Sympathy For The Devil (28 page)

Tash rose from her desk, purse in hand, and headed for the door. Her apartment wasn’t far and if Devin wasn’t there, she’d head to his place to find him.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Tash’s apartment had been dark and his truck wasn’t in the parking lot, so she didn’t bother heading upstairs; instead, she hopped in her car and drove straight out of town for Devin’s house.

Her foot was heavy on the accelerator and she drove far faster than she normally did, but nervous energy ran through her and she couldn’t bear to slow down. Soon her headlights cut over the familiar fields that led to his place, and then the long driveway.

His truck wasn’t there.

Silently she cursed, resisted the urge to bang the steering wheel, and kept going, straight up to the front of the house. She pulled her car to the side, grabbed her purse, and climbed out.

The porch light was on but that was it—the house was dark. She jogged up the creaky porch and tried the door.

Unlocked.

Her purse heavy on her shoulder and open so she could reach easily for her weapon, Tash eased the door open and stepped inside. She flipped on the lights, revealing the familiar lower level of the farmhouse, entirely silently.

The floor creaked beneath her feet. She swallowed nervously and stepped forward, glancing around. Surely if he was looking for her, he’d try her place, her office, or his house. Rather than drive around and risk missing him again, it made the most sense to wait here.

She paced through the living room, past the packed boxes and paint supplies, and toward the kitchen. Her eyes dragged over the room and stopped on a new phone hanging on the wall with its box on the floor.

Maybe it was time to have a little chat with someone.

Tash marched over to the phone and dialed the police station—it was late, and she wasn’t sure who would be there, but it was worth checking.

“Deputy Chief Joel Perry,” she said when the receptionist answered. The call was redirected and Tash leaned against the wall, waiting.

Her eyes settled on the refrigerator where a note waited.

I’m looking for you. If you show up here, CALL ME. –D.
A phone number was scrawled at the bottom—his cell number.

“Joel Perry,” came the Deputy Chief’s tired voice as he answered.

Tash blinked and dragged her attention back to the task at hand—she’d call Devin next. “Perry.”

“Whitaker.” His voice was sharper, more alert. “Where are you?”

“I know what you did,” she said coolly.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been the one calling and threatening him. Did you graffiti his house too? How about that note in my car?”

“Listen, Whitaker—”

“No,
you
listen: your personal vendetta stops
now
. I am going to tell Archer, the paper, and everyone else precisely what—”

“List for one goddamn second! Natasha, he did it.”

“Oh, bullshit—”

“A witness saw his truck.”

She ceased pacing, gripping the phone tightly. “What?”

“The last woman, the one you recognized as having spoken to him?” Perry’s voice went low, full of serious warning. “We identified her and found people who saw her that night, in the parking lot,
after
your surveillance of Archer ended, get in a red truck with a man. It was the last time she was seen alive.”

“A lot of people have red trucks—”

“Quit letting your skirt make your goddamn decisions! He played you, Natasha.”

Her hand was trembling and she blinked, held the phone tightly and tried to think rationally. Her purse slipped from her shoulder and she sank down, leaning heavily on the wall and sitting on the floor weakly. “Those calls came from your phone. You could be making this up—”

“For Christ sakes...” He mumbled something she couldn’t make out, as if he’d covered the phone, and a moment later another voice spoke.

“He’s serious, Tash,” Keisha said. “I spoke to the witnesses. Large red vehicle, tall man offered her a light for whatever she was smoking.”

Shit. SHIT
.

“Where are you?” Perry asked.

“I—” Tash sighed. “I’m at his house. I’m alone. I don’t know where he is.”

“I want
everyone
on the fucking street now,” Perry barked away from the phone. “Everyone,
move
. Available units, head straight to the Archer residence. He went after Natasha Whitaker once already—you bring her here before he can try again.”

She was shaking all over now, her pulse pounding in her ears. This couldn’t be for real, could it?

