Nowhere to Run (30 page)
Pelligree stood beside Auggie’s desk, looking at the spread-out pictures. “You think this same guy shot up Zuma?”
“I think he was after Liv,” Auggie said. “He knows she got the package and he thinks she’s a threat to him.”
“And that’s why he went to Zuma?” Pelligree’s voice was full of doubts. “How did he know about the package?”
Liv said, “I don’t know. I told my brother and father and stepmother about it, and my brother’s caretaker was there when I showed the photos and my birth certificate to Hague. My neighbor, Trask Martin, also saw the contents, and then he was shot . . . and killed.”
“By the same Glock that was used in the Zuma shootings,” Auggie reminded her. “There’s a connection between the two crimes.”
“And a serial murderer . . . ?”
“I don’t know,” Auggie admitted. “But it’s all pieces of the same puzzle.”
“My brother orates at the street-level bar in his building,” Liv added. “He may have inadvertently told Dr. Navarone about the package during one of his—rants. He has followers. . . maybe one of them is Navarone? Or someone who’s close to him?”
“What have you got on Navarone?” D’ Annibal suddenly clipped out to the black detective.
“Not much,” Pelligree answered. “I’ve been workin’ on findin’ the good doctor most of the day, but it looks like he’s gone to ground. Isn’t practicin’ anywhere that I can tell. At least not under Navarone. I have his sister’s cell and address in Seattle. You want me to call, or are you plannin’ a face-to-face?” he asked Auggie.
“Let’s call her.”
Two more detectives entered the room, women. One had dark, curly hair and slanted blue eyes that were focused laser-like on Auggie. The other was also looking at Auggie, but her expression was harder to read. She had dark auburn hair and blue eyes and Liv realized with a jolt that this must be his twin sister.
“Guess I missed the interview,” she said, and Liv picked up her underlying tension.
Auggie dug in his pocket, pulled out keys to the Pilot, then lifted his hand in readiness before lightly tossing them to her. “Thanks.”
“What about the Jeep?” she asked.
“It’s been towed.”
D’ Annibal said, “We’ll get you one from the department. Nine, Pelligree can fill you and Sandler in about this interview. What happened with Jaffe?”
Sandler lifted a hand in good-bye and said, “I’m on my way to take him to the hospital morgue now. Nine’ll tell you.” She left a moment later.
“Are we done for now? I want to get Liv checked out,” Auggie said.
She would have protested again, but the headache that had been hanging on the edges of her brain was turning into a rager. Might as well agree to see a doctor. Beyond that, she didn’t have a plan. Where was she supposed to go? Back to her apartment?
As if reading her mind, the lieutenant said, “Ms. Dugan, we would like you to be available for further questioning. Where will you be staying?”
“With me,” Auggie said. “This killer’s after her. He must have followed her to Halo Valley somehow. I want to keep her safe.”
“Somebody musta talked,” his sister suggested. “Got any idea who?”
“No.” Auggie’s gaze met Liv’s but she let her eyes slide away. She didn’t want to like him so much.
“Always with the damsel in distress,” his sister muttered, earning a glare from him.
“Thank you, Ms. Dugan,” D’Annibal said, straightening and smoothing his tie, effectively ending the interview. With relief, Liv got to her feet, and Auggie stepped toward her, placing a hand on the small of her back, guiding her to an outer hallway.
“We’ll go out the back, pick up a Jeep and head to the hospital.” As he showed her the way, he added in her ear, “The police aren’t so bad. We do want to help you.”
Liv didn’t answer. The Laurelton police had definitely treated her with more respect than the Rock Springs force, but Auggie himself had used her as a pawn.
I listen to my heart as it pounds in my ears. My mind is full of sludge and I can’t think.
She went to Halo Valley! She drove there and her stud followed her!
I saw them. In the parking lot. Standing by the vehicles.
You could smell the sex from where I hid. I could see them in my mind scratching their clothes off each other, hear their howls and screams as they fucked.
I went after them. It was foolish, but I couldn’t stop myself. And there she was following him in his car, obedient and willing, a slave. Changing lanes when he did, speeding up, slowing down, a good little girl.
I rammed her Jeep as hard as I could. Just like it’s going to be later, when we’re on the ground, rutting in the grasses, my cock filling her as my thumbs dig into her neck.
But I didn’t think it through. My brain is full of worms. I lost her. I had to hide the truck and I lost her! But then, but then . . . I did think it through. I knew her next move would be to go to the police. Laurelton. That’s where she would go.
I waited outside the parking lot, away from their cameras, down the street. When they drove by, I almost missed them, but I know HIM now. I recognize HIM.
And now they are at the hospital, at the emergency room.
Did I hurt you, Olivia?
Liv . . . Lllllliiiivvvvv . . . !
I will hurt you more.
