Almost Dead (17 page)

CHAPTER 38

Jenny stayed inside her car until she heard the garage door clank shut. Then she climbed out and hurried inside the house.

Once she was in her bedroom, she flung off her sunglasses. The curly red wig came off next. Her heart raced as she wrapped the wig in tissue paper and then placed it with the others inside the bottom drawer.

That was a close one.

“You worry too much.”

She pulled off the ugly dress she’d worn and then removed twenty pounds of padding underneath. It felt good to remove all that extra weight.

There were probably security cameras all over the place.

“It doesn’t matter. I parked far enough away. Nobody would have paid me any mind at that point. And this won’t be the first time I was caught on video. Nobody will recognize me.”

What about the tray you dropped in the garbage?

“It was disposable, and I wore plastic gloves.”

You’re going to get caught for sure this time.

She slipped into a terry cloth robe and tied the sash around her waist. “I’m tired of your constant jabbering. I’m not going to listen to you.”

You haven’t scrubbed the kitchen sink in days. Those tiny organisms are on everything. I saw them with my own eyes. They cause disease.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I’m done listening to your endless tirades. You need to back off. I mean it.”

Silence. Finally.

She used baby oil to take off a layer of thick makeup, then turned on the bathwater before making her way to the living room and turning on the television. It was the same on every local new station: five people dead, one in critical condition. She wasn’t worried. She’d seen Mindy Graft eat the brownie in two quick bites. She wouldn’t be dead, none of them would be, if they mixed things up every once in a while. They all trundled around along their little tracks. Same routine, day in and day out. Mindy Graft hit the grocery store every Saturday, rain or shine. And today had been no different.

Jenny hadn’t meant to, or at least hadn’t wanted to, kill innocent people who were not on her list, but she’d known in this case that it couldn’t be helped. After watching Mindy pull up to the store and park her car, Jenny had grabbed the tray of brownies and hurried to the entrance. Even after she had Mindy in her sights, she’d waited, not uncovering her tray until Mindy was within ten feet of her. Within the blink of an eye, the people walking into the store had become scavengers. Jenny had been forced to shoo away a couple of people just to save a brownie for Mindy. It was as if they’d never eaten before.

Leaving the television on, she made her way to the bathroom and turned off the water. Then she went to her office and pulled out the kill list. Using a fine-tip marker, she drew a line through Mindy Graft’s name.

She wanted to call Lizzy, find out if Mindy had been warned before she took a brownie from a stranger. But Jenny didn’t have time for unnecessary chitchat at the moment—she was going on a date with Dwayne Roth. He’d told her that he’d noticed her from the start, since she’d first started working at Ecco Chemicals.

With a smile on her face, she headed back for the tub, slipped out of her robe, and climbed into the hot water, letting her mind drift to thoughts of sun-kissed beaches; blue, cloudless skies; and Dwayne.

CHAPTER 39

After being taken by surprise in the parking garage, Lizzy had spent two hours filling out police reports. The man she’d sprayed was nowhere to be found.

She never should have left the scene.

For the first time in her adult life, she’d panicked and ran.

There was absolutely no excuse. She’d been carrying a gun—had him right where she wanted him.

And what did she do? She ran.

So disturbed by her actions, or lack thereof, she found it next to impossible to concentrate. And she
had
to concentrate. At the moment, Lizzy sat across a kitchen table from Shelby Geitner’s boyfriend, Ben, while his mother hovered over them with her arms crossed, her mouth a tight line.

Ben was a cute kid. He had recently turned eighteen. He wore jeans and a dark-blue T-shirt. His blond hair was cut short, except for the bangs that fell across his forehead and covered his right eye when he wasn’t pushing the hair out of his face.

“How did Shelby seem to you the last time you saw her?” Lizzy asked the boy.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Ben seemed nervous. He twiddled his thumbs and had a difficult time keeping eye contact. What was he hiding?

“Over the course of the past few weeks,” Lizzy tried again, “did Shelby act different in any way? For instance, was she overwhelmed by schoolwork or preoccupied with teenage drama of any kind?”

