Love you to Death (18 page)

He kept her frozen, taking her out only long enough to use a hair dryer to thaw out whatever part of her was necessary to sew the next bit on. Right now, he was sewing Susan’s left shin into the puzzle.

She fit perfectly, as he knew she would. Only the very best was good enough for Wendy.

“The woman you met at Sally’s. You need to get rid of her.”

“When I’m finished with her.”

“No. Now. Bring her here and I’ll see to her cremation.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t help me anymore,” said Gary.

“That was when I thought it would make you stop. I understand now that you’ll never stop, will you?”

How could he? How could he abandon his quest to give his wife back what he’d taken from her? The accident had been his fault. Her body had been crushed, ruined. They wouldn’t have even been in the car that night if he’d been more careful with her. Her death was
his
fault.

Wendy had been the only woman who could make him feel whole and alive. She was meek, submissive, obedient. She never questioned his needs or diluted his pleasure with demands of limits or “safe words.” She put herself in his hands wholly, without reservation or condition. No other woman would ever be as perfect for him as Wendy was. When she’d died, a part of him had died with her, leaving a gaping, hollow spot inside. Some days, the screams of his guests filled up that void, but only some days.

Nothing had filled it today, and he was left aching and desperate for solace.

That’s why he’d come here, to this walk-in freezer where he kept his beloved. She wasn’t finished yet, but adding Susan’s piece would make her more whole. Make him more whole.

“I’m busy tonight,” he told Lawrence. “I can’t come.”

“You’re going to get caught. You’re not being careful enough.”

Good thing Lawrence didn’t know about Constance. He wouldn’t have liked that at all. He probably thought that Ashley was downstairs alone right now. He had no idea there were others waiting for their turn to help complete Wendy’s new body. Constance was next, but she wouldn’t be the last. Wendy deserved only the best.

And there was still Gloria and the hope that she might be the one.

“I’ve got to go now,” said Gary.

“No, wait. Listen to me. You’ve got to be more careful. I know you won’t stop, but you’ve at least got to choose runaways and prostitutes. No one will look for them.”

Gary had started there, but they’d been unclean, soiled. Imperfect. He needed something more—that spark of creativity that Wendy’d had. It wasn’t easy to find, especially among the dregs of society.

“You’re not worried about the women at all, are you?” Gary found that interesting and turned it over in his head, studying it. Maybe he and Lawrence were more alike than he thought.

“I’m worried about our family name. My business, my reputation. No one is going to put their loved one in my care if they find out my brother is a psychopath.”

“So turn me in. You’ll be a hero.”

“It’s too late for that. It was too late for that the first time I cremated one of your victims.”

Lawrence had done it to cover up the murder. Even then, he’d been more worried about his reputation than the law. Lawrence had put her body in with another and no one had ever known.

It was the first time Lawrence had helped him, but she hadn’t been Gary’s first. Sarah Ann was number seven, and she’d been so sweet—so unlike the foul, used-up hookers he’d found up to that point.

Gary slid his finger over Sarah Ann’s frozen neck, remembering how soft her skin had been when she was alive and warm. She’d tried so hard to make him happy, but in the end, the only thing of value she had to offer was her pain and the slender length of her perfect neck.

“I need to go.” He needed to finish his work before the skin froze up again and became too stiff to stitch.

“Promise me you’ll bring the girl out. I’m cremating another body tonight. Hers can go in at the same time.”

“No. I’m not done with Ashley yet. You’ll have to wait.”

“What do you mean you’re not done with her?”

“I need her.”

“For what?”

Lawrence would never understand Gary’s needs, so he didn’t waste his breath trying to explain it. “Good night.”

“Wait,” said Lawrence, but Gary hung up on him. It was getting late and he needed to finish this and get to bed. He had an early meeting at the bank tomorrow and didn’t want to be late.

T
rent drove them home. Elise was too shaken to drive.

The man in the photo was the same guy Ashley had left Sally’s with Friday night. And yet there was no footage of him coming or going from the bar. Mr. Dyed Chest Hair had definitely tampered with the tapes.

But why?

Trent turned the question over in his mind. Had it been as simple as the bartender claimed and he was only trying to protect his clientele? The only tapes the police found were of the day they got the warrant. Bob had told him that much. Everything else was blank.

It was likely the bartender knew more than he was letting on, but if so, he had a good poker face. Maybe one of the businesses across the street had a security camera that had caught something that would prove the bartender a liar. He’d mention it to Bob in the morning and make sure they were working that angle.

In the meantime, he was taking Elise home. His home. And that was it. He was going to tuck her into his bed, then sleep on the couch.

“I don’t know what to do next,” she said, though it somehow sounded like an admission of guilt.

“You get some rest. Maybe some food. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Do potato chips count?”

“Hardly.”

He pulled out his phone and ordered them a pizza.

“If this was your case, what would you do next?” she asked.

“We’re not going to talk about this tonight. Tomorrow, maybe, but you’ve got to relax.”

“My baby sister has been taken by some guy who was watching her from her backyard. There’s no way to spin that so I can relax.”

Trent let out a long sigh of frustration. “We should go see Bob tomorrow morning and see if he’s learned anything new.”

“What about tonight? What do I do right now?”

“How are you at researching things online?”

“Decent, why?”

“You could look up other recent disappearances, I guess. I’m not sure you’d find anything helpful, but it would keep you busy at the very least, keep your mind occupied. You might stumble onto something useful.”

