Killing Spree (26 page)

“Manuscript?” she repeated.

“Yeah, my book—or the first eighteen chapters. I have an outline too. Maybe your agent or editor would like to see an outline first.”

“Yes, of course,” Gillian said. “Listen, Chase, I’ll just come to your house. What’s the address?”

Chase gave her the same address Ruth had written on the scrap of paper. Gillian said she’d have a taxi drop her off sometime after two. Then she clicked off the cell phone.

“Need another lift?” She felt someone touch her shoulder.

Gillian swiveled around and almost dropped her cell phone. She gaped at Jason Hurrell, who was smiling back at her. “God, you shouldn’t do that!” she said, catching her breath. “You scared me.”

He chuckled. “Sorry. That’s the second time in twenty-four hours I’ve frightened you. I didn’t know I was such a scary guy.”

“I thought you’d driven off,” Gillian said.

He held up a Bartell’s Drugs bag. “I just needed some things from the drugstore. And look what I found.” He pulled a copy of
Black Ribbons: A Maggie Dare Mystery
from the bag. “If you autograph it for me, I’ll drive you to your next destination. No tipping necessary.”

Gillian glanced at her watch. She had about forty-five minutes to catch the Bremerton ferry. She still didn’t quite trust Jason Hurrell. But he’d driven her here to Ballard without any incident—except for her sniping at him. And she needed to get to the ferry as soon as possible.

She looked at Jason and worked up a smile. “How could I refuse such a generous offer?”

“Sounds like this guy wanted to get into your pants,” Joe said.

He and Ethan were moving like tightrope walkers on the rails along the Burlington Northern tracks. Trees and bushes bordered the tracks, and on one side, beyond the wooded area, lay the beach at Golden Gardens Park. A chilly breeze rolled off Shilshole Bay, so Ethan and Joe kept their jackets buttoned up.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ethan said. “The guy was talking to some kid on the other team when I left. So I think he’s somebody’s dad.”

“Are you kidding? That doesn’t make any difference.” Joe grabbed hold of his hand.

It took Ethan by surprise, and he had to steady himself to keep from stumbling off the rail. Joe just smiled. Ethan suddenly felt warm inside. He wondered if he was blushing.

“If you fall, I fall,” Joe said. He squeezed Ethan’s hand. “Anyway, just because this guy with the gladiator shirt has a kid who plays football, it doesn’t mean he’s totally straight. He probably wanted to jump your bones. I know what I’m talking about because a few years ago, when I was a freshman, the father of this friend of mine made a pass at me. To look at the guy, you never would’ve guessed.”

“Really? How did it happen?” Ethan wondered if Joe could feel his hand sweating.

“I was spending the night at their house. It was like two in the morning, and I went downstairs in my underwear to get a snack out of the refrigerator, and my buddy’s old man showed up. He tried to grab me. Really freaked me out.”

Ethan missed his footing and stumbled off the rail. But Joe didn’t let go of his hand. He stopped and remained balanced on the rail. Ethan’s eyes wrestled with his. “What did you do?” he asked. “When he tried to grab you, I mean.”

“I told him, ‘No, thanks, Mr. G., I don’t go that way.’” Joe winked. “Then I went upstairs with my snack, and got back to messing around in bed with my buddy.”

Dumbfounded, Ethan stared at him. “Um, by ‘messing around,’ do you mean—”

Grinning, Joe nodded. “Aren’t you getting back up on the rail?”

Ethan couldn’t move. For a moment, he became aware of the sound of waves on the beach nearby and the fall-colored leaves rustling on all the trees around them. They were alone. He’d never had anyone admit to him that he’d “messed around” with another guy, and Joe didn’t seem one bit ashamed of it.

“You’re trembling,” Joe said, squeezing his hand again. “Are you cold?”

Ethan shook his head. “No, I’m fine.” He climbed back up on the rail, and they resumed walking along the tracks. “Did you ever tell your friend about his dad?”

