Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced Alliance\Out for Justice\No Place to Run (28 page)

“I'll be there in less than five minutes.”

“What about the cats?”

“I took care of them before I went over to Mom's. So they're happy, fat and sassy.”

When he opened the front door a few minutes later he stuttered a greeting. He was so used to seeing her in uniform, a weapon strapped to her hip, her hair pulled back in either a ponytail or a tight braid. Professional all the way.

But that wasn't who stood on his porch. This was the old Lexi, relaxed and casual in a pair of snugly fitting jeans and a scoop-necked T-shirt. Her hair fell past her shoulders in wavy blond cascades, pressed in by previous hours in a braid.

His chest tightened and his thoughts flew back to other times she'd stood on that same porch, happy and in love. The memories left him with a keen ache and a hollow emptiness.

He swallowed hard and forced an easy smile. “Come in, and let's get started on that casework. We want to be able to tell your mother how we slaved away.”

She returned his smile. Hers didn't seem to reflect any of the emotions that churned inside him.

He led her into the living room, where they each took a seat on the couch.

“Okay, tell me what you've got.”

“We found the owner of the high school ring. Definitely a dead end. He works for Wilkins Irrigation. They do work there. A month or so ago, he got to the job on a Monday morning, realized he still had his ring on and took it off and put it in his pocket. When he got home, it was gone. So he figured it was lost for good. He was really happy to get it back.”

“Did anyone check out his story?”

“Yep, Jim Wilkins himself says that the guy has worked for him for five years.”

“How about Lysandra? Anything there?”

She opened the manila file folder she had carried in. “According to my search, there are five Lysandras in the U.S. that are between the ages of twenty-five and forty. I've eliminated three of them. One married right out of high school and is raising her five children with her farmer husband. Not likely to have been involved in anything that created a killer. But just in case, I called her anyway. She had a friend in grade school named Amber, who she lost contact with. She has an acquaintance named Jeanie, but doesn't know any Tiffanys. And she can't think of any circumstances where someone might be hurt or angry enough to want to take this kind of vengeance.”

“What about the other two?”

“One's a marketing executive and one's a nurse. Neither of them had prior connections with the other names on the list. And like the first Lysandra, neither could think of anyone from their pasts who would have reason to do something like this.”

“So we're striking out so far.”

She flipped to another page in the folder. “There are still two left. Lysandra Yearwood is no longer at the job that shows up for her. We've got a home number, but haven't gotten an answer yet. And she apparently doesn't have a machine. Either that or it's turned off. We can try her again tonight.”

She turned to the last page in the folder. “The fifth is a Lysandra Tucker. She went to Florida State for one year, stayed in one of the sorority houses. Then she got busted for drugs and dropped out of school. Never went back. She's thirty now, works as a bartender at a club over in Ybor City. And I get the distinct impression she's avoiding me.”

“How so?”

“I've called three times over the past couple of days. Each time, the person who answered has told me to hang on, then comes back and says she's not available. I even called back when she was supposed to be on break.”

“Interesting. You think she's hiding something?”

“It certainly appears that way.” She pulled out her cell phone and pressed in the number, then put it on speaker phone.

“Club Dynamo, your place for a good time.” The words were shouted over the music blasting in the background.

Lexi glanced at him and smiled. “May I please speak with Lysandra Tucker?”

“Who's calling, please?”

“Detective Alexis Simmons with the Polk County Sheriff's Office.”

For several moments the only sound that came through the phone was the high-energy techno beat. The club employee's span of silence was just enough time to flash someone a questioning gaze and receive a silent answer.

“I'm sorry, she's not here tonight.”

“How about if I call back tomorrow evening? Will she be working then?”

“Might be. I don't know for sure.”

Lexi ended the call and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “How about a trip to Ybor tomorrow?”

“I'm game.”

“This Lysandra isn't going to be able to avoid us very well if we're standing right in front of her.”

“True. And how about Lysandra number four, Yearwood?”

