Drop Dead Perfect (An Ellen Harper Psycho-Thriller) (6 page)

He held her hand and spoke quietly to the woman sitting in the passenger seat of his new vehicle. They had watched the sun set over an hour ago, but as the old song said, breaking up was hard to do. He looked at her again and marveled at how her red hair flowed past her shoulders. Her green eyes were wide open as she leaned against his arm.

She didn’t answer.

“I thought we had a once-in-a-lifetime relationship, didn’t you? We laughed. We danced. We made love. Not just sex. We made love. We did all of those little things that lovers do, and I know you felt it too. Not many people get to experience what we had together. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Still, Holly didn’t respond to him. He felt his anger rise, then subside a second later. What’s done is done, and there was absolutely no purpose in living in the past. Or, for that matter, prolonging the inevitable. If he’d learned anything over the last five months, it was that. Hope for hope’s sake was a useless exercise, even though it was difficult to accept.

Their relationship had begun to fit into that category, and it was time to move on, for both of them. If only she’d seen their future the way he had. All she would have had to do was to accept him for who he was and, more importantly, come to grips with who she was. He could have helped her. He could have shown her how to beat the demons that so obviously and yet subtly controlled her. Her sobbing. Her screaming. Her pure, unadulterated rage. All had been within his power to heal, if she’d only let him.

Shifting away from her, he freed her hand and gently adjusted the tiara resting on her head.

Still, she would have been released back to the world to sort out her dysfunctional personality if she’d answered his question correctly. Telling him that he was the true love of her life revealed her ability to lie. That simply wouldn’t do. Truth was paramount in any relationship, something he suspected she never understood. She had played him.

Well, she’d tried.

The anger returned, and this time, he basked in it for a few moments. It made him feel alive. In control. Real. Indulging in a moment of self-awareness wasn’t the end of the world. After all, he had feelings too. Didn’t he?

Holly hadn’t been “the one” who would share in his quest to live the next fifty years with the same woman. So be it. The search would continue.

“Drop Dead Perfect awaits,” he whispered.

Leaning over to her, he kissed her.

“Goodbye, sweet Holly.”

Opening the door to the pickup, he walked around the other side. Scanning the area for the fourth time, he was satisfied that no one was near. He whisked her from the seat and walked her over to the trunk of the large maple tree fifteen feet from the service road leading away from Lake Shore Drive. More like carried her. She was in no position to walk, now was she?

When he laid her gently under the tree, her head dropped slowly forward, creating a less-than-perfect look. He quickly returned it to a more natural position. Just because her neck had been broken didn’t mean she couldn’t give the impression of utter beauty when she was found. It was the least he could do.

After she was sitting perfectly, he removed the sign from his pocket, unfolded it, and then taped it to her considerable bosom.

NOT HER.

That was right. The eternal lover he sought wasn’t Holly. But that woman was out there, was she not?

He felt his excitement grow as he moved back to the truck and drove away. He could hardly wait to get back to Joannie Carmen.

He had much to discover about her. For both their sakes.

Kyle Black grinned as he turned onto Lake Shore Drive.

Much indeed.

CHAPTER-10

Kate Mortimore looked at her watch for the one-hundredth time and then took another long draw from her virgin
piña colada, sitting in their usual booth at Carrigan’s Pub.

Ellie Harper was late for one of their twice-a-week dinner dates. She knew that the girl’s job kept her busy from time to time
, and that was okay because Ellie needed something more than a couple nights out with her friends to keep that bright mind from working overtime. Ellie was the Queen of Guilt, so the less time she spent alone the better. Except no one could hold anyone’s hand twenty-four/seven. Not even Kate. Some battles had to be won alone and in the dark. Kate knew that as well as the next person, maybe better.

That’s where God had come into the picture for her. Everyone needs an anchor; He was hers—and, of course, the two handguns she wore strapped to her shoulders. A Glock 19 .45 pistol with a customized fourteen-shot magazine and the name
MABLE
engraved on each side of the grip was holstered on her right. On her left rested a Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum 686 with a six-inch barrel and custom pearl handles. Pearl was her favorite, and that’s why it was near to her heart.

Faith is a wonderful thing, but growing up in rural Michigan, she’d always heard that God helped those who helped themselves. She figured, these days, that was more true than ever. And being the good soul that she was, she believed God could use her help. After all, in this day and age, He was pretty busy. Besides, her family was raised and she had more time to help.

That was why she owned the large gun shop on Lincoln: Loaded Kate’s. There was too much evil in the world, and good people needed to protect themselves. She saw the shop as a ministry, really. The Bible said to arm yourselves with the Word. She just added a little to that: own the Good Book and a good gun.

“What’s on your mind there, woman?”

She smiled at George, her husband of thirty years. “Like you don’t know.”

“Yep, suppose I do. She’ll be along. She probably drew that case in Jackson Park, where they found that kidnapped girl.”

“Now how did you know that? You been gossiping with people on that Bookface thing?”

“It’s Facebook, Kate, Facebook. If’n you’d get your head out of your backside and get into at least the nineties with the technology, you’d know that. You’re missing something here. At least I got you to take a cell phone.”

“Pffft. Mercy, George, that’s the devil’s playground, just like this damned government and television . . . and you know it. Most of that crap on that Internet is demon-possessed, and you know that too,” answered Kate, waving her hand.

George leaned closer, his eyes intense. She still loved how his old blue eyes danced when he talked straight.

“The Good Book says there ain’t nothin' evil by itself. Well, except Washington, DC, so you’re right there. But it’s like guns. They can be good or bad, right? Anyway, I get a notice on my phone when there’s a breaking story that I want to read about. That girl was found in the park, and the article says something about mysterious and odd circumstances. Since Ellie’s the best CSI the Chicago Police Department has, she got that case, I’m bettin’.”