“Nope. His old man was so nervous about it, I felt sorry for him. He apologized all over the place, and said, ‘Oh, I was just kidding, Joe,’ and bullshit like that. Anyway, I didn’t rat him out. I’m pretty good at keeping a secret. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve told that story to.” Joe paused and weaved a little on the rail. “So—it’s your turn now. You have to tell me a secret.”

Ethan continued walking. He gave him a wary sidelong glance. Did Joe want to know if he was gay? Was that what he was asking? “Um, what kind of secret do you want to hear?”

“A
secret
,” Joe said. “Something you haven’t told anyone—or something you’re not
supposed
to tell anyone.”

Ethan’s mind was reeling with the possibilities:
I’m gay…I whack off a lot…I’ve had a semi-boner ever since you took hold of my hand.

“God, I—I can’t think of anything to say,” he finally replied, his eyes looking down at the steel rail.

“Maybe there’s a family skeleton,” Joe said. “Tell me a family secret, like you saw your mother banging the meter guy, or your old man takes Viagra and cocaine, or—I don’t know. Work with me on this, sport.”

Ethan stepped down from the rail. “My dad ran away two years ago,” he said quietly. “He had gambling debts and he was in trouble with the police. So he just—took off.” Ethan felt his eyes tear up, and he shrugged awkwardly. “Anyway, I don’t know where he is.”

Joe slowly shook his head. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. “That sucks.” He hopped down from the rail.

Before Ethan knew what was happening, Joe slipped his arms around him. “I’m sorry, guy,” he whispered. Ethan felt Joe’s warm breath swirling in his ear. He hesitated, then brought his hands up to Joe’s back.

After a moment, Joe chuckled. “Hey, I’m feeling something. Aren’t you?”

“What?” Ethan murmured, his face pressed against Joe’s neck.

Joe broke apart from him. “A train’s coming, dude,” he said, laughing. “Can’t you feel the vibration?”

Suddenly, Ethan felt the tremors on the tracks, and he could hear the roar of the engine as it approached. He glanced over his shoulder at the length of tracks. In the distance, the locomotive was speeding toward them.

“Ha!” Joe yelled, as the train’s horn threatened to drown him out. “I can see the
Seattle Times
headlines now!
Two High School Homos Squished to Smithereens by Freight Train!
”

He grabbed Ethan’s hand again, and pulled him toward the beach side of the tracks. They staggered through the rocks around the rails, then leapt over a little creek at the bottom of the rock pile. Ethan stepped in the cold water and it splashed him. The train roared past them, and they laughed over all the noise—the engine’s horn and the steel wheels grinding on the rails.

They found an opening in a barbed-wire fence, then made their way toward the beach, weaving through the bushes and trees. All the while, Ethan thought of what Joe had said about them being “two homos.” For the first time in his life, it didn’t hurt when someone referred to him as a “homo.” That was because this handsome, fascinating guy was saying he was one too.

Through a clearing ahead, Ethan could see the beach and Shilshole Bay. His sneaker was soaked with creek water, but he didn’t care. They ran toward the beach together. Joe took the lead, and Ethan followed.

As far as he was concerned, Joe Pagani could take him anywhere.

Gillian sat alone at a window table on the ferry, gazing out at the choppy gray waters of Puget Sound. She was nervous about the impending meeting in Bremerton with Chase Scott. But now there was someone else to worry and wonder about: Jason Hurrell.

Turning away from the window, she glanced at Jason. He was feeding a dollar into one of the vending machines. She noticed a few other women in the area, also checking him out. He seemed too good to be true, and that was just the problem. She still didn’t completely trust Jason Hurrell.

While he’d driven her to the Seattle ferry terminal, Gillian had been the one asking all the personal questions. Jason had answered very candidly—unless of course, he’d been lying through his teeth the entire time, a possibility Gillian couldn’t quite dismiss. He’d grown up in Clinton, Iowa. “I wanted to be a flyer back when I was just a little kid,” he’d told her, eyes on the road. “I guess you could say I never really grew up. My ex-wife, Rachel, would probably back me on that statement. I got this high-paying, but tedious, engineering job in Denver, and we had a beautiful baby, Annie. On weekends, I took flying lessons in Pueblo. When I finally got my pilot’s license, I really took off, flew all over. I went everywhere, except home. I was a lousy husband and a lousy dad. Rachel got custody of Annie. Three years ago, she remarried and moved to Missoula. I relocated there to be closer to Annie. She’s eleven now. She has red hair and braces. On her days with me, I often take Annie and her friends up in my plane. They all seem to think I’m Super-Dad or something. Actually, I’m super-schmuck. It kills me to think Annie’s stepfather is a better dad to her than I am. At best, I’m just like a fun uncle. Give her a few more years to wise up, and I won’t even be that to her.”

