MULTIPLE MOTIVES (The Kate Huntington mystery series Book 1) (35 page)

Rose had been standing by, quietly watching. Now she stepped forward. “You’re closing your eyes and flinching at the last minute, and then your hands jerk upward.”

Kate tried several more times, but was still hitting well above the target.

“Mac, you got any tin cans in your truck?” Rose asked.

He snorted. “Yeah, but she’s gonna be shootin’ at a person, not a can of chili.”

“I think that’s the problem. So let’s start her on cans. When she can actually shoot straight, then we get her used to human targets.”

“Waste of time,” Mac said.

But Kate nodded. “I think Rose is onto something. Get the cans, Mac.”

Grumbling, he went to get the cans.

Sure enough, over the next hour, Kate’s aim improved until she was hitting the cans three times out of four. Then Rose drew a tin can on one of the human outline targets, in the middle of the torso.

“Just focus on the can,” she said.

“Just focus on the can,” Mac mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

Kate blew. She whirled around toward him, remembering at the last second to point the gun at the ground. “Mac, cut it out! We’re all tense enough without you sniping at Rose. If you can’t act like an adult around her, we’ll send you back to your restaurant!”

Mac glared at her, then stomped off toward his truck.

Kate was debating whether to follow him–to apologize or keep yelling, she wasn’t sure which–when Rose quietly said, “Ignore him. If you try to talk to him right now, you’re just gonna get male ego talking back.”

Kate nodded, and focused on the drawing of the can on the target.

And hit it dead center. Despite her aversion to the whole concept of guns, a bubble of excitement rose in her chest. Hot damn, she was finally getting the hang of this.

She steadied her hands and squeezed the trigger. Dead center again. The third shot was slightly above the can, but still in the middle of the chest.

“Alright! You go, girl,” Rose said. “Any one of those shots would stop somebody, or at least slow them down long enough to get off another shot. Now we’re gonna practice that.”

Kate practiced for another half hour, shooting two to three shots in rapid succession, until they were all in or near the can. She was feeling rather pleased with herself.

Rose drew on another target–a big round belly, and a tin can in the chest area, just above the belly.

Kate stared at it, frozen. Her vision blurred. For a moment, she thought she might faint.

Rose had stepped well back. Her expression grim, she nodded.

Kate lifted the pistol in shaking hands, then let it drop again. “My arms are too tired to do this anymore.”

Mac had moved up behind them again. He shot Rose a look that Kate couldn’t quite interpret.

Rose nodded slightly. “Okay, but you might want to try at least a few times. Otherwise, we’ll have to come back tomorrow afternoon. Just focus on the can.”

Kate grimaced. She aimed and pulled the trigger. The gun jerked up again.

Mac’s voice came from behind her, unusually gentle. “Kate, look at the can and tell yourself, ‘It’s only a tin can.’”

After several more tries, she was able to shoot the picture of the can five times in a row fairly accurately.

Rose drew on another target. Big belly, no can this time. “Now pretend there’s a picture of a tin can on her chest.”

Kate steeled herself and pulled the trigger. It went a bit high, hitting the target’s head.

“Middle of the chest, Kate,” Mac said in the same strangely gentle voice.