“Officers are on their way—they’ll escort you to the station,” he said.

Her gaze trailed back to the fridge where the note waited. A lot of people had red trucks. And just because someone was seen at the club, picking up the woman... The parking lot was dark—they could’ve been mistaken.

Maybe.

“Natasha?” Perry said.

She blinked hard and came back to herself. “Yeah, I’m still here...”

Tires crunched on gravel in the distance.

Tash scrambled to her feet, the phone gripped tight as she peered around the wall toward the front door. “Someone’s here,” she whispered.

Perry cursed. “Do you see Archer?”

“No...” She waited, breathless, staring in the direction of the front door. The curtains were closed and she couldn’t make out a vehicle or anyone on the porch.

The front door creaked open and she held her breath, waiting.

“Police,” a male voice called out. “Tash, it’s me—we’re here to take you to the station.”

She peered around the corner and sighed with relief when she saw Officer McKay.

“I heard,” Perry said. “Go. We’re looking for Archer. It’ll be over soon.”

“Okay.” She hung up swiftly and wiped at her eyes, trekking around the corner.

Leo’s shoulders visibly relaxed when he saw her. “Thank God. Keish has been beside herself with worry.”

“You got here fast,” she said as she followed him for the door.

He grinned down at her. “Off duty but Perry called everyone in—the roads are teaming with cops. You’re safe.” He opened the door and gestured for her to go out ahead of him.

Blinding headlights cut over the front of the house and she blinked against them, raising her hand to hide her eyes. “That’s good to hear...” Her vision cleared, settling on a vehicle that wasn’t a police cruiser but an SUV.

A red one.

Ice rushed across her skin, fear rushing adrenaline through her veins.

Keisha is at the station...
“Who’s with you?” She started down the porch steps as casually as she possibly could.

“Hmm?”

“You said ‘we’—I was expecting to see Keish.”

“A couple more units are on their way—I heard on the scanner.”

Shit. Oh shit
.

Two steps from the porch she paused and turned back to him, her eyes wide. “Shit, I forgot my purse. Hold on a sec?”

“Sure thing.” Leo leaned against the porch railing and gave her a disarming smile.

“Thanks.” Her steps were still casual as she walked back into the house, but her head was spinning and trembles spilled straight down to her fingertips. Over and over she went through a plan in her head—something swift, easy to follow. Purse, gun, phone. Purse, gun, phone.

Purse. Gun. Phone.

You can do this.

The trek across the house seemed painfully slow, like she moved through swampy air that hampered her movements, but running would only alert him to her suspicions. Her gaze settled on the back door—she could get through the woods, maybe double back to her car. Ideally, she didn’t
want
to have to shoot anyone, not if she could get away.

Tash turned the corner and scooped up her purse, fumbling for the gun as she plucked the cordless receiver from the wall. She punched redial, rounding the kitchen table and heading for the back door.

“Deputy Chief’s office,” a recording said. “Please hold—”

She reached for the back door and screamed as Leo’s grinning face met her.

Chapter Thirty

Leo jerked the door open.

Tash stumbled back, dropped the phone, slammed into the table. Her purse thumped at her feet and her hands found the grip of her gun, just as he backhanded her.

A shot fired but went wide, bullet punching through the kitchen wall. Pain blasted through her cheek and jaw, and stars rolled over her eyes. Her side struck a chair and knocked it over, tumbling with it, and smacking her head on the floor. The wind left her lungs in a rush and she gasped, struggled to get her feet under her.

Her empty hands flexed—the gun, she’d dropped it. She scanned the ground but he grasped her wrist and jerked her backward violently. Her head was disoriented and the room spun, but she reached blindly and locked onto the first thing her hand encountered—the chair leg.

With a scream she swung it at him. Wood cracked but she didn’t look, didn’t care, didn’t even think; she was on her feet in seconds and tearing out the back door.

