Trust Me (24 page)

David hadn't heard back and was hoping that meant he could relax.

But it was early yet. Early enough that he wanted to be out looking himself.

Normally, he loved spending time with Jeremy; tonight, however, he was too anxious that those who'd taken over his watch might miss something important.

"You just crashed your car and died--again!" Jeremy laughed. "You're doing horrible today!"

Because David was too worried about the real kind of dying. He'd tried calling Skye to tell her about the stabbing, hoping to give her a short reprieve from the fear she felt at Burke's release, but he'd gotten her answering machine at home, voice mail on her cell and some volunteer at the office who said he didn't know where she'd gone. David was pretty sure he'd heard her in the background. He had the feeling that she was standing 151

right next to that volunteer mouthing "I'm not here," so he hadn't panicked.

But he wished she'd call him.

Instead, when the phone rang, he heard Tiny's voice on the line.

Telling Jeremy to switch to a one-player game, he managed to keep his disappointment to himself. "How's Burke?"

"Pale, puny and weak. Pretty much the same, despite the injury."

David laughed. It felt good to let go of a little tension. But this wasn't a laughing matter. The fact that Burke's looks were so deceiving made him even more dangerous. "Did anyone at San Quentin have information that might help us?"

"T.J., the guy who stabbed him, was more than happy to talk."

"What'd he say?"

"That Burke's obsessed with Skye Kellerman. He clipped every newspaper article that mentioned her, talked about her more than his wife and kid, indulged in sexual fantasies that always seemed to revolve around her and had pictures of her taped inside a spiral binder. T.J. said he'd bet fifty bucks Burke kills her before summer."

David's heart plummeted to his knees. "Did you tell him we're watching very closely to make sure that doesn't happen?"

"More or less."

"And?"

"He said it doesn't matter. Even a full-time bodyguard won't be able to save her, according to him. T.J. claims Burke will simply bide his time and wait for the perfect moment."

David thought of Eugene Zufelt. If Oliver had caused the incident that took Eugene's life, he'd turned into a killer a long time ago. And he'd grown bolder and bolder with his attacks, eventually going after women in their own homes--women who didn't even know him well enough to hurt him as so many of his earlier targets had. Was that because he'd focused his hate and anger on a certain group? Young, attractive women who'd rebuffed him or were likely to?

"Did T.J. have anything else to say?"

"He shared an interesting story."

"Which is..."

"The details are sketchy, mostly the rumors you find in any prison, but T.J. said that last year Oliver made a very good friend in prison, a guy by the name of Larry Millwood. Oliver and Larry were close, if you know what I mean."

"Lovers?"

"That's what T.J. implied. But it all came to an abrupt end when 152

Oliver found out that Larry was making fun of him with another guy, whom Larry was also romantically involved with."

"And then?"

"Oliver acted like it was no big deal. He has a lot of pride, as you know. But T.J. says he was seething inside. He'd lie awake for hours, scribbling in his little notebook and drawing pictures."

Pictures again. But David let that pass for now. He was too interested in hearing the rest of the story.

"Shortly afterward, Oliver stole something from a very dangerous man named Enrique, a lifer, and gave it to Larry as a gift," Tiny went on.

"When Enrique heard Larry had it in his possession--thanks again to Oliver, apparently--he assumed it was Larry who'd stolen it and killed him in the yard."

David whistled. "That's ruthless."

"That's Oliver. What's more, T.J. said he acted completely indifferent to his lover's death. He gloated as everyone talked about it, then went back to his journal."

"He likes to write." David and Tiny had been going in different directions all week. This was David's first chance to tell him what had been found at Burke's former residence, but Tiny wasn't surprised.

"Makes sense," he responded when David explained. "T.J. said he pored over his journal almost every night, making notes, some of which were in code."

"Did Oliver leave any of that behind?"

"Unfortunately not."

"So what do you think?"

"What I thought before. He's a killer."

"Did you ask him about Eugene Zufelt?" David asked.

