Obsessed (The Lizzy Gardner Series) (14 page)

CHAPTER 29

When Jared walked outside to get the mail, their neighbor Heather spotted him and ran across the street to greet him. “Hey there, neighbor. How are the wedding plans going?”

“Not very well. Lizzy has been busy. Without the bride-to-be around to make the decisions, this wedding just might end up being a disaster.”

“What’s the date?”

“December 20. I have about a month and a half to put this thing together.”

“Did you order the cake?”

He shook his head. “I met with the cake lady you told me about, but there were too many flavors to choose from. After an hour of tasting just about everything they had in the bakery, I was high on sugar and I couldn’t make a decision.”

She laughed. “Go with chocolate devil’s food cake and vanilla buttercream. You can’t go wrong.”

He looked doubtful. “It can’t possibly be that easy. I should have taken you with me.”

“I used to work for an event planner when I was in college. I’ve planned a lot of weddings in my day. If you need any help at all, I’m your gal.”

He used his key to open the mailbox. “I might just take you up on that offer. I have a long list and nothing is getting done.”

“I won’t be starting my new job until the end of the month. I’m free as a bird. If you’re not busy today,” she told him, “we can order the cake.”

“I would be forever indebted.”

“What else do you have on the list?”

“I need to pick out some food. I’ve been told people like to eat at weddings.”

She laughed. “Easy smeasy. What else?”

“Why don’t I run home and grab the list?”

“Perfect. Meet me at my house in fifteen minutes and we’ll get started.”

His cell phone was ringing when Jared walked into the house. It was Lizzy. He answered his phone and said, “Hello, beautiful.”

“Sorry I had to run off so early this morning. My newest client, Dr. Blair, was attacked last night. The detective in charge seems to believe she made the whole thing up.”

“No evidence?”

“Not so far. I take that back. Remember what I told you about Dr. Blair’s two missing friends?”

“Did they find them?”

“No, but they found one of the men’s wallets in Dr. Blair’s house.”

Jared whistled. “Sounds like she needs a lawyer.”

“Yes, indeed. I called Dana Kerns. She’s meeting me at the station.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to run out and get some things done so we can cross a few items off our wedding list, starting with ordering the cake.”

“I thought you said after your last attempt you’d never taste another piece of cake in your life.”

“I ran into Heather Long Legs at the mailbox. She said she would help me out. She used to be an event planner.”

Silence.

“Is that a problem?”

“Of course not.”

“Good, because I need to overcome my fear of wedding cake before the big day.”

Lizzy laughed. “You are a very brave man and I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I should be back in time to have dinner and watch a movie.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Without Heather?”

“Without Heather,” he said. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy from my wife-to-be?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“You’re the only woman for me, you know that.”

“Jared?”

“What is it?”

“You sure you’re not having second thoughts about being stuck with me for the rest of your life?”

“You wear ugly T-shirts to bed, cry at the end of every movie, and snore in your sleep, but I love you, and I absolutely want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I do not snore in my sleep.”

“Why do you think I have half circles under my eyes every morning?”

She laughed again. “Ridiculous.”

“OK,” he said, feeling guilty. “Go ahead and list my flaws. I can take it.”

“You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Not fair,” Jared said. He could see Heather coming up the walkway. “Go do what you have to do, but don’t make me eat dinner alone. I have to go to Virginia in a few weeks and I miss you already.”

CHAPTER 30

Thirty minutes before Dr. Blair was brought to the hospital to be examined, Seth arrived at the hospital for work. His wife was a certified sexual assault nurse examiner. The idea of Janelle being the one to examine Dr. Blair made the blood pump faster through his veins.