Sitting on the passenger side of his rental car, Gillian had found herself staring at Jason—and wondering if he was on the level. Did this nice-guy-baring-his-tortured-soul routine work on other women? Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was so handsome.

He’d offered to take Gillian to her destination in Bremerton. She’d lied and said someone was picking her up at the ferry terminal. “Well, I don’t get many opportunities to take a ferry ride in Montana,” he’d said. “Do you mind if I come along?”

“Suit yourself,” she’d replied, with a shrug.

And so Jason had accompanied her onto the ferry, and sat across from her at this table by the window. He said he’d started reading Vicki’s copy of
Killing Legend
this morning, and he was really enjoying it. He asked her about her books, and what it was like to be a famous author.

Gillian let down her guard and opened up to him a little. Jason seemed fascinated by her tales of publishing highs and woes. He suggested buying them a “faux lunch” at the vending machines, and Gillian agreed.

As Jason got up from the table, Gillian realized she was gazing up at him and smiling. That was when a voice inside her head asked:
What are you doing? What the hell are you thinking?

She’d been fighting an attraction to Jason ever since she’d set eyes on him—and for good reason. He was up to something. She remembered Vicki’s orgasmic vocalizing last night—and the encore this morning.

Gillian watched him make his selection at the vending machine, and she found herself sneering at him again. Why was Vicki’s boyfriend being so nice and attentive to her? What was his angle? The fact that Jason Hurrell suddenly wormed his way into her upstairs neighbor’s life—and her bed—at this particular time was awfully suspicious. Gillian wondered if he was somehow tied in with those hoods looking for Barry. Or was he connected to the copycat killings?

Jason returned to the table with his hands full of snack packs, candy bars, and two cans of soda. He sat down and carefully unloaded the makeshift feast onto the Formica-top table. “I wasn’t sure about the nutritional value of a Kit-Kat bar versus Nestle’s Crunch versus Animal Crackers, so I got all three. I took a chance and bought you a Diet Coke.” He set the can of soda in front of her. “Unless you want this root beer?” He hesitated before opening the other can of soda.

“No, Diet Coke is fine, thanks,” Gillian said, not touching it. “Is that what Vicki drinks?”

Jason shrugged. “I’m not sure, actually.” He opened his root beer.

“Why don’t you know?” she asked, eyes narrowed at him. “Why are you here with me, and not waiting for her at the duplex?”

He let out a wary laugh. “Damn. I thought we were doing so well. Now you seem angry all of a sudden. What’s going on? What did I do wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done everything
right
,” she replied coolly. “Everything to sweep a girl off her feet. You’ve been very attentive toward me. And I’d really be flattered by all your attention—if you weren’t having sex with my upstairs neighbor.”

He sat back and crossed his arms. “So because I happen to be dating Vicki, I can’t be nice to you? Is that what you’re saying?”

“You’re
overly
nice toward me,
overly
solicitous,” Gillian replied. “And it’s fishy. I can’t help wondering what your angle is, Jason. Do you even care about Vicki?”

“Of course I care about her.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you. And I don’t trust you.”

He let out a sigh, and shook his head. “I give up,” he muttered. “I thought we’d just gotten off on the wrong foot last night. I’ve been trying to make it up to you. But I can see now that trying to be nice to you is pretty hopeless. And thankless too.” He got to his feet. “I don’t know what kind of number your husband pulled on you, lady. But he must have done a lot of damage if you’re suspicious of every guy who has the unmitigated gall to show you a little kindness and attention.”