The Perfect Murder (8 page)

WhosYourDaddy: You up? Sorry, I didn't see your message.

The exhaustion that'd been dragging at him fell away as Sebastian considered how to reply. He didn't want this session to be more inane chitchat, leading nowhere. He wasn't here to entertain Malcolm while Malcolm fantasized about getting it on with his ex-girlfriend.

After stretching his neck to loosen the tense muscles, he typed.

BrownEyedGirl: I'm up, all right, wishing you were here to hold me.

WhosYourDaddy: We'll be together someday.

BrownEyedGirl: I'd like that. You make me feel special--like more than a tired soccer mom. LOL

WhosYourDaddy: Because you
are
special.

BrownEyedGirl: Do you mean that? Or is it just a bunch of writing on a 59

screen?

WhosYourDaddy: Touch yourself for me. Be my hands. I'll tell you what to do.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. Internet sex? "Mary" couldn't settle for that.

BrownEyedGirl: No, it's not the same.

WhosYourDaddy: It's the next best thing. I can't be there, babe, but I can do my part from here.

BrownEyedGirl: Why won't you agree to meet? L.A. isn't that far.

WhosYourDaddy: I can't.

BrownEyedGirl: Even if I come to you? I already told you I would. Let's get together and see if what we're feeling is as real as it seems.

There was a short delay.

WhosYourDaddy: My life is complicated right now, Mary.

BrownEyedGirl: You're not married, are you? You haven't been leading me on while you have a wife sleeping in the next room!

WhosYourDaddy: No, nothing like that. I swear it.

BrownEyedGirl: Then what?

WhosYourDaddy: I'm just...having some trouble with my roommates. It's been a rough night.

BrownEyedGirl: You've never mentioned any roommates.

60

WhosYourDaddy: They didn't have a place to stay. I was nice enough to take them in.

BrownEyedGirl: When?

WhosYourDaddy: A few weeks ago.

BrownEyedGirl: Are they male or female?

WhosYourDaddy: Female. Sisters. But there's nothing going on between us.

They're not my type. I thought they could help out with the cooking and cleaning, that's all.

BrownEyedGirl: Right.

WhosYourDaddy: What's that supposed to mean?

Sebastian didn't respond

WhosYourDaddy: I can tell what you're thinking. But stop it. I told you, I'm not sleeping with these girls.

BrownEyedGirl: Then why don't you want to see me?

WhosYourDaddy: I do. I've wanted to be with you for years.

BrownEyedGirl: And yet all you do is chat. There's got to be a reason.

You've got to be hiding a wife or a girlfriend.

WhosYourDaddy: I'm not! I'm just taking it slow, like you asked me to.

Don't pick a fight. We were doing fine.

BrownEyedGirl: Having no physical contact is fine? Making empty promises through a computer is fine? You say I met you at a party, but I can't even remember what you look like.

61

WhosYourDaddy: I sent you a picture.

BrownEyedGirl: It's not enough.

When this brought no answer, Sebastian got up and opened a beer from the courtesy bar. He had so much adrenaline pumping through him he couldn't stay seated. Was he being too aggressive? Maybe. But this Internet relationship could go on indefinitely. He had to trick Malcolm into blowing his cover.

At last Malcolm's response appeared.

WhosYourDaddy: Someday, like I said. I promise. I think about you all the time.

Sebastian studied those words. Should he give up for tonight? Back off? He decided to at least change his approach. Sitting down again, he wrote back.

BrownEyedGirl: Forget I said anything.

WhosYourDaddy: No, it's okay to want to see me. I like that. I want to see you, too.

BrownEyedGirl: Then why don't you pick a place to meet? Harris Ranch is between L.A. and Sacramento. We could meet there.

WhosYourDaddy: I don't understand why you're suddenly in such a rush.

You're the one who wanted to take this slow, remember?

BrownEyedGirl: But it's as if I know you already. I mean, more than just a brief acquaintance. There's a kinship here I haven't felt with anyone in a long time.

Am I crazy?

WhosYourDaddy: Not at all.

BrownEyedGirl: I think it's because you remind me of someone I used to 62

care about.

WhosYourDaddy: Who?

Sebastian waited, hoping his delay would make Malcolm believe "Mary"

was reluctant to respond.