Lexi referred back to the page in the folder, punched in a number and pressed the phone to her ear. Several seconds later her eyes widened and she sat up straighter.

Alan waited through the one-sided conversation. She was obviously getting further with this Lysandra than the last. Finally she ended the call.

“Well?”

“We've just eliminated our fourth Lysandra. Same basic story as the other three. But I'm putting all my hope on this last one. There's a reason she's avoiding us, and my guess is it has something to do with this case.” She closed the folder and slid forward on the couch, preparing to stand.

“You want to watch a movie with me?” Of course, the movie he was planning to watch was already thirty minutes in. But for some reason, he wasn't ready for her to leave.

“I probably should go. It's been a long day.”

He steeled himself against the disappointment filling his chest and walked her to the door. “You know you can drop by anytime. It doesn't have to be about the case.” He grinned down at her. “Or escaping your mother.”

“Thanks. But I don't want to bother you.”

He rested his hand on the doorknob but didn't open the door. “You used to never worry about bothering me.”

“Things were different then.”

Yes, they had been. Did she feel the loss as acutely as he did at the moment? He couldn't tell. Her eyes were shielded, her emotions hidden behind the walls of professionalism.

He lifted a hand, determined to reach through those walls to the sweet, softhearted woman he had fallen in love with so long ago, and slid a finger along her jaw. “Why did you say no? Why wouldn't you marry me?”

“I was twenty-one and had never been away from home. I didn't think I was ready. The last thing I expected was to come back four months later and find you engaged to Lauren.” Her eyes shifted to some point on the wall next to him. “It didn't take you long to replace me.”

There was no bitterness in her tone, but the hurt that underlined her words sliced right through him.

“I had already gotten your message.”

“What message?”

“The one you sent your mom to deliver.”

Her gaze shifted back to his. Her eyes, no longer shielded, were filled with confusion. Uneasiness sifted over him, the sense that he was about to learn that he had made a huge, life-altering mistake.

He took a deep breath. “Before you left for school, you said we should date other people. I didn't want to, but I went along with it and did some casual dating. Every time I called you, you were heading to class or studying for an exam or had some other reason why you couldn't talk. I thought you were avoiding me. Then came the visit from your mom.”

She stiffened and an icy hardness entered her gaze. Anger seemed to flow just beneath the surface, carefully held in check. “What did my mom say?”

“That you had met someone. That the two of you were quite serious, were even discussing marriage. She made it a point to tell me that he was studying to be a doctor and would be able to give you all the things you deserve.”

The anger erupted, surging into the open as she clenched and unclenched her fists and stalked back into the living room. He followed her, and she spun and unleashed some of that fury on him. “And you believed her? You never once thought you should verify what she said with me?”

“I've known your mom is manipulative and controlling. But I've never known her to outright lie. She convinced me you didn't want to talk to me and that's why you sent her. And frankly, your actions hadn't exactly convinced me otherwise.”

“I was busy. I was carrying a full load while working part-time.” Her tone was defensive, but some of the fire had gone out of her. “I came back at Thanksgiving to tell you that I was ready, that if you were willing to wait until I finished school, I wanted to marry you.”

A lead weight slid down his throat and settled in his gut. He had thought she had finally worked up the courage to dump him herself. And the last thing he had wanted was to hear the words from her own mouth. So he had shut her down by telling her he had moved on and was marrying Lauren.

“Oh, Lexi, I'm so sorry.” He rested both hands on her shoulders, eyes pleading with her to understand. “I cared for Lauren, but I didn't love her. When she found out you had left me, she was right there, eager to step in, pushing for marriage. I knew you were the only one I would ever love. But since I would never have you, raising a child with Lauren didn't seem like such a bad second choice.”

She looked up at him while he spoke, eyes once again veiled. Then she twisted from his grasp and bolted toward the front door.

He called after her, but she didn't turn back. She swung the door wide, leaped off the porch and flew down the short drive. Just before she slipped into the driver's seat of the Mazda, he caught a glimpse of her tear-streaked face. The sight tore his heart in two.

