Lethal Affair (29 page)

The family was lawyer happy. With good
cause. Crane knew when to back down. He'd get a court order. Then
they'd see what really lay beneath that bandage.

“
Only if you feel it's
necessary.” He ran off a series of questions that Drew dodged in a
monotone, clearly rehearsed answers in which he flat out denied
stalking Kylie on her own and later with Will Delaney.

Crane knew he was wasting his time and
rose, Hoyle following suit. “Don't leave town. That's an official
directive.”

Drew grimaced. “Officially
noted.”

On their way down in the elevator
Crane asked Hoyle what she thought. “He's a chip off the old block,
sir,” she said, “and he's hiding something under that
bandage.”

“
What do you think of him as
a man? Would you go out with him? I mean, if you'd just met him,
like say, in a bar.”

She thought it through. “Sir, I have
to say that my initial impression would be one of delight. He's a
good looking man. But then so is Scott Peterson,” she added,
referring to the lurid murder case in the U.S. years before in
which a man had killed his pregnant wife, “and look what happened
to Laci.”

* * * *

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

“
Max doesn't know about
Gina and I want it to stay that way.” On his cell with Kylie, Will
paced his office floor. It was Tuesday and he'd had a word with his
artist neighbor, asking her to keep Max away from newspapers or
newscasts.

At work, Kylie juggled a clipboard and
her phone. “Detective Crane told me the law can be as hindering as
it is just. In other words, he's running the red tape involved to
put a tail on Drew and get me some protection.”

“
Is he convinced that
Hammond is the killer?”

“
Drew's their only lead so
they're running with it. Crane strikes me as having pretty good
radar, says he's picked up a vibe from Drew but that he has to
follow the legal process.”

“
Probably needs just cause
or some kind of proof for a judge.”

“
Yeah. Meanwhile I'm jumping
at my own shadow.”

“
Listen Kylie, please have
someone big and mean looking walk you out to the lot and check your
truck before you get in it. Keep your phone fully charged and on
your person at all times. I mean it. This is no joke.”

The depth of his concern warmed her.
“I'll be careful.”

“
Promise? Why don't you come
straight to my house, have dinner with Max and I?”

She'd love nothing more. Yet, “I don't
know. What if Drew follows me to your home?”

“
We're assuming,” said Will.
“I really hope it turns out the killer is someone other than the
father of your child.”

“
Not the best legacy, is
it.”

“
Hammond strikes me as a
pretty resourceful guy. If he wants to know where I live, I doubt
he needs you to show him the way. Come over. Max has been asking
about you. He wiggles his eyebrows and says you could be Taylor
Swift's older sister. Hell, maybe you are.”

That did it. “Well I guess I'd better
roll my star studded ass over there and set you both straight. But
I must warn you, I'm not a pretty picture when I get off
work.”

*

Feeling antsy, Drew
disregarded his father's instructions to stay put in his apartment.
Dear old Dad was cooking up a scheme to tuck him away somewhere, to
get him
help.

Currently he didn't need any. Other
than the restlessness, he felt fine. In command of his thoughts. He
knew exactly what he had to do and why. The cops were bumblers at
best, fishing around for a scapegoat. All they cared about was
plastering closed case stickers on their files. Wouldn't matter who
went to prison for doing away with those women, so long as someone
took the fall.

He still had the gloves from his first
kill. It was sheer folly to keep them; the cops might show up with
a search warrant any minute. He got them out from their hiding spot
and put them on, re-lived those exciting, triumphant moments. As he
sniffed at the still caked on dried blood, his own blood ran
hot.

He was itching to use them on someone
again. It didn't phase him that his mind had now taken a turn into
the general populous in terms of victims. The thrill of it sang
along his nerve endings as the need crept darkly along the
periphery of his soul.

Sighing dramatically, Drew
placed the gloves in a plastic zipper bag and then removed the thin
disposable gloves he'd used to handle them with. The dog bite was
healing, just a nip really, the tooth marks a pale pink against his
white knuckles. The garden gloves were destined for another job,
although less satisfying.
C'est la
vie.

As he left his building he donned a
baseball cap and sunglasses. Top up, he got in his car and took the
short drive across the Johnson Street bridge, following the
waterfront route that led past the Inner Harbor with its famous
landmarks of Empress Hotel and Parliament buildings.

Such a gorgeous day. Sunlight
flickered off ripples of water in the harbor where boats bobbed
lightly against the docks. Tourists wandered the walkways, boarding
double-decker buses and horse drawn carriages. Flowers spelling out
a welcome to the city raised their canary yellow faces to the
sun.

What better day could Drew ask for,
for what he was about to do?

Taking a side street he cruised
through the quiet residential streets of James Bay until he again
reached the waterfront. He drove past the house he was looking for,
one he'd previously located and tucked away in his memory to be
eventually utilized for whatever purpose he saw
necessary.

It was necessary now.

Parking six blocks away he grabbed a
backpack and walked casually back to the house, checking to make
sure he wasn't followed.

The house was spectacular. Set back
from the road, it boasted a side patio that gave unfettered views
of the Olympics across the strait. A character home, it had been
restored preserving its former glory while adding in modern
styling, an eclectic mix that worked if you were a fan of those
home improvement shows. The curb appeal showcased burgeoning flower
and shrub beds, if you liked that sort of thing.

Him? He preferred minimalistic,
anonymous high rises with clean lines and austerity.

He imagined the inside to be one of
those places that invited clutter. Nick-knacks made him cringe,
made him want to crush them beneath his feet. Alas, he wouldn't be
seeing the inside today, because he'd just spotted the absolute
best spot for what he had in mind.