"I did. He was pretty drugged up because of the pain, but the question still caused a reaction. He looked at me kind of strange, then smiled and said, 'Yeah, I knew Eugene. Eugene was a friend of mine.'"

"Eugene called him a fag, then beat the shit out of him in eighth grade," David said.

"Some friend."

"Eugene also died in a very strange drowning incident two years later."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me, either. Not when you'd already asked me to see if Burke attended his funeral."

"Did he?"

"Yes."

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"He admitted it?"

"Freely."

"Interesting." Although distracted, David managed a smile and a nod when Jeremy turned around to show him his game score.

"How'd he do it?" Tiny asked.

"I don't know yet. I'd sure like to talk to Eugene's parents, though."

"Will you be able to find them?"

"I've already gone through the phone book with no luck. The only Zufelt listed turned out to be a distant relative who said they moved but he didn't know where."

"That's too bad."

"He's going to see if he can track them down through the family grapevine. If I learn anything, I'll let you know."

"Thanks."

"After what happened to Larry, isn't T.J. scared that Oliver might try to get back at him?" David asked.

"He says he has a lot more friends inside than Larry ever did."

"What if those 'friends' aren't as loyal as he thinks?"

"I mentioned the possibility. He shrugged and said it was still worth it.

He's never met a more deceitful, cunning son of a bitch."

David gazed down at his tennis shoes. "And that's one killer talking about another."

"T.J. classifies his crime a little differently than Burke's. He's in for murder, but he didn't attack a woman, said he never would. The man he killed had been beating on his mother."

"And he's a lifer?"

"It was particularly gruesome. He plotted it well in advance and then he covered it up."

"With that background, he probably wasn't the safest cellmate for a rapist to have."

"In San Quentin, everyone's dangerous. T.J. has an anger-management problem, but I don't think he's a psychopath."

Shielding the phone with his hand, David snapped his fingers to get Jeremy's attention. "High score, huh, buddy? Good job!"

Jeremy responded with a broad smile and restarted the game.

"Was Jane around while you were at the hospital?" David asked Tiny.

"Yeah, she was in the room, wringing her hands and staring out the window."

"What'd she have to say?"

"T can't believe what she's done to me. It just doesn't end.'"

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"Who's 'she'?"

"Skye, I guess. Jane wouldn't address me directly. She seemed very upset."

David couldn't help feeling some sympathy for Burke's wife. Her only mistake, at least before the affair with Noah, was marrying the wrong guy.

He felt sorry for Burke's family, too. All the publicity surrounding the trial, and Burke's subsequent incarceration, had humiliated them. But they'd rallied around him, stood by him in spite of it.

Problem was, if Oliver was really the calculating killer David thought, they were about to get hurt again. And so was whoever Burke chose as his next victim....

"Thanks for doing all that," he said. "Jeremy's waiting so I'd better go."

"Just tell me one thing."

"Sure."

"What's going on between you and Lynnette these days?"

"Same old, same old. Why?"

"She called me a couple hours ago."

David's hand tightened on the receiver. "What for?"

"She asked me if you're sleeping with Skye Kellerman."

It took David a moment to absorb that. But part of him said he should've expected it. "What'd you tell her?"

His friend blew out an audible sigh. "The truth."

"Which is..."

"That I don't know."

Jeremy crashed his simulated race car, but instead of starting the game over, he tossed his controller aside. "Daddy, can we go out for ice cream?"

Once again splitting his attention between his telephone conversation and his son, David raised a hand. "Just a sec, okay?"

"Are you?" Tiny pressed.

"Not yet," David said and hung up.

"Dad?" Jeremy looked up at him hopefully. "Can we get a strawberry shake?"

Maybe he couldn't forget Skye, but he could deliver on ice cream.

"Why not?" he said.