Soon.
Chapter 21
Both sides of the duplex were stained dark brown with white trim and there was stacked stone formed into a planter beside each front-door entry. The units were basically back-to-back; Auggie’s renters faced west while Auggie’s porch and front door faced east.
Liv entered with trepidation. She’d scarcely said a word at the hospital and could have told them she didn’t have a concussion; it just hadn’t felt that severe, though her head did hurt. Auggie’s solicitousness irritated her already-frayed nerves, and a part of her wanted to jump up and run as soon as she was pronounced good to go. Still . . . she couldn’t bring herself to break away, and even though she told herself it was because yes, she believed he could keep her safe, she didn’t trust herself around him. Her heart was tender when it came to him, and another part of her wanted to drag him to the bedroom and make love all night long, blocking out everything but the moment.
And maybe she was more shaken up from the accident than she’d allowed to herself. She was riding a roller coaster of emotion, a lot like she’d felt just before she’d ended up at Hathaway House. Overwhelmed. Frightened. Unsure of whom to trust.
She wanted to trust Auggie, but he’d proved himself unworthy of that trust.
What was she going to do?
“So, how do you think he knew you were going to Halo Valley?” Auggie asked as they walked to the front door together. “It wasn’t random luck.”
“He must know we’re investigating him,” she said, as he unlocked the door and swung it open, extending his arm in invitation.
Inside, she realized she was finally seeing the real August Rafferty. Though the living room was picked up, there was electronic paraphernalia shoved up against the base of a big-screen TV and overflowing onto the carpet. A recliner took center stage, its side table covered with remotes. Beyond the living room was a glimpse into a cream-colored kitchen with a door to the side yard. She could see a wooden deck covered with a grouping of lawn furniture and then grass beyond that had taken a beating from the sun.
“You think he found your whereabouts through your brother?” Auggie asked as Liv followed him through the living room into the kitchen. There was a small breakfast bar with two stools that looked into the kitchen, dividing it from a den/family room area that held a desk and two well-loved occasional chairs, an office of sorts.
Liv sat down at the breakfast bar and leaned her arms across it for support.
“I don’t know,” she said tiredly.
“You want to lie down?”
“Don’t . . . be nice to me,” she said with an edge.
“Liv . . .”
“My name’s Olivia. Don’t call me Liv. Or Livvie. Especially Livvie. Just don’t call me anything.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning against the counter, regarding her with a caring expression that filled her with torment.
She’d fallen in love with him. That’s what this was, this sickness that invaded every cell. She’d never been in love before but she had no doubt that’s what this was. Lovesick. She understood it perfectly.
“What?” he asked, responding to whatever emotions he saw crossing her face.
She’d had a breakdown. That’s what had sent her to Hathaway House when she was a teenager. Her life had been careening out of control from emotions long buried, emotions that had affected her sleep, her appetite, her every waking moment. She was sent to Hathaway House as a last resort, and it had helped to meet with Dr. Yancy and learn her triggers. She’d learned how debilitating her own emotions could be, and she’d become careful to keep herself under control. But these feelings for Auggie . . . Detective August Rafferty . . . were huge. She felt almost swallowed up by them, and she wouldn’t be able to hide her love for him much longer.
“Are you going to call Navarone’s sister?” she asked now, keeping her gaze centered away from his.
“I’m sorry about the deception,” he began again. “You weren’t willing to go to the police—”
“I know why you did it,” she cut him off, her voice brittle. “We don’t have to cover that again. I just want to get Navarone.”
“I have feelings for you,” he said, unwilling to give it up.
“I can almost remember Navarone, from Hathaway House. Enough, anyway. He made me uncomfortable and I can’t really say why. He never did anything to me. I just thought he was—not being honest.”
“Liv, I—”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”
Silence fell between them. He closed his eyes as if in pain, then inhaled, opened them again, and said in a voice nearly devoid of emotion, “I’ll phone Angela Navarone now.”
She listened while he placed the call, exhaustion sweeping over her. She needed to lie down. Beyond the hard lump at her hairline, she also now felt a number of growing bruises, especially around her chest, which had rammed into the steering wheel as well.
Getting to her feet, she didn’t know where to go. Upstairs? To one of the bedrooms. That felt too intimate. Instead she chose the living-room recliner and settled herself into it with a sigh of capitulation. She could do nothing about Auggie and her feelings for him, at least not now.
His conversation wasn’t going well, by the sounds of it. He kept trying to attack the subject of Angela Navarone’s brother from different sides, but she didn’t seem to be offering up much. Eventually, she must have hung up because he clicked off his cell and came into the living room, looking down on her, his expression dark.
“She says she doesn’t know where he is. Maybe she doesn’t. But there was something she was holding back.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Make love to you and go see her tomorrow.”
