Sandman (10 page)

Sweat creased his brow; his fingers were getting slippery. Finally the latch moved a bit, then the tool slithered from his hand and dropped to the concrete below. The thunderous noise ripped through the otherwise tranquil night. He stood still, held his breath, and waited to see a light flick on inside the house.

***

For the second time that night Meagan had been jolted from a deep REM state. Confused, she listened to her surroundings. It didn’t take long for her to zero in on the sound. At the end of the bed, tensely staring at the closed bedroom door, Godzilla emitted a deep throaty growl. Adrenaline coursed through Meagan’s body. She glanced at the clock. It was just after three.

“What is it, boy?” she whispered.

The dog leapt off the bed and trotted to the door, his deep rumble growing louder.

The hairs on the back of Meagan’s neck stood up. She slid out of bed and eased into her kimono, cinching the belt tight. Tiptoeing to the door, she put her ear to it. Godzilla let out an ear-piercing bark. Meagan jumped back, startled, and her hand flew to her chest. She took a couple of deep breaths, then opened the bedroom door a crack to peek out.

Godzilla pushed her aside and ran to the back door. Meagan had to grab the wall to keep from falling down. His barks grew incessant as he scratched at the door. Meagan followed. Without turning on the porch light, she pulled the curtain aside slightly and peered out.

The yard was easily visible by the light of the full moon. Nothing seemed out of place. She inspected the top of the fence for a possum or cat; none were in sight. Not that she really thought a stray animal would make her dog go ballistic.

Godzilla jumped at the door and continued to bark.

Shrouded in dark, Meagan made her way into the bedroom and grabbed the mallet. Weapon in hand, she joined Godzilla at the back door. She peeked out once more before turning the locks. Then she flung the door wide. The screen had barely opened when the dog flew past and raced out into the night. Meagan took off after him.

When she finally caught up, Godzilla was halfway down the street sniffing at some bushes. He seemed frustrated. Frantically he paced back and forth along the thick copse of vegetation. She couldn’t see or hear a thing and cursed herself for not grabbing a flashlight before scrambling out the door.

The dog continued to whine and pace.

Afraid of being caught in a stranger’s yard in the middle of the night, wearing next to nothing, Meagan began to plead with the dog. “Come on, boy, whatever it was you scared it good.”

The dog ignored her pointing stiffly into the darkness.

She patted his head. “Come on, you did your job. The neighborhood’s safe now.”

Steadily Meagan’s unease grew. She had never seen Godzilla act this way. The dog stood with his tail down, his entire body shook as he growled. Meagan had no idea how long she’d been trying to coax the dog away, but she’d had enough. She was cold and tired.

She reached down, grabbed the dog by the collar and proceeded to drag him back up the street. It was quite a struggle up the small incline, the dog’s heavy body resisting the entire way.

By the time they made it back to the house, Meagan was exhausted and out of breath. Sweat dripped down her neck and back. Her nose and cheeks were numb from the cold night air. Just as they rounded the corner, the back door came into view. Meagan stopped. A shiver ran down her spine, she held her breath.

The door stood wide open.

Normally she wasn’t the paranoid type, but her otherwise mild-mannered dog was acting peculiar. Gathering her nerve, she eased the screen open and crept in. She clutched the mallet tightly, holding it high above her head.

She flicked the switch and the kitchen was bathed in light. Silently she inched her way toward the living room and peered around the edge of the divider. The room was empty. She turned on her heels and stood in the doorway to the bathroom, which was illuminated solely by a nightlight.

She stared at the closed shower curtain.

Her heart raced, and her breath came in shallow pants. Club held high, she reached out and clutched the edge of the curtain. In one fell swoop she swung it back and let out a big gasp. The tub was empty. Her relief was fleeting once she realized there was one more place to search. The bedroom.

Spinning back around, Meagan tiptoed toward her room, where the darkness yawned before her. She reached her hand around the wall and fumbled for the switch. Instantly light flooded the room, she quickly scanned the interior, and breathed a sigh of relief. She slid open the closet door even though she knew there was no room for someone to hide; her clothes were crammed in there pretty tight. Half-heartedly she peeked under her bed, not that a grown man could really fit under there either. She collapsed on the side of the bed and sighed before she shoved the mallet back under the covers.

