All Good Deeds (9 page)

“I don’t know what game you’re playing.” Chris’s voice was low, thick with anger. “But you need to turn around and walk away.”

The janitor didn’t move. “She knows what I’m talking about. She dated my brother, and she killed him.”

What the hell did he mean? I never targeted any of my own cases. How did he know who I was?

“I think I’d better call the principal,” Chris said. “You’re not stable enough to be around children.”

I snapped back to myself. “Good idea. And while you’re doing that, I’ll tell that uniformed officer this man is harassing me.”

The janitor flinched. “The police said it was a heart attack brought on by drug use.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, but you’re crossing the line with this, mister.” My own heart thrashed. It sounded like my mode of operation, but I didn’t recognize this man. Then again, it wasn’t my policy to get to know family members.

His pale skin was bright red with his anger. “They didn’t listen to me because he had a bad history. But I knew a woman was involved, and when I saw you, I knew it. I’ve seen your picture.”

Impossible. I never left a trail. I never got close enough. This man was reaching.

“You’re mistaken.” The steadiness of my voice amazed me.

He shook his head. “His name was Cody, and he had a heroin problem. I might not be able to prove it, but I know it was you. And now you won’t be able to forget my face.”

My brain stopped working again.

Cody Harrison had a brother named Brian.

“Get out of here,” Chris said. “Walk away before I have your job and your ass in jail.”

I could only see the side of his face, the hard set of his jaw and the curl of his lips, but he must have looked mean enough because the janitor nodded and stalked off, skimming his way through the last of the kids trailing out of school.

Sudden dizziness washed over me, and I braced my hand against Chris’s back. The words clung to my throat. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. And I have my car,” I finished weakly.

“There’s a diner two blocks west. Meet me there.” His urgent tone seduced me. I remembered his admonition that he was just like me and understood the choices I made.

I don’t know if it was the shock or the desperate need to pretend someone could truly understand, but I said yes.

Fifteen minutes later
I found myself at a neighborhood diner boasting it had the best cheese steaks in the city. What a crock. Any real Philadelphian knows Jim’s Steaks on the northeast side has the best Philly Cheese Steaks, period. Across from me, eyes glittering behind his glasses, Chris waited. And my mind raced.

I had lived my life in a strange mixture of carefully calculated moves and impulse decisions. Cracking the skull of the man who molested my sister and was coming for me was impulse. My teenage years were spent acting out, making impulsive–and often stupid–decisions in a hopeless effort to get my narcissistic mother to truly see me. And then I started to grow up. Acting on impulse became a nearly forgotten sensation.
Until today.

A waitress appeared at our table. Chris ordered a cheeseburger. I passed. We continued to stare at each other.

“So…” Chris rubbed his scruffy chin with the back of his hand, his index finger trailing along the narrow scar on his jaw. “Did you kill his brother?”

The question hung between us like a grenade with its pin dangling, ready to blow everything into a million pieces. For some reason, I remembered one of the last conversations I’d had with my sister.

“Luce, I want to tell you something.”

“Sure.” I bit my tongue trying to figure out a math problem. I hated math.

“People are selfish. Even if they don’t want to be. They are. They might think they’re doing the right thing, might make some shitty excuse for themselves, but in the end, they’re making the choice based on whatever’s going to bring them gratification. Selfish. That includes you. Don’t be afraid of self-preservation. You can’t win in this world if you don’t put yourself first. Don’t forget that.”

I’d promised her I wouldn’t. Self-preservation. I’d worked hard at it, but it came with a steep price of loneliness. Before I fully agreed to the thought, the answer rolled out of my tense mouth. “Yes. Cody Harrison.”

It’s okay. He’s not a cop. Kelly’s checked him out. Everything he’s told you so far has been true. He can’t hurt you. If anything, you’ll say he’s crazy. But he’s not going to go to the police.

A charged beat of silence passed between us, Chris’s gaze as piercing and unreadable as it had been the first night he approached me. Finally, he exhaled. “Well shit, Lucy. You’re supposed to be a professional. How does this janitor know who you are?”