“She does have a good friend,” Ben said, “who was afraid she might be pregnant. I know Shelby worried about her, but—”

“Ms. Gardner, I really don’t see how talking to my son is going to help you find Shelby.”

Lizzy looked at the boy’s mother, peered into her eyes. “If your son was missing, wouldn’t you want me to talk to everybody he’d been in contact with, including his close friends?”

The woman managed a barely discernible huff, but she backed off.

Lizzy turned back to Ben. “Mrs. Geitner remembers Shelby looking over her shoulder a lot, as if she thought somebody might be following her. Did Shelby seem nervous or skittish to you?”

Ben straightened slightly, and for the first time he looked right at her. “You know, Mrs. Geitner is right. Shelby didn’t even want to go to a movie because she said she had a bad feeling about going out at night. I asked her why, but she shrugged it off, said she really wasn’t sure. I laughed and told her she’d been watching too many scary movies. But I could tell she was feeling weird. Something was going on, but I didn’t take it seriously.”

Lizzy’s cell rang and she excused herself to take the call. It was Hayley. “What is it?”

“Mindy Graft is dead.”

Impossible.
“How? When?”

“Not more than twenty minutes ago,” Hayley said. “We watched her house all morning, then followed her to the grocery store. She didn’t lock her car. I kept a lookout, watching the parking lot, but nobody stood out. About ten minutes after she went inside, there were sirens and emergency vehicles all over the place. Five people are dead. One person is hanging on, but it’s not Mindy.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“We overheard a man telling one of the officers at the scene that a woman was handing out free brownie samples. He said she ran out of samples fast. Described her as a white woman, overweight, curly red hair, wearing sunglasses and a long dress. The witness was adamant about what he’d seen, even recognized the first woman who was brought out on a stretcher as one of the people to eat a brownie.”

“Have you talked to the other three people on the list?”

“Two of the three have been warned—just like Mindy. We haven’t been able to get a hold of Gary Perdue. We’re on our way to his house in Auburn to see if we can locate him.”

“Be careful.”

“We’ll call you if we find anything.”

Lizzy hung up the phone. She needed to see Detective Chase sooner rather than later. She quickly thanked Ben and his mother for answering her questions. The woman must have felt badly about her initial reluctance to help out because she gave Lizzy a piece of paper with her number on it and told her to call if she had any further questions.

Before Lizzy got to her car, Ben called her name as he ran out of the house and caught up to her. “There’s one other thing I wanted to tell you, but not in front of my mother.” He looked over his shoulder toward the house.

They could both see his mom looking out the window, her shoulders stiff.

“Go on,” Lizzy said.

“Two days before Shelby disappeared, we had sex for the first time.”

Lizzy waited patiently for him to continue.

“We’ve been dating for three years,” he went on, “but Shelby told me more than once that it was important to her that we wait. Recently, though, I . . . I put a lot of pressure on her.” He swallowed, looked away. “I told her I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold off. Now I’m afraid I might be the reason she’s gone. I think I scared her off.”

Lizzy touched his arm. “I appreciate you telling me, Ben, but just between you and me, I don’t think you scared her off. Last time I saw her, in fact, she told me all about you. She seemed happy about the relationship.”

The boy visibly relaxed. “Thanks. That’s a relief. I miss her, and I would do anything to get her back. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Keep talking to Shelby’s friends, anyone who knew her. Ask them questions, lots of questions. Sometimes that’s all it takes to jar something loose. Somebody might not realize that what they saw or heard is a gold nugget of information that could help us find her.”

“I’ll do that.”

“You have my number. Call me if you learn anything new, anything at all.”

He nodded.

Lizzy got into her car and drove off.

Before she got more than a couple of blocks, she was overtaken by a painful tightening in her gut.

She pulled over to the curb, her knuckles white on the wheel.

Shelby had been afraid to go to the movies.

Shelby had been looking over her shoulder and was suddenly afraid of her own shadow.

There was no doubt in Lizzy’s mind—the answer to Shelby’s disappearance had been right in front of her all along.