He’d known Madeline would call the police, which was why he’d planted the wallet for them to find. He’d selectively placed a few other surprises, too, and he wondered what the investigators found, if anything. Everything was going according to plan. In fact, planting the book in her house last week had been way too easy. Janelle was a big reader. She had a habit of telling him every detail of every book she ever read. When the idea had first come to him to set up Madeline and make her look guilty, he’d remembered Janelle talking about a novel titled
Obsessed
. Hell, she’d even stood in line for hours at the mall just to get the author to sign it.
Obsessed
was a thriller, a story about a female killer, a psychologist, too. It had all been too perfect. His campaign to set Madeline up as the villain was working out well.

The one place examiners and detectives would find absolutely no evidence whatsoever was on Dr. Blair’s body. Before he’d untied Madeline, he’d given her enough etorphine to put her out for at least an hour. During that time, he’d searched her house, looking for keepsakes.

He stopped for a moment and took a breath. If he inhaled deeply enough, he could still smell her. Divine.

After using soap and water to thoroughly clean every inch of her creamy flesh, an enjoyable experience in itself, he’d taken a few pictures as keepsakes. He’d made sure her fingerprints were all over Chris Porter’s wallet before he gathered his rope and his tape and exited her house.

He stood just outside the examination room. The door was closed, but he could hear Janelle’s voice as she explained to Madeline the process, as well as her rights and choices. Madeline was asked to describe the events of the assault, which she did in detail.

He didn’t have to be inside the examination room to know what would happen next. Janelle would perform a general health check—blood pressure, heart rate, eyes, ears, nose—and then collect evidence from head to toe, using a bright light to look for semen or saliva before taking samples of her hair and swabbing the inside of her mouth.

And then his wife would examine Dr. Blair’s genitalia.

The thought took his breath away. How long would Janelle linger there? Maybe he would put an end to Janelle’s sufferings and take her to bed tonight. She’d been slaving over him, covering his shifts, making his meals, washing his clothes. She deserved to be fucked.

As Seth filled out forms at the desk where he sat, another nurse’s pager went off. He watched the nurse open a drawer and then take Janelle a camera that he knew would be used to photograph bruises and lacerations. He felt no trepidation, no worries at all. Other than the bruising and scratches on Madeline’s wrists, there were no other signs that he’d been inside her room last night.

“I think that woman is a criminal,” a nurse named Margery said in a low voice.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Down the hallway. Look. There’s a uniformed officer just sitting there. He’s carrying a gun and everything. I asked Tim about it and he said the officer escorted the woman into the hospital and all the way up the elevator to that spot right there where he’s been sitting this entire time.”

He said nothing as excitement rushed through his veins. The police must have found the wallet. Everything was going as planned. Hopefully they wouldn’t keep her behind bars for too long. He was already eager to pay her another visit.

“Do you think she murdered someone?”

“I have no idea, Margery. Why don’t you go ask the man?”

“Oh, gosh, no. Don’t be silly. What if he pulled out his gun and shot me?”

“We have security guards all over the place, Margery. I’m pretty sure they all carry guns and no one has shot you yet.”

She laughed. “You’re right. I am being silly.” She cocked her head as she looked at him. “It’s good to see you feeling better. We’ve all been worrying about you.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Janelle told us everything—well, you know, except the gritty details. Heck, most of us knew what was going on between your wife and Benjamin long before they started meeting every day at lunch.”

His insides twisted. Janelle had told him she’d only been with the man on one occasion. More lies? It felt as if a school of tiny fish suddenly darted out of their hiding place and were now swimming around inside his gut.

“Are you all right? Did I say too much?”

“No, it’s just that I thought—just assumed, really—that they mostly met after work. I didn’t realize they met for lunch.”

Margery blushed. “I did say too much. I’m so sorry. My husband always tells me I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“Listen, Margery,” he said, placing a gentle hand on hers. “Everything’s fine. Janelle and I have worked things out. You and I have been friends for a long time. I don’t want you to ever feel as if you can’t talk to me, OK?”

She smiled, relieved. “Thank you. I appreciate that. She doesn’t deserve you. I—oh, my, there I go again.” She made a zipping motion over her mouth. “I’m done talking. I think I’ll go ask that nice policeman what that woman did, so I’ll be able to relax.”

