Have You Seen Her? (35 page)

“Brad, come,” Helen instructed. “I have work for you to do to pay for those tutoring lessons.”

“But—” Brad protested and Helen cut him off with a look. “Okay,” he muttered and followed Helen, leaving Steven alone with Jenna in the relative privacy of his open foyer.

“Sounds like you all had an adventure today,” he murmured, sliding his hands under the sweatshirt she wore, touching the warm, firm flesh of her back. Wishing they were more alone so he could touch the warm, firm flesh of her front.

“That it was.” She linked her hands around his neck. “What about you? Any progress?”

He thought about his four-hour “deposition” with the monsignor. He thought of Mike’s career and wondered once again if he’d ever fully repair the damage they’d done to a great man’s name. He thought about the fact that Victor Lutz had finally detected the presence of the unmarked cars on his street and complained to the mayor and how Steven had to tell the mayor they were watching for school vandals because he wasn’t supposed to know Rudy Lutz was really William Parker. He thought about how humiliating it had been to be scolded like a schoolboy for misuse of county resources. And how he’d defied orders and extended the patrol surveillance for one more day.

He considered the latest barrage of questions from the press, outraged at his team’s inability to solve this crime in their allotted one hour of prime time. And he thought about the mountain of paperwork he’d scaled, knowing it would have grown back to its previous height by tomorrow morning. So had he made any progress? “No, not a whole hell of a lot,” he answered.

“Don’t do that,” she said softly.

“Do what?”

“Click off with me. It’s like you go somewhere else and leave me behind.”

He stiffened. It was a very Melissa-like comment, but delivered without venom. Today. Who knew where they’d be in five years. Ten? “It’s part of the job, Jen. It’s part of who I am.”

She digested this in silence, not breaking her eye contact.

Then finally said, “All right.” “All right? Just all right?”

She smiled and he felt the knot in his gut loosen by slow degrees. “Just all right. I guess the trick on my end will be not getting hurt when you click off.” She lifted on her toes and brushed a soft kiss across his mouth. “But the trick on your end will be not to click off that often. Or wait too long to click back on.”

It was a proposal of sorts. “I can live with that. If you can.” “I can,” she whispered, still a fraction of an inch from his mouth.

But for how long?
he wanted to ask. But didn’t. He didn’t have any right to ask at this point. They’d known each other nearly two weeks. They’d never talked anything more long-term than the next day. Certainly never come close to uttering the word “love.”

Yes, you did, Thatcher,
his self told him.
You told her you could fall in love with her.

Yes, I did. And maybe I have,
he thought.
Maybe.
“Steven, you look completely exhausted. Go eat dinner and go to bed.”

Her words reminded his brain of how tired he really was. “I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m not much company tonight.”

She slipped one hand from the back of his neck to put gentle pressure on his mouth. “Get some rest, Steven. Call me tomorrow and we can talk some more. I’m going home now.”

Home. To her apartment. His brain kicked back into full throttle. Until they picked up Rudy Lutz and his friends, he didn’t want her being alone at night. “Jenna, I’ve been thinking about that. I’d feel better if you stayed here tonight.”

Her lips quirked. “I bet you would, but I don’t believe you have it in you, Special Agent Man.”

He chuckled, despite his exhaustion. “If that’s a challenge, I’ll declare you the winner right now. No, I’m talking about Lutz and his friends. Pullman hasn’t found anything tying any of them to your car yet and I just want you to be safe. for dumb jocks who can’t pass high school these guys have shown an amazing amount of planning and care.”

Jenna chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t want those thugs to keep me from living in my own apartment. I’ll be careful and I’ve got the dogs. I’ll be fine.”

Sunday, October 9, 10:25
P.M.

She was home. Finally. Driving her friend’s car. Shame about her Jag. Somebody spent a lot of time restoring that baby.
She could have been killed,
he thought, and huffed a chuckle. When he was done with her, she’d wish she’d been behind the wheel of that car instead of her friend.

He watched her jog up the two flights of stairs to her apartment. Studied the construction of the balconies jutting away from the building. They would easily hold his weight and the weight of his kit. He frowned a little. He’d be bulky tonight, but that was the price of a house call. He really didn’t want to drag her off to the barn. She was a lot bigger than the others, a veritable Amazon compared to the petite Lorraine and Alev. Samantha had been taller, but so willowy. He smiled remembering how pretty she’d been. How pretty they’d all been.