She could feel it—a burning sensation inside, a flash of insight.

It was
him
.

Lizzy had been unforgivably stupid not to have seen it before now.

It was because of
her
that Shelby had been taken.

Lizzy closed her eyes, fought it for as long as she could, then loosed a scream of frustrated rage.

CHAPTER 40

Detective Chase was easy enough to locate. He lived in the Regency Park area in Sacramento. His house was a one-story, single-family home set on a corner lot and was painted a cheery yellow, which contrasted greatly with the man who opened the door.

Detective Chase looked different dressed in casual weekend clothes, but they didn’t make him appear any less threatening. He stood inside the entryway, looking out at Lizzy with his usual deadpan expression. “So, this couldn’t wait until Monday?”

“It’s important.”

“Of course it is.” Reluctantly, he opened the door.

Lizzy stepped inside. The place had
mantuary
written all over it. The detective’s man cave was complete with a putting green where the dining room table should be. Half of the living area was taken over by an eighty-inch flat-screen TV. She’d caught him in the middle of a basketball game. On the table in front of a worn leather couch was a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of milk. Her stomach rumbled.

“Have a seat,” he said, “and I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“Really? You’re going to make me something to eat?”

He was already halfway to the kitchen. “I can’t exactly eat with you watching me, can I?”

“You’ve got a point. I’ll talk while you work.”

He gathered everything he’d need to make another sandwich: grater, Jack and cheddar cheese, pickles, sourdough bread, and butter. The pan he’d used earlier sat on the stove. “What brings you to my doorstep on my day off, Gardner?”

“It’s about Shelby Geitner.”

“I thought we made a deal.”

She tried to look surprised. “What deal? Are you talking about the four-questions-and-I’ll-leave-you-alone thing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Forget about all that,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I know who took Shelby.”

He finally looked away from the frying pan and into her eyes. “Who would that be?”

“The same man who’s been following me. He even visited Jared. Signed in under the name Samuel Jones. I’ve got two notes from the man. Maybe you could have some sort of handwriting analysis done.”

He expelled a heavy sigh. “Are you talking about the linebacker from the other day?”

“That’s right.” She refused to let his blasé attitude affect her. “You can order the hospital to release the tapes from the security cameras. I know his exact time of arrival.” She dug around inside her purse. “Here’s one of the cards he left at the hospital. Wanted me to know he could have killed Jared but he wanted me to suffer instead.”

He paused. “And this has something to do with Shelby?”

“Yes. This guy is trying to screw with me . . . following me, leaving notes, and that’s why he decided to take Shelby.”

He said nothing.

“So, you’ll get the tapes?”

“That could take weeks.”

The man was a bastard. “If you threw your weight at them like you throw it at people like me, we could find her.”

Again. Nothing.

Lizzy pushed the hair out of her eyes and said, “It’s
something
, isn’t it? I’ve installed cameras on the property where I’m staying. If we could set up twenty-four-hour surveillance, there’s a good chance someone will spot him, and we could follow him.”

“There’s that
we
again.” He held up a hand, stopping her from saying anything more before he could finish. “Listen, I know you’ve been talking to Shelby’s friends and family. As long as you don’t get in the way of the investigation, I’ve decided to let it go, but we don’t have the manpower to follow you around because of a hunch.”

“It’s not a hunch. He
has
Shelby.”

He flipped the sandwich, turned down the burner, and then used the spatula to flatten the bread. Cheese oozed out from two slices of thick sourdough. He pulled out a cutting board and sliced a pickle into quarters. He then searched through the cupboard for another plate. The man obviously didn’t have guests very often. When everything was ready to go, he took the plate and another glass of milk and headed for the family room.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re done in here.”

When they made it back to the couch, he gestured for her to have a seat, which she did. “Are you sure you don’t want this sandwich?” she asked. “It’s bigger than yours and it’s hot.”

“No,” he said. “I like my grilled cheese cold and my milk warm. I’m good.”

