When a Heart Stops (30 page)

Then she'd left.

Hours ago.

Serena wondered if she was at work. When she thought about it, Gwendolyn hadn't missed a shift since she started working at the hospital.

She thought of the many times Gwendolyn could have snatched her from work. The times Serena had worked late, the only one in the lab, and Gwendolyn had been there cleaning.

And yet, she'd waited until now. Why?

She knew Gwendolyn wanted the package from Jillian. But still . . . if Gwendolyn was going to kidnap her over the package, she could have done it long before now.

She scanned the area one more time, looking for something, anything, that could be used to pick the handcuff lock. She searched as though she hadn't looked for the last few hours.

Of course there was nothing there.

She yanked at the cuff attached to the chain.

The door rattled and Serena tensed.

Camille jerked from her light doze, whimpered, and shuddered. Her eyes met Serena's.

Gwendolyn stepped through the door still dressed in her work uniform, fingers clutching two brown paper bags. The padding around her middle and hips reshaped her into the Dorie/Gwendolyn that Serena knew. “Well, hello there. And how are my friends today?”

Serena had lost track of time. She didn't know if it was light or dark outside. But if Gwendolyn had been at work and she worked third shift, it was probably around 7:30 in the morning.

“Hmm . . . nothing to say?”

“Camille needs a bathroom and something to eat. She's pregnant.” Serena wouldn't mind a bathroom break herself.

The woman flinched. “What?” She looked at Camille. “You didn't tell me you were pregnant.”

Would that make a difference somehow? Or had she just made matters worse?

Camille's eyes darted between her captor and Serena. “It didn't come up.”

“Well, you're lucky I ran through a drive-thru.” She held up the bags, then smirked at Serena. “It's not your usual froufrou fare, but if you're hungry, you'll eat it.”

She tossed a bag in Serena's direction. Serena caught it, the smell of the burger causing her stomach to rumble once again. She simply held the bag as she watched Gwendolyn uncuff Camille.

Gwendolyn gave Camille a little shove. “No funny stuff. You try anything and I put a bullet in your friend—and I'd really hate to do that this early.”

Shuffling, keeping her head down, Camille disappeared behind Serena into the small bathroom.

Soon, Serena heard the toilet flush and Camille reappeared. The girl's gaze shot to the door and Gwendolyn lifted the gun. “Please don't.”

Tears tracked down the teen's cheeks as she walked back to the chair and allowed Gwendolyn to reattach the cuff to her ankle without protest.

Gwendolyn looked at Serena. “Your turn.”

Free of the cuff, Serena paid her visit to the restroom. And looked for anything that would be useful as a handcuff pick.

Gwendolyn banged on the door. “Hurry up!” Serena flinched and moved faster. As silently as possible, she lifted the lid of the water tank and worked quickly.

Just as she slid the tank lid back on and turned around, the door slammed open. “Did you fall in? What's taking you so long? I'm ready to start the game.”

Serena didn't bother to answer, she just walked back to the chair at the table and let the woman cuff her ankle.

“Now,” Gwendolyn said as she reattached the gun to the steel bar. “Pick a number and a color.”

“What are the rules of the game?” Serena asked.

Gwendolyn circled the table. “You pick a number and color. I spin the wheel. If you're right, one of you lives. If you're wrong, one of you dies.” She giggled, her delight in the game clear.

Serena felt terror choke her again as she looked at Gwendolyn's hand poised above the wheel. Not good odds. “I thought you wanted the package.”

The woman paused and frowned. Cocking her head, she laughed. A sound that grated across Serena's already snapping nerves.

Gwendolyn tapped her chin with the barrel of the gun. “I almost forgot. I was so excited to begin the game I forgot all about it. Yes, I need the package. So where is it?”

“At my house.”

Gwendolyn lifted the gun and pointed it casually at Camille. “Where?”

“In a place you'll never find it.”

“Don't try to get the upper hand!” she screamed, her demeanor changing in a blink. “You won't win! I always win! Now tell me where it is or I kill her.”

Serena's heart thudded as she kept her face neutral. Was she gambling with Camille's life? “If you kill her, you can be sure that I will die right along with her and you'll never have the package. You said you have friends in high places. I'm guessing they're the ones who want the package.”

Gwendolyn didn't deny it. In fact, she seemed stunned at Serena's gall to try and bargain with her.

Encouraged, Serena said, “Let her go and I'll take you to get the package.”

“Let her go, huh?”

“Yes.”

“And you'd die to protect that package?”

