The silence hung between them for what seemed like
endless minutes. “I knew how she felt,” he finally said. “She didn’t love me.
She never did. She lived her life saving other people, doing crazy dangerous
things, with never a thought for herself. She didn’t think about herself until
she met…”
Eve felt a sharp stab of regret for the words she’d
let fly so heedlessly. “Ethan.”
He nodded unsteadily. “Then her life became precious
to her, because she could see what it would do to him to have lost her. Because
she loves him.”
She felt lower than dirt. “David, I’m sorry.”
“No. You were right. I did watch her marry somebody
else, because I did love her. Still do, I guess. But if Dana had ever given me
one indication she felt the same way, I promise you, nothing would have held me
back. And if she couldn’t have kids, I would have been sad, but it wouldn’t
have mattered. Maybe Webster is just a bump in the road. A practice love, if
you want. But just maybe he’s your chance to be happy.
“Evie, don’t stand back and watch it pass by. You
never know if another chance will come. It’s time to trust your instincts. I’m
going back to bed. Don’t burn any more pots.”
She watched him go, hurting. For both of them. But he
was wrong. When it came to men, she had lousy instincts. And it wasn’t just
kids. It was everything.
For now, she’d go back to what she’d been doing.
Spread across her table were the stacks of usage logs and graphs she and Noah
had been reviewing. There had to be something to tell them who the next target
would be before it was too late to save her.
Wednesday, February 24, 4:25 a.m.
“You should have told me Jack didn’t answer his
phone,” Abbott said calmly, his eyes on Rachel’s small house where a small army
of CSU and MEs had swarmed.
Noah leaned against his car, watching the neighbors
who’d gathered, wondering if their killer ever came back to the scene to watch.
To gloat. “I’m sorry. I should have.”
He’d called his boss with the discovery of a fourth
murder, and it hadn’t taken Abbott long to realize his staffing had been shaken
up a little. Abbott had been most displeased.
“Next time you call out one of my detectives without
my explicit permission, I’m going to kick your ass into next week,” Abbott
continued in the same calm tone.
“Fine. Just don’t blame Olivia. She was only trying to
help.”
“I won’t. I’m blaming you. When were you going to tell
me that Jack’s been late to scenes for three weeks? Or has it been longer?”
“Off and on, longer. Depends on the woman in his bed.
The women go their own way, and then Jack is back.” Noah shrugged uneasily.
“Tonight, with him not showing up at all… That’s abnormal.”
“He’s on his way. He claims you didn’t call him.”
Noah blinked. “What?”
“That’s what he says,” Abbott said.
“He’s pulled that one before, too. ‘Oh, my cell phone
has bad reception,’ ” Noah mimicked. He brought up his cell outgoing call log.
“I called his cell and his home line.”
Abbott scanned his phone’s screen. “Your fingers did a
lot of walking tonight, Noah.”
Noah snapped his phone shut, annoyed. “It’s been an
eventful day,” he said tightly.
“That it has. I want you to brief me, then go home and
sleep. It’s going to take CSU the better part of the night to process the
scene. Tell me what happened.”
So Noah did, starting with Eve’s discovery that her
red-zone, Rachel Ward, was not where she was supposed to be, finishing with his
and Olivia’s grisly discovery. At this point he was reciting facts, his voice
flat and expressionless from fatigue.
“We found his setup in the basement. He’d covered the
windows so no one would see the flames. Smoke detectors, disabled. He let the
fire lick up the stool he’d tied her to. She’s got third-degree burns, feet and
legs. Micki called the fire investigators.”
“Okay,” Abbott said. “I’m up to speed. Go home, Noah.
You look like hell.”
“Okay.” It was testament to his exhaustion that he
obeyed without argument. He started for his car, then stopped as Jack’s car
coasted to a stop in front of his.
Noah waited with Abbott as Jack approached, his
cover-boy face haggard. And hung over. Noah recognized the look. He’d seen it
in his own mirror enough times.
