Daddy's Little Killer (10 page)

"Would you like me to call if we turn up
anything hot in the meantime?"

I scribbled my cell number on another scrap
of paper and handed it to him.  "And until this territorial
battle is settled one way or another, it might be best if we kept
this between us."

"Taylor, Adams and Thieg too, right?"

"Absolutely.  Let me know right away if
you learn something that can't wait until morning.  Otherwise,
I'll track you down after I meet with Commissioner Hardy in the
morning.  I'd like to talk to Sergeant Carter too."

"I'll let him know."  Haverston shot a
hand signal to one of the officers.  "We're cutting him
loose.  Rogers and Daltry are already frothing at the mouth
over it, but you're right.  We need a stronger case against
whoever was responsible for this before we close the book."

I watched Orion climb out of the back of the
patrol car and hold up his wrists.  He shook them, shoved his
hands into his pockets and stomped toward a car parked on the
street.

"Shouldn't we know where we can contact him
before he leaves?"

Haverston chuckled.  "Orion's home and
business aren't a secret, doctor.  He's right across the
street from Central Division in La Pierre Tower.  He's not
going anywhere."

"How can you be so sure?"

Haverston shrugged.  "He's as
interested in what you're gonna do next as the rest of us are."

I couldn't argue that point, given the
extremes I suspected Orion had gone to just to orchestrate a
happenstance meeting in Washington on Monday. 

An hour later, I collapsed into bed in my
hotel room, never dreaming that my very presence had opened
Pandora's Box in Darkwater Bay.

Chapter 9

They say that a guilty man sleeps after he's
caught.  It implies that prior to arrest, he is too anxious to
rest.  Some people are just heavy sleepers.  Some of us
are not.  I haven't had a night of uninterrupted sleep since
my father's arrest.  At least, that was the case until I
landed in Darkwater Bay.

I expected to toss and turn for a couple of
hours, get up, shower off the travel grime and mental fog from the
general level of stress in my life and meet with the law
enforcement fat cats.  A latte IV would probably be part of my
morning.  Maybe an Adderall or two.  Not that I have any.
 I've been subsisting on caffeine and stress stimulants for
over a week now.

Which is why in retrospect, I think I
crashed so hard when I fell asleep Wednesday morning in Darkwater
Bay.  Something jostled me, hard as bone maybe.  I
struggled to open my eyes, to discover the source of the jarring
motion.  My brain whispered reassurances.  I fell out of
bed.  It was merely a dream.  Nothing I thought happened
since midnight was real, and the flight gear touching earth had
penetrated my deep sleep.

"Helen, wake up."

I swatted at the whispered words.  Go
away.  Let me sleep.  Don't you know how hard it is for
me to get into this condition?

"Shit."

All right.  I was sliding.  Mmm …
satin sheets.

But firm pressure under the joint sockets in
my arms jolted me awake in an instant.  Blackness surrounded
me.  "What the  … ?"

"Quiet." 

"Where the hell –?"

A hand clapped over my mouth. 
"Be.  Quiet."

The darkness, the deep sleep, the
uncertainty of where I was or who dragged me there pulled me deeper
into disorientation.  I started to struggle.  A single
arm banded around me like a vice. 

"Helen, be still."

I was pressed against a hard body, and
identifying the whispered voice was impossible.  It occurred
to me that we weren't standing.  My feet weren't touching the
floor.  I stretched my toes downward.  Nothing. 
Heavy breathing cascaded over my right shoulder, down my flimsy
nightgown.  All right.  Wherever I am, he's behind me and
he's holding me off the floor.  He's very strong, and he's got
to be tall.

The hand over my mouth gentled its
grip.  It wasn't much, but it offered enough slack to let me
open my lips.  I was poised to take a vicious bite when I
heard another sound.  Low voices murmured.

" … not here  … "

" … get the laptop … "

I groaned.  The grip on my mouth
tightened.

" … hear that?"

Tension radiated from the body holding
mine.  A second later, blinding light flickered to life above
my head.

"Nobody in the john.  You think she's
still out investigating her little crime scene?" the voice
sneered.