They wouldn’t let her stop until she’d put six holes in a row in the middle of the target’s chest.

~~~~~~~~

Wednesday, as Kate dressed for work, she tried to calm her nerves by reviewing the plan for baiting the trap. Pauline had willingly agreed to be part of the adventure. She would tell Cheryl that Kate was running a little behind schedule. Then, with the client listening, she’d fake the call to a friend to complain about the withdrawal of police protection. Kate was praying that Sally wouldn’t come into the waiting area during this little charade.

She had far more confidence in Pauline’s acting ability than she did in her own. Hopefully, she’d be able to get her scene over with at the beginning of the session, by dropping a comment about her need to work late into the casual, how-have-you-been chit chat as she ushered Cheryl into the office. With that behind her, she could then shift into therapist mode and get through the rest of the session.

Kate’s first prayer was answered–Pauline’s scene went off without a hitch and without Sally’s knowledge–but the second prayer was not granted. When Kate stepped into the waiting area at five minutes after eleven, it was obvious that the personality seething in Cheryl’s body was not in the mood for chit chat. Kate braced herself and led the way into her office.

She’d no sooner closed the office door than ‘Cheryl’ lit into her. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. First you cancel,
twice,
and now you keep us waiting. Well, you better not try to cut us short ’cause we’re gettin’ our time!”

Kate knew better than to offer the obvious defense, that she couldn’t control being out sick. Such a defense when a client was angry about perceived abandonment just kept the confrontation going. Hard as it was, you had to swallow your pride, stay calm and try to get back into sync with the client.

“I understand that you’re angry. I’d be upset too if I needed to talk to my therapist and couldn’t get in to see–”

“What makes you think we needed you, bitch,” the client interrupted in a deep snarl that sent a cold shiver down Kate’s spine.

She struggled to keep her voice calm. “Okay, why did you
want
to see me? What’s been happening?”

Cheryl sat back in her chair and her face subtly shifted. “I’m sorry, my mind drifted for a minute. What were we talking about?”

Kate breathed out a quiet sigh. “I was wondering how things are going for you? It’s been awhile since we’ve been able to meet.”

The young woman began filling her in on the events in her life over the last couple weeks. Kate almost fell off her chair when Cheryl started venting about visiting her great aunt, who had berated her for not coming around more often.

Kate quickly schooled her face into a neutral expression.

Did the kidnapping alter use the senile aunt’s basement as a prison without the host alter’s awareness?

“And to think I spent some of my hard-earned money to buy her groceries,” Cheryl wound down.

Kate commiserated and was finally offered the opportunity she needed as the session ended. Cheryl wished her a good afternoon off.

She grimaced. “Not going to be much time off this week, I’m afraid. I’m so backed up with paperwork, I’m going to be here this afternoon and late tomorrow, and probably Friday evening as well.” She could only hope that the possible perp alter was listening in.

Cheryl sympathized and said her farewells. Once she’d left, Kate collapsed into her chair in relief. She definitely was not meant for the stage. Her hand was shaking as she picked up her pen to jot some notes in the case file.

After trying to concentrate on paperwork for a few hours, she decided she’d stayed long enough on her first day back from supposedly being sick.

The others were using two-way radios provided by Mac, but Kate had decided against carrying one. She was afraid it would squawk at the wrong moment, when the perp was in earshot. Instead, she was relying on cell phone contact.

She called Rose and told her she was leaving.

 ~~~~~~~~

Rose spread the word to the others. A few minutes later, Skip radioed that Kate was safely in her car and headed home.

According to plan, Rose donned a big hat and sunglasses and went out the front.

Lou, who’d been watching the building from Ed’s Saturn, did a credible impersonation of a dutiful husband waiting for his wife. He got out and opened the passenger door for her.

She managed to hide her surprise when he landed a peck on her cheek.

Phase one of Let’s Trap a Killer had been completed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Kate wasn’t surprised that she had trouble sleeping that night. She kept going over and over the plan in her head. She was finally drifting off when a new thought yanked her back from the edge of sleep.

Shooting at paper silhouettes of pregnant women was one thing. Shooting a real pregnant woman was another. Could she risk an innocent child to save herself? She was fairly sure she could not, even if she was being attacked by that unborn child’s mother.

And the person she knew as Cheryl–a good woman who was trying to create a new life for herself and her child–that person would be just as dead as the murderous alter, if Kate or the others had to shoot to stop her.

“Oh, Eddie,” she whispered into the darkness. “What am I going to do?” But this time there was no answering baritone. Either her conversations with her dead husband had truly been products of her grieving imagination, or he had no answer either.

Tears burned her eyes. A jumble of feelings welled up inside her chest, demanding release. She rolled over onto her stomach, buried her face in her pillow and let them escape.

A couple minutes into a good cry, she became aware of a subtle sensation, a fluttering in her stomach. She lay still. There it was again. Not the same as the anxiety that had been twisting in her gut a little while ago.

