Sandman (21 page)

“I haven’t had much of an appetite lately. I guess you could say I’m making up for it.” She sounded apologetic.

He looked her up and down. “I don’t know where you’re going to put it.”

“What about you? Are you on a diet?” she said defensively.

The waitress dropped off their drinks.

“If it’s not fast food or donuts, I don’t have much use for it.” He smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you be eyeballing
my
food, then.”

“You mean you won’t share?” He put his hand over his heart dramatically.

“Not on your life, buster. You had your chance.” She ripped off the top of the paper on her straw and shot it at Thomas. He caught it before it landed in his coffee. She put the straw in her milk.

He laughed. Then he turned serious. “Look, Meagan, we have to talk.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” She took a sip of her milk.

“We have to try to figure out who’s doing this. Lilah’s murder isn’t the first. We seem to have a serial killer on our hands and he’s been at it for several years.”

***

Meagan winced at the mention of her friend’s name, the image of her head flashed through her mind. Somehow she’d pushed the whole nightmare from her thoughts; now, all at once, it played back in her mind. She stared out the window while he talked. His story sounded familiar, she looked back.

 “Are you talking about the Sandman?”

 “So you’ve heard.”

 “Who hasn’t?” She stared down at her lap and played with her napkin. Then she remembered something, her head shot up. “Wait. Didn’t you say you have a suspect?”

“Possible suspect. We haven’t had a chance to interview him yet. We don’t have any strong evidence on him right now. He could have alibis for all or some of the murders. He’s linked to the first victim. We really have to find out how you tie into all this.”

“I’ve dated some creepy guys in my time,” Meagan said, “but I don’t think any of them were crazy enough to commit murder.”

“I need you to make a list of everyone you’ve dated in the last five years. Also a list of men who maybe asked you out, but you declined.” He handed over his notebook and pen.

“Are you kidding me? In my line of work I get asked out at least once a week. It would be impossible for me to remember everyone in the last five years, especially the walk-ins.”

“Walk-ins?”

“People who walk in without an appointment. Maybe they’re new to the area or just passing through. Some of them never come back, especially men who get shot down for a date.”

“Just do your best. Try to think of anyone who stands out in your mind, maybe he was overly persistent. And speaking of work, I’m going to need a list of all your male clients too.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you out of your mind?”

The waitress set their food on the table.

“Okay, just stick with white males between the ages of twenty-five to thirty-five. That should narrow it down a bit.” He smiled and took a bite of his omelet.

“Do you have any idea how many clients I need to maintain in order to make a living in this business? Then factor in that about sixty percent of those clients are white males and maybe fifty percent of them are between the ages of twenty-five to thirty-five. By the time I get these lists together, the killer will have died of old age. That is, of course, if I don’t first.” She layered her pancakes with syrup.

“Don’t you have records on your clients?” He grabbed a hold of his coffee and waited for her answer.

“Well, yeah, sort of. They’re not exactly up to date, clients come and go.” She took a big bite of her pancakes.

“Do the best you can. We’re talking about your life here and the lives of more innocent women.”

***

Thomas interviewed five different male acquaintances of Lilah’s, but each was a bust. They had solid alibis. He would be verifying them just the same, but he wasn’t really surprised. He knew that the key lay somewhere in Meagan’s past, and she wasn’t familiar with any of the names on the list. Then there was the fact that none of them fit the profile. For one thing, they were too young: early twenties.

By the time they’d finished for the day, it was nearly six o’clock, and they were heading back toward Meagan’s house. She reminded Thomas they needed to stop at the grocery store. As he exited the freeway, she gave him directions to where she did her shopping.

They had just pulled into a slot in the parking lot of Trader Joe’s when his cell phone rang. He turned off the car and took the call. When he’d finished, he put the phone back in his pocket and turned to Meagan. “We need to talk.”

“Not that again. I hate it when you start a sentence like that.” He knew she was kidding, sort of.

“Remember when I told you the killer is probably someone you know, maybe even dated?”

“Yeah.” She stared at him expectantly.

