identify the body.

“Yes, we stayed in touch after university. In the beginning, we caught up at least once or twice a week. Eventually we both got busy and it became every few weeks and then once a month. We used to catch up and have lunch at Casey’s.”

Stephanie’s face lit up with a smile of remembrance, recalling the lunches they’d all shared during university. More often than not, their one-hour lunches in between their classes had spilled over into long stretches of drinking and gossiping about the latest boys they were dating.

Gena returned her smile, her own memories of their local college haunt bittersweet. “God that place was crazy, especially on Friday nights,” she said casually, sharing a knowing smile with Stephanie. They both said simultaneously, “But damn their food was amazing.”

Chuckling in remembrance, their laughter died and they shared a sad smile. Gena cleared her throat nervously. “That was a long time ago,” she said.

Stephanie nodded in agreement, whispering softly, “A lifetime even.”

They both lapsed into silence, deep in their own thoughts. Gena was the first to break it. “Do you remember the last time you saw each other?”

Stephanie nodded; her expression suddenly guarded. “Four years ago. It’s not one I’ll ever forget. It was the night Carolyn was attacked.”

Gena froze, startled by Stephanie’s confession. Narrowing her eyes speculatively, she studied the woman opposite her carefully. “Lyn was attacked?” She waited with bated breath for Stephanie to answer, quickly making the connection between Carolyn Mathers’ throat and Lyn’s attack.

Stephanie nodded, shuddering with undisguised horror. “God Gena, there was so much blood. Carolyn almost died,” she whispered, shaking her head, not wanting to remember her friend’s attack, yet unable to stop the images flashing through her mind.

“We caught up for dinner. Lyn was excited about how well her TV show was doing, and she’d just been offered a three-film deal with some big studio,” Stephanie recalled with a smile. “She was happy and I was feeling pretty good myself. I’d just secured my position at
The Times
as their #1 crime reporter and Dominic and I had just discovered we were pregnant.” She smiled sadly, toying with the gold chain around her neck.

Gena saw the flash of grief in her eyes before she carefully hid it, noticing for the first time the man’s solitary wedding band on a chain. Dropping her eyes to Stephanie’s fingers, she saw they were bare. It crossed her mind suddenly that while Stephanie wore no sign she was even married to Leigh Walker, she wore Dominic’s wedding band on a simple gold chain close to her heart. It made her wonder, as she had many times before, why Stephanie had walked away from the only man she seemed capable of loving.

She reached out and touched the ring gently, withdrawing her hand when Stephanie jerked away, quickly clasping the ring in her hand and closing her fingers around it, almost as if she was afraid to lose it.

“Dominic’s?” she asked quietly, watching Stephanie nod mutely.

Leaning back in her chair, she fell silent with growing turmoil, digesting what Stephanie had just told her. “Son of a bitch, you were there weren’t you? You were there with Lyn when she was attacked,” Gena said, swearing fluently.

Stephanie shook her head in denial. “I wasn’t
there
when she was attacked,” she argued. “I was the one who discovered her though.” Closing her eyes, she could still remember the sight of her friend, only meters away from her car, lying in a pool of blood.

“Do you remember how she was attacked?” Gena asked, her breath hitching in her throat.

Stephanie nodded, lifting her gaze to meet Gena’s anticipatory one. “Sweet Jesus, Gena. Her throat, it was slit. Like Angel’s.”

Gena swore, her insides churning with a sudden fear she could barely conceal. “We found scar tissue on Carolyn. Cynthia, my Medical Examiner, believes Carolyn was attacked at least once before,” she whispered with a shudder. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body, suddenly feeling cold in the warm sun. “My God, Stephanie, do you know what this means?”

Stephanie nodded, avoiding Gena’s grief-stricken stare. “I think he was finishing the job. He killed Carolyn to tie up the pieces. Angel was never meant to be his first kill, Carolyn was,” Gena said breathlessly.

Chapter Thirteen

Stephanie sat cross-legged on Jesse’s leather couch, analyzing the past 48 hours. She turned her head to stare outside the living room, not even seeing the magnificent beachside view, which had sold Jesse on the house the first time he saw it. Lifting her laptop off her knees, she placed it on the coffee table, unable to focus on anything but her conversation with Gena.

