Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) (36 page)

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he chided, dropping onto the sand beside her.

“I needed to get out of the house. Knowing someone has been in there, someone had been watching us. It’s too much to handle right now,” she confessed, smiling shyly at the man beside her.

Reaching out, she absentmindedly slid her hand over his, marveling over the difference in size. “I needed to get out of there and get some air. I needed to clear my head.”

Dropping her hand away from his, she drew her arms around her legs, bringing them close to her chest. “How did I get it so wrong?” she asked suddenly, her eyes glittered with unconcealed emotion. “I threw so much away. I threw it all away, thinking I was protecting Dominic. I tried so hard to protect all of you from this and instead I put you right in the middle of danger. I thought I could do it by myself. I thought I was strong enough...” He reached out and placed two fingers to her lips.

“Honey, you can’t keep blaming yourself,” he said huskily, letting his fingers trail away from her lips to wipe away a stray tear on her cheek.

“Who else is there to blame, but me?” she asked bitterly, letting him pull her closer.

“It’s not your fault. I’m not going to deny you’re a danger magnet and possibly have the worst taste in men, saving Dominic and myself,” he teased, drawing her even closer to brush his lips again her temple. “But none of this is your fault.”

Stephanie rested her head against his chest, turning her head to look out at the water. Lifting her head suddenly, her eyes damp with tears, she whispered, “Jess, I’m so sorry. I walked away from us without any explanation. You deserved so much more than that.”

Shaking her head, she said, “I was selfish. I didn’t think about how much it would hurt you. I just needed to get away.” She whispered, “I really blew it with you.”

Jesse chuckled in amusement. “Don’t you get it Stephanie? I never blamed you. Not once did I ever blame you. I loved you and I understood why you walked away. I still love you,” he said hesitantly, his own voice catching.

“You do?” she said softly, surprise in her voice.

“I never stopped,” he murmured, lifting her chin so she could meet his gaze, before his mouth met hers.

Stephanie pulled away from the kiss, her eyes shadowed with pain. “Jess, I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“We could try again. It would be different this time,” Jesse coaxed, trying to draw her back into his arms. He dropped his arms from around her when she shook her head in denial.

“Jess, I’m sorry. I wish to God things could be different between us, but they won’t be. I love Dominic. I will always love Dominic, with every breath I take until it’s my last he will always be the only man I’ll ever love.”

“Stephanie, you don’t know that. You don’t know if you don’t try,” Jesse argued, reaching for her again.

Stephanie shook off his arm. “Jess, I tried. I tried so hard with you. I spent most of our relationship trying to convince myself I could love you. But I can’t. I like you. I need you in my life and I’m not going to deny that I want you. But love you? It’s never going to happen.” Seeing his stunned expression, she said gently, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

“Now that’s a cliché, if I’ve ever heard one. It’s almost as bad as the Dear Jesse letter you forgot to write when you walked out on me. Tell me, Stephanie, what was I to you then?” he asked bitterly.

“Jess, it’s not a cliché. I’m fucked up – emotionally, physically and mentally. You deserve someone who can love you the way you should be loved, the way I will never love you. I’m not saying this to be cruel. I wish to God I could tell you yes. Yes, I love you. Yes, someday I will marry you and everything will end with happily ever after. But one thing I’ve learned is that happily ever after is never going to be for me.”

Reaching out to cup her hand around his jaw, she turned his face towards her, pressing her forehead to his. “You were my solace. You were the light to my darkness. You made me feel less empty. When I walked out on Dominic, it killed me. If you hadn’t been there to love me, to hold me up straight, I would have fallen. I needed you to ease the pain.”

 “So, you used me. I was Dominic’s stand-in,” he said, the pain in his eyes causing Stephanie to close her own.

“I’m sorry, Jess. I wish I could be what you want me to be, but I won’t ever be that girl. I’m damaged – broken. Find a girl who you can love and who can love you back with all your heart. I’m not that girl,” Stephanie said, opening her eyes to smile sadly at him. “I wish to hell I could be, but I can’t.”

***

The man watched them, his fists clenching in anger at the sight of Jesse Carlisle kissing Stephanie. He had been patient. He had wooed her. He had given her flowers. He had left his girls on display for her to admire his art when all he really wanted to do was take her, to give himself completely to her.