“I’m just saying that
everyone
in your life is a suspect. You’re going to have to accept the fact that this guy Drew, the one you think you’re in love with, just might be the killer.”

“That’s not possible. Besides, I never said I was in
love
with him,” she countered.

“Fine. The guy you’re
madly
in like with then. You’re the one who was defending him so passionately last night.”

“I wasn’t defending
him,
you idiot. I was defending myself! You insinuated that I don’t know the difference between good sex and a meaningful relationship.” Her response was just short of a shout.

“That’s not what I meant. What I meant to say was that
he
didn’t know the difference. After all, where is he now?”

“He can’t help it. He has people depending on him.” Her face was beet-red.

“I’m just saying if you were
my
girlfriend, I would have moved heaven and earth to be there for you!”

The car was suddenly quiet.

Meagan stared at him mouth open, she closed it, hesitated a moment, then got out of the car slamming the door behind her.

Meagan didn’t know why she was defending Drew. It wasn’t as if the same thought hadn’t occurred to her. But when it had, she immediately felt selfish. He really did have people depending on him. He couldn’t just drop everything to be at her side. Could he? Then hearing Thomas repeat those thoughts out loud felt like a slap in the face. She pulled out a cart and entered the store. And what did he mean, if she was
his
girlfriend? Did he mean that literally?

***

Thomas sat in the car trying to compose himself. He couldn’t believe he had voiced the very thought that had been plaguing him all night.
Dammit
. This woman really got under his skin. By the time he caught up with Meagan, she had already filled her cart with fat-free bran muffins, coffee, fresh vegetables, fruits, cheeses, organic 1 percent milk and wheat bread. He looked around. “What is this, a health food store?”

She smiled. “You could say that.”

“Then, after you’re finished, we’re going to a
real
store.”

Meagan laughed.

He noticed some cookies above the frozen foods and made a beeline for them.

When they were loading the bags into the trunk, Thomas spied a Ralph’s grocery store across the parking lot. They drove over and Meagan followed him around the store. He filled the cart with his favorites: cinnamon rolls, more cookies, Coke, steaks, a bag of potatoes, sour cream, green onions, butter, whole milk and Sugar Frosted Flakes.

Meagan cupped her hands around her mouth like a megaphone.

“Heart attack, aisle seven!”

“Hey, these are all-American staples.”

“Yeah, maybe in 1950.”

“I’m a traditionalist.”

By the time they reached Meagan’s house, the sun had been down a couple of hours. They filled their arms with groceries and headed for the back door.

Meagan stopped. “That’s funny, why is the porch dark? The light is on a sensor. It goes on the minute it starts getting dark out.”

“Stay here.” Thomas set the groceries on the ground. He pulled out his Glock, held up his palm signaling her to stay, then cautiously approached the back of the house.

When he reached the kitchen window he ducked until he got to the other side. He was about a foot from the back door when his shoes crunched on something. He glanced up and noticed someone had broken the bulb of the porch light. His senses tingled.

Thomas reached the other side of the door, then with his left hand tried the knob. It was unlocked. He turned it silently and peered in, but everything was dark. He took out his penlight and flashed it around the kitchen then entered the house. He did a cursory check of the bathroom and hall before moving into the living room. So far the house was clear.

Keeping his back to the wall, he made his way toward the other side of the unit. If the perp was still in the house, Thomas knew he had the guy cornered. Peering around the corner, he directed the light into the bedroom.

Seeing nothing, he leapt across the hallway into the small bathroom to check behind the closed shower curtain. He clasped the edge of the curtain then dramatically swung it open. It was empty.

***

Meagan stood at the side of the house, nervous energy making her bounce up and down on her toes. Her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears. Her impatience grew worse with each passing second until she couldn’t wait a minute more. She had to see what was going on inside.

She crept up along the side of the house, ducking under the kitchen window as she had seen Thomas do. Once she reached the other side of the open door, she peered into the darkened abyss.
Fat lot of good that did, I can’t see a damn thing. Maybe if I just take two more steps into the kitchen, I’ll be able to see what he’s doing.