"Shut the light off and let's get the fuck
outta here before she comes back."

"You know what he said," our bathroom guest
spoke.  "He wants her, not her goddamned laptop computer."

The voices rang a bell in my head.  Not
so much the sounds, but the sneer was very familiar.  My eyes
widened.  I'd heard that sneer before.  One mystery
solved.  Sort of.  The men from D.C., they were still
looking for me.  I hadn't really doubted it, but indulged in a
little delusional wishful thinking.  Helen isn't an uncommon
name after all.  Outdated, yes, but not unusual.

We waited, the grip on my mouth and the one
at my belly not relaxed an inch this time.  The air blowing
over my shoulder turned toward my ear.  "I think they're
gone.  Do not scream when I let go of your mouth."

His hand fell from my face and the arm
banded around my middle. 

"Orion."

"You didn't know?"

"What the hell are you doing in my hotel
room?"

"Saving your life, I suspect.  Were you
aware that your shadows followed you all the way from Washington
last night?"

"A couple of thugs followed me from
D.C.?  Now why do I find that so difficult to believe? 
Let go of me.  They're gone."

His fingers rubbed my flesh through the
silky nightgown.  "Why are they following you?  What did
you do before you left Washington?"

"I'm going to say this one more time. 
Let.  Me.  Go."

Hands fell away.  "Suit yourself."

I scrambled out of the deep whirlpool
bathtub.  Pretty quick thinking on Orion's part.  Looking
in the deep cavernous tub wasn't high on the list of hiding places
to uncover for my new friends.  I had little doubt who sent
them.

Stumbling through the darkness, I nearly
tripped before I found the light on the bathroom wall.  Orion
was sitting, staring at me with owl eyes when the light flickered
on again.  "You haven't answered my question."

"I believe I did," he said, but made no move
to get out of the whirlpool.  "They followed you out here,
Doc."

"Don't call me –"

"Yeah, I heard you.  I'm ignoring the
request.  Your turn.  Why are you being followed by
private investigators?"

"I have no idea."

"Let me make it a little more
specific.  Why are you being followed by two of the sleaziest
private detectives in Darkwater Bay?  Why would they be in
Washington D.C., looking for you?"

My mouth fell open.  "I thought you
said they weren’t identified!"

"I lied," he said dryly.  Orion hefted
himself out of the whirlpool with the ease and agility of a
lion.  "They're from Darkwater Bay.  Who else do you know
out here, Doc?"

"I don't –  I owe you nothing,
Orion."  My fuse burned away quickly.  Who the hell was
this guy?  What made him think he had the right to break into
my room and demand answers from me?

"Wrong," his eyes narrowed, hawk-like in a
flash.  I felt them devouring every inch of me, the room,
hell, the whole universe.  Air sucked out of my lungs. 
Two predatory strides later, and his hands strangled my
biceps.  "What the hell were you doing before you came to
Darkwater Bay?  Don't tell me it's a coincidence that two guys
from this city show up out of the blue in Washington looking for
you a matter of hours before you showed up in town.  You know
what this is about, Doc, and dammit, you're not leaving this room
until you level with me."

"What's wrong, Orion?  Is this
professional jealousy?  You've been bested by your sleazy
competition?"

He shook me hard enough to rattle my
teeth.  "This is serious, goddammit!  Or have you
forgotten about my friend who got slaughtered last night?"

Words tumbled from my
lips.  "You think
I
had something to do with Gwen Foster's
murder?"

Orion dropped his hands and spun
around.  He muttered a curse under his breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said of course I don't think you had
anything to do with Gwen's death.  I don't happen to believe
in coincidences either."

"I fail to see the –"

"No, you wouldn't see it," he cut me off
with another glare.  "And even if you did know anything, which
I suspect you do, you're not gonna tell me jack shit, are you?"

"I'm still asleep.  That's got to be
what's happening.  This is one of those weird dreams where my
subconscious dumps a ton of unrelated bullshit into one contiguous
–"

"You're not dreaming, Doc."

"I have no idea what
you're talking about.  I never met Gwen Foster.  I know
one person in Darkwater Bay, and
know
is pushing it."