Serena met Camille's fearful gaze. “I'd die to protect my friend.”

The door slammed open and Serena jumped as Gwendolyn spun to face the newcomer. Her jaw dropped and she said, “Nate?”

MONDAY, 8:15 A.M.

“Hello, little sister. Time for a little family reunion.”

Looking completely nonplussed, Gwendolyn gaped, snapped her jaw shut, then said, “What are you doing here?” She glared at him. “You nearly scared the life out of me at the morgue. I told you to stay out of my game.”

Serena watched this new development play out between brother and sister.

Gwendolyn demanded, “How did you find this place?”

“The cops told me where it was.”

Hope leaped inside Serena even as Gwendolyn narrowed her eyes. “Then where are they?”

“Oh, they're around. But they won't be coming here.” His gaze took in the table, the room. The occupants.

Serena's hope faded at his words. And the look on his face.

Nate said, “You have a nice little setup here, don't you? Looks a lot like what I found the night I called the cops.”

“You? You!” Gwendolyn screeched. “I thought it was our mother! I blamed her and all this time—”

A cruel grin spread across Nate's lips and Serena couldn't tear her gaze from the two of them. And she couldn't help the small
hope that they'd shoot each other and she and Camille could get out of here. She leaned over to fumble with the cuff while Gwendolyn was occupied. The hope that had spiked at Nate's arrival disappeared as fast as it had risen. The man wasn't here to help her and Camille, that much was obvious.

“What do you want?” Gwendolyn snapped. “I've got unfinished business.”

“As do I.” Nate walked to the table and examined the steel rod with the gun now attached. “Shall we play?”

“You weren't invited. You were never invited,” Gwendolyn sneered.

Nate's eyes turned as cold as his father's had the last time Serena had seen him. “I didn't need an invitation this time. I invited myself.”

Gwendolyn pouted. “That's against the rules.”

“I don't care what the rules are.” He looked around. “I think I know how this game works and I'm playing this time.”

“No, you're not.”

Lightning fast, Nate's hand flipped up to reveal a gun. Before Gwendolyn could react, Nate fired and his sister fell to the floor, a bullet in her chest.

Serena couldn't help the scream that slipped out. Camille let out a piercing wail as Gwendolyn stared up at her brother through shocked blue eyes and gasped, “Nate? Why?”

He stared down at her. “Because it's my turn to play.”

Nate had sworn he had no idea who his sister had been friends with as a child. “I'm sorry, I just don't know. I avoided her and my dad like the plague. If she had a friend other than my dad, then I never met her.”

So now they were knocking on doors in the Lindells' old neighborhood as Terry narrowed the list to just residents who'd lived in the neighborhood when the Lindells did.

So far, they were batting a big fat zero.

Everyone knew the story of the house that had belonged to the Doll Maker Killer, but very few residents had lived there when the Lindells had.

And when they came across a neighbor who wasn't home, Dominic simply had Terry find the person and get him on the phone.

Soaked in sweat and more frustrated than he could remember, Dominic was ready to throw in the towel and retreat to look elsewhere for a hint about where Serena might be.

Until they came across the Martins. “Do you remember Gwendolyn Lindell?”

Mrs. Martin, a woman in her early sixties, pursed her lips. “The daughter of the Doll Maker Killer. Yes, I remember her. Pretty little thing with a mean streak a mile long.”

Dominic tamped down his excitement. Finally they were getting somewhere. “Do you remember who her best friend was when she was a child? Or even as a teen?”

“Sure. It was a girl from our church youth group. She lived two doors up from me.” Mrs. Martin pointed to the light brown ranch-style house with black shutters. “Her name was LuAnne Rose. She and Gwendolyn became inseparable for about six months. Then LuAnne disappeared. Police never found her.”

Dominic exchanged a look with Hunter. “Who lives there now, Mrs. Martin?”

“A young single woman who keeps to herself. Seems friendly enough and waves when she sees me, but I've never had a conversation with her, come to think of it.”

“When did she move in?”

“Oh, a few months ago. I remember the house being on the market for about a week, then it sold. I thought that was amazing in this economy.”

“Amazing, all right,” Hunter muttered.

“She's a musician, I think.”

“Why do you say that?”

“There was some work going on when she first moved in. I asked one of the workers what she was doing.” She flushed. “So I was nosey. Sue me.”

“It's all right. What did he say?”

“Said she was soundproofing her basement so she didn't disturb the neighbors with her music.”