“Abbott said you called me,” Jack said with no trace
of humor. “I never got the call.”
“I called you six fucking times.” Ignoring the guilt
in his partner’s eyes, Noah went on. “The first call went out at 2:25. Rachel
Ward may have still been alive then.”
Jack shook his head in denial. “I swear to God I never
got your call. I fell asleep.”
Noah stepped closer, dropped his voice to a whisper.
“After you drank how much?”
The guilt in his eyes gave way to anger. “One. Not
that it’s any of your business.”
“No, not my business. But Rachel might think it was
hers. She was busy dying while you were sleeping off your one drink.”
Jack’s cheeks grew dark. “You sonofabitch.”
Behind them Abbott cleared his throat harshly and Noah
stowed his temper. “Olivia spotted a car leaving this neighborhood at 3:15,”
Noah said. “The license plates were registered to Axel Girard’s wife.”
Jack’s eyes flashed. “I told you he was the one. But
you
said it didn’t make sense.”
Noah had to take a step back, appalled that his hand
had actually closed into a fist. He swallowed back the fury and managed to say
nothing at all.
Jack flicked a glance down at Noah’s clenched fist
“Where is Girard now?”
“In lockup,” Noah said. “I called the car we had parked
in front of his house. They said the Girards appeared to have been in bed. But
on the off chance that somehow Axel sneaked out to another car, killed Rachel
Ward, then teleported himself home in half the time it should have taken him to
drive, I had him picked up.” He turned to look at Abbott. “Eight a.m. meeting?”
“Make it nine. Jack, I expect you to have a new cell
phone, forthwith.”
The ME techs came out of Rachel’s house, pushing the
gurney that held the body bag. Jack swallowed hard before turning, getting into
his car, and driving away.
“I should feel bad about what I said,” Noah murmured,
“but I don’t.”
“Jack’s on a bad track,” Abbott said. “You can’t save
him from himself. Only he can.”
“First step,” Noah said quietly, then realized he’d
said it aloud. He’d never revealed his alcoholism to anyone on the force, never
even spoken of it to anyone besides Brock and Trina, until he’d blurted it to
Eve. And she hadn’t flinched. Now he turned to his boss, whose expression was
not judgmental. Noah sighed. “You know.”
“I’ve always known,” Abbott chided. “I told you, it’s
my job to know my staff.”
“Which is why you get paid the medium-sized bucks.”
Abbott’s mouth curved, but his eyes didn’t smile. “Go
home and sleep. That’s an order. See you at oh-nine. And tell Eve I said thank
you. She almost saved the day.”
From under the carport in an empty For Sale house half
a block away, Harvey put down his binoculars. “Webster nearly hit Phelps.” He
turned to Dell, who’d just arrived, his car parked down the street from
Harvey’s Subaru.
Still observing through his zoom lens, Dell smiled. “A
crack in the blue wall.”
Dell’s tone had him frowning. “What do you know, son?
What have you done?”
Dell shrugged. “Just gave an already shaky
relationship a little push, that’s all.”
Harvey was quiet for a long moment. “Phelps was really
late getting here tonight,” he finally said. “You told me the boys were on the
move an hour ago.”
“It appears Phelps slept in,” Dell said cheerfully.
Harvey considered the circuitous route Webster had
taken, the look of weary panic on the man’s face when he’d stopped at the
mailbox store. He’d been racing against a clock for the past hour and here they
sat, less than a mile from Phelps’s home.
A shiver ran down his spine. “A woman died here. Tell
me that matters to you.”
“What matters to me is that V is dead,” Dell said
bitterly. “That
matters
to me.”
“I know that,” Harvey said softly. “I know that every
minute of every day.”
“The men who killed him walk free. Do you know
that
every minute of every day?”
Harvey leaned against the headrest and closed his
eyes. “What. Did. You. Do?”