He closed the door and sagged against the wooden jamb.

Dear Lord, what have I done?

EIGHT

L
exi wiped at the tears streaming down her face. She hadn't only been betrayed by Alan. She had been betrayed by her own mother.

All her life, her mom had tried to make her into what she'd wanted her to be. And she had never quite succeeded. Because no matter how hard Lexi tried, she was never good enough.

But this time, her mother had crossed the line. She hadn't stuck with her usual control tactics—manipulating, cajoling, playing the guilt card. This time she'd resorted to deceit, an out-and-out lie.

And Alan, instead of talking to her, had believed the worst.

She wiped at the tears once more, determined to stop their flow. She would deal with her mother later. And Alan... Well, nothing had changed. He still had no excuse for sleeping with Lauren.

Up ahead, a brightly lit service station beckoned her. She wanted nothing more than to go home, curl up with her cats and have a good cry. But the light on her dash was warning her otherwise.

She stepped on the brake and pulled up to one of the pumps. While the gas poured into her tank, she leaned against the car and let her eyes drift down the street that ran alongside the station. A car sat some twenty yards away with only its parking lights on.

A sense of unease washed over her and the gooseflesh stood up on her arms. Had he followed her off the highway when she'd pulled into the station? She had been so upset, she hadn't paid attention. Distractions like that could get her killed. Especially now.

She finished pumping her gas and as she pulled back onto Highway 17, she cast frequent glances in her rearview mirror. Moments later, the car eased to a stop at the stop sign, then turned onto the main road.

Now she had no doubt. She was being followed. But she couldn't even identify the vehicle. It was too far back, nothing but a couple of headlights piercing the blackness of the cloudy night.

She slowed, allowing the other vehicle to catch up. But it slowed, too, maintaining the same distance. Another vehicle slipped between them.

She touched a button on her Bluetooth. “Call Tomlinson.” Times like this made the voice-recognition feature a lifesaver. Literally.

She waited through two rings.

“Please answer.” No way was she going to go home with someone following her. And no way was she going to pull over.

Relief washed over her at Tomlinson's warm greeting. She dispensed with the pleasantries.

“I'm being followed. The car is light, a four-door.” That was as detailed as she could get. Whoever it was had been careful to park well out of the glow of the streetlights. All she had to go on was what she had seen in her rearview mirror those brief moments when he'd made his turn onto the highway. “I'm not sure, but it could be our guy.”

“Give me your location.”

“On 17, turning onto Winter Lake Road.” She made several glances in her rearview mirror. The suspicious car turned, too. Now it was directly behind her but still hanging back, too far away to identify.

“Hold on. I'll get a couple units dispatched.”

He didn't disconnect the call. Moments later, she heard him on the other line, spouting out directions.

Tomlinson came back on the phone. “You doing okay?”

“So far. I've made a right on Spirit Lake and he's still behind me. I think it might be a Toyota Camry, but I'm not sure.” The light ahead turned red and she pressed the brake. “I hope our people get here fast.”

“They're being dispatched now.”

By the time she braked to a stop, the light had turned green again. She accelerated through the intersection. But the car didn't follow. Instead, it veered into a squealing right turn, as if having had a sudden change of plans.

“He just turned right on Coleman.” She braked for a hard right onto Seventh Street, then made the one-block jaunt to continue down Coleman. But the light-colored Camry, or whatever it was, was long gone.

Why had he suddenly given up the pursuit? It was almost as if he'd been listening to a police scanner.

She couldn't rule it out. If he had a strobe light, he could certainly have a police scanner.

She heaved a sigh. “I lost him. I think he cut through one of the subdivisions off Hatfield. He knew we were on to him.”

She disconnected the call and during the final miles home, her heart rate gradually returned to normal. That was close. She had to remain more alert. No matter what happened, she needed to be constantly aware of her surroundings. She had let down her guard, just for a few minutes. If she hadn't stopped for gas, she might have led the killer right to her home.

