The Wharf (23 page)

Her eyes met Ryan’s and she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Are you telling me Brody’s too scared to meet with me?”

“I’m not too scared to meet with you, but if you so much as touch Kacie, you’re a dead man.”

“I believe you, Brody.” He hacked out a cough again. “Eleven o’clock by the submarine. There’s a nice view of the bridge from there.”

He hung up before Ryan could respond.

Kacie cupped the phone in her hand. “It sounds promising, doesn’t it?”

“Why? Just because some guy calls out of the blue, seems to know what you’re working on and tells you he has information? This could be anyone, Kacie. I don’t like it.”

“Of course you don’t like it, but it’s the way I work.”

“And this is the way
I
work.” He punched a number into his own phone and said, “I need to speak to Detective John Curtis or Lieutenant Healy.”

As he paused, she grabbed his arm. “He said no cops.”

He held his hand over the receiver. “The cops are not going to stake out a meeting between an author and a source. I just want them to be aware of what’s going down.”

He got Curtis on the phone and told him about the anonymous phone call. “Yeah, I have my weapon, and I’ll keep you posted.”

“What are they going to do?”

“Nothing for now, but they might send a patrol car over if one’s in the area. Maybe they’ll just sit there as reinforcement in case he tries something.”

“I have a good feeling about this, Ryan. I heard something in his voice.”

“Yeah, cigarettes and hard living. Sounded a lot like Duke Bannister.”

“With one major difference.”

“He doesn’t have a sister?”

“He’s never been to prison.”

The rest of the evening dragged by, and although Ryan managed to scarf down a big meal from room service, she barely touched her pasta.

She had instincts and she had a feeling about this one.

When the digital clock ticked over to 10:30, she put on a pair of running shoes and yanked a hooded sweatshirt from the hook by the door. “I’m ready.”

“We’re about a ten-minute walk from the sub. Relax.”

“Impossible.” She bounced on the edge of the bed.

Ryan knelt in front of her, placing his hands on her knees. “I need to get back to Crestview in a few days. When I go, I want you to leave this alone.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She’d almost forgotten he had a job to get back to. She’d almost forgotten he had another life beyond this city, beyond this hotel, beyond this case.

“I can’t leave it alone, Ryan.” She curled her hands around his biceps. “I’m writing this book.”

“When you started writing the book, you had no idea it would lead to dead bodies, disappearances and your own kidnapping. It’s a good thing I was here through all of that, but I can’t be here forever.”

“You mean you can’t be with me forever.”

“I didn’t mean that.” He put his hands around her waist. “I can’t say what’s going to happen between us, but if anything does, it’s going to have to be away from all this. It’s the only way to tell if it’s for real.”

“I know what’s real, Ryan Brody. My feelings for you are real.” She rested her cheek on top of his hair. “Are you telling me there can be no us as long as I’m working on this book?”

“I don’t know, Kacie.” He kissed her and whispered in her ear. “It’s time to go.”

They walked to the wharf hand in hand. Was he right? Did the feelings they had for each other now exist in some alternate reality where fear and danger fueled their attraction? Would they have to step away from the fire to see the truth?

They crossed the street to the wharf and turned left, toward the submarine. A cop car crawled down the street and Kacie poked Ryan in the ribs. “Do you think that’s our backup?”

“Possibly.” He patted his jacket pocket. “I’ve got our first line of defense right here.”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that. He’ll give us the info we’ve been waiting for and slither back under his rock.”

“Don’t count on it.” He squeezed her hand, but it didn’t soften his words.

Their steps slowed as they approached the closed ticket counter for the submarine. Ryan turned his back to the counter, his posture erect and alert.

A man climbed the steps to the walkway. “You made it.”

“We’re here. Now, what do you have for us?” Kacie took a step forward at the same time the man stepped under the circle of light from the lamp hanging above his head.

“Stop.” Ryan grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “Don’t you recognize him, Kacie? He’s the man who tried to abduct you.”

Kacie stumbled back against Ryan’s chest as she squinted across the darkness—same height, same prominent nose, same gray hair.

