Snuff (25 page)

SEVENTY-EIGHT

“Doesn’t it make you jealous, him watching other women?”

She runs her fingers beneath her hairline.  I wonder what she’s doing, until she lifts a red layer and blonde hair tumbles over her shoulder.  She tosses the wig
aside.  It looks like a baby Chewbacca, skittering across the floor.

“Jealous?”

“Yeah.  You’re engaged, but he uses the cameras to get his rocks off.”

W
heels turn behind her eyes before she shrugs.  “It’s not like he’s cheating.  Every man looks at other women.  I don’t mind if he watches as long as I’m the only one he cares about.”

I pull my knees into my chest and wrap my
arms around my shins. “You’re more understanding than I’d be.  If my boyfriend spent all his time watching videos of other girls, I’d leave him.”

She drags her fingers along a smear of crusted brown blood on the floor.  “Is that what you think I should do? Leave the only person who cares about me?
  He’s my whole world.  I’m his, too.”  She taps the face of her cell phone.  “Emails all the time just to tell me how much he cares.”

“I’m just saying
, it’s not something I’d put up with.  You must love him a lot, to overlook stuff like that.”

She pokes the toe of my Vans.  “I love him more than a lot.  I’d bleed myself dry for him.”

I don’t want to argue, but it doesn’t seem like she’s capable of bleeding herself dry.  Those scars from failed suicide attempts kind of prove it.

“I’ve done everything for him.”

There’s something about the way she says
everything
that raises the hair on the back of my neck.  “I believe you,” I say, since she’s defensive, like I’ve accused her of lying.  “Love makes us do crazy things.”

Her hair swings forward when she examines the rounded edge of her nails.   Without the wig she looks so much like Abby, it’s disturbing. 

SEVENTY-NINE

John situated himself in Lisette’s surprisingly comfortable desk chair after Jacob Ivashkov had stormed out of the homicide department. 

He
was weighing the pros and cons of another espresso versus black tea, when the office door blew open, ushering in the racket of detectives and the scent of mingled vanilla and menthol cigarettes. 

“I thought I told you to go home?”
he asked, as Lisette closed the door.

She waved him off and sat in the chair
opposite him.  “I
did
go home.  I even slept for a few hours.  I saw Jacob in the elevator on my way up.  He said something about how I should wear a plaid skirt for him.  I probably don’t want to know, right?  Did he give you anything?”

“The sneaking suspicion he knows more than he’s letting on.  He’s been sleeping with her, at the very least.”

She knotted her arms over her rumpled wife beater.  “Did he give you the old ‘crazy chicks are better in bed’ line?  It’s one of his favorites.”

“At lea
st he’s predictable.” 
Who cares if they’re better in bed
was John’s question.  They weren’t worth the headaches if you had to sleep with one eye open and worry about slashed tires come morning.

He handed her the file containing the Caroline McKay information.
  “I’m going to see what I can do about getting warrants for his phone records and club.  Once we’re inside, I’ll take pictures of the surveillance cameras and ask Stacy if the setup matches what she thinks the webmaster has on the blog.  With any luck, he’ll have something illegal in his office, and we’ll get cause to arrest him.”

EIGHTY

She strokes
the diamond on her finger the same way I stroke Stripes’s head.  “Love is an odd animal.  We can’t help who we fall in love with, right?  I suppose the heart knows something we don’t.”

I can’t imagine this man she’s with loves her—I doubt anyone involved in the torture and murder of multiple women knows the meaning.  He can probably say the words and understand the dictionary definition, but the feelings can’t possibly be present.
  He’s emotionally colorblind. “Did you ever think maybe the heart is just stupid, or wrong? Blinded by lust, or…I don’t know, swept up in a moment?”

She smiles.  It
actually looks sincere.  “No.  Love may be inconvenient or inappropriate, but I don’t think it’s wrong.  How can it be?  It’s one of those intangibles.”

It’s not like you’re the supreme authority on the subject
, I want to say.  But I don’t.  I’m no authority, either.  The only man I’ve been in love with is Jack.

I didn’t even know I was for a long time; couldn’t make sense of
the mingled hope and horror.  So happy, but scared it would all abandon me.  Like I was bumbling along, spinning the plates of my life, until I’d realized a whole bunch more had appeared, ready to crash down on my head.