His response felt surreal, but it ignited my temper. I leaned forward and pitched my voice low. “I’m not a hit man. I eradicate sex offenders. I make sure they’ve been given a lethal dose of whatever I’m using, and then I walk away. I don’t see them die. I’m not a freaking killer. Killers do it for the thrill, or by compulsion. I fill a void the justice system has chosen to ignore.”

I knew the semantics were stupid, but they mattered to me. I don’t expect my soul to ascend from the vacuity of death into heaven’s fluffy, happy-ever-after, but I’ve got to have some sort of line. I can’t be lumped in with
those people
.

“But this could send you to the lethal injection table.”

“It won’t. I never allowed Cody to take any pictures of me.”

“Then how did this brother know about you?”

Good freaking question. “I played dealer to get to Cody. Let him think we were going to date. He probably described me to his brother.”

“Come on. Don’t be stupid. You’re pretty enough, but you’re not a unique face. Unless this dude’s accosting every redhead in the city accusing them of killing his brother, he’s seen your picture. He knew it was you.”

The waitress appeared with his burger. The bacon smelled heavenly, and my mouth watered.

“But he doesn’t have proof,” I said after she’d gone. “This supposed picture doesn’t exist. If it did, I would have been identified and be sitting in prison. So I’m safe.”

“Except he’s seen you in person now. You don’t think his need for vengeance isn’t renewed?” Chris took a huge bite and moaned in appreciation. My stomach growled.

He was right. I needed to find out exactly what I was dealing with. “Just…let me think. I’ll make a phone call, see if a friend can find out something.”

Chris shrugged and chowed down, studying me with such transfixed perception I longed to duck under the table. He stopped to take a drink and then wiped his mouth. “It’s your freedom. Now, on to the missing kid. Why is she so important to you?”

I broke free of his stare to look out the window. Kids still walking home from school filled the sidewalks, and the candy store across the street was hopping. “Ten years ago, I was assigned as Justin’s social worker. I couldn’t get him removed from his home, and then he killed a child. One of the lead detectives on Kailey’s case is Justin’s brother, and I’m afraid he’s not going to allow himself to see his brother for who he really is.”

“I see.” Chris took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “So it’s a guilt thing. And you don’t think the police can handle the case? I mean, there’s no way they aren’t going to find out the same information you’ve got. Probably already have.”

“But Justin has a relationship with Kailey.” I quickly briefed Chris on the information both Kelly and Josie had given me. His mouth turned down, his bow-shaped upper lip curling like an angry dog’s.

“So he’s a damned good suspect. But the police likely already know this.”

“Probably,” I said. “But even if he’s got someone else handling his brother, Todd’s still the lead officer. It’s his call to bring him in, to get a search warrant. That’s a shitty position for anyone to be in, especially when Todd’s reputation is partially at stake.”

Chris pushed his plate away. “What if Justin didn’t take the little girl? He’s been out for eighteen months and flying under the radar. Pretty risky move to snatch a kid he lives so close to.”

“Maybe he snapped.” I couldn’t help but snatch one of the few fries left on Chris’s plate. “And he’s got plenty of evidence stacked against him. Given his history, police will be able to get a warrant.”

“Then why don’t you let them do it?” He asked. “You don’t think Todd could make his partner cover for Justin too?”

I scrunched up my nose and gave him my dirtiest look. “Of course not. I just…I need to do something. That’s why I left Todd a voicemail on the way here. He needs to know that I know about Justin and Kailey. Hopefully he won’t be too pissed off not to call me back.”

Chris downed the rest of his soda. He sat the glass down on the table and leaned forward, the corners of his mouth turning up deceptively. “I just worry you have your priorities twisted.”

“Excuse me?”

“Finding the kid comes first. Justin Beckett second. You sound like you’re more about a witch hunt than a rescue mission.”

“I am trying to find her,” I said. “I can’t risk Justin Beckett not being thoroughly investigated. And if he really didn’t take her, then I pray the cops will find the real pig, and fast.” That was true. Wasn’t it? No, it wasn’t an absolute that Justin had taken her. But it was the logical conclusion, and even if Todd were able to be objective, there was no way I could hang around and wait to see what happened. I was too selfish.

