Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) (37 page)

Delucci smiled coolly, the smile not reaching his eyes. “Gena, I understand your hesitation. I really do. But here’s another scenario for you. Walker knows that this looks too easy for us to just simply close the case. He knows all the pieces are smoothly sliding into place. He’s setting us up to believe he’s not the killer. He wants us to believe he’s some hapless victim. I’m sorry Gena, but I don’t buy it one damn bit. It’s too much of a coincidence our so-called sapless victim just happened to be the first victim’s boyfriend. And, let’s not forget this is a man who stalked Stephanie Carovella and convinced her to fall in love with him. This guy is bad news. He’s dangerous to women. He beat up his ex-girlfriend. He slapped your best friend around. You saw her black eye. He’s already facing assault charges and in my view he’s obsessed with Carovella. Now, are you trying to tell me he’s not guilty of any of these things either?”

Watching her shake her head silently, he said determinedly, “Gena, you may be able to take the risk that Walker is not the killer, but I can’t. I won’t let another innocent woman die because it didn’t feel right to us. I want this bastard behind bars until we know he’s not the killer for sure.”

***

Detective Sandra Barton smiled gently at the woman opposite her. “I know this must have been a difficult thing for you to do. Meeting me here -”

“I almost didn’t show up. It’s not just difficult to do this, it’s almost impossible. You have no idea what he will do to me if he finds me – if he finds out I’m talking to the police. I will be as dead as that actress,” the woman said, dropping her gaze to the café’s patterned table cloth.

“Barbara, you’re doing the right thing,” Sandra said, reaching out to take her hand and smile at her reassuringly.

“Am I? Tell me, who am I doing the right thing for? It’s certainly not for me. You have no idea of what he’s capable of, or of what he will do if he finds me,” Barbara Madden whispered, lifting terror-filled eyes to meet Sandra’s steady gaze.

“The L.A.P.D will protect you,” Sandra firmly assured her.

Barbara gave an almost hysterical laugh. “The L.A.P.D will protect me? From what I’ve read, you can’t even protect your own. What was her name? Cynthia someone, who has gone missing? How can you protect me when you can’t even protect her?”

Sandra kept her expression neutral, refusing to let the frustration seeping through her, show on her face. Barbara Madden was ready to bolt. She could understand the woman’s terror, her reluctance to come forth, but she’d been the one who called Sandra, not the other way around. Soothingly, she asked, “Tell us what he is capable of. Help us catch him. Don’t let him make you a victim. Don’t let him kill again. You know he will kill again, Barbara. Unless you help us stop him, he
will
continue to kill, he
will
continue to threaten you.” Seeing the woman’s agitation, she pressed, “Don’t you want to stop looking over your shoulder? Help us, and I guarantee he’ll never hurt you again.”

Barbara smiled shakily, her green eyes flooding with tears, she nodded. “Where do you want me to begin?”

“How did you meet him?” Sandra asked, realizing Barbara Madden needed to start from the beginning.

“I met him in
Outlaws
. I don’t know if you know it…” Barbara looked down at her folded hands.

“
Outlaws
– that’s the bar on Hollywood Boulevard, right?” Sandra asked, watching Barbara nod timidly. “I know the place. I’ve heard it’s a pretty exclusive bar.”

Barbara nodded again, saying with a trace a bitterness, “When your boss is the head of
Callendor
Studios, doors open to you pretty quickly. Everyone’s either an actor, singer or wants to be someone in L.A and they’ll use anything and everyone to get their foot in even if it’s just David Collins’ dumpy secretary.”

Sandra opened her mouth to protest, but Barbara stopped her with a sad smile. “Don’t bother to argue, I know I’m not anything special to look at compared to some of the women in L.A. I’ve accepted it. That’s why I was so surprised…” She hastily wiped the tears filling her eyes.

“I never did understand what he saw in me. I couldn’t see why he wanted me when he could have any of the blonde bombshells hanging around him. I thought I was getting a lucky break.” Her laughter became a hiccup, as she angrily brushed her hands against the tears sliding down her cheek. “Boy was I wrong. Prince Charming turned out to be my worst nightmare instead.”