Before pulling into her driveway, she scanned the street in front and behind her. She was alone—no strange cars, no distant headlights. She pulled the Mazda into the double carport next to her sheriff's vehicle, and for the first time ever wished she had a garage instead. Auburndale was small. If someone really wanted to find her, it wouldn't be that difficult.

When she opened the front door, Suki met her in the foyer, loudly berating her for leaving. And when she headed toward the kitchen for a drink of water, the cat almost plowed her over getting there.

“Look, I already fed you.” She bent to pick up the talkative Siamese and the meows immediately turned to purrs. “Just because someone comes to the kitchen doesn't mean it's time to eat again.”

She drank the glass of water, then walked into the living room. It was too early to go to bed. And she didn't feel like watching something on TV. She didn't want to read, either.

Tomorrow she would be spending the afternoon with Alan. There was no way around it. She had already invited him on her investigative trip to Ybor City. And there would likely be plenty more shared excursions before this was all over. She needed to just buck up and forget about what they'd had in the past.

She heaved a sigh and let her gaze circle the room. The old spinet in the corner called to her. Two months after moving in, she had found it at a yard sale for fifty bucks. The seller had even moved it for her.

She sank onto the bench and ran her hand over the keys. Her skill on the piano was a gift from her mother. But it wasn't until recently that she considered it so. As a child, she had sat through endless piano lessons and spent countless hours practicing and participating in contests and recitals. And hated every minute of it. Playing the piano had always been her mother's passion, not her own.

Now she took comfort in the activity. There was no one to tell her she had to practice, no impossible standard to live up to, no pressure to perform.

She put her hands on the keyboard and started to play Beethoven's “Für Elise.” Her fingers glided over the keys and she closed her eyes, letting the emotion of the piece swell inside her. The tinkling melody filled the room and circled around her, soothing her frayed nerves. She would never tour the world as a concert pianist. She had no desire to. Playing for her own enjoyment was more than enough.

All the glitz and glamour was her mother's dream. And she might have achieved it if she hadn't met and married Lexi's father. She had given up a lot for love. And regretted it ever since.

Lexi's eyes flew open and her hands hung suspended over the keys, Beethoven suddenly silenced. All her life, she'd thought her mother was trying to make her into what she'd wanted her to be. She'd been wrong. Her mother was trying to make her into what she wished she herself had become.

Always trying to live her dreams through someone else.

Patty Simmons regretted never pursuing her dream of being in the spotlight, praised for her talent, loved by thousands. So she'd forced that dream on her daughter.

And she regretted not marrying into wealth. So when she saw Lexi about to make the same “mistake,” committing her future to a lowly police officer, she stepped in and took action. And ruined two lives in the process. Three, counting Lauren's.

All her life her mother had gotten her way, cajoled and manipulated others to do her bidding. And when that hadn't worked, she'd turned to deceit and outright lies.

Lexi and Alan had played right into her hands.

And they were still playing into her hands. Lexi didn't want to give up her independence, her right to make her own decisions. But in a sense, she already had. Because as long as she kept pushing Alan away, she was letting her mother continue to wield her control.

She shook her head and released a heavy sigh. It was way too complicated. And tonight she was too tired to try to sort it all out.

Once again, she lowered her hands to the keyboard and began to play.

* * *

The small wooden building stood hemmed in between a tattoo parlor and a nail salon, little more than a hole in the wall. Music pulsed through the closed door and neon in the windows enticed patrons with a promise of the booze they would find inside. Across the mansard, more neon flashed the words Club Dynamo. Or more accurately, Club Dyna, since the last third of the word wasn't lit.

Alan swung open the wooden door and paused, steeling himself against the onslaught to his senses. Lights strobed, reflecting off the smoke curling through the air, and the music, now unobstructed, reverberated through his rib cage.

Lexi leaned into him. “We should have come armed with earplugs.”