Her heart pounded. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Guilty as charged.” The man spread his arms wide. “But I can explain.”

Ryan drew his gun from his pocket and released the safety with a click. “You’d better start explaining right now.”

“I just wanted to talk to you, Kacie.”

“And
that’s
the method you chose? Drugging me? Carrying me off in my pajamas?”

“It seemed like a good plan at the time. I had a car waiting by the side of the hotel. I was just going to whisk you away for a private meeting, a little one-on-one time.”

“Why? Why all this scheming?”

“I figured if I told you the truth, you’d never agree to meet me.”

“That you had information for me? Why wouldn’t I agree to meet you?”

“It’s more than that, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“What’s the truth? Let’s hear it.” Ryan had taken a step forward, shielding her body with his.

“The truth? I’m your father, Kacie. I’m Russ Langford. Layla French was my girl. She had my daughter on February fourteenth—Kacie Louise. ‘Louise’ after my mother.”

Her body stiffened as the truth of his words hit her. “Why now? Why are you contacting me now and what do you have to do with the Brody case?”

“The Brody case is
my
case.”

Ryan waved his gun. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Kacie, I’m your father and I’m the Phone Book Killer.”

Chapter Fifteen

His words roared in her ears and seemed to echo up and down the wharf. Then she laughed, a high-pitched giggle that frightened her as much as his proclamation had.

Ryan wound his arm around her waist as if to hold her up.

He growled at the man. “What are you talking about? Your ex was one of the Phone Book Killer’s victims.”

“The first and the only one who mattered.”

“Wh-what are you saying? You killed my mother?”

“She’d left me and had taken you with her.”

“You abused her.”

Ryan’s arm tightened around Kacie’s waist.

“That’s what they called it, but what we had was explosive.” He shrugged. “We lost control sometimes.”

“
You
lost control.”

“Wait a minute.” Ryan squared his shoulders. “Are you saying you killed Layla French, and then someone else killed the others, and because the M.O. was the same, Layla’s murder was tied to the others?”

“No, Brody. I’m saying I was the Phone Book Killer. I killed Layla, and then I killed the others to cover the motive. After Layla’s murder, the cops were trying to find me in Ohio. I killed the others to get them off my trail.”

“You killed other people just to cover one crime?” Her stomach flipped and she felt like vomiting.

“It’s not like I hadn’t done it before. There were a few people in Ohio I had to get rid of.”

Kacie gagged and covered her mouth.

“That’s one of the reasons Layla left me. She had her suspicions.”

Ryan snorted. “So all that bull about true love is just that. You came after Layla because you were afraid she’d rat you out.”

“There was that.”

“And the notes to my father? The kidnapping of my brother? Why did you go through all that?”

He pushed his hands forward. “I didn’t.”

“Liar. The Phone Book Killer contacted my father when he started investigating the second murder.”

“It wasn’t me. I told you. I’ve never been to prison, and that’s why. I always kept a low profile. I’d never contact a cop like that.”

“You’re saying some random person started sending those notes? And what about the kidnapping?”

“I never touched your brother. Why would I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re a cold-blooded killer.”

Kacie was leaning so heavily against him he was afraid she was going to fall over. Her body had started trembling and shaking.

“Believe me or not, Brody. I had nothing to do with your brother’s kidnapping or those notes to your father.”

“I don’t believe you, Langford. Why are you coming forward now after all these years?”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “Because my daughter’s writing a book, and I want to give her a story. I owe her that.”

“You owe me that? You owe me my mother.”

“You know, sweetheart, you ended up better off. That nice family adopted you and moved you up to Seattle. Your mother was a whore.”

Kacie’s trembling stopped and her muscles tensed.

“Shut the hell up, Langford. You murdered your daughter’s mother and you think she needs a story? What are you really after?”

“Okay, you got me. I also happen to be dying—lung cancer. What do I have to lose now?”

“Then you can end your miserable life by telling the whole truth. What happened to my father?”

“He killed himself, as far as I know. Once that happened, I figured it was a good time to leave the city.”