Her bottom lip trembling, she whispered, “I thought he was different. He seemed so genuine, so interested in what I did for a living. Carlos, the bartender at
Outlaws
, said he’d been asking around about me.”

Lifting her head, she gave Sandra a watery smile. “See, I didn’t think his asking around about me was strange. Maybe I should have, but I was flattered. I was flattered someone so good looking and charming would be asking after me. I should have known there was a catch, but I desperately wanted to believe that this gorgeous, intelligent man wanted me for me.”

Her voice bitter, she added, “Instead he was using me to get information. He pumped me for information about my job. He plied me with compliments and made me feel all important because I was David Collins’ personal secretary. I thought he wanted me for me and was proud of what I did, but all he wanted was information about Carolyn Mathers. I played right into his hands. I gave him everything.”

Sandra listened to Barbara Madden talk. She felt a twinge of sadness, instinctively knowing this woman had let someone get close to her for the first time in a long time and it had scarred her. She’d let someone in, let someone get close and she had been used. She could understand the woman’s anger, her pain, and it saddened her to know this woman would find it hard to trust anyone ever again.

“Barbara, you said you were scared he could hurt you. What makes you think he would hurt you?” she gently asked, not wanting to push Barbara too far.

Barbara Madden traced her finger on the patterned red-checked tablecloth, not looking at Sandra as she spoke. “We dated for six weeks. He was charming in the beginning, but near the end of the relationship he got scary. He was possessive and he scared me with some of the things he would say and do.”

Sandra put her hand over Barbara’s when she saw she was struggled to keep her composure. “Did he hurt you?” she asked sympathetically, sighing heavily when Barbara nodded.

“He was rough,” Barbara said, swallowing hard. “He liked to do things in bed that weren’t normal. He’d squeeze my throat during sex until I almost blacked out.”

Turning her head to gaze out of the window, Barbara whispered, “He wanted to do things to me, no nice, respectable guy would want to do.”

“And did you?” Sandra probed, squeezing Barbara’s hand reassuringly. Barbara gripped her hand tightly back, nodding silently.

“Yes. I didn’t want to, but I was scared of what he would do if he didn’t.” Her smile was brittle. “I did refuse once. He beat me until I was black and blue and threatened to slit my throat if I told anyone. I never refused again.”

Sandra smiled at her encouragingly. “Barbara, you’re doing really great. I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for you to talk about all of this, but anything you can tell us is going to help us. Nothing you say will be held against you. You were a victim in all of this.” Gripping Barbara’s hand more firmly, Sandra leaned forward and said fiercely, “You
are
a victim in all of this Barbara, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.” Barbara swallowed convulsively and nodded.

“Can you tell me his name? Can you tell me who the man is we’re looking for?” Sandra asked, silently praying Barbara wouldn’t back out now.

Barbara nodded again, her voice barely a whisper. “His name is Jake. Jake Carlisle.”

***

Cynthia crawled towards the highway, every part of her body screamed in pain, but she refused to stop. She was free. He had dumped her in the middle of nowhere, leaving her to her own devices. Leaving her to die, but she was determined. She would not let him break her.

She was exhausted. Her last hours with him had been the worst and she’d kept fading in and out of consciousness, as he brutalized her. He had beaten her black and blue. She could feel the welts on her back, rubbing against her clothes and she gritted her teeth. Just a few more inches and she would reach Highway 5. Someone would stop for her. Someone
had
to stop for her.

She pushed herself forward, her hand grappling for the highway’s metal rail. Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself over it, screaming in pain as the railing hit her stomach. Clenching her teeth together, a shudder of pain rippled through her, as she shoved herself forward.

Hitting the ground hard, she fought through the black comforting folds of unconsciousness, slowly counting to ten. Using the railing for support, she dragged herself to her feet, her knees buckling underneath her immediately.

You can do this Cynthia Melissa Mallory
, she told herself, fighting the agony slicing through ever fiber. With determination, she pushed herself to her feet again and staggered towards the open road. With eyes swollen half-shut, she glanced towards the highway. Her chest pounding out of control, she waited for lights, a sign someone was coming her way. Every step she took ignited the fiery pain spreading through her body, but she knew she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t let him win. She would not die out here alone.