WhosYourDaddy: Are you going to tell me?

BrownEyedGirl: No.

WhosYourDaddy: Why not?

BrownEyedGirl: Because it doesn't matter. It's not like I'll ever see him again.

WhosYourDaddy: Tell me!

The real Mary had made it sound as if she was still bitter over Malcolm's betrayal. Sebastian needed to spin that into something more appealing. If he played it smart, maybe he could make Malcolm so eager to reclaim Mary's adulation, the adulation he remembered from his glory days, that he couldn't help but step forward.

BrownEyedGirl: Just someone I once knew.

WhosYourDaddy: That's all the info I get?

BrownEyedGirl: You know him, okay? You've mentioned him to me before.

WhosYourDaddy: Are we talking about your ex-husband?

BrownEyedGirl: No.

WhosYourDaddy: Someone you met before that?

63

BrownEyedGirl: Yes.

WhosYourDaddy: This is driving me nuts, Mary. Tell me who you're thinking about.

BrownEyedGirl: Tomorrow would've been our anniversary.

WhosYourDaddy: Is it Malcolm Turner?

Bingo. He knew about the anniversary.

WhosYourDaddy: I'm right, aren't I? It's Malcolm.

BrownEyedGirl: Maybe.

WhosYourDaddy: I am.

BrownEyedGirl: Okay, I'll admit it. But if you talk to him or anyone who knows him, please don't say anything. He's no good for me. Even if he's single, I'm determined to leave him in the past.

Sebastian hoped he wasn't being
too
obvious. Malcolm wasn't stupid. But he was vain and arrogant enough to believe he could cheat on a girl, break her heart and have her pining for him fifteen years later.

WhosYourDaddy: You're telling me you're still in love with Malcolm?

BrownEyedGirl: I don't know what I'm saying. It's late, and I'm not making sense.

WhosYourDaddy: It makes sense to me.

BrownEyedGirl: It does?

64

WhosYourDaddy: There's someone I can't forget, either.

BrownEyedGirl: Who?

WhosYourDaddy: You.

BrownEyedGirl: So what about this weekend?

WhosYourDaddy: I'll let you know.

BrownEyedGirl: When?

One minute turned into two, which turned into five. Sebastian was afraid he'd lost him, for tonight, anyway. He knew he should sign off and go to bed; he could hardly keep his eyes open. But he tried to stay awake, just in case...and ended up falling asleep at the desk.

65

Six

S
hould he write back? Or wait for the night to pass and hope Mary would be less demanding the next time they talked?

Malcolm spent another twenty minutes in front of the computer on the kitchen table he'd rented along with the other furniture, trying to decide. He didn't want her to be as indifferent as she'd been before. Their recent conversations had been far more stimulating; he liked that she'd revealed her feelings for him. Despite her anger over what he'd done with Sherry Stewart, he'd known the chemistry between them was still there. But he wasn't sure where to take the relationship now that Mary was responding as he'd hoped. He hated to walk away, but he couldn't let her see him.

Being torn between what he wanted and what he knew he should do made him angry.

Damn it! He should never have started this. If he'd been able to go to the casinos, or patrol using his cop light and badge to generate a little excitement, or even go to a damn movie, it might not have gathered such momentum. But ever since he'd acquired Latisha and Marcie, he'd spent far too much time on the computer with Mary.

There was no use lamenting it, he told himself. Their relationship would've come to this eventually. Mary wasn't merely a diversion. He'd visited her place at least twice a week for months. He'd seen her kids playing out front and he'd stood in her yard, watching her move through the house. He'd thought about her a lot over the years, especially after he'd severed his past. She'd been the perfect fit, the one he shouldn't have let go. If he'd stuck with her, his life never would've become what it was now. They should've married and raised a family. Splitting up hadn't worked for either of them.

What a mess. With the incentive of half a million dollars and a fresh start, he'd imagined being able to walk away from his family and friends without a backward glance. He'd actually been eager to do so, had felt a sort of triumph in exiting with such a finale. He'd shocked and hurt them all, and they'd deserved it--

especially his immediate family. Nothing he did pleased his parents, but it was the 66

opposite for his older brother. And their baby sister had been absolutely worshipped.