No, house calls weren’t nearly as much fun. He’d miss the extended play opportunities the barn offered. He’d just have to make this one night with Miss Marshall count. He’d been watching and waiting for this opportunity for days, even leaving Alev tonight, although Alev was just about gone. All used up. His heart quickened in anticipation. With her size and strength Miss Marshall would put up quite a struggle, so one night just might be enough.

He sat patiently as she walked her dog. Lifted his binoculars and watched her putter around her kitchen. Microwave her dinner and eat it at her dining-room table. From here he could just see the light glinting off the glass covering her diplomas and cursed the fact that from his vantage point in the parking lot he could only see both her and her apartment from above her waist. A lot of good stuff happened below the waist. He tingled just thinking about it.

And wondered if it felt any different killing a smart woman versus a stupid one.

Well, he’d find out tonight.

T
WENTY
-
SIX

Monday, October 10, 1:00
A.M.

T
HE BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING IN HER EYES
lurched Jenna from deep sleep into instant awareness. The sharp bite of the knife at her throat made her flinch and obey the growled words.

“Don’t move.”

Quickly she fought past the mental confusion of deep sleep. “Who—”

“Shut up.” And she heard the loud ripping sound of tape. Then her mouth was covered and she realized whoever this was either had use of both hands or wasn’t alone. But when the light never wavered, she knew it was freestanding. That he had use of both hands. That he was alone. She also knew she owned no such light, which meant he’d come prepared. And that knowledge frightened her more than if he hadn’t been alone.

He’d broken into her apartment. And gotten past the dogs.
Jim and Jean-Luc.
Where were the dogs?
she wondered frantically, then forced herself to calm. Forced herself to draw deep even breaths through her nose. Forced herself to remember everything she’d been taught in self-defense. Clenched her fists under the blanket.

Which he ripped away like a magician with a tablecloth. “Now you’ll pay,
Miss
Marshall.”

Miss
Marshall. Only one person called her
Miss
Marshall like that.

Victor Lutz. His image flashed before her, his huge hulking body, big hands. Cold, dark, threatening eyes.

Oh, my God.
The panic bubbled up.
He’s going to kill me. I never should have confronted him that way over Casey. Now he’s going to kill me.

Jenna, stop. Breathe. Think.

She stopped. Breathed. Tried to think.

She knew her physical capability. She’d never be able to overpower a man of Victor Lutz’s size and strength, even with all her training in martial arts. But she might be able to surprise him long enough to get away. To get help.

Jenna stiffened her body, waiting for him to touch her, waiting for the slightest decrease in the pressure of the knife at her throat, the slightest indication he was distracted, knowing she’d have only one chance to surprise him and escape.

Instead, the pressure on the knife increased, ever so slightly. It hurt. A lot. A whimper built in her throat and with it, the panic.

He’s going to kill me. Steven will find me, but it will be too late. I’ll be dead.

Jenna, stop. Breathe. Think.

A heavy hand covered her breast through the worn T-shirt she wore to bed. Pinched her nipple hard. She jerked a breath through her nose. Couldn’t contain the whimper this time.

“Do you like that?” he growled. He shoved her nightshirt up to her stomach and fingered her panties. She could hear his breathing grow harder. Faster. “Pretty.”

She couldn’t control the urge to close her legs, but he just laughed softly. His hand disappeared and she heard the soft scrape of leather? No. Plastic? Possibly. A bag? Maybe. No, she thought hearing a snap, click, snap, click. Metal buckles, opening up and hitting a plastic case. She captured each detail, knowing if she got away she’d need to tell the police everything she could.

Then she heard another sound, one that made her nearly sob with relief.

A soft growl, this one canine.
The dogs.

Then a furor of barking, snarling.

Cursing. Vicious cursing. A sharp cry of pain. Human. More cursing followed by a canine yelp, then nothing. “Sonofabitch,” he snarled.

Then everything happened at once.

There was knocking at her front door and Mrs. Kasselbaum’s urgent voice asking if she was all right, did she need any help. There was the feel of the knife at her throat, pressing harder, then pulling back. And instinctively she rolled just as the knife came plunging into the mattress where she’d lain a split second before.