“And Bannister? You killed him because he was going to tell Kacie the truth?”

“I never touched Bannister.”

“You beat up Cookie for the same reason?”

“I don’t know any Cookie.”

“Just stop lying.” Kacie took a step toward her father, but Ryan held on to her arm. “You’re dying. Just stop with the lies, unless that’s a lie, too.”

He coughed as if to prove the veracity of his claim. “Why would I lie now? Everything I told you tonight is the truth. I killed your mother because she left me. She wasn’t my first kill, and she wasn’t my last. I tried to disguise my motive by killing others in the same way, and I did pick them out of the phone book, within reason. I did not send any notes to Detective Brody, I did not kidnap his son, and the only thing I’ve done since I’ve been back in this city is try to get close to you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. Sweetheart.”

Langford chuckled. “Feisty, just like your mother. But that feistiness got her in trouble. So watch yourself, sweetheart.”

Kacie wrenched away from Ryan and flew at her father.

“Kacie, stop!”

Before Ryan could reach them, Langford had his arm around Kacie’s neck and a gun to her head.

He raised his own weapon. “Let her go. This isn’t what you came here for.”

“It’s not, but I won’t put up with this stuff from any woman. And you wonder why I drugged you in the first place? I wanted to have control when I made my confession to guard against something like this.”

“Now you’ve made your confession. Let her go and be on your way.”

Langford tightened his hold on Kacie. “You’re not going to write any of this until I’m gone, right?”

She coughed and gagged.

“She can’t breathe. Let her go. Even if she does write your story, she can’t prove any of it.”

“I don’t need the cops investigating me before I kick the bucket.”

Kacie gasped. “I’m not writing this story. Let me go and disappear. I never want to see you again.”

“I don’t know. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I thought you’d be grateful. Instead you’re just like your mother, just like Layla.”

He wrapped his arm tighter around Kacie’s neck and she kicked his shin. He staggered back and the hand with the weapon dropped.

Kacie twisted away from him, and Ryan charged. He knocked the older man backward.

Langford still had his weapon, and he swung it toward Kacie. Ryan rolled between them and tensed his body, ready for the bullet meant for Kacie.

The shot rang out and Langford grunted. Had he missed?

“Kacie?”

“I’m okay.”

Another shot echoed along the wharf and Ryan twisted his body to get a look at Langford.

He had flung his arms out to the side, his gun inches from his hand, a pool of blood spreading along the pavement beneath his head.

“Is everyone all right?” A bright light flooded the area, and two uniformed cops rushed forward, brandishing their service revolvers.

Ryan squinted at them as he pulled Kacie into his arms. “Did you shoot him?”

“No, sir. We had a sniper set up. When he grabbed Ms. Manning and put a gun to her head, the sniper got to work.”

A million questions assaulted his brain, but Kacie needed him. Deep sobs racked her body and he sat up against the chain-link fence, pulling her into his lap.

“It’s okay now. It’s okay. It’s all over.”

She raised her tear-streaked face. “It’s not over. It’s just beginning.”

“No, no, Kacie. You’re fine. It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not okay, Ryan.”

“It’s hard. I know it’s hard, but we’ll get through it together.”

“All this time, I thought your father was the killer and he wasn’t. It was mine. My father was the killer.”

Epilogue

Kacie zipped up her suitcase and scanned the hotel room once more. “Do you think I should even leave a tip after everything I went through here?”

“Hey, it wasn’t the maids’ fault.” Ryan pulled back the drapes, and sunlight filtered into the room.

She reached into her wallet and pulled out a twenty. “It’s tax-deductible anyway.”

“Are you going to be doing any writing in Crestview?”

She sat next to one of her bags on the bed and pinned her hands between her knees. “I don’t know, Ryan. I need time to process all this. How do you deal with it? How do you come to terms with the fact that your father is responsible for taking human lives and causing such destruction and despair?”

“Why don’t you talk to someone, Kacie? I know a great therapist in town. We work with her all the time.”

“It’s ironic, isn’t it? All those years I blamed Joseph Brody for my mother’s death, and it turned out to have been my own father.”