Godzilla, calmer now, stood next to her looking up. Meagan stared back at the dog a moment, then scratched his head. She went over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of old boxer shorts and a tank top. She didn’t know what was going on, but if anything else happened that night she didn’t want to be caught naked. She climbed in the bed, pulled the covers up under her chin, and stared wide-eyed at the bedroom door.

SIXTEEN

First thing Monday, Thomas went straight to Captain Harris’s office with the information he had compiled. He tossed the file on Harris’s desk. “Check this out. My hunch was right. We do have a serial killer on our hands.” Thomas dropped down in one of the two chairs opposite the captain.

Harris opened the file and thumbed through it. Silence fell as he skimmed the pages before him. “Shit, I was afraid of this.”

“I’m going to need a task force, and I’d like to bring Malone on board as my partner.”

The captain’s brows creased. “You know I can’t spare too many uniforms because of the cutbacks.”

“Then, give me what you can. This is too big for me to work alone.”

“I know.” The captain rubbed his chin. “All right, take James and Cooper. They already know the case.”

“Fine, and Malone?”

“Malone’s caseload is too heavy. If I give him to you, I’d have to reassign all his cases. We’re already shorthanded with you out of the rotation. I need your full focus on this one. I’ll distribute your open cases among the other detectives. That means everyone will be carrying about all they can handle.”

Harris put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples. A moment later he looked up. “Okay, I haven’t received the paperwork on Shadowhawk yet, but we need her now. She had the highest score on the detective’s exam and has a good eye for detail. I’d already decided she’d ride along with you and learn the ropes. I’ll just bump up the timeline a bit.”

“Do you think she can handle it? I mean, being a woman and all.” Thomas was concerned by the viciousness of the case. Hell, he was having a hard time with the images himself.

“Don’t let the fact that she’s a woman fool you. She’s got balls of steel, that one.” The captain pushed a button on his phone. “Gladys, call dispatch and pull James and Cooper off the street. I want to see them. Then get Shadowhawk in my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

Turning back to Thomas, Harris said, “I’ll have James and Coop check in with you once I’ve talked to them. Take these three for now and see how it goes. If things heat up, I’ll see who else I can scare up for you. But I’m not making any promises.”

“It’s not like I’m asking for a kidney, for Christ’s sake.”

“Actually, with the budget in the state that it’s in, you’d probably have better luck if you were.”

There was a knock on the open door.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Thomas turned around to see an interesting-looking woman walk in. She stood right behind him, ignoring him completely.

Fawn Shadowhawk Quinn was a Native American in her late twenties. She stood around five-foot-seven or eight, and weighed roughly one hundred and thirty-five to one hundred and forty-five pounds with broad shoulders for a woman. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a tight French braid that reached the middle of her back. Rumor had it that she went by her middle name to honor her great-grandfather, a renowned medicine man.

Shadowhawk wore no makeup. Her jewelry was minimal, a watch and a silver band on her left hand. Her light brown eyes were large and framed with naturally long black lashes. They reminded Thomas of a pair of doe eyes.

Her stance and gait were rather masculine, but when she opened her mouth, a high melodic voice came out. It was such a contrast that he knew it was something he’d have to get used to.

“Yes. I want you to work the Sandman case with Thomas here. It will take me a few days to get you your detective’s shield, but I’ll put in for that as well as a rush on the paperwork for your promotion. Your raise, such as it is, will probably take a few weeks to catch up, but it will be prorated,” Harris said.

“Thank you, Captain.” She turned to Thomas for the first time. “Your reputation precedes you, sir.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear, I started most of those rumors myself.” Thomas smiled.