“Well, if that’s true, she won’t be making it for dinner anytime soon. It’s past seven thirty, and I’m hungry. I need to eat. Us big-boned women need to keep up our strength. Never know what’s around the corner.”

“Well, if we get home early, does that mean . . .”

“. . . that you just might get lucky? Could be,” she answered with another slow grin.

“Waiter!” yelled George.

Reaching over to touch his hand, her grin turned serious. “Don’t you think we should try to call her first? Just to make sure we know what’s going on with her? And don’t worry, I think I can stay awake to perform my womanly duties, you horny old coot.”

George nodded, “You’re right. Sorry. I got lost in the moment there. Give her a shout. But I can’t help what you do to me, never could.”

“Now that’s just the sweetest thing I’ve heard since we got the okay to build that bunker in the backyard.”

Kate was actually relieved to pull out her phone and make the call. She hated technology, no doubt, but saw the merit, on occasion, and she had always subscribed to the philosophy of knowing your enemy. So she had given in a little, but that Internet stuff was never going to be part of her world. Ever. No way no how.

Ellie’s phone rang four times and then went to her voicemail.

“Hey, girl, just checkin’ in and wondering where you are. Call your old friend when you get a minute.”

She took another moment to send an awkward text then dropped the phone on the seat beside her like it carried a disease.

“Well, I guess we eat,” said Kate. “At least we won’t have her partner Oscar whining about the evils of eatin’ a real rare T-bone steak.”

Flagging down the waiter again, they ordered, just as the front door opened.
Ellen and Oscar walked in and moved directly to the booth.

Ellen bent down
and kissed them both, then plopped down beside Kate, Oscar to her left.

“I got your message, but we were almost here,” she said, her face wired and troubled.

“You all right?” asked Kate, already knowing the answer.

“I will be after I eat. Oscar and I have decided to pull a double shift and go back to the lab when we’re done.”

“I don’t remember you doin’ that before. What’s wrong?” asked Kate, trying to hide her concern and not doing a great job of it.

“It’s that girl in the park case, ain’t it?” said George.

“You know about that?” asked Oscar.

“It’s all over the Internet and I suppose on the TV news by now,” answered George.

Ellen spread her hands on the table. “I can’t talk about particulars, but yes, it is. We bagged eighty bags of evidence and need to get them processed. Her death wasn’t a suicide by any stretch. We can’t treat this as routine. Big Harv agrees.”

“So you think this ain’t a one-time thing?” asked Kate, feeling her uneasiness grow.

Ellie shook her head, her hair swinging back and forth. “I . . . we don’t. That’s all I can say, for now.”

Kate slid out of the booth and stood. “Then let’s get something down the two of you and get you back to work.”

“Where are you going?” asked Ellie.

“I came here to talk and to enjoy dinner with you, and I still want to do that. But I’m heading for the ladies room and going to do some heavy-duty praying—and to make sure Mable and Pearl are ready to go because you never know. I’ll be back.”

Just then, Ellen’s phone rang. Kate waited. Ellen looked at the screen and immediately motioned for Oscar to get up so she could exit the booth and take the call away from the table, her face scowling. She moved out of the booth, answered the call, and turned her back to the others. A moment later, Ellen pivoted around, reached for her purse on the table, and looked Kate directly in the eyes.

“We’ve got to go. There’s been another development, and they need us now.”

“Crap. I’m freaking hungry too,” complained Oscar, standing.

“Another body?” asked Kate, her heart racing. She couldn’t remember a look like that on
her friend’s face before. The girl was tough, and those violet eyes made her seem more so for some reason. Maybe they hid the emotions others can’t hide.

Ellen
bit her lip. “Let’s just say you need to pray extra hard. If Big Harv’s right, we’ll need it.”

CHAPTER-11

Ellen leaned against the back of the SUV and looked at her watch. It was past eleven; she’d been up since six a.m. and felt like it. It wasn’t only because of the hours out of the sack, but what her chosen profession had ushered into her world. One case involving the bizarre and psychotic was enough for a lifetime, but two in the same day, and apparently by the same killer, was over the top even for a Chicago cop’s daughter.

She glanced at the printed sign in her hand, another “NOT HER.” She’d pulled it from the victim’s dress, fighting her emotions as she did. This killer was the kind you prayed you never ran into during your career.

So much for that.

Turning, she watched the ME’s ambulance, loaded with Holly Seabrook’s body, curve down the service road, switch on its red and white lights, and move slowly away. Too slowly. The lack of urgency drove the point home even more succinctly.

Another homicide in a world that had grown to accept the fact that killing one another was business as usual in this country, and in her city. Her anger flashed. Holly had been twenty-eight-years old and a rising star in the banking world. The young woman was gorgeous, even in death. She no doubt had been looking forward to a long and wonderful future.

Ellen exhaled and sipped her mocha latte. She remembered what that was like, right? The joy, the anticipation, the challenge of building your future, maybe even with someone you loved
. Not anymore for Holly. Instead, she’d been murdered and dumped in a soggy plot of land that reeked of industrial waste. Hell of a tradeoff.

Her thoughts wandered toward the case that had obsessed Big Harv—almost as much today as twenty-six years ago, though he tried to conceal his preoccupation—murders that had changed him eternally. She was beginning to understand that cloaked obsession. There was almost a desperation to rid herself of the terrible feeling that crept into her mind when working cases like this. The actions of a killer like this one could take root deep inside
, where those sacred, protected places of human decency and respect reside, and twist them into a vehicle of hate and revenge—if you let them.