She heard another curse, then the sound of ripping fabric. Then the sound of him gathering his things and his footsteps as he ran, leaving the light behind.

Blinking from the bright light, Jenna lay still for a moment, unable to move. She put her hand to her throat and brought it away, sticky with her own blood.

She stared at her hand, at the blood. Disbelieving. She was bleeding. He’d cut her.

Then she heard the sound of her front door opening and another startled cry of pain. Mrs. Kasselbaum.
Oh, God.

Got to get to her. Got to call for help.
Jenna ripped the tape from her mouth, gulped a breath. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, flinching when her feet hit something hard and furry.

The dog. Which one?

He’d killed the dog. Which one?

Oh, God.

She grabbed the phone and punched 911 while she ran to the front of her apartment, stumbling, falling, crawling. She tried to pull herself up on one of the dining-room chairs, but it wobbled and fell, sending her sprawling again. She’d pushed herself back on her knees and crawled another few feet when the 911 voice answered. Jenna didn’t wait for the woman to finish her question, just babbled. “Help. Please. A man... just came in.”

“Is he still there, ma’am?”

Hearing the calm voice helped her breathe. Think. Speak. “No. No, he’s gone.” She shuddered, crawling closer to her open front door where another furry body lay just inside.

“Are you hurt, ma’am?”

Jenna felt a hysterical laugh fight its way up her throat. “I’m bleeding. He cut me. There’s another woman hurt. My neighbor.” She crawled past the dog and into the hall where another neighbor had appeared, a cordless phone to his ear. He was calling 911, too.

So she could hang up. She pushed herself to her knees next to Mrs. Kasselbaum’s inert form. “Mrs. Kasselbaum.” The tears were coming now as she realized she didn’t even know the old woman’s first name. She grasped a thin, scrawny shoulder and shook. “Mrs. Kasselbaum, please.”

The other neighbor knelt down beside her and pulled her hand from the old woman. “Don’t touch her,” he said, panic in his own voice. “Wait for the paramedics. They’re on their way.” His name was Stan. His wife was Terri and they had a new baby named Bella. She knew all of this yet didn’t know the first name of the old woman who might be dead because she cared too much.

Sobbing now, Jenna fell back against Mrs. Kasselbaum’s closed door, reached for her own phone, and called the only other number in her brain.

“Steven, please, come.”

Monday, October 10, 1:43
A.M.

Steven rushed up the steps of her apartment unit, flashing his badge as the paramedics were carrying a gurney down. He looked down at the gray face of Mrs. Kasselbaum, still in her hair curlers, then up at the paramedic’s face. He shrugged. “Fifty-fifty,” he said. “She’s eighty-two.”

“Where are you taking her?” Steven asked, knowing Jenna would want to know.

“Wake. Gotta go.” They pushed past him and out the front door of the apartment building where a frightened, confused crowd of neighbors had gathered next to the flashing lights of the ambulance.

Steven took the rest of the stairs three at a time and stopped short at Jenna’s threshold.

Two uniformed police stood back near her dining-room table where a chair lay on its side. The remnants of her dinner still sat on the table and Steven recognized one of his own plates. He looked down at his feet to where one of the dogs lay still. Then over to her sliding-glass door where a fist-sized circle had been cut neatly in the glass.

Jenna was lying on the sofa, a paramedic kneeling on the floor next to her. Her face was white in stark contrast to the black of her hair. She had a bandage at her throat.

Unholy rage started deep and boiled over. Sonofabitch. Coming into her home.
Hurting her.

He swallowed hard, staring at her face, at the bandage on her throat. Someone had hurt her.

But she was alive. And she’d called
him
.

He crossed over the threshold only to be stopped by the uniforms. He flashed his badge.

One of the uniforms frowned his confusion. “Not your jurisdiction, Special Agent Thatcher,” he said politely.

Steven clamped a lid on his temper. “
She’s
my jurisdiction,” he said through clenched teeth.
“She’s mine.”

The uniforms looked at one another, then stepped back without another word.

He dropped to his knees next to the paramedic. “Jenna.” Her eyes opened and in them he saw shock and tears and guilt. Her lips trembled and she blinked, sending tears down her white face. “I’m so sorry, Steven. I should have listened to you.”