She ate her sandwich, watched the game, and thought about Shelby. She wondered where the man was holding her hostage. She wouldn’t allow herself to imagine that Shelby was no longer alive. Twice now she’d caught a glimpse of the man at close range. She hadn’t been able to make out the color of his hair or the shape of his eyes. Just like the detective said; he was a big white guy. “The man was wearing a plaid shirt,” she blurted.

He picked up the remote and hit the Mute
button. “What are you trying to say, Gardner?”

“Who wears a plaid shirt?”

“The question should be, who doesn’t?”

Lizzy sighed. “It was filthy, worn. As if it was the only shirt he owned. Same with his jeans.”

“So he’s either a slob or he’s homeless.”

“Exactly.”

“You told me he was cleanly shaved.”

“Not a superclose shave, but he’d definitely taken a razor to his jaw. I’m telling you, we need to put all your manpower on this. Shelby is out there right now. Can you imagine what it’s like to be taken by a stranger? Tied up somewhere, cold and hungry? I can’t—”

“Lizzy,” he said, stopping her short.

He never called her Lizzy. She stared at him, unblinking, waiting. “What?”

“What I’m going to tell you is confidential. I’m
only
telling you this because I’m concerned for your well-being, afraid you’re going to drive yourself crazy going after a man who might not exist.”

She tried to protest, but he stopped her with a raised hand. “Less than twenty-four hours ago, a close friend of Shelby’s came forward with some pretty damning evidence.” He paused. “It seems Shelby had been seeing another boy. An older boy who’s not from around here.”

“That’s hard to believe, but even if it’s true . . . yeah, so?”

“There’s details I can’t discuss. We haven’t found the boy, but when we do, we hope to find Shelby, too.”

Lizzy rubbed her forehead. This was insanity. They didn’t know Shelby like she knew her. “She has a boyfriend of three years. That’s ridiculous.”

“Her parents are strict.”

Lizzy raised her hands in frustration. “What does that mean? They’re good people, great parents. They lay down the law, but I’ve never heard either one of them use a harsh tone toward their daughter. What does their parenting have to do with anything?”

“Shelby knew her parents wouldn’t approve, so she hid this new relationship from them.”

Lizzy came to her feet.

“There are emails Shelby sent to her friend that back up what the girl told us.”

“OK,” Lizzy said, “so if you think she ran off with this guy, why were there signs of a struggle in her car?”

“I didn’t say anything about Shelby running off with the guy.”

“You think he forced her to go with him?”

“I don’t think he had to use force at all. Not in the beginning. Not until he got her far enough away from the school.”

That would explain a lot, Lizzy thought, but she’d seen the way Shelby acted around Ben. Not only did Shelby obviously like Ben; she had recently had sex with the boy. Something about this story didn’t add up. “Do you have a face or a name to put with this crazy story?”

“Not yet.”

“So, you think
my guy
, as you called him a moment ago, is a phantom? A figment of my imagination?”

“After talking to witnesses, it’s clear you were chasing a man who fits the description you gave.”

“But—”

“But it could have been anyone, Lizzy. Like you’ve told me many times, your line of work brings you in close contact with a lot of nut jobs.”

“The guy broke that driver’s nose! He’s not exactly harmless.”

“Maybe you should do what you tell many of your clients to do?”

“What’s that?”

“Hire a bodyguard.”

“So that’s it?”

“I’m sorry.”

She headed for the door.

He got to his feet and followed a few steps behind.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” she said before opening the door and then slamming it shut behind her.

She marched to her car, angry with Detective Chase, furious with herself, pissed off at the world.

Shelby could have fought off a boy her age, but there was no way she could’ve fought off a giant with the build of a lumberjack.

“Don’t worry, Shelby,” she said out loud. “I’m not going to give up on you.”

After she climbed in behind the wheel of her car, she realized she hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk to him about the calls she’d gotten from the woman who was taking out the Ambassador Club one member at a time.

She started the engine, but before she drove off she noticed a white Volkswagen Passat parked across the street. She killed the engine, climbed out of the car, walked straight over to the Volkswagen, and tapped on the driver’s window.