The knowledge I’ll never see him again is too horrible to fathom. 

Bianca frowns at her cell phone.  “I never get service in here,” she complains conversationally, like we’re in some dark back corner of a restaurant by the bathrooms.  Like it’s some minor inconvenience, never mind the fact I’m here, held hostage without a clue or a hope or a prayer. 

“What do you need service for?”  Not that it matters at
this juncture, but I must have been correct in my assumption we’re underground.  “Another video?”

“I don’t get internet in here, sweetheart.  Those videos are uploaded
afterward.  My responses to his love notes.” 

Bile creeps up my throat.  That’s why Abby died?  For some travesty of
a love note?

She waves her phone around like she’s willing bars to appear.  “I might have to leave for a little while.”

The second she stands up, I’ll rush her.  Punch her in the face.  The fact I’ve never punched anyone in the face before is moot.  What’s the rule?  Don’t tuck your thumb into your fist?  Or thrust your palm under the nose to make it puncture the brain? 

Her hand disappears in her purse and comes out with the Taser.

Plan foiled.

EIGHTY-ONE

Lisette stormed through the front doors of Garden of Eve, flashing her badge at the bouncer.  John didn’t bother digging his credentials out as he followed.

The platinum strands woven through her blonde ponytail caught in the dim lighting, easily the brightest thing in the hallway, before they rounded a dark corner into the main lounge. 

Lisette
snagged the nearest waitress by the strap of her fuchsia mesh top.  The tray of martinis she carried sloshed, olives riding waves of vodka, when she shot Lisette a bewildered look.  “Tell someone to turn this shit off.” She held her badge in one hand and jammed her thumb at the pounding speakers. 

Jacob Ivash
kov swung through the double doors that led to his office and shook his head, stopping behind Lisette as she bent over to snatch a cigar from a patron’s hand with a snarled “it’s fucking illegal to smoke in here, numbnuts.” 

John didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or not, watching Jacob admire the way
her jeans molded to precisely the right places.

“You know how much I’ve dreamed of seeing you bent over in
front of me, but this smells like harassment.”

She looked up from the beer glass she was
stubbing the cigar out in.  “This,” she straightened up and slammed a warrant Jacob’s chest, “is an inconvenience.  I’m working my way up to harassment.  Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow for fucking brunch and shut this shit down just for fun.”

Jacob unfolded the warrant and scrutinized the judge’
s looping signature.  “I’ll set up a waffle bar if you promise to wear something slutty.”  

John wondered briefly if he should say something—but what?  Lisette could hold
her own, and though admittedly, he found it amusing to watch her verbal sparring, he did not find the sparkle in Jacob Ivashkov’s eyes entertaining.  In fact, he would have liked to pluck them out with a pair of curved pincers, but that would be assault, and it turned out assault was illegal. 

“Don’t fuck with me, dumbass.”  She poked Jacob’s chest.  “I’ll turn this place into a goddamned convent if you’re gonna play coy.”

Jacob tucked the warrant into his back pocket.  “If you wanted to see me again, you could have called.  I know you’ve got my number somewhere.  Tucked under your pillow or in your underwear drawer.  You wear thongs, I can tell.  No panty lines.”

Her eyes flicked toward the doors as a parade of
uniformed officers and CSU techs carrying canvas bags trickled in the lounge.  She started down the hallway to Jacob’s office.  “I’m going to make as big a mess as possible when I fuck up your office, Jake.  I hope Daddy doesn’t keep his expensive china in there.”

John gestured in the direction Lisette had
left when Jacob finally registered his presence.  “After you.”

“You again, huh?”

John nodded, though the question scarcely needed answering.  Obviously it was
him again
by virtue of the fact that he stood there.  “Me again.”

Jacob eyed Lisette pulling back her knee to kick in his office door.  “I’d think working with her would cause a lot of inconvenient boners.”

“I’d think you’d better clam up before I dream up some bullshit offense to charge you with.” 

It was an empty threat.  Being an asshole wasn’t a crime, but John was sure the people in Washington were hard at work on that one.

They smiled at each other in frosty silence before following her swinging ponytail through the office door at a considerably calmer pace.

“What is it you’re looking for?” Jacob said, watching Lisette tear through desk drawers.