She gave him a distracted nod and kept staring out the window. “I hope she’s okay.”

“Me, too.”

“I think I’d know if she was dead—that I’d feel it somehow, like a light had gone off inside me. Is that stupid?”

“No. Not at all. I’ve seen it happen before with mothers and children. Why not sisters? You should hold on to that.” It would keep her strong, maybe even keep her out of trouble.

Trent pulled into his garage just as the pizza delivery car pulled in behind him. Elise went inside while he paid the bill. When he went inside, he found she’d made herself at home, going through his cabinets until she found his plates and glasses.

His house was a lot emptier than Ashley’s, making it look bigger, even though it wasn’t. He hadn’t bothered to paint or change the wallpaper since he’d moved in, and the small dining space off the kitchen was still a hideous riot of faded pink and yellow roses with blue ribbons weaving throughout.

He’d never really cared what was on the walls, or what someone might think of the worn carpet. It had never even occurred to him to care until now, when Elise was standing there, surrounded by all that shabbiness.

“My interior decorator quit on me,” he joked as he set the pizza down on the dusty table. At least the chairs matched—a housewarming present from his parents.

She eyed the wallpaper. “Saved you the trouble of having to fire them.”

They dished out pizza and Trent dove in, starved after a day of hard labor.

Elise stared at her food as if she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Distracting her with conversation had worked before, so he tried it again. “Where do you live?”

“I have a room at a friend’s house in Atlanta. Well, more of a closet, really. I store my stuff there—the things I can’t part with, clothes that are out of season or won’t fit in my suitcases, that kind of thing.”

“What about Hong Kong? Do you have a place there?”

“I had a room I rented by the week, but I gave it up when I came here. I wasn’t sure if my assignment would still be there when I got back, and if it is, I figure I can always find another place.”

“So no permanent home?”

She shook her head as she took a bite. “No. I prefer to go where the jobs are. Being mobile has helped me cover some really neat stories. Besides, there are too many places left for me to see.”

“Where will you go next?”

“Russia, I think. Or maybe Africa. There are a lot of stories to be told there. All I have to do is find them. Then find someone who wants to buy them.”

“Sounds rough. Do you like it?”

A real smile curved her mouth, making Trent’s heart kick hard. She had such a nice mouth. He really wanted to know what it felt like against his. Now that she was staying here, maybe he’d…

Whoa. Down, boy. Not gonna happen.
She needed his support and protection, not one more thing to defend herself against.

“I was born for this job,” she said. “I don’t care that the pay is lousy and the hours suck and I never know where I’ll be going next. Most people would hate that, but not me. I get to see the world and nothing else even comes close to that.” Her eyes were shining as she spoke. Her whole face lit up with a contagious kind of excitement.

“I know what you mean. I felt the same way about being a cop. Not everyone gets it, but for some people, it’s in the blood.”

“So, why aren’t you doing it anymore? What made you stop?”

He never should have brought it up. He’d been too swept away by the smile on her face to see the trap before he landed in it. “There was an accident. I… shot my partner.” And a kid.

He couldn’t bring himself to admit that part. Intellectually, he knew he’d had no choice. The kid was armed. High. Deadly. Trent had done what he had to, but it had killed something inside him, too.

“Oh, God, Trent.” She laid her hand on his. “I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged, using it as an excuse to pull away from her touch. He didn’t want her pity. He didn’t deserve it. “It’s ancient history.” For everyone but John and that boy’s family.

“Not if they won’t let you be a cop anymore. Certainly, they know you didn’t do it on purpose. How could they fire you for an accident?”

“I wasn’t fired. I quit.”

“Quit? I thought you said it was in your blood.”

“It is.”

“Then why did you quit?”

“I couldn’t take the chance I’d fuck up again. I couldn’t ask another partner to take that chance either.”

She was quiet for a long time, watching him. Trent felt her gaze but kept his eyes firmly on his plate. No way was he going to look at her and see whatever was going through her head. “I bet you were good,” she said finally.

He shrugged. “Not good enough. Ask John.”

“Your partner? He’s still alive?”

“Yeah, if you want to call it living. I hit his spine. Paralyzed him.” Why was he telling her this? Why couldn’t he keep his damn mouth shut?

“How long ago was this?”

“Two years.” One month and three days.

“How’s he doing now?”

Shame made his face go hot. “We don’t talk much anymore.”

“He’s still angry at you,” she guessed.

“No, that’s the thing. He’s not. He keeps trying to get me to call him, go see him.”

“Why don’t you?”

“What’s there to say? ‘Sorry I fucked up your life, man. Have a nice day.’”

“You should call him. If he’s forgiven you, it might be time to forgive yourself.”

Not in this lifetime. “I’ll pass.”

“Who knows, you might even be able to forgive yourself enough to take that job Bob said you could have anytime you wanted it.”

Trent shoved away from the table, needing to get away from this conversation. It was too dangerous. “I’m going to put clean sheets on the bed.”

He’d almost made a clean break, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to get beyond earshot.

“I never took you for the kind of man to run away.”

Trent came to a halt, shocked at the anger ricocheting through him at her words. His back was to her and his hands were curled into tight fists. “I’m not running,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

Her tone was flippant, matter-of-fact. “Sure you are. You ran from your career, from your partner, and now you’re running from me.”

“Leave it alone, Elise,” he warned. “I’m helping you. Don’t repay me by butting in where you’re not wanted.”