“I’m not going to tell you.” Then Dell gasped when
Harvey’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar of his parka and twisted,
cutting off his air.
Harvey leaned across the gearshift, furious. “You will
tell me. Make no mistake. I am your father. I brought you into this world. I
can—”
“Take me out,” Dell sneered, his eyes flashing hate.
“You know what? I’m not five years old and peeing my pants in fear of you
anymore. V’s not here to take my licks, so I’ll take them myself. So hit me,
old man. If you think you can.”
Harvey hesitated, feeling a grudging respect for his
younger son, who might have finally grown up. He released him with a shove of
disgust. “Just tell me what you did.”
“I’ll get as old as you waiting for these cops to fuck
up on camera. So, I decided to take control of the situation. I got us a…
Trojan Horse.”
“Make some sense, boy,” Harvey snapped.
“I got someone on the inside, a woman. She’s cuddled
up to Phelps, made him think she’s got the hots for him. But she watches him,
for us.”
“And tonight? You said Phelps overslept.”
Dell shrugged. “She doctored his whiskey bottle a
little bit. Just to make him sleep. Obviously not too much, because he actually
showed up this time.”
“He hasn’t shown up other times?”
“He’s missed a few days. His partner’s pretty pissed
with him. I figure another few episodes like tonight and they’ll turn on each
other like the dogs they are.”
What were you thinking, boy? If Phelps had been awake
an hour ago, that woman might have lived.
“So how have you known when they were on the move?”
“She keeps Phelps’s phone on vibrate,” Dell said, “and
waits for a call.”
“That’s how you knew they were going to the Brisbane
woman’s on Sunday. You told me the GPS beeps when they move their cars.”
“It does, but she’s a little extra insurance.
Sometimes I sleep through the beep.”
“So instead of telling Phelps, she calls you.”
“Yeah. Then she erases all of Webster’s messages and
calls from the incoming log. I guess somebody must have called him again after
she left, woke him up.”
“You dumb fuck,” Harvey gritted. “If they check with
the phone company, they’ll prove Webster called. Then they’ll be on the alert
that
somebody
is
fucking
with them.”
“They might. They’re so mad right now, they probably
won’t. If they do, it won’t matter, because she says Phelps does it himself
half the time. Pretends like he hasn’t gotten Webster’s call, that he has no
bars. Guy’s a fuckup. I just sped it up a little.”
“But this time, Phelps didn’t do it himself, and this
time a woman
died
. If they check his phone records, this whore of yours
will be the first person they haul in. And if you don’t think you’ll be the
first person she implicates, you’re dumber than I thought.”
“She won’t talk and I’m far from dumb. I have it all
planned out.”
Harvey stared at his son, wondering how Dell had
veered off course. He needed to drag his son back on task. “I’ll let this go,
this time. But nobody else better die because of you. That’s not the way to fix
this and I’m not going down with you. I’ll stop the whole operation first.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Dell said agreeably. “Gotta
go.” He hopped out of the Subaru and into his own vehicle and, stomach
churning, Harvey watched him go.
Wednesday, February 24, 5:15 a.m.
Noah disobeyed Abbott’s order to go home, stopping by
the holding cell where he found Axel Girard, pacing frantically. Girard looked
up, wild-eyed with panic.
“I didn’t do anything. You’re ruining my life.”
“I’m trying to save it. I need to talk to you. Will
you stop pacing and listen to me?”
Girard stopped, but his body still vibrated with pent
energy. “What do you mean, save it?”
“Another woman was murdered tonight,” Noah said. “A
car with plates registered to your wife was seen driving away.”
Girard paled. Blindly he sank to the edge of the cot
in his cell. “Why?”
“Damn good question. Why do you think someone would
target you? Does anybody hate you? Have you pissed anyone off lately?”
Girard pressed his knuckles to his lips. “No. I get
along well with my patients, with my neighbors. I don’t have any enemies. How
long will you keep me here?”