“The name of your security company, for starters.”  She flipped through a stack of documents she’d yanked from a drawer, discarding sheet after sheet.  The papers fluttered to the floor. “Then video footage from the past four months.”

Jacob drummed his fingers on the top of his flat-screened computer monitor.  “We don’t keep video footage in my desk drawers, honey.  We’re hip with the times.  It’s recorded digitally.”

She looked up from beneath a creased blonde eyebrow.  “Hey, tell me something.”  She flapped a piece of paper.  “Why do you have three cell phones?  I’d buy one for work, one for personal use, but three?”

Jacob
splayed his arms on the monitor.  “What can I say?  I’m a popular man.”

John crossed the room in two strides and took the paper from Lisette’s hand.  “I find that hard to believe.” 

She kicked the bottom drawer of the desk.  “What’s in here?  Why keep it locked?  Are you afraid someone’ll dig through your stuff?”

“I’m not the only one who works in this office, Sergeant Jennings.”

She crouched to her haunches and looked up at John through her eyelashes. “A likely story, huh?  He says he’s not the only fool in and out of this office to cover his ass, because he’s got something illegal in this drawer.  He must think we’re as dumb as he is.”  She snapped her fingers at Jacob.  “Find the key or I’m busting inside.”

Jacob dug for his key ring and slapped them into her outstretched palm.  “Can I bust inside you afterward?”

“I wouldn’t fuck you with someone else’s vagina.  I’ve seen the skanks you hang with.  Probably lube yourself up with other men’s cum.”  She slid a small silver key into the lock.  It opened with a small
click
.

Jacob bit into his lower lip.  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who sounds so
goddamn sexy talking about such filthy shit.  The things I’d do to you.”

“I’ve heard enou
gh about your sexual fantasies to last a lifetime, Mr. Ivashkov,” John said, crouching beside Lisette.  “I don’t think you want to test me.”

“Looks like I’ve got some competition, Sergeant Jennings.  I may have to fight him for you.”

She ignored him, pawing through the contents of the drawer.  “What’s this?” She slipped on a pair of latex gloves from her back pocket and lifted out a gun.  “Who’s this registered to?  You don’t have any firearm permits.”

“Oh, for the love of fuck.” Jacob threw up his hands.  “
Seriously?  You’re going to jam me up for a fucking pistol you can’t prove belongs to me?”

She inspected the barrel of the gun.  “Serial number’s filed off.  Now it’s even worse.”

John fished a pair of cuffs from his pants.  “Hands behind your back.  You have the right to remain silent.  I hope you heed that advice.  I’m sick of listening to you.”

EIGHTY-TWO

Vaguely I wonder
, once she’s left to do God knows what, if whatever she injected me with will harm the baby.  How disappointed would Abby be if she knew she’d consented to death, only to have me recaptured?

Jack will blame himself.  Say he shouldn’t have left me, even for a minute. 

Sergeant Lisette will scream obscenities at Aaron and Brett until she runs out of four-letter words and has to invent new ones.  She’ll keep looking for me, I know that too.  

And I’ll be stuck here with another girl.  We’ll both die of malnutrition, since I’ll refuse to kill her.  Unless Bianca changes tack and orders her to kill me when it becomes clear I’m having no part in any of this.

If I have any smarts I’ll keep our talking—me and whoever is unlucky enough to find herself waking from a drugged stupor beside me—to a minimum.  There’s little sense in conversation. I’ve learned my lesson for round two.

They’re weak plans, but they’re all I’ve got.  Them, and the dull ache in the middle of my forehead.   

My sigh of resignation bounces off the white granite walls and ceiling.  So does the rubber squeak of my sneakers sliding across the floor, when I let my legs relax into a dried pond of Abby’s blood.  If there’s a heaven, she’s in it. 

I just hope she’s not watching.

My eyes flutter closed.  It’s a minute before I realize my hand has crept up to my belly, under the Los Angeles Marathon shirt I stole from Jack’s pajama drawer.  

I never really wanted the baby until
now.  I suppose all kinds of things occur to people right before they die.  I may not live long enough to have it and find out if it’s got my eyes. 

Suddenly it feels like I’ve never told Jack how much I love him.  I’ve said the words, but they seem like such empty gestures now, like I’d only gone through blocking on the stage of Life without feeling the emotions in the scenes. 

I couldn’t
not
feel them now if I tried.