And this was how she repaid him? By shacking up with her former lover? Now was the time. He was ready – ready to show her just how much he loved her. There would be no more waiting. No more holding back. Stephanie Carovella was about to get everything she deserved.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Gena stepped inside Leigh Walker’s apartment. She stopped to soak in every inch of the living room, waiting for Jase and Delucci clear the room. Wrinkling her nose at the musty smell, she was almost surprised to find the apartment otherwise immaculate. She’d expected a disaster-zone, but Walker’s apartment was as pristine as the man himself.

Glancing around the room, she scanned it for any kind of clue as to who Leigh Walker really was. He certainly wasn’t the loving husband he’d briefly portrayed to Stephanie. If he was their killer, he was something else altogether.

She walked around the room, studying the books on the shelf, trying to find anything to indicate who Walker was. She frowned, running her fingers over the titles. Some were titles she had on her own bookshelf. Barkan’s
Criminology: A Sociological Understanding,
Mueller’s
The Criminal Justice System
and MacGuire’s
Handbook of Criminology
were amongst the books littering the shelves. Her frown deepened, as she pulled a photography book from the shelf. She flipped through it, before putting it back. Why would a computer programmer have books on criminology and photography? The conversation she’d had with Stephanie galloped through her mind, as she pulled another photography book from the bookcase and studied it.

‘He photographs his victims. He likes to stop his games and takes photos of his victims. And he stalks them Gena. He stalks his victims and takes photos of them’.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her notepad and quickly scribbled a reminder to herself to find out what Walker had studied at university.

“I’ve found something interesting in here,” Jase called out. Gena quickly followed Jase’s voice to the first bedroom. Stopping in the doorway, her jaw slacked in disbelief. Wall to wall was covered with photos of Stephanie.

Stepping into the room, she moved her eyes from photo to photo, realizing each photo had been taken from the moment Stephanie had stepped within L.A.X. It was a layered montage showing Walker’s obsession with his wife. Leaning closer, she slid her gaze from wall to wall. Each wall was covered completely. A wave of horror swept over her when she realized the photos weren’t just of Stephanie, but the crime scenes.

“He photographs his victims. He likes to stop and take photos,” she murmured softly to herself.

“What?” Jase asked distractedly, unable to tear his gaze off the photos of Angel being tortured. Closing his eyes, he took labored breaths, fighting for control.

“Jase if you want me to take this room,” Gena started, pausing when Jase lifted up his hand.

“No, I need to do this, Gena. I need to find out whether this son of a bitch murdered Angel. I won’t rest until I know for sure,” he said huskily, clearing his voice and moving away from the photos showing Angel being tortured.

“These photos look like they’re identical to the ones Delucci found in Ana’s apartment. Her walls were covered with them,” Gena said, keeping her voice neutral. She knew only too well the horror and pain washing over Jase. She’d felt the same after she had walked into Ana’s apartment.

After Stephanie pressed charges against Walker, Gena had wanted to see the crime scene for herself, to be sure Stephanie had been right about their killer returning to the scene. She’d asked Delucci to go with her, needing confirmation from him that photos had been added after the crime scene was closed off. Delucci’s confirmation had sent icy shivers down her spine, none more so than seeing the photos of herself and realizing whoever had killed Angel and Carolyn had been watching them all closer than she’d originally assumed.

It didn’t sit well with her that some of these photos were taken from inside Jesse’s house. There was no way Leigh Walker took them. He couldn’t have possibly got into the house, could he? Even as she reassured herself it was impossible, a seed of doubt lingered within her mind. He had managed to fool Stephanie all this time. Stephanie, who rarely let anyone inside the walls she barricaded around herself. She recalled Stephanie’s words, her firm belief that Leigh wasn’t a killer. Glancing around the room, she acknowledged the odds weren’t in Walker’s favor.

Delucci walked into the room, holding evidence bags in his hand. “I think we’ve just hit the jackpot,” he said.

“Are they what I think they are?” Jase asked.

“It looks like our boy likes to keep mementos,” Delucci said. Gena moved closer to examine the evidence bags. He let her take one out of his hands, her face turning ashen white, as she examined the diamond tennis bracelet within the bag.