“Not a bad idea.” His voice was several decibels louder than normal. How people conversed in settings such as this, he'd never understand.

He wound his way toward the bar, past a dance floor filled to capacity with writhing bodies, then climbed onto a bar stool. Lexi took one next to him and laid a manila folder on the counter in front of her. Two bartenders moved back and forth, filling drink orders and chatting with patrons. One was blond, petite and pretty. And much too young to be their Lysandra. Likely a USF student, taking on the weekend shift to work her way through school.

The other was older and tougher looking, lacking the youthful innocence of the blonde. Her jet-black hair was cut short in a jagged, chopped style and highlighted with streaks of purple. Some kind of hair gel stiffened the uneven clumps, accentuating the unconventional cut.

Lexi nodded toward the older bartender and put her mouth close to Alan's ear. “You think that's our Lysandra?”

“I'm almost positive.”

The blonde looked over at them and held up a finger. After setting two drinks in front of a couple of ladies at the other end of the bar, she hurried in their direction.

“What can I get you folks?”

He smiled up at her. “Not that I don't like you, but I was hoping to be served by Lysandra.”

“Not a problem.” She turned and shouted to her coworker halfway down the bar. “San, this one's yours.”

Lysandra's gaze drifted over the other patrons and came to rest on Alan. The friendly smile she had for her customers widened and she closed the distance between them. Even in the poor lighting, at close range, the heavy makeup did nothing to hide the creases that surrounded her mouth and marked the edges of her eyes. If she was thirty, those were some hard thirty years.

She stopped in front of him and leaned on the bar, mouth curved upward in invitation. “Hey, big boy, what can I get you?”

Lexi tensed next to him, almost imperceptibly. It might even have been his imagination. But he wasn't imaging the prickly vibes she was sending out now. Maybe she felt something for him after all.

But this wasn't the time to explore possibilities. They had finally found the elusive Lysandra. Now to get her to talk.

He returned her smile. “A Coke, and the same for the lady.”

One side of her mouth rose a little higher. “The hard stuff. Be back in a sec.”

She returned to set a glass in front of each of them.

Alan smiled up at her again. “You're a hard lady to get hold of.”

“If I'd have known you were trying, I'd have made it a little easier.” She ran a painted nail along the back of one of his hands. Something told him she wouldn't be nearly as friendly if he was in uniform.

He resisted the urge to pull his hand away. Shallow flirtiness had never appealed to him. Lexi's genuine air was so much more refreshing. “My friend here has tried for the past three days to reach you, with no success. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to avoid us.”

She pulled away from the counter, back ramrod-straight and green eyes guarded. Distrust flashed in their depths, pushing aside all hint of the invitation that was there only moments earlier. She crossed her arms in front of her. “Jake's trying to pin everything on me, isn't he? Well, it's not going to work, because I wasn't there. I figured out he was trouble and was going to pull me down with him, so I dumped him.”

Alan nodded. “That was a wise choice. But Jake isn't the reason we're here.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't speak.

Lexi went on to explain. “We have a serial killer stalking young women in Polk County. We're pretty sure what he's doing is retribution for something that happened ten years earlier. We have some names of the women who were involved. One, of course, is Lysandra. There was also Amber, Tiffany and Jeanie.”

Recognition flitted across her features. She knew the names. But she shook her head.

“I'm sorry. I can't help you.”

“Look,” Lexi continued, “we just need to ask you a few questions, see what you can remember.”

Lysandra shook her head again. “I'm sorry, I don't know any women by those names.”

Alan studied her. She was lying, and he knew it. He fished through the folder and pulled out a photo of the first victim. It wasn't one of the earlier ones, with nothing more than some minor bruising. It was the last one, head cocked unnaturally to the side, bulging, lifeless eyes, discolored face and ugly brownish-red ring around the neck. This time he
was
going for shock value.

He slammed the photo face up on the counter. “Look, lady, young women are dying, and you might be able to stop it.”