Chris kept watching me, and I wanted to demand to know what he was thinking. Better yet, what was I thinking, enlisting his help? A stranger who claimed he was a serial killer, a sociopath with an unnecessary interest in my choices?

“Here’s what I think.” Chris wiped his mouth, crumpled the napkin, and then tossed it into his now empty plate. “You’re a control freak with a guilty conscience who wants to help yourself as much as you do the kid. And that’s fine. But you should be aware of it so it doesn’t cloud your judgment. Because Kailey needs to be the first priority in all of this.”

My insides steamed. “How dare you question my priorities? Whether or not I feel guilty has little to do with any of this.”

“Fair enough. But you do feel guilty. That’s a start.”

I pushed my drink aside. I needed to reassess. “I appreciate your helping me with the janitor back there. But since I’ve turned stupid and bared my soul to you, I’ve got some questions I need answered before we go any further.”

“Ask away.” His smirk made it clear he knew exactly what I was going to ask.

“How exactly did you find out about me? In detail, please.”

He leaned back, tipping the chair onto its hind legs. I thought about kicking it over. “Let’s see. A while ago, I followed a fat dude with an ugly birthmark on his cheek. Noticed him watching the little kids in the park, found out he had a record. He had a dog too. A cocker spaniel he used to lure the kids.”

“Mark Smith.” I’d taken care of him when Kelly confirmed he’d been trying to set up dates with young girls. There’d been no reason for Mark to complete his third offense for the charm of a permanent prison sentence. That would mean one more child violated.

The little cocker spaniel had been so damned sweet. He’d been with Mark when I made my move, and I’d scooped him up before he could run off. He’d rode in the front seat of my car like he belonged, and I’d damned near kept him. I took the dog to a no-kill shelter and then convinced a co-worker he was the perfect rescue animal for her.

“I happened to be the paramedic on duty when Mark died. I’d seen you following him. When I saw you in the crowd, I figured you had something to do with his death and decided to keep an eye on you.”

“I never noticed you following me.”

Another Casanova grin. “I’m good.”

“So even it out. You’re a paramedic. And in the,” I glanced around, “garbage business like me, as you so eloquently put it the other night. What’s your game?”

“Similar. Rig comes in handy. It’s a good place to hide, good mode of transportation. People never do DNA tests in there.” He looked at me through impossibly thick eyelashes. “As for method, it varies. But I have to get rid of the bodies. That’s a job in itself. That’s why I admire you so much. You’ve got a great system.”

I closed my eyes, breaking his hypnotizing stare, and sipped my water. Without the pervasive influence of his eyes and his accompanying charm, I could think clearly enough to listen to my instincts. Killing another human being was the dirtiest of filthy deeds. My way offered a sense of detachment–the reprieve of never having to see the life drain from my victim’s eyes as he becomes nothing–and it was the only way I could do it.

But Chris insinuated personal physical involvement of the worst kind, disposing of the corpse. Ruthless and utterly messy. He might have been an excellent actor, but Chris also had a lifestyle that shot a giant hole in his story. Fancy car, nice clothes that made him stand out. Too opulent.

I decided to call him on it. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not a garbage man. I’m not sure you’ve ever taken out the garbage.” I watched for a tell in his expression, but he remained stoic. “You want to–or at least you think you want to–but you haven’t. Maybe you’ve got a lot of pent-up rage and think that’s the best way to release it.” I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. “But you’re also materialistic. You like dressing nice, you like being the center of attention. You won’t like the garbage man’s punishment if you get caught. So that’s why you don’t act, not yet. You probably followed Mark Smith around, thinking he’d be the perfect first-time dump. You stumble on me and think you’ve found some sort of mentor. Am I right?”

Chris licked his smirking lips again. “You can go with that if you want. Point is, I know what you are, and I like that you believe you’re in the right. Takes balls, if you’ll excuse the language.”

I matched his challenging tone. “Excused. As for who’s in the right, that’s funny since you claim you’re just like me.”

“Told you, I’m a sociopath.” He spread his hands as if to say, ‘What can I do?’ still smiling. He seemed very proud of the idea of being a sociopath. I wondered if he realized that was his biggest tell. “A highly functioning one, thank you very much. I don’t need a moral compass.”