***

Thomas took a deep breath. Adrenaline pumped through his body. Out in the hall again, the flashlight beam danced over the bedroom. Everything looked clear. He entered the room, gun first, and quick as lightning, something hard came crashing down on his hand. Pain. Numbness. His gun dropped to the floor. He turned toward his attacker, but the room was too dark. The attacker had the advantage since Thomas had a bit of light behind him.

Thomas jumped into the darkened room and shot out a jab. It landed on something soft, probably the guy’s stomach. The guy countered with a left hook that hit Thomas in the jaw. Thomas moved behind the guy so that
he
was now backlit. He charged the black shadow, slamming him up against the open door.

Their bodies tumbled to the ground and rolled. They were stopped by the closet door, and the attacker ended on top. He jumped up and fled.

Meagan heard the gunshot. She jumped and yelped at the same time. Grunts and groans followed. It sounded like a fight, but she didn’t know what to do. As she pondered her next move, a dark figure burst through the doorway, knocking her backward into the flowerbed. While she lay on her back, the black-clad figure disappeared into the night.

It took her a moment to catch her breath. With the aid of a wooden lawn chair, she helped herself up. Meagan rushed into the house, searching for Thomas flicking on lights as she went. She found him on the bedroom floor, a broken lamp beside him.

“What happened?” She offered him her hand. He waved it away and got up on his own.

“He got away.” Thomas rubbed his jaw.

“Did you shoot him or did he shoot you?” She searched his body for blood. “I heard a gunshot.”

 “No one got shot. He was hiding to the left of the bedroom door. He meant to clock me with that lamp, got my wrist instead. The gun went off before I dropped it. Dammit! I can’t believe I let him get away.” Thomas rubbed his wrist.

“It’s not like you
let
him. It looks like you did your best to stop him.” His clothes and hair were mussed; blood dripped from his nose. She grabbed a tissue and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He wiped up the blood and felt the bridge of his nose. “Not broken, at least that’s something.”

Thomas glanced around the bedroom. He hadn’t been in there before. His eyes came to rest on a framed poster. It was a reproduction of the haunting painting he thought of yesterday. The one that reminded him of Meagan. Now that was just plain weird. But what disturbed him even more was that the red-haired maiden staring out to sea in
this
picture had a bullet hole in her. Right where her heart would be.

THIRTY-FIVE

Meagan whipped her head around and scanned the room.

“What the hell?”

Thomas followed her gaze. Lingerie was scattered everywhere.

She moved to the edge of the bed and picked up a black lace teddy. It had been shredded. “Who would do such a thing?” Her voice was barely audible.

As he walked toward her, his foot kicked something. He bent down to see what he’d just shoved under the bed. A large carving knife poked from under the coverlet.

Thomas pointed. “Does that belong to you?”

Meagan bent down next to him. ”Yes, that’s one of my knives.”

He left the bedspread up so the CSU wouldn’t miss it. “Don’t touch anything else. Let’s get out of here before we contaminate the scene further.” He dragged Meagan out of the house.

Thomas put his hands on either side of her arms and focused his attention on her. “Did you get a look at the guy?” His voice was hopeful.

Meagan hated to disappoint him, but she had no choice.

“No, I’m sorry. He was wearing a black ski mask.”

“Dammit!” Thomas took out his cell phone and requested a crime scene unit as well as some uniforms to guard the scene.

Thomas was still talking when Meagan’s phone rang. She looked at the screen and noticed it was Katy. She waited until she’d left a message, then retrieved it. Katy had heard Meagan’s home address broadcasted over her police scanner and needed to know if she was okay.

Meagan had to call her back. She couldn’t have Katy worrying about her needlessly. She strolled to the end of the driveway and made the call. She assured Katy she was fine and told her she’d simply had a break-in. It still took her some time to calm her friend down. God only knew what would have happened had she told her the whole truth. Only by promising Katy she would keep her in the loop was Meagan finally able to end the call.