Obsessed (The Lizzy Gardner Series) (13 page)

CHAPTER 27

Jessica stood at the door to Hayley’s apartment and knocked three times. Hayley had left a message on her phone earlier, telling her she had some news about the drive-by shooter.

Hayley opened the door, then spun away and left her standing there like an idiot. She stepped inside and was greeted by a dog. “You have a dog?”

Hayley was in the kitchen. “It’s Lizzy’s. I’m giving him back to her as a wedding present. Come on, Dog,” Hayley called. “Time for dinner.”

The dog trotted their way. Leave it to Hayley to name the animal Dog. It was the mangiest-looking mutt Jessica had ever laid eyes on. Judging by the bald spots, facial scars, and limp, the poor thing looked to have been on the wrong end of a fight with a dozen raccoons. Its hair was wiry and coarse, but it looked as if someone had tried to brush it. The animal ran to Hayley, his nub for a tail moving back and forth to the beat of an invisible metronome.

Jessica looked around the apartment, surprised by the shabby-chic décor. An antique suitcase sat in one corner of the main room. Atop it was a glass jar filled with watches and broken timepieces. The round straw rug in the middle of the room was simple and beachy looking. A vintage green refrigerator and a scarred drop-leaf table with two chairs took up most of the small space in the kitchen. “I like your place.”

Hayley gave a subtle nod of acknowledgment before she put a bowl of food on the floor for the dog.

“I’ve been thinking about all the time we used to spend together,” Jessica said, hoping to break the tension between them. “I want you to know I’m sorry I didn’t call or come by after everything that happened. I should have—”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” Hayley interrupted without turning away from the sink. “I didn’t call you either.”

Fair enough
, Jessica thought. She twiddled her thumbs on the couch for a while as she waited for Hayley to finish what she was doing in the kitchen. A laptop and a bunch of papers sat on the wooden chest in front of her. A stack of files and a printer were piled on the floor to her left. A photograph peeked out from beneath the laptop. Curious, she pulled the picture out and held in a gasp. It was Hayley’s mother. Dead. Murdered. Her bloodied corpse propped upright, an axe embedded in her skull. Unable to get her next breath, Jessica shoved the picture back under the laptop.

Knowing what had happened was one thing, but seeing it was something else altogether. It was a wonder Hayley managed to keep on going day after day, hour after hour. How often did she look at that photograph?

Jessica started at the sound of Hayley’s voice. She was pounding on the window and shouting to someone.

Hayley stalked across the room toward the door. “Fuck. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was gone before Jessica could ask her what was going on.

Jessica went to the window to see what had freaked Hayley out, but there was nothing but the driveway and an empty park across the street with more weeds than grass. Two minutes later, Hayley was back with a little boy in tow. The boy rushed over to the dog and scratched the animal’s back. Jessica found Hayley in her bedroom, fastening sheaths to her legs and snapping her knives into place. “How many of those things do you have?”

Ignoring her, Hayley grabbed her backpack and the Taser next to her bed.

“You keep a Taser next to your bed? Expecting a visitor?”

Once again, there was no response.

“Where are you going?”

Silence.

“You can’t leave me with that little boy,” Jessica told her. “I’m not good with kids.”

“You used to watch that little girl and her brother. Besides, you can’t be a worse caretaker than the boy’s dumber-than-fuck mother.”

Jessica had nothing to say to that.

“I have the name you wanted,” Hayley said as she gathered her things.

Jessica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You actually got a member of the Franklin gang to talk to you?”

“You had any doubt?”

“How?”

“It’s not important.” Hayley positioned one strap of her backpack over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers. “Where’s my two thousand dollars?”

Jessica blew out some hot air and raised her arms. “I don’t have it on me. I never thought you’d get a name this quickly.”

“Wow, and here I thought you knew me better than most.”

“Give me the name,” Jessica said. “You know I’ll find a way to pay you.”

“Keep an eye on the kid until I get back. Then I’ll give you a name.”

Jessica followed her outside and watched her take the stairs two at a time. Damn her.

Back inside, Jessica realized she didn’t know the boy’s name, so she asked him.

He sat on the floor, petting the dog. He didn’t say a word and didn’t make eye contact. Jessica could take a hint.