Enjoying the hot water and the scent she'd added to make her bath a little more luxurious, Skye sank deeper into the tub, careful not to get the headset attached to her iPod wet. She'd been functioning on a strictly practical level for so long that this felt like an indulgence--maybe even a waste of time--but it took her mind off the fact that it was Friday night and 155

Burke was probably home by now. So did thinking about the dress she'd bought at a small boutique off Fair Oaks Boulevard. Made of a delicate sea-green fabric in a classic halter-top style, it molded to her body, then flared out slightly at the ankles, but it had no plunging neckline or thigh-high slit to make her feel self-conscious. It was simple and elegant, which was just what she'd been looking for. Of course, she wasn't nearly as excited about attending the fund-raiser now that she'd be going with Charlie Fox instead of David, but something about lying in David's bed without him last night had made her long to improve her desirability. She'd let herself become too consumed by the past, too cautious and scared.

It was time to make another concerted effort to resist the changes Burke had caused in her. Sometimes, she didn't even realize she was backsliding. But she realized it now and was officially searching for love and companionship. When she got out of the tub, she planned to forgo the weight training and aerobic exercise that normally ended her day in favor of searching the Internet for new ways to do her hair and makeup. Maybe she'd even check out an Internet dating service. One had to be careful about meeting men online, but it was the easiest way to begin. Initially, she'd feel safer shielded by an e-mail address. If she ever met anyone in cyberspace she wanted to know better, she'd do a complete background check first. Then she'd arrange lunch in a public place.

Despite how hard she'd fought it, the fact that she was finally broadening her horizons came as a relief. Skye didn't know how she'd survived being so isolated and alone for the past three years--and found it ironic that she was planning to break out of her shell on the very day of Burke's release. His impact on her life had been so all-encompassing it was as if he'd established a whole new reckoning of time. Anything that happened before the attack was B.B.--Before Burke; anything that happened afterward was A.B.--After Burke.

All carefree dating and romantic relationships had definitely happened B.B. But Burke was free to start over now. She should be, too.

Turning the tap back on to bring the temperature of the water up a few more degrees, she leaned her head on the rim of the tub and listened to Chris Daughtry's new song.

What jewelry should she wear with her new dress? she wondered, watching steam fill the bathroom. But before she could consider the possibilities, she heard something, felt a strange vibration, that made her tense and sit up.

She'd locked all points of entry into the house. She knew that because she'd checked them twice. She'd also set the alarm, which hadn't sounded. So 156

why was she suddenly feeling as if she was no longer alone?

Turning off the water, she pulled the headphones from her ears.

Besides the tinny sound of distant music, there wasn't any noise. But she was fairly sure she could smell cigarette smoke.

Was it her imagination--the old panic coming back? She didn't think so....

"Jasmine? Sheridan?" she called.

They were the only people who had a key to her house. She'd given them each one in case she ever locked herself out.

But Jasmine and Sheridan didn't smoke.

They didn't answer, either.

Standing, she switched off her iPod and listened intently. The wind was blowing outside, whistling through the eaves, but she couldn't hear anything else. Except her own heart...

Stepping onto the bath mat, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around her. She normally kept a gun close at hand. She had one in her nightstand, her purse and the hall closet. But not in the bathroom. Here she was cornered, especially since the only window was a narrow rectangle above her head. Even if she could figure out how to break the thick glass, she had no way of boosting herself through.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply through her nose, trying to determine if she was really smelling cigarette smoke.

Yes--she was sure of it. Smoke. Or someone who smoked. And it was as real as the plinlc, plink of water that suddenly dripped from the faucet.

Skye's fingers tightened on her towel. None of her friends were smokers. Jasmine used smoked as a teenager, back when she was hitchhiking across the country to escape the small town where she'd been raised. But that was years ago.

Hoping to reach the bedroom and the gun she had there, Skye edged closer to the door. The floor creaked beneath her feet, stretching her nerves taut, but she forced herself to keep moving. Think. Act. She wasn't as vulnerable as she used to be. All the training she'd had--and tried to pass on to others--had to make a difference.

I'm prepared for this, she told herself. I've been expecting it. But her body didn't want to cooperate. She was shaking so violently, it was a struggle just to keep from cowering in a corner.