Wordlessly Gena handed it to Jase. Dropping her eyes to the floor, she blinked back tears. Jase took the evidence bag with trembling fingers, staring hard at the bracelet he held.

“You recognize the bracelet?” Delucci asked, his eyes moving from Gena’s bent head to study Jase’s tormented expression.

Jase nodded, a lump forming in his throat. He swallowed hard, waiting until he could speak. “It’s Angel’s bracelet,” he choked out.

“Are you sure?” Delucci asked firmly.

Jase nodded, his voice harsh with growing fury. “It’s Angel’s bracelet. I gave it to her for her last birthday. She never ever took it off, Frank. The bastard took it from her as a memento. He raped, tortured and murdered her and then the son of a bitch stole from her, as she lay dying,” Jase shook his head, his fist closing convulsively over the bracelet. “I need some air,” he muttered, thrusting the evidence bag at Delucci and striding out of the room.

Gena went to follow, but Delucci grabbed her arm. “Just let him go. He needs the space,” he said softly, understanding in his eyes.

Gena nodded, watching Delucci drop his arm and do a sweep of the room. He whistled slowly. “If Walker isn’t our man, someone is going to extraordinary lengths to make us believe he is.”

Gena nodded again, giving the room a cursive glance. “What worries me the most Frank is the fact that some of the photos we found at Ana’s apartment were taken from within Jess’ home. Identical photos were found here. Whoever took these photos has unlimited access to the very place where Stephanie’s supposed to be safe. They managed to invade Angel’s home, despite all her security. It makes me uneasy.”

“I know the feeling,” Delucci admitted. He thought he’d seen every kind of craziness in the ten years he’d worked in Homicide, but every once in a while a case would surprise the hell out of him. Ana Ferrier’s murder stumped him. He hated to admit it, but he needed Gena Evans.

Turning to the woman beside him, he said quietly, “Would Walker have access to Carlisle’s place?”

“No, and that’s what puzzles me. This fits too neatly together. Every piece of evidence we need to nail Leigh to the wall, is here. Tell me, were his trophies left in open view?” she asked, unable to shake the feeling they were being played.

“They were hidden, but not very well. I found them almost immediately,” Delucci admitted.

Gena chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. “That’s what I don’t understand. Why the slip up now? He’s been careful for so long. He’s been so methodical. He’s only ever showed us what he wanted us to see, and now suddenly he slips up?”

“Gena, you know as well as I do, slip ups happen. Look at
Ted Bundy
, he was apprehended and arrested after being stopped for dimmed headlights.
Berkowitz
was arrested after he received a parking ticket. He slipped, Gena, it happens,” Delucci argued, waving his hand around the room. “Look at this place. Look at the evidence we’ve already got. The trinkets – one of which, you and Jase have already identified as Angel Monroe’s. Do you want to bet we match every other trinket to every other murder, including Carolyn Mathers’? Look at this room. It’s covered with photos matching the ones we found in Ana’s apartment. The bastard was a prime suspect in the murder of Katrina Andrews’ murder. I’m betting one of those pretty trinkets will belong to Andrews. It’s all here.”

Gena nodded. She couldn’t deny the evidence was all in front of the, but she knew deep in her gut something wasn’t right about this case. She just didn’t know what.

“Frank, I’m not denying it’s all here. It’s a Detectives wet dream come true...every bit of evidence we need to nail Walker’s ass to wall, but I can’t shake the feeling Walker’s being set up to take the fall. I think we’re being played. Our killer’s always been one step ahead of us. He’s always made sure we’ve only seen what he’s wanted us to see. What if he’s doing it again?”

“You could be right, but what if you’re wrong, Gena? Are you really willing to risk Stephanie Carovella’s life just because you have a feeling?” Delucci rebutted.

“Of course not, Frank, but Stephanie doesn’t believe Walker’s a killer either,” Gena said stubbornly.

“And she’s such a brilliant judge of character,” Delucci snapped sarcastically.

“Where’s the weapon, Delucci? Where’s the damn murder weapon? Until we find it, I’m not sure I’m prepared to charge Walker with murder. We need concrete evidence. You damn well know we do.”