Or her victims' cries for help, he thought grimly. He nodded to Mrs. Martin. “Thanks so much. That helps.”

Dominic shook the woman's hand and pulled out his phone. “I need the SWAT team and backup to 312 Hovarth Avenue. Possible hostage situation. Suspect is armed.”

“We don't know she's there,” Hunter said.

Dominic looked at the quiet house and pointed. “That vehicle wasn't there on our last pass.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “She's there.”

“What's the matter, Gwenie, that wasn't in the rules?” Nate mocked his dying sister and all Serena could do was watch.

Camille's sobs reached her and she wished she could comfort Camille and help Gwendolyn. No matter what the woman had done, Serena couldn't just sit there and watch her die. “Let me help her.”

Nate turned his eyes on her and she froze at the malevolence there.

“What are you going to do, Nate? Let her die?”

He looked at his sister. “That was sort of the point in shooting her,” he muttered.

His coldness made Serena shudder. “Let me help her.”

“No.” He looked around and took in a deep breath. “So this is the playing field.”

“Nate, you haven't done anything really wrong. You protected
us,” she said. “You can be the hero. You saved us from the serial killer.”

Nate seemed to ponder her words, then shook his head. “No, I didn't.”

“What do you mean? Of course you did.”

“I wanted to play.” He looked down at Gwendolyn, who'd drawn a ragged breath two seconds earlier. But now, Serena noticed, her chest remained still.

He was as warped as his sister. The relief that she'd felt previously seeped away to be replaced with a familiar fear.

“You want us to die, Nate?”

His brow furrowed. “No.”

“Oh good.”

He smiled. “Not yet anyway. Not until after we've played the game.”

Dominic and Hunter watched the SWAT team disperse around the home while officers went door to door, evacuating the residents who were home.

He checked his weapon and Hunter did the same. Colton and Katie had arrived and were awaiting instructions.

Dominic pushed his earpiece in a little further and said to the SWAT team leader, “What do you have, Mac?”

Mac had some serious equipment that allowed him to see through cement walls. Vaguely Dominic remembered the man going with Rick to some conference and learning all about it. Dominic wished he'd paid better attention to Rick when he was all excited about telling him about it. Something about a TWR-S Through the Wall radar system.

Mac was saying, “No security system. No booby traps found. Basement is soundproof, but we have visibility of four people with the radar system. One person is on the floor unmoving. Two others
appear to be seated. The fourth one is moving around, walking between the two who are sitting down.”

“Weapons?”

“A pistol in the hand of the one walking around. And one appears to be attached to a pole at the end of the table.”

Technology was a wonderful thing.

“Okay, let's figure out a plan.”

Serena gulped. “What are you doing?”

Nate opened the gun and spun the cylinder. “One bullet.” He grinned. “Russian roulette.”

Camille seemed almost catatonic at this point.

Nate shook his head. “I knew Gwen was after you. I followed her to your house so many times I lost count. She had chosen you to be her next toy, the next player.” His jaw hardened and a malicious look came into his eyes.

His comment seemed random, but she had a feeling he was going somewhere with it.

“I even tried to help her catch you one time.”

“Wha—the car wreck,” Serena whispered.

“I saw Gwen ram your car. And then the cop behind you was going to interfere.”

“
You
killed him?”

“I did. I thought Gwen would be happy for my help. That she would let me play when she realized I was the one that helped her get away.”

“But she wasn't happy for your help, was she?”

His lips tightened. “No, she wasn't.”

“Why not?”

“She didn't want me to play.” His eyes turned mean. “They never wanted me to play. ‘Go back inside, Nate, this is Daddy-daughter time.'” He singsonged the words and gave a vicious kick to one of
the chairs not bolted to the floor. It careened over and slammed against the cement floor with a crash.

Camille didn't even flinch.

Serena cringed but held back her scream.

Nate spun the roulette wheel much like Gwendolyn had done. He watched the little ball jump and land, jump and land. “So, who's going to go first?”

“What do you mean?” Serena asked.

“Well, after Gwendolyn and I saw each other at the morgue, she came to me and warned me away from her business.”

A thought hit her. “The notes the killer—Gwendolyn—left in the boxes. They weren't for me or the authorities, were they?”

He smirked. “No. Your FBI friend let me see all of the notes on his second visit. That's when I was sure that some of them were meant for me. Her snarky little way of telling me to back off. That I wasn't
allowed
to play. I wasn't
invited
to play.” His grip tightened on the gun and Serena drew in a steadying breath, trying to keep the clamoring terror at bay.