Carolyn and Angel were dead. Nothing else seemed to matter. Both were victims of a deranged serial killer, one who seemed to be targeting her friends. It was eerily familiar. She dropped her head to her chest, letting her salty tears flow freely, the same words playing over and over in her mind.
Angel was never meant to be his first kill, Carolyn was. He killed Carolyn to tie up the pieces. He was finishing the job.

Wiping away her angry tears, she sighed raggedly. Carolyn never stood a chance. She’d signed her own death warrant before even arriving back in L.A. Stephanie’s heart ached. She wished she could turn back time so she could tell Carolyn to stay where she was, to stay in Nice; stay where she was safe.

If only she’d known.
She should have known
, a voice taunted her. It felt like she was screaming inside and she drew her knees up close to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, trying to ward off the chill seeping through her bones.

After their discussion this morning, Gena asked her to go to the morgue with her and officially identify Carolyn Mathers as Lyn Jeffreys. The ride to the morgue was one of Déjà vu for them both. It was Gena who had shown up at Stephanie’s apartment that fateful Sunday morning and broken the news to her about Dominic. It was Gena who had driven her to the morgue and stood side by side with her when she officially identified his body. And it was Gena who had accused her of not feeling anything, of not loving Dominic enough when she’d been dying inside.

Despite her experiences with the cold reality of sex crimes, Stephanie still hadn’t been prepared for the sight of Carolyn lying on the metal slab. Standing there, in a room resembling a sterile tomb, she’d stared down at her friend and found it impossible to breathe. Images of Dominic’s lifeless body, on a similar table, had suffocated her and blurred her vision. She’d stumbled out of the morgue, emptying her stomach contents into the nearest trash can like some rookie crime reporter.

She groaned, feeling the beginning of a migraine coming on. Rubbing her temple with her fingers, she uncrossed her legs, standing and stretching languidly. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, she took a glass out of the kitchen cupboard, turning on the cold tap and filling it. Moving to where her handbag sat on the kitchen counter, she pulled out her migraine prescription, and popped a tablet into her mouth. Taking deep gulps of water, she wandered aimlessly into the living room, smiling how everything was so perfectly in place. Jesse was a real neat freak. It always made her laugh how he liked everything in place as opposed to Dominic, who used to leave his things scattered throughout their house.

A vase of sterling silver roses, sitting in the centre of the dining room table, caught the corner of her eye and she was immediately drawn to their beauty. Padding softly towards them, she leaned over and inhaled their scent. Jesse knew her so well. He knew sterling silver roses were her favorite. She smiled at his thoughtfulness.

Taking one of the roses out of the vase, she carefully touched its petals, enjoying the silky, soft feel of their delicate petals against her skin. Her lips curved into a smile, recalling how Jesse’s hands had been just as soft last night. He had touched every inch of her, first with his hands and then with his mouth. As soon as he’d kissed her, she’d been completely lost. She has surrendered herself to him.

Leigh never got her that wild. Sex with Jesse was always extremely erotic. Even after a large consumption of alcohol, they hadn’t been able to fight their attraction to each other. From the first moment Dominic introduced them, they’d shared a mutual desire, one which came to life after she ended her marriage to Dominic.

If she hadn’t loved Dominic so passionately, she might have been tempted when they were married. She knew people thought she’d been cruel, heartless even, for dating Jesse. He’d been Dominic’s best friend. She knew her own friends had seen it as a slap in his face; her flaunting her new man. She knew the truth. Dominic had been her everything. He had been the sun, the moon, and the stars. The very air she breathed. She’d loved him with every inch of her being. It was only after their marriage broke up that she had turned to Jesse seeking comfort, some solace. It had felt right. It had felt natural.

Even now, thinking about last night, she was getting more than a little turned on. Shaking her head, she couldn’t help but grin. Jesse Carlisle could turn on the very devil if he tried hard enough.

Her smile faded. Unfortunately she couldn’t give him the emotional commitment he wanted. He loved her. To him, last night wasn’t just about sex, but more about an emotional connection. Last night he had wanted to show her how much he loved her. She wished she could have done the same. For her, last night was about forgetting her past, and forgetting her losses. She’d wanted to lose herself. She’d
needed
to lose herself in someone familiar.