Spotting lights ahead, she stepped determinedly out onto the highway, raising her bloodied hands to wave for helps. She choked a sigh of relief when the car slowed down, dropping to her knees in exhaustion and hanging her head. Hearing the car door open, and feet crunch on the highway road towards her, she tried to focus.

Her vision blurred, she tried to lift her head when a hand reached out towards her and someone asked, “Miss, are you alright?”

Lifting her bloodied and battered face to meet the shocked gaze of the blue-eyed man in front of her, she nodded in relief before she slumped into unconsciousness.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Stephanie rubbed her eyes tiredly, reaching for the cup of coffee sitting on the bedside table. Taking a sip, she grimaced, realizing she’d let her coffee go cold. It was one of her worst habits. She’d get so caught up in work, she’d forget to drink it.

Gulping it down, she uncrossed her legs, stretching them out in front of her. Lifting her laptop onto her lap, she stared hard at the screen. She’d spent the last few hours analyzing each of the crime scenes, writing notes and rereading the old cold case files she’d given Jase.

Leaning back against her pillow, she closed her eyes, her thoughts turning to Jase Devlin. She liked him. Not just in a platonic – let’s be friends- way either, but, she couldn’t go there. For starters, he was Angel’s boyfriend and Angel had been murdered because of her association with Stephanie. Jase would never be interested in getting involved with the woman who was indirectly responsible for Angel’s death.

Opening her eyes, she wrinkled her nose. Then there was Jesse and Ben. Jesse had just confessed his love for her and she’d rejected him. Dating Jase would be a slap in his face. She couldn’t do that to him.

And Ben hated everything Jase represented. He blamed Jase for Angel’s murder. Then of course, there were his feelings for her. Feelings, she couldn’t bring herself to deal with.

She had to stay away from Jase Devlin. Getting involved with him was too risky and not just because she was afraid of the impact it would have on her relationship with her best friends. Jase made her feel something, an emotion she never thought she’d feel again, an emotion she hadn’t felt since Dominic. She wasn’t just attracted to Jase. She was developing feelings for him, feelings strong enough to scare her.

Pushing her laptop off her lap, she stood up, stretching languidly. As long as she stayed away from Jase Devlin, her emotions were safe. Smiling to herself, she shook her head. Staying away from him shouldn’t prove too difficult.

Drinking the rest of her coffee, she padded barefoot into the kitchen, putting the cup into the sink. Turning to walk back to her bedroom, she froze at the sight of the medium sized black box sitting on the kitchen table. Slowly walking towards it, she reached out, hesitant to touch the blood red ribbon attached to the top. Her fingers skimmed across it, sliding underneath the ribbon to remove the card. To her horror, she recognized the name scrawled across the card. It was hers. Her university nickname, anyway.

Calmly, she removed the card, gingerly placing it on the table. He’d been in the house again. He’d come into the house, while she was here alone, and left her a present. Staring hard at the box, she debated calling Gena. She knew Gena would tell her to wait until the L.A.P.D had descended before opening the box. She was a real stickler for procedure.

Stepping closer to the box, Stephanie grinned devilishly. Who was she kidding? She never played by anyone’s rules. Why start now? Lifting the lid off the box, she stared dumbstruck at what was inside. Puzzled, she reached her hand into the box, picking up the toy car and examining it. Leaning over the box, she peered inside, picking up an envelope.

Setting the car down on the table, she flicked her eyes over it again, shaking her head in confusion. Why a car? It didn’t make sense to her. Opening the envelope, she pulled out the card, her face draining white at the bold scripture.

She took a step backwards, dropping the card to the floor, her eyes fixated on the car sitting on the table. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she took a shaky breath. Feeling bile rise within her throat, she turned and headed for the door. The desire to be anywhere, but in this house overcame her, and she jerked open the front door.

***

Jase sat moodily on the front porch steps of Jesse Carlisle’s house, staring out into the night. He didn’t know why he’d come here tonight. He’d driven around endlessly, after leaving Leigh Walker’s apartment, just driving around in circles before he’d ended up here. He couldn’t explain it and didn’t even realize this was where he was heading until he’d arrived.