Her feet slapped the uneven ground as she burst across the lawn. The woods rose ahead of her, black and empty, but it didn’t scare her—no, not with Leo at her back. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder because it would only slow her down and instead drove straight for the tall grass and woods beyond.

Dry weeds and grass swished, brushing her hips. Her heart pounded in time with the painful throb in her head and cheek. The ache seemed to pulse against her vision, making it difficult to see, but she continued on. Her lungs squeezed and ribs felt bruised from where she’d slammed into the chair.

The woods welcomed her into their dark embrace. Grass thinned out until it was just trees, and only
then
did she allow herself a moment to slow and look back.

The house was brightly lit still and the back door lay wide open, light spilling onto the porch. A flashlight bobbed in the hand of a tall, broad figure jogging in her direction.

Leo pursued.

Briefly, she thought of her gun in the kitchen with the phone—she could double back. Unless he’d already found it. And was it worth the risk? Even her car keys were in her purse, so there was no slipping back to her car without heading inside.

Devin had to have neighbors in the area, though. The houses were few and far between out in the country but farms ran on either side of his property—she just had to find one.

Hopefully one with a shotgun
.

She darted forward, fast enough that she kept well ahead of him but slow enough to pick her way without running into anything. While his flashlight continued to strike the trees in the direction she’d taken, Tash jogged west, away from its beam. At least her clothes were dark, from her navy tank top and cropped jeans to her black sneakers—without the light, nothing about her stood out.

Bit by bit the pounding of her head ceased and thinking cleared. How long she ran, how far she went, she couldn’t say. Far to her left, water rushed—the creek wasn’t far.

The creek where the bodies were found. Women Leo killed. Oh, fuck.

But police were coming to Devin’s house—Perry had said so. They’d see Leo’s SUV, see a struggle had taken place. They’d figure it out.

Unless he’s already killed me and made up a story about getting there too late
.

Ugh, way to think positive, Tash
. She grimly continued on, pushing her thoughts away and focusing purely on moving. And breathing. Breathing was good.

In the distance, she spotted light. Faint but unmoving, and it looked like it was coming through a window—she had to be near a house.

Tash picked up the pace and fell into a full-blown run.

****

Devin turned down his driveway and frowned at the sight of two vehicles parked ahead.

Natasha’s car, he knew right away. The other was an SUV, unfamiliar. He eased his foot down on the brake, wariness prickling his skin. The lights were on in the lower level but there was no sign of anyone.

He idled the truck for a moment and left the keys swinging in the ignition as he climbed outside into the humid summer air. “Natasha?” he called, rounding the vehicle and glancing in her car. No sign of her and the SUV was empty as well.

The farmhouse lay silent and waiting, screen door shut but front door open. He walked faster, jogged up the porch steps. “Natasha?”

Inside was just as quiet and still as outside, and his stomach churned. A low, angry beeping sounded from the back of the house. He walked slowly, glancing around until his eyes fell on the kitchen. Overturned chair, phone off the base and blinking, still on and blasting that irritating noise. Natasha’s purse was on the floor, its contents spilled across the tile. A bullet hole was in the wall, plaster peppering the counter below it. No blood, but a definite scuffle had occurred and the back door lay open to the black void of the woods outside.

It was all too much, like stepping back into the past. The confrontation of some sort in the kitchen, evidence everywhere of a violent encounter. And, again, he stood here in his kitchen and stared at possible crime scene.

But before grief could grab him, before he could be immobilized by it, resolved anger took over. She couldn’t have been here long—an hour, maybe less. She still could be alive.

She had to be.

He broke into a run and pushed through the back door, heading straight for the woods. There was a lot of area to cover, but he pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911 as he ran into the darkness.

****

Tash burst through the last of the trees and paused, panting, sweat dripping from her forehead.

It wasn’t a house—more of a shed, really. Still, a bulb burned through the windows, and it was the only place she’d encountered thus far. She crossed the last several steps to the old wooden door and pulled the handle.