There was no television in the place. She took a seat on the couch and grabbed the stack of papers next to Hayley’s laptop and began sifting through them. There were names and addresses, maps of streets and pictures of homes in at least six different states. There were pictures of men who looked like Brian, sent to Hayley all the way from Florida, Kentucky, and New York. One printed e-mail was from a man who said he and his wife saw Brian in Nepal. Instructions for where Hayley should send money were included if she wanted his exact location.

Stacks of e-mails had been printed. They were dated as early as three months after Hayley’s mother was murdered, all the way up to three days ago.

Jessica looked around and tried to picture Hayley sitting in the tiny one-bedroom apartment day after day, trying to find one man.
What was she going to do when she found him?

There was a knock on the door, but before Jessica could get to her feet, Kitally walked inside. “Where’s Hayley?”

“She ran off in a hurry. I have no idea where she went to or when she’ll be back.”

“She’s getting my mom,” the boy said, his voice a smidgen above a whisper.

Kitally went to the kitchen. “Hey, Hudson. Do you know exactly where that would be?”

He shook his head.

Kitally didn’t bother asking the little boy any more questions. Instead, she walked back into the main room and plopped down on the couch next to Jessica. “Doing a little snooping?”

Jessica looked at the pile of papers in her lap and the picture of Brian in her hand and didn’t try to deny it. “Can you watch the boy until Hayley gets back?”

“Nope. Not a chance. So, tell me what it’s like working for the feds.”

“As soon as I know, I’ll give you a call.”

“Cool.”

Jessica rolled her eyes.

“Do you know if I got the job?”

“I haven’t heard, sorry.” A business card slipped out of the papers in her lap. Jessica picked it up. “A ten-thousand-dollar reward for information on Brian?”

“Yep. My dad has a few bucks. I figured we might as well put it to good use.”

“No wonder Hayley keeps a Taser next to her bed,” Jessica said. “Has she been passing these cards out to people?”

“I made those cards myself. We passed out thousands of them.”

Not good.

“Hayley’s ready for Brian and his thugs. She’s been stocking up on gadgets.”

“What do you mean by
gadgets
?”

“Weaponry,” Kitally said. “You wouldn’t believe the equipment and gear people sell on the Internet.”

“I can imagine.” Jessica gave Kitally the once-over. The girl appeared to have a loose tongue. Jessica decided to see how loose. “Hayley told me she found out the name of the shooter. Assuming you had something to do with that, you would know the name, too. What is it?”

Kitally raised a brow. “I didn’t realize she’d gotten a name.” She flopped back on the cushions. “After Wolf ordered his two biggest watchdogs to take Hayley to the back room, I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. Should’ve known better.” She grinned. “Taught me and everyone there not to underestimate her.”

Jessica felt queasy. “They didn’t do anything to her, did they?”

“Are you kidding me? Nobody walks through those doors without being properly initiated, but that girl kicked some ass.”

“Thank God.”

Now it was Kitally’s turn to give Jessica a long look. “You’re not so bad, are you?”

Jessica had no idea what she was talking about.

“Hayley is always talking about how uptight you were when the two of you worked together. She said you couldn’t walk into a strip club without turning all pasty white and looking like you might lose your last meal.”

Although Jessica couldn’t imagine Kitally and Hayley hanging out together, it was obvious Kitally had gotten more than a few good laughs at Jessica’s expense.

“I don’t mean to offend you,” Kitally went on, “it’s just that you don’t seem like the pansy-ass she made you out to be.”

“No offense taken.” Jessica held up Brian’s picture. “So what’s the plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happens when she finds him?”

Kitally raised both arms in front of her, fingers entwined as if she were holding a pistol. And then she pulled an imaginary trigger.

“What a waste.”

Kitally frowned. “Why do you say that? You know what he did.”

“It won’t be long before Brian is caught and put behind bars where he belongs. I’m not saying he deserves to live after what he did, but Hayley would only be hurting herself by killing him. She’d spend the rest of her life behind bars because of him.
That
would be a waste.”

Hayley had recognized the car she’d seen Becca climb into. The El Camino belonged to a guy who hung around Becca like a bad smell. He was always getting her high and trying to convince her to join his girls on the street. Hayley had stayed out of it, mostly because Becca did a decent job of holding her own and turning the loser down. But for some reason Becca had climbed into his car tonight.