He watched her walk away. Janelle was definitely getting laid tonight. When they were first married, she used to talk to him about her fantasy of having kinky hot sex that involved a bit of pain, using whips and hot wax. At the time he’d thought the idea was ludicrous.

Oh, yeah, Janelle was going to get exactly what she asked for, he thought as his knuckles popped, one after the other. He was going to do things to Janelle she’d probably never envisioned, not even in her wildest fucking imagination.

CHAPTER 31

Jessica was surprised to learn that the shooter was female. It wasn’t difficult to find information on Kristin Swift. She was sixteen years old and lived with her grandparents in Oak Park, Sacramento. According to the kids in Kristin’s neighborhood, she had ongoing problems with depression and substance abuse. Her actions went beyond those of the typical rebellious teenager. Not only did Kristin skip school more days than not, she got into a lot of fights and had had her share of run-ins with the law.

Jessica parked at the curb, climbed out, and walked toward the house. A few of the homes in the area had seen better days, but for the most part the street was quiet and well maintained.

She had yet to tell Eloise Hampton, the dead girl’s mother, that she knew who had killed her daughter. Before she called the police, she felt compelled to talk to Kristin Swift to find out why she’d shot the bullet that killed a very special little girl.

In January, only a few short months from now, Jessica would be attending Quantico in Virginia. There would be no room in her future for letting a case get personal.

She knocked on the door and didn’t have to wait long before someone answered. The woman stood well under five feet. Her hair was three shades of gray and she had dark blue eyes that peered at Jessica with mistrust. A television blared in the background. The woman held the door close to her chest, making it impossible for Jessica to see inside the house.

“Hello,” Jessica said. “I’m here to see Kristin Swift. Is she available?”

“What do you want with Kristin?”

Jessica wasn’t fond of using falsehoods to get what she was after. She’d never been good at weaving stories, and besides, the truth worked just as well. “I’ve been told Kristin might have something to do with a recent incident involving the Franklin gang. I need to talk to her about it before anyone jumps to conclusions based on rumors.”

When the woman looked over her shoulder, the door came open just enough for Jessica to catch a glimpse of a young girl about Kristin’s age. Eyes wide, the teenager pushed away from the table and ran to the back door. Jessica saw her yank open a sliding door and run.

Instinct catapulted Jessica forward, but the old lady slammed the door in her face, sending Jessica tumbling backward, down two steps and into a thorny rosebush. She cursed as she pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the pain as she ran to the side of the house. She caught sight of Kristin right before the girl jumped the back fence.

Jessica took a faster route through the neighbor’s side yard, ran past an aboveground pool and pulled herself over a rotted fence pieced together with plywood. She landed on both feet and ran across the yard before a dog’s snarl stopped her from taking another step. One inch at a time, she turned her head until she could see what breed of dog she was dealing with. Not good.

A pit bull. A very angry pit bull, maybe twenty feet from her.

She jumped, her fingers clawing into the top of the wood fence, her feet trying to find traction on the wood.

The dog snarled and snapped and she felt its breath near her leg before she kicked him in the chops. Straining, she yanked herself to the top of the fence and threw herself over. The fence shuddered as the beast plowed into the other side. Every dog in the neighborhood was barking now, sounding like a zillion sirens going off at once.

Not too far ahead, she watched Kristin struggle to climb over another fence.

Already out of breath, Jessica hoped the girl wouldn’t make it, but Kristin pushed and pulled, dropped to the other side, and ran toward the main street.

By the time Jessica got to the main street, Kristin was gone. Bent over and trying to catch her breath, she took a good look around the neighborhood. Ready to give up, she heard a commotion and looked to her left just as a man raised his broom to shoo Kristin out of his yard.

Jessica took off again, her left arm stinging after being raked by rose thorns. She darted into an alleyway, close on the girl’s heels. She almost had her.

Shit.