She felt it yet again. The slightest ripple of movement in her abdomen, made by a tiny fetus pressed against the mattress.

A new emotion welled up in her.

She had her answer. She couldn’t kill to save herself, but to save her
own
baby? Yes, she could kill to protect this precious living piece of Eddie that was now quite real to her.

“I can do it for my baby,” she whispered as she rolled over onto her back.

Our baby, love,
came the soft baritone in her head.

~~~~~~~~

At breakfast Thursday morning, Rob informed his wife that he was going into the office. She looked at him through narrowed eyes.

He covered her hand with his own on the kitchen table. “Hon, I’m not trying to set myself up as a target. I’m just feeling restless and I’m sure the paperwork on my desk has not miraculously disappeared. Besides my police escorts around the building will discourage Cheryl from trying anything during the day. We want her to strike after hours, when there are fewer people around. Less risk of someone getting caught in the crossfire.”

Liz was still glaring at him. He added, “And the police coming and going with me confirms that they’ve been switched off of Kate.”

Liz partially relented. “Half a day.”

“We’ll see how things go.”

Officer Young drove him to the office, where Fran greeted him with tears and a big hug. Within minutes, his partners and the entire staff were crowding around him to express their relief and welcome him back.

Once the others had dispersed, Rob waved Fran into his office. He gingerly lowered his sore body into his desk chair. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course, boss.”

He wasn’t so sure she’d be agreeable when she heard what it was.

“Once John and Bill have left for their court cases this afternoon, I want you to go around and tell everyone they are to go home at five sharp, no matter what they’re working on.”

Fran gave him a narrow-eyed look disturbingly reminiscent of his wife’s.

“I can’t explain now but it’s important. Life and death important.”

She crossed her arms. “You’re not staying after five, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” He honestly didn’t think he’d make it that long.

Fran finally agreed to spread the word for him.

He spent the morning valiantly attacking the mountain of documents on his desk. By eleven, he was wishing humankind had never discovered how to mash wood pulp into paper. But if he concentrated hard enough on the paperwork he could ignore his sore thumb and feet. And the half-healed scratches on his back and shoulder that had now reached the itchy stage. The scabs caught on his shirt every time he moved.

By lunchtime, he had to admit his body was giving out on him. Fran brought him a sandwich from the deli. When she got a good look at his face, she said, “Boss, you’ve got to go home.” He offered a feeble protest but she went right for the ultimate weapon. “Don’t make me call your wife.”

All he could do was pray that the police presence for at least half a day had discouraged Cheryl from striking until after hours.

By one-thirty, he was tucked into bed with a pain pill and a promise from Liz that she would wake him at five, so they could wait and worry together.

~~~~~~~~

At five, everyone was in place. Not wanting Trudow’s cruiser in the lot, Rose had convinced him to guard Kate’s house, to discourage the delivery of any more bombs. She and Mac were inside the building and the bodyguards were hidden strategically around the outside, positioned so that, between the three of them, they could see all the entrances.

Liz had compiled a packet for each of them, with the physical descriptions, and where available, photos of their suspects, including those still on the possibilities list. If the bodyguards saw any of them entering the building, they were to call Kate’s cell phone.

Then she would turn out the light, lock her office door and stand back against the wall, gun ready should the killer break down her door before the others could close in. Once Kate had been warned, the radios would be employed to alert everyone else and they would close the net.

Mac had wanted Kate to keep her door locked the whole time, but she felt that made her more vulnerable. If she couldn’t see or hear what was going on in the outer office, she could be taken by surprise should someone slip past her protectors. The argument had been settled when Rob had agreed with her. The flimsy lock could easily be broken and her attacker would be inside her office before she could react. The outer door of the center would be locked, but its glass window made it a poor barrier as well.

At six o’clock, the rent-a-cop security guard made the rounds of the building’s entrances, setting the locks so the doors could be opened only from the inside. A few minutes later, he came out the back door and left. Mac then went around and discreetly unlocked the doors again. There was a risk the easy access would make the perp suspicious, but the bodyguards needed to be able to get into the building quickly.