But those people were part of the very fabric of his life. He couldn't seem to excise them without losing part of his own identity. And he'd discovered that his friends and acquaintances were just as hard to abandon. When he was planning to break away, he'd thought he'd mourn the loss of his career more than anything else.

But hanging on to his badge and his gun had softened that blow. When he went out driving at night, he got to enjoy the perks of power without having to answer to anybody. It was the people he missed. That was why he'd reached out to Mary.

It'd been pure luck that he'd been able to find her so easily. Had he not run into Francine, the girlfriend she'd hung out with in high school, he would've had a much harder time of it. But, thanks to seeing Francine in New York City while he was vacationing there with Emily, he'd learned about Mary's jewelry hobby and her Web site, even the city where she lived. That was all it took.

Locating her had given him such a sense of excitement. He'd felt alive again, hopeful that he'd be able to re-create a normal life.

But keeping his identity a secret was no longer satisfying. It was a hindrance. She missed him, wanted him, and he couldn't go to her. She wouldn't put up with this situation forever. Another man would come along and she'd fall in love with him instead.

So what could he do? She'd turn him in if he told her the truth. She wouldn't understand how cornered, how trapped, he'd been, that the path he'd chosen had been the only way out with the debts he'd racked up and a pending divorce. Only something that extreme would allow him to start over.

Would a lie work any better?

He couldn't see how. Maybe he could present a different version of the past and get her to buy it, but he couldn't stop her from talking to her family and friends. She'd tell her mom or sister that she was back in a relationship with him, and word would spread until the news reached friends in San Antonio. Before long, someone would say, "I heard he was dead. I heard he killed his wife and stepson, then committed suicide in New Jersey." And that was all it would take to unravel the perfect murder.

The sound of movement in the extra bedroom brought Malcolm's head up, his ears tuned for trouble. What was that? He'd thought the sisters were asleep.

He'd punished Marcie so severely, he couldn't believe either of them would dare 67

breathe, let alone move. But something was going on.

With a curse, he shoved away from the table and crossed the hall.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hollered as he turned on the light.

Marcie screamed and curled into a ball. Latisha scrambled into the corner, her ankle chain rattling as she drew her knees to her chest. The mattresses he'd thrown down for them when he first brought them home had been tossed into the backyard. He was making them sleep on the hard floor, punishing them both, even though it was Marcie who'd disobeyed.

"I asked you a question!" he bellowed.

"We're not doing anything. Her--her mouth's bleeding." Squinting against the light, Latisha pointed at her sister. "I was just trying to stop the bleeding."

"She's bleeding because she didn't obey. If you don't lie down and quit shuffling around, you're going to be bleeding, too. Your sister's damn lucky I didn't kill her!" Lord knows he'd been tempted. If he hadn't had to concentrate on his driving he probably would have.

"You try to escape again and I'll do it. You understand? It's pointless to run.

There's nowhere to go out here. We don't have any neighbors, no one close enough to help you."

Tears trickled down Latisha's face. "Please let us go," she said, her voice falling to a whisper. "We won't tell anyone about you. We swear it. We won't talk to the police. We just want to go home."

She sounded sincere. But Malcolm knew she'd change her mind once she was safe. He wasn't stupid enough to believe he could ever set them free. He also wasn't stupid enough to let them know it. They'd be a lot easier to control if they thought there was a chance.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "You be on your best behavior and work hard like you should and in another week or so I'll see what I can do. Okay?"

Latisha exchanged a glance with her sister, then nodded. "Yes, sir. We--we'll do whatever you say. Won't we, Marcie?"

Marcie seemed less willing to agree.

"
Won't we,
Marcie!" Latisha prodded.

"Yes,
sir."

Malcolm ignored the sullenness of her reply. "I'm glad we finally understand each other."

He managed a smile but let it fade as soon as he stomped out of the room.

68

"Stupid bitches," he muttered under his breath. Most women weren't good for anything except...

The image that appeared caused a rush of testosterone so powerful it brought him to an abrupt halt. He'd always taken full advantage of the "badge bunnies" who threw themselves at any man wearing a uniform. But he hadn't touched Latisha and Marcie. He'd told himself he wouldn't stoop that low. The officers he used to work with held sex offenders in the highest contempt. He didn't want to know they'd think of him in the same way.