Two skinny man-boys stepped into view just ahead of Kristin, stopping her cold. The bigger of the two boys grabbed her arm and held tight. The smirks on their faces told the story. They were up to no good.

Kristin tried to pull away.

Jessica held up a hand and said, “Let her go, boys.”

One of them pulled out a switchblade and made sure they could both see the blade. “Or whatchya gonna do?”

Jessica pulled out her gun, then flashed her California driver’s license and said, “FBI.”

They were too far away and too stupid to take a closer look. Her 20 weeks of training and 850 hours of instruction at Quantico wouldn’t start until January, which meant she wouldn’t have credentials or a badge until June. They ran off, leaving Kristin to fend for herself. The gun wasn’t loaded, but nobody else needed to know that. It certainly had Kristin’s attention.

“What do you want me to do?” the girl asked.

“I want you to sit down with your back to this wall here and don’t move a muscle.”

“You’d really use that thing on me?”

“Don’t test me.”

Her back against the wall, the girl slid down until she was sitting on the ground.

Jessica tucked the gun into her waistband and slid her wallet back into her pants pocket. Still catching her breath, she rubbed her arm. “God damn, that hurts.”

“You shouldn’t use God’s name in vain.”

“You shouldn’t run from the FBI.”

“How was I supposed to know you were a fed?”

A minute ago, Jessica hadn’t thought she could lie her way out of a paper bag; now she was on a roll. “I want to know why you shot a bullet into the house on Fern Street two weeks ago.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jessica wasn’t the violent type, but she found herself wanting to shake the girl. “You can lie all you want, Kristin, but I already have two witnesses and a gun with your prints that says you’re the shooter.” Another lie.

The girl looked worried. “What do you mean by witnesses?”

“Two members of the Franklin gang gave me your name to save their own asses. If you want any chance at all of avoiding a life sentence, you need to talk.”

Silence.

Jessica bent down on one knee so she could look Kristin in the eye. “Listen, that girl you shot and killed was twelve years old. She worked hard in school and never got in a fight in her life.”

Kristin’s eyes narrowed. “I bet you she had two parents who loved her. I bet you they made sure she had food to eat. They probably tucked her in bed at night.”

Jessica wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to hear from this girl, Taylor’s shooter—maybe some remorse, but certainly not this bullshit. “She wasn’t that different from you,” Jessica said. “She never met her dad.”

“I bet if we walked into her room right now, everything would be just right—a brightly painted room with lights that worked so she could read at night,” Kristin went on, every word dripping with hatred. “I bet you she has sheets on her bed that smell like soap and flowery perfume.”

Jessica stood tall again and crossed her arms.

“I wonder what she had for lunch at school every day,” Kristin went on. “Do you think she had to beat other kids up for a quarter? I bet you I could guess what was inside that brown paper bag with her name scribbled on it—peanut-butter sandwich, some pretzels in one of those fancy plastic bags with the zippers and—”

“Listen, you little crybaby,” Jessica interrupted. “Her mother worked twelve-hour days and she still couldn’t afford to put more than a bowl of beans on the table most nights.” Anger caused the blood in Jessica’s veins to bubble and pop like hot grease. “That little girl you shot and killed had a name. Her name was Taylor, and in case you forgot, that little girl with the clean-smelling sheets . . . she’s dead.”

Kristin’s gaze fell to the ground, her shoulders quivering.

Jessica wasn’t falling for it. “Why did you do it?”

When Kristin looked at Jessica, her eyes were smeared with mascara. “They handed me the gun and told me I had to shoot it if I wanted to be part of the family.”

“And so you blindly did as you were told?”

“Why not? I did everything else they told me to do.” She wiped her eyes and nose clean against a shirtsleeve. “Thirty minutes before they drove me to Fern Street, they passed me around like a chocolate dessert for everyone to nibble on, so I figured what the hell. What did I have to lose?” Kristin closed her eyes tightly but that didn’t stop the tears from leaking out. “I never meant to hurt anyone,” she said, whispering now. “I never meant anyone no harm.”