There wasn’t any point in talking to Detective Chase about the Ambassador Club murders since he wasn’t taking her seriously, but she was pretty sure Murphy, or whatever his name was, would love to hear every detail.

She motioned for him to open his window. He did, and he didn’t give any sign of embarrassment or concern that he’d been caught following her.

“Are you following me?”

He nodded.

“A little pushy, aren’t you?” she asked.

“That’s what they teach in school.”

“Is that right?”

He nodded again.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Just trying to catch a break?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Why don’t you follow me to the coffee shop down the street and I’ll give you a story that the public will love.”

“A story about you? About your life?”

“Nope. A different story.”

He had the gall to look at his watch.

“If you don’t have time, I’ll be happy to call Miste Newport at Channel 13. She’s always hungry for a good story.”

“I’m good with it,” he said.

“Well, good. You’re buying.”

Derek Murphy, the rookie journalist, was getting on her nerves. Every time he opened his mouth, she thought of one of those he’s-so-dumb jokes: he had to get naked to count to twenty-one, or it took him an hour and a half to watch
60 Minutes
.

His head angled to one side like a puppy dog. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She tried not to smile. “What was it?”

“Am I amusing you?”

“Not in the least.”

“So you’re telling me that all of these accidents aren’t accidents at all?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you have any proof?”

“If I did, maybe Detective Chase would be taking this all a bit more seriously.”

“So, this is all conjecture on your part . . . nothing more than speculation.”

She moved her coffee cup to the side and leaned forward. “I’ve been talking for ten minutes straight and you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.”

“This person who was bullied—the killer—what’s her name?”

Lizzy’s chin dropped to her chest. It was no use.

“This is all really interesting,” he said, “but I think the public really wants to know about you and how you’re doing.”

“Wow. You really are something.”

His face got all animated. “The public loves you. Think about all the business a story about you and what you’ve been through could stir up. People will be knocking at your door to find their long-lost loves.”

“ ’Cuz that’s what I do—look for long-lost loves.” She put the strap of her purse over her shoulder and began to scoot out of the booth.

“I’m sorry. Please. Can we start over?”

She didn’t want to stay, but what she wanted was for the Ambassador Club story to get out to the public, let them stir up some trouble and get Detective Chase off his ass. She wanted the public to know what was going on, so she stayed where she was and said, “Want to know what the public would really love?”

He nodded.

He reminded her of one of those annoying bobbleheads. “The public would love to find out that you were stalking me after all I had been through, and then learn that I proceeded to kick your ass.”

This time he flinched. It was about time.

“Listen, rookie. I don’t have the name of the killer. If I did, do you think I would be wasting my time talking to you?”

He actually remained silent.

“I’m giving you a story, a real-life mystery. I’m handing it to you on a fucking silver platter and you’re waffling. I’m not asking you to name names of those who have perished. But if you stop talking for one minute and really listen, you might see the whole picture.”

He started to talk. Lizzy stopped him and said, “Pull out your notebook and pen. When I start talking, you better start taking notes or I’m out of here.”

He did as she said.

“OK,” she said, “Melony Reed, the leader of the Ambassador Club at Parkview High School in 2002, hired me because she was scared out of her mind. Four people in her club, a club filled with bullies who verbally and physically abused as many people as possible, were dead. All within a very short period of time.”

Lizzy waited for him to catch up. “Two days later, Melony Reed was dead, too. Turned out she slipped and fell on a bunch of knives that happened to be sticking straight up in an open dishwasher. How many people leave their dishwasher open and then go to bed?”

“I have no idea,” he said while he wrote.

“Well, go back to your cubicle on Monday and ask a few of your buddies what they think about that.”

He looked at her. “So, Melony was number five. Who was the next to go?”

Lizzy got comfortable and went on to give him the details of who was missing and who was confirmed dead. She told him everything she knew.

When she was done, he turned the page of his notebook—a fresh, blank page. “How many members in the club?” he asked.

“Thirteen,” Lizzy said with a smile.
By George, the kid is catching on.