The paramedic looked at him sharply. “She’s in shock, but she’ll be okay.”

From behind him one of the uniforms said, “She’s said that a couple of times. That she’s sorry and should have listened to you. What does she mean?”

Steven reached for her hand, ignored the suspicion in their innuendo. “She’s been having trouble from some kids at the school where she teaches. A couple days ago, they cut the brakes on her car. I was afraid for her to be alone. Al Pullman, Investigative Division, has all the details.”

“She’s also asked about Jim and Jean-Luc,” the paramedic added, packing up his things. “We assumed they were the dogs.”

Steven looked over at the dog lying by the front door, then at the uniforms standing behind him. “Yeah. Are they alive?”

“Barely,” Uniform One said. “I’d suspect poison for that one. The one in the back tangled with her attacker. He’s cut up pretty bad, but breathing.”

Steven’s mind flashed back to the clearing, to Pal and old Bud Clary. To what seemed like a day a hundred years ago. “I’ll call a vet, but don’t touch them. We’ll want Forensics to check them for evidence.” He’d no sooner punched Kent’s number into his cell phone when the man himself appeared in Jenna’s doorway with a woman Steven recognized as Kent’s “lady-vet” at his side.

“Pullman called me,” Kent said, “after Nancy called him, after you called her. Nancy told him you’d want me to check the scene and the dogs. Wendy was with me and offered to come along.”

Steven chose not to comment on the fact that Wendy the “lady-vet” just happened to be with him in the middle of the night. “Thanks, Kent. Wendy, the dog in the back was stabbed.”

She nodded. “Understood. I have a digital camera in my bag. We’ll get pictures before I stitch him up.”

Jenna struggled to sit up, pushing aside the well-meaning hands of the paramedic. “Jim’s there by the door. Jean-Luc’s in the back. Please help them. They saved my life.”

Steven swallowed. And for that the dogs got beefsteak for the rest of their days. If they lived.

Wendy smiled at Jenna. “You worry about yourself. I’ll worry about your boys.”

Steven turned his attention back to Jenna, noticing the smears of blood on her worn Duke T-shirt. “Any other wounds?” he asked the paramedic.

The paramedic shook his head and snapped his case closed. “Only her throat. The blood on her shirt appears to be her own.”

“We found bloody handprints on the carpet where she crawled from the bedroom,” said Uniform Two.

Steven’s gut seethed, picturing her scared and hurt and crawling through her own house like a wounded animal. For that alone, whoever did this to her would pay.

Kent reappeared, a question on his face. “Jenna, was there a blanket on your bed?”

She stared up at him dully and for a minute Steven didn’t think she could answer. Then she licked her lips, chewed on her lower lip. “He pulled it off me. Onto the floor.”

Steven’s eyes flicked to the paramedic in a panic. “Did he—”

The paramedic shook his head. “She says no and I didn’t see anything to the contrary.”

“He started to,” Jenna said unevenly. “He... touched me. He was wearing gloves. Then he stopped and opened a case.” She paused and her eyes focused. “It sounded just like yours,” she said, pointing to the paramedic’s case. “The way you seated the buckle, then snapped it closed. Except he was opening his. Then Jean-Luc was there. They fought and he screamed. Then Jean-Luc . . .” She winced and looked away.

“If he can be saved, Wendy’s the one who can do it,” Kent said matter-of-factly and Jenna looked up at him, gratitude in her eyes.

“Thank you.”

“There’s no blanket there now, Steven,” Kent said, dropping his voice. “I think the dog may have gotten him good enough to draw blood. He probably used the blanket to stem the flow. Wendy’s checking the dog’s teeth.”

Unbelievably Steven felt his lips curve. “You’ll be paying royalties to
Law and Order
before all this is over.”

Kent grasped his shoulder and squeezed. “She’s okay, Steven.” He looked over at the paramedic who was now standing, watching with interest. “Does she need to go to the hospital?”

“No. I closed the wound and gave her an antibiotic injection. She should have it looked at by her doctor, but she can do that tomorrow morning.”

Kent looked back at Steven. “Then take her home and have a drink to settle your nerves. Get some sleep. We can manage without you for one morning meeting.”