Hayley drove to the guy’s house, but his car wasn’t there. Afraid she might have lost them, she kept on driving. Her first stop was his cousin’s house a few miles away. Nothing there. No familiar cars. Back on the road, she pulled over to let a car pass, then decided to head for the neighborhood where he often ran his girls.

Ten minutes later, she hit pay dirt. His car was parked at the curb in front of a well-known party house. It was sixty degrees outside and yet people were crowded together on the front lawn, playing beer pong. Music blared.

Hayley double-parked. The front door to the house was open and nobody seemed to care who came and went. She wove a path, squeezing through people to get through the front room. Lots of dancing and making out going on. Two girls ground their bodies against a guy, pushing him to the wall. There were kegs of beer in the kitchen and a long row of empty bottles of booze. The floor was sticky. She looked around the room. No sign of Becca. Not until she made her way to the backyard. There she was, sitting on the loser’s lap, taking a hit from a pipe.

Hayley walked over to the cozy little couple, grabbed hold of Becca’s arm, and told her it was time to go home.

“I just got here.”

Hayley yanked her to her feet and turned to go, only to find two guys blocking her way.

“The girl wants to stay,” the taller goofball said before he tugged Becca out of her grip and pulled her to his chest.

Strangely, Hayley wasn’t in the mood to fight the goons, so she decided to make up a lie. She looked at Becca and said, “There’s been an accident. Hudson managed to get through the fence and into the pool.”

Becca’s face turned yellow. “I told him to stay in the house.”

Hayley shrugged.

“He doesn’t know how to swim.”

“Someone pulled him out and was giving him mouth-to-mouth when I left. I called 911, but I knew I needed to come find you.”

Becca pushed away from the guy who was holding her and marched away. Hayley followed close behind as they made their way through the side yard to the front of the house.

“Where’s your car?” Becca shouted over the loud music.

“Right over here.”

By the time they drove off, Becca was sobbing uncontrollably.

Hayley didn’t tell Becca the truth until they were close to home. “Hudson is fine. He didn’t fall in the pool. He stayed in the house like you told him.”

It took a moment for that news to register. Becca stopped crying. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You have obligations—a little boy to take care of, a new job. You have to work tomorrow.”

“You don’t own me.”

Hayley kept her eyes on the road. “Um, afraid so. I paid off your debt, remember? I own you.”

As Hayley made a right, Becca opened the door and rolled out onto the street. Hayley slammed on the brakes, put the car in park, and jumped out. Becca was on her feet, muttering curses as she marched down the middle of the street toward the party.

Hayley caught up to her and grabbed her arm. “Get in the car right now or I’m calling social services.”

Becca stabbed a finger at her face. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” Hayley turned and walked back to her car. “Go back to your party and have fun.” She got behind the wheel and leaned out the window. “When you get home, Hudson won’t be there. I just hope they find him a nice family because he deserves to have parents who care more about him than getting a buzz.”

Becca came back to the car and climbed in. She sat low in the seat, pissed as all hell. “What are you going to do? Watch my every move?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“For how long?”

“Until hell freezes over.”

“You’re insane.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Becca crossed her arms tightly against her chest. “What do you expect me to do?”

“You’re coming home right now and you’re going to take care of your kid. I’ll move in with you if I have to.”

“No fucking way.” She pointed a finger at Hayley. “Stay out of my house.”

“I’m not messing around, Becca. You’re better than this. You and Hudson can have a decent life. It’s up to you.”

CHAPTER 28

Madeline’s house sat on a tree-lined street close to Midtown, a popular cultural scene in Sacramento, where bars, clubs, boutiques, and casual dining thrived.

Thirty minutes ago, Lizzy had received a call from a frenzied Madeline Blair pleading with her to come to her house. Lizzy could hardly understand what the woman was saying. She’d managed to piece together enough to figure out that someone had broken into Madeline’s home, tied her up, and made it clear he would be back. The police were on their way.

Police vehicles lined the street, forcing Lizzy to park a half a block away. When she arrived at the front door, she showed her credentials to the uniformed policeman. He refused to allow her inside until a crime-scene technician recognized her and told him to let her in. That same technician informed Lizzy that Detective Chase and Dr. Blair were expecting her and she could find them in the upstairs bedroom.