Early that evening, Thomas ate a roast beef sandwich at his desk when he received the phone call he had been waiting for. They had a positive ID on his Jane Doe. Her name was Caroline Bernard. She had resided in Temecula with her husband and two children. The ID came from the husband, Jack. Thomas told the morgue to let him go. He’d grab Shadowhawk and drive down to Temecula in the morning. He thought he’d give the guy a break tonight. Besides, he wanted to get a look at the victim’s surroundings. See if anything popped.

SEVENTEEN

Meagan dragged herself through the door and dropped her purse on the kitchen counter. She was so tired she couldn’t carry it another foot. Her lack of sleep from the night before made her busy day especially hard. She wandered into the living room toward the flashing red light on the answering machine. There was a call from Katy, one from her mother. And the last was Drew saying he’d call her later.

She turned away feeling a little giddy, then stopped.

Wait, how did he get my home number?

The phone rang, she turned back around and stared at it a moment. What if it were Drew? Should she grill him on how he got her number? Maybe she’d just bring it up like it was no big deal. It was on its third ring when she snatched it up.

“Hello?” There was no answer. “Hello!” She waited a beat and listened to dead air. “Okay, you’re busted. The police put a trap on my line. How are you going to explain that to your wife, Brad?” There was a click in her ear. Meagan smiled.

“Gotcha!”

She carried the phone with her to the bedroom while she changed. Then she called her mother, who was just checking in. She returned Katy’s call while she made herself a salad. She told Katy about the recent calls and she agreed with Meagan that it probably was Brad. But then she mentioned someone Meagan hadn’t thought of. Jerome.

“Do you really think he’d start hassling me at home?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s an asshole with a capital A. A guy like that can’t imagine a woman telling him no. You’ve rebuffed his advances on many occasions. This way there’s no way to prove it’s him, so you can’t file charges.”

“That’s true, but… I don’t know.”

“You should get caller ID.”

“Do you really think it would help?”

“Hell, yes! Then you’ll have him dead to rights.”

“Okay, I’ll call the phone company tomorrow and have them turn it on.”

“Good. Crap, I’ve got to go. I can hear the boys fighting in the other room. I guess I
should
stop them before they kill each other. Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes.”

Meagan grabbed her salad and a glass of milk before heading into the living room to see what movies were on cable. As she tried to focus on the TV Guide, her mind kept wandering back to her conversation with Katy. Could Jerome really be her crank caller?

 An hour later, the phone rang. Meagan muted the volume on the TV, then looked around for the phone. Evidently she’d forgotten it in the kitchen. By the fourth ring, she’d snatched it off the counter. “Hello?”

Silence.

“Jerome, is that you?” The phone went dead.

“Dammit. This is getting old fast.” The phone rang immediately. She clicked it on. “Get a life!”

“Did I call at a bad time?” Drew’s voice was hesitant.

“Sorry, just some kids with too much time on their hands. Is your ear okay?”

“Don’t worry about it. I have another one.”

Meagan cringed and changed the subject. “Are you in San Diego?”

“Yeah, we got down here last night. Today we unloaded the equipment and did our sound check. The gig starts tomorrow night. Do you wanna come?”

“Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got plans with a friend from work.” She and Lilah went to Taco Tuesday every week for dollar tacos and half-off Margaritas.

There was a moment of silence before Drew said, “Bring him along. I’d like to check out my competition. What’s his name? I’ll put the two of you on the guest list.”

“Lilah.” Meagan laughed. “Let me talk to her, and I’ll call you back tomorrow. What’s your number?”

“You won’t be able to reach me, I’m going to be in and out. Why don’t I just call you?”

“Okay. That reminds me, how’d you get my home number?”

There was a brief pause. “You gave it to me Saturday night, don’t you remember?”

“Actually, I gave you the salon number.” She never gave out her home number to men anymore.

Silence again.

“All right, I confess. Theresa gave it to me. I was afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to be angry with her. You can’t tell her I told you. She made me promise.”

“Well that figures.”

They ended up talking for a couple of hours. She loved all his stories of life on the road; he was really quite funny. Meagan hung up and found herself humming while she got ready for bed. Suddenly she stopped. It just occurred to her: Would Theresa, with all her faults, really give Meagan’s home number to a complete stranger?