Looking around and ascertaining that
no one was watching, he opened the latch of the gate leading into
the back yard.

*

Rosemary Meesler applied a streak of
cerulean blue to her canvas and stood back, squinting at the
result. Too garish, she decided, and added titanium white to the
blue on her palette.

The boys were playing on the gaming
console, noisily shouting and laughing, music to her ears. It meant
she could work in peace, at least until they got hungry, which
might be soon.

She'd been happy to take Max in while
her neighbor, Will Delaney, was at work. He'd offered to pay her
but really she should pay him for giving her these child-free time
slots in which to allow her creative juices to flow.

The sun was moving westerly now so
she'd have to move her easel accordingly. Glancing out the window
to judge its position, Rosemary spotted movement across the street
at Will's place. A snoop at heart, she peered at the figure she saw
moving quickly through the gate. The fence about five feet high,
she watched as his head and shoulders followed its line to the rear
of the property.

Should she call Will?

The guy appeared at the gate again and
left as quickly as he'd gone in.

“
Mom! Can we have some
macaroni with cheese?” came her son's hopeful request.he incident
across the street was shelved as she sighed and put down her
brushes to be exchanged for cooking utensils.

*

Max looked out the window for the
millionth time and pouted. “When is she getting here? I'm starved!”
He clutched his stomach and put a hand to his forehead. “I'm gonna
faint if I don't eat soon.”

Will came in from the patio where he
was grilling salmon and crossed to the counter to chop salad
fixings. “I heard you had two huge bowls of macaroni for lunch, and
then buckets of ice cream. That's probably why your stomach hurts,
champ.”

Max feigned a Hollywood production of
dying, dramatically falling onto the couch.

Amused, Will went over and handed him
a raw carrot. “I can see you're wasting away. Here, eat
this.”

The squeal of brakes saved him. Max
leaped up and ran to the front door.

“
Wait!” Will stopped him.
“She'll think we're hopelessly infatuated if we open the door
before she knocks on it.”

“
You mean she'll think
you're infa... infa-tat-ed.”

“
Infatuated. It means you're
totally gone on someone. Usually in a good way. I can see I have
some coaching to do when it comes to the female of the
species.”

“
I'm never gonna be
in-fat-u-a-ted. Girls suck.”

“
Then why are you so anxious
to open that door?”

“
Er... I'm
hungry?”

“
Eat your carrot.” Will
slung the door wide just as Kylie's hand was raising to knock.
“Hey! Come in if you dare. Wild child underfoot.”

Having come straight from work as
instructed, Kylie was in need of a shower. A fine layer of silt
covered her skin and her clothes and boots were smeared with
muck.

Will raised his eyebrows. “Tough day
on the job?” Despite the dirt he leaned in and kissed her chastely
on the cheek and then whispered in her ear, “You'd be a pretty
picture even if you were coated with mud. Come to think of it, now
there's an idea.”

“
What, no request for my
autograph? Thought I was a super star.”

“
Not in that get up. Want to
use my bathroom?”

“
Thought you'd never ask.”
She bent to take off her boots. “Hey Max, how's your summer going
so far?”

“
It's cool. Tomorrow Mrs.
Meesler's taking me and Bobby to Witty's Lagoon. She's gonna take
pictures of the beach so's she can paint it.”

“
Ooh, I love that place.
Wish I could tag along.”

Will retreated to the kitchen. “We'll
all go for a picnic some time. Lots of blue herons to see in the
bird sanctuary.”

“
Can we bring back some
driftwood and make something like the last time?” Max asked, eyes
bright at the prospect.

“
Sure. So long as it's not
too heavy. That trail is a twenty minute walk.”

“
Sounds like oodles of fun,
but right now I'm headed for the shower.” Kylie always traveled
with a change of clothes and today was no exception. She grabbed
her bag and entered the master bedroom. Then just stopped and
stared.

The room was all male, the bed massive
with a burgundy upholstered headboard. Bold splashes of color
mingled with neutral gray tones. She wanted to plop down onto the
plump duvet and just lie there, taking in the feeling of being in a
cozy haven.

Instead, she headed into the bathroom
and gaped at the generous claw foot tub and next to it, a glassed
in shower with its multiple massage unit. Chrome and glass gleamed
in the soft afternoon light pouring through an overhead skylight.
Add in the slim TV mounted on the wall and the little fireplace in
the corner and you had a space she could move into and never leave.
The man not only had good taste, but appreciated his creature
comforts as well.

Coming out a short while later, Kylie
was a new woman. Dressed in white shorts, a soft pink t-shirt and
sandals, she'd tied her hair in a knot at the top of her head, but
strands of white gold fell onto her nape and onto her
forehead.

For Will she looked fresh and as sexy
as a summer breeze. He didn't care if Max as watching as he pulled
her in and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

She wanted to sink in.

Max was a solid reminder as to why
not. Her shorts were a denim and spandex mix so they still fit, but
soon her belly would expand beyond any hope of wearing such an
outfit. A child was being created within her. It both fascinated
and scared her.

The food was ready. They sat outside
on the deck and feasted on grilled salmon, herbed roasted yams and
tossed salad. While they ate Max kept up a chatter about his life
on the mainland with his mother, prompted by Kylie's subtle
questions.

“
Sounds like you've got a
pretty ideal life in Vancouver. If you come and live here, will
your hockey team survive without you?”

“
I'm not that good. They
won't miss me.”