As Lizzy made her way upstairs, she saw two technicians in the living room below dusting for prints. Although she’d never been to Madeline’s house before now, nothing looked disturbed. No furniture appeared to be knocked over or out of place. The stairs were wooden and cleaned to a shine. No scuff marks or any signs of any recent turmoil.

Although the bedroom door was open, she knocked to let them know she’d arrived and introduced herself to Detective Chase. He was at least six foot five and built like a tight end—neck like a tree trunk, shoulders so broad he probably had to turn sideways to enter most rooms. He had an intense look about him, as if he could see right through her, the kind of eyes that might make most people shy away.

Sitting on the edge of an upholstered chaise lounge, Madeline thanked Lizzy for coming. She wore a thick white robe, her hair was a tangled mess, and her eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot.

“There was no sign of a break-in,” the detective told Lizzy.

Lizzy looked at Madeline. “I’ll call a locksmith and have new locks put on every door in the house. The garage, too.”

Madeline nodded.

The photographer apologized for interrupting, but he needed to take pictures of Madeline’s wrists.

She obliged, holding her arms straight out. Both wrists were red and raw. Lizzy inwardly cringed. She knew what it felt like to be tied with thick rope with no way to get loose. “Where are the ropes?”

The detective shrugged. “Nobody knows.”

“He must have taken everything with him when he left,” Madeline added, “including my pajamas.”

“He tied your wrists to the bedposts?” Detective Chase asked as he moved around the room, checking things out, careful not to touch anything.

“I already told you, I don’t know.” Madeline looked around. “Maybe he tied the rope to the doorknob or to something inside my closet. Yes,” she said, nodding as she pointed toward the closet. “He could’ve tied the other end to the wooden rod in the closet.”

The bedposts were much more likely. Lizzy’s heart went out to her. Clearly the woman was in shock.

“How did you get away?”

“I told you I felt a pinch, a sting. He gave me something that caused me to pass out.” She closed her eyes. “Before he did, he used scissors to cut off my clothes. He wouldn’t stop kissing me and sniffing.” She shivered. “When I woke up, he was gone.”

“So it’s your belief that he untied your hands and your feet, washed all evidence from your body and then took everything with him when he left—syringes, ropes, and the pajamas you were wearing.”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t recall how he came to be in your room?”

She shook her head, then rolled her sleeves back into place after the photographer finished taking pictures.

“Don’t you think it’s strange he went to all the trouble to unbind you and wash you before he left?”

“Well, yes,” she said, beginning to bristle. “I think the whole damn thing is a little strange, don’t you?”

Lizzy wasn’t a lawyer, so she remained silent, taking notes of her own and wishing there was some way she could make this easier on Madeline. Her wrists had obviously been bound. If the man had drugged her, she could have been raped. But Detective Chase didn’t seem to be buying any of it.

A uniformed police officer stuck his head into the room. “Detective. There’s something we need to show you downstairs.”

Lizzy followed Madeline and the detective out of the bedroom and down the stairs. A crime-scene investigator had found something inside a decorative box on her coffee table. With blue latex-covered fingers, he held up a leather wallet.

“What is that?” Madeline asked.

The investigator looked at the detective, who nodded, letting the investigator know he could tell her what he’d found.

“It’s a wallet, ma’am. According to the ID inside, it belongs to Chris Porter.”

Madeline paled. Afraid she might faint, Lizzy helped her to the closest chair. Madeline’s hands felt clammy. Lizzy went to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. When she returned, Detective Chase had Madeline on her feet. “I’m going to need Dr. Blair to come to the station.”

“That wallet was clearly planted,” Lizzy said. “She never would have called the police if she’d known Chris Porter’s wallet was anywhere inside this house.”

“I need to take her in all the same.”

After he read Madeline her rights, Lizzy asked Madeline if she had a lawyer.

“Do you know of someone?”

“Of course. I’ll give her a call and we’ll meet you at the station. Until then, don’t say another word.” Lizzy turned to face the detective. “Before anything else happens, I must insist she be taken to the hospital for a full examination. If she was drugged, she could have been raped.”

He stroked his jaw as if he might deny the request.

“I mean it,” Lizzy told him. “If she isn’t seen by someone before the hour is up, it’ll be your ass on the line, no one else’s.”