"Tell me the name of that person."

Dread started strangling me again.  I
didn't have to remind myself that what little I knew of Orion
started with lies.  Our coincidental meeting was nothing of
the sort.  The only time my new friends showed up, ironically,
Orion had been the man of the hour.  How stupid did he think I
really was?

"Doc."

"No way, Orion.  I'm not telling you
anything.  Your alibi for last night might've checked out, and
you could've been states away when Foster died, but that doesn't
clear your name by a long shot.  You don't believe in
coincidences and neither do I.  Beyond that, we've got nothing
in common."

Soft laughter made my skin prickle. 
"We've got a hell of a lot more in common than you want to
admit."

"Why were you spying on me in
Washington?  Why did you follow me tonight?"

He grinned and strode past me through the
door.  "I don't owe you any answers, Dr. Eriksson.  And
you're welcome, for saving your lovely ass a second time."

I dashed to the phone on the nightstand and
dialed the number Haverston gave me a few hours earlier. 

"Haverston."

"It's Helen Eriksson."

"Good morning, doctor.  We haven't
uncovered –"

"I'm not calling about the case," I
said.  "Someone broke into my hotel room and stole my
computer.  I was followed to Darkwater Bay by someone.  I
need your help."

"You're at the Montcliff, right?"

"Room eight-seventeen," I said.

"I'll be right there."

"You won't find anything here,
officer.  You may already know the answers to the questions I
have."

"We should still process the crime
scene."

"I want you to tell me everything you know
about Johnny Orion."

"Orion?  Is he the one who broke into
your room?"

"No."  Yes.  "Haverston, Orion
owns a private security company, correct?"

"Yeah, but –"

"Does he employ private investigators?"

"You want to hire Orion?"

"Please answer my question."

"Technically, no.  Orion's business
provides private security to businesses and wealthy folks in
Nightingale and Beach Cliffs.  The only person on his staff
with a PI license is Orion himself.  Why are you asking me
about him?  Did you learn something we should know about his
alibi?"

"I'm sure it checks out," I said. 
"What about other private detectives in the city?"

"There are a few.  Probably more than
our fair share for a city this size.  Does this relate to Gwen
Foster?"

"I'm not sure."  I bit into the fleshy
mound of my lower lip.  Somebody trustworthy needed to know
what was going on.  Ordinarily, at least in the business
realm, that person would've been David Levine.  My mind saw an
impenetrable steel door slam shut and lock for eternity. 
David was out.  I didn't know whether or not I could trust
Haverston with sensitive information.

Roll the dice,
Helen.  You've got to turn to somebody here.  At least
until you can talk to George Hardy.
 
I cleared my throat but the words still came out like gravel and
shards of glass.  "It has come to my attention that a couple
of private investigators might've been following me before I left
Washington D.C.  The suggestion was that these men are in
business in Darkwater Bay."

"Suggested by whom?"  I heard the
concern ratchet up in Haverston's tone.

"I can't tell you that.  Now my room
has been broken into, and while I didn't see the men responsible,
the voices sounded familiar."

"Jesus Christ.  I'm sending a unit over
right away.  I'll be there in fifteen minutes.  Don't
touch anything.  Don't leave the room."

"Haverston –" he already hung up. 

Don't touch anything.  Ha.  I
strode to the closet and flung open the accordion door.  My
eyes fluttered shut.  I hated the clothes that comprised my
wardrobe now.  Nothing black.  Nothing with a classic,
clean cut.  Nothing that remotely resembled me.  The ruse
to disguise my appearance had been an overwhelming failure if Orion
was to be believed.

I tore out a pair of jeans and a lightweight
dark blue sweater.  Pacing commenced until a light knock on my
door nearly startled me out of my skin.  No weapon.  I
glanced at my Rolex.  Six ten.  I wondered how soon Hardy
would be in his office, how soon we could ink a temporary
arrangement that might give me some authority – and a sidearm.

"Stupid gun control laws," I muttered under
my breath.  A quick peek through the door and Haverston's face
came into view with two other officers.  I flung it
open.  "Whoever was here is long gone, and I'm certain they
didn't leave prints behind."