Liv tightened her jaw and when he perched on the arm of her chair, she refused to meet his gaze.
“What do you want to do?” he asked her.
“Sleep for a thousand years.”
“How about twelve hours? Are you hungry? I could get us something to eat—”
“Don’t go.” The words just popped out before she could stop them. His reaction was to gently brush back her hair with his fingers and place a warm, lingering kiss on her forehead.
She tried not to react but it was impossible. Turning her gaze up to his, she saw a blue light of desire in his eyes and suspected her own eyes reflected the same.
“God, Liv . . . Olivia . . . what the . . .” He pulled her out of the chair, grabbing her arms and bringing her to her feet. Whatever he’d planned to say was lost beneath his mouth pressing down on hers. She clung to him for support, then from desire.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would be stronger.
She wrapped her hand around his neck, strengthened the kiss until they were straining against each other and sinking to the floor as one.
They left for Seattle at daybreak, stopping at a breakfast spot in Kalama, Washington, that promised “the best waffles you will ever eat,” which neither of them ordered. Liv managed toast, coffee and one soft-boiled egg. Auggie dug into bacon, eggs and hash browns.
“You need to keep your strength up,” he said, pointing at her with a piece of bacon.
They’d taken the department-issued Jeep, but climbing inside it reminded Liv that very, very soon she was going to have to get her own car, switch to a new apartment—there was no way she could stay there after Trask’s death—and start another life.
But not today.
“This is more than enough,” Liv told him, gesturing to her meal.
“If you’re six years old, maybe.”
Auggie had kept a close eye on the rearview mirror, just in case someone had somehow learned of their plans, though he didn’t see how that could be. He hadn’t told anyone in the department what they were doing. He’d just related to Pelligree that he’d made contact and was following up, so that he didn’t double up the work. Liv had asked him if they expected him to come in, but he’d said that he would let D’Annibal know later.
It didn’t appear that anyone was following them. No suspicious vehicles were loitering around the restaurant and none had taken the off-ramp after them for a good ten minutes; Auggie had stopped and counted.
Liv was specifically shoving thoughts of last night’s lovemaking to one side of her brain. If her mind touched on moments with him, her attention shattered and though she would love to relive what they’d shared, she knew it was a lie and would only be a sweet torture. She had to let it go. Especially now, when her attention needed to be on the matter at hand.
The department Jeep was equipped with GPS and they found Angela Navarone’s apartment on the south side of Seattle fairly quickly. She wasn’t home. Undaunted, Auggie checked in with the department to see where she worked, which turned out to be Southcenter Mall at an upscale boutique that specialized in women’s clothing. As they walked in, a dark-haired woman in her fifties was showing a younger woman a leather handbag by Michael Kors. There didn’t appear to be anyone else around at the moment so it was a good guess the saleslady was Angela Navarone.
Auggie waited until their transaction was finished; the younger woman plopped down payment with a credit card, then grabbed her package and headed out. Liv and Auggie moved to the register as one and the woman turned her attention to Auggie, the fish out of water in this scenario.
“Ms. Navarone? I’m Detective Rafferty. I spoke to you on the phone yesterday.”
She went utterly still, then turned her dark gaze to Liv, her eyes sliding to the backpack Liv had slung over her arm. Inside was the package Liv had gotten from her mother, though Auggie had removed her gun and put it in a drawer in the kitchen before they’d taken off.
“I told you I don’t know where my brother is,” Angela said, turning her attention back to Auggie. “I’m working.”
“Maybe we can talk on your break,” Auggie said easily.
She lowered her eyes, obviously thinking hard, then stole a glance at the slim silver watch on her left forearm. “Julia comes on at eleven. I suppose I could take a break then.”
“Almost that now,” Auggie said. “We’ll be outside.”
They walked out to a bench in the mall.
“What if she’s telling the truth, and she doesn’t know where he is?” Liv asked.
Auggie was already punching a number into his cell phone. “I’ll check in with Weasel.”
He had to leave a message with Pelligree, then he phoned D’Annibal and talked to the lieutenant for a bit. A scowl crossed his features and after he hung up, he swore under his breath.
“What?” Liv asked, her heart clutching a bit.
“My sister. She’s . . . not happy with me.”
“Because you took her car?” Auggie had given Liv the recap of how he’d wrangled his sister’s Pilot from her.
“More because I took her investigation. Not that she’s not wrapped up in something else, but she hasn’t liked the way I’ve handled things.” He shot Liv a smile that sent a thrill through her veins. Dangerous, dangerous stuff.
“Why is she called Nine?”
“Ninth month. When she was born. That’s why she’s September.”
Liv stared at him. “She was born in September? Aren’t you twins? I thought you were named August because . . .” She trailed off in confusion.
“We are twins, born on each side of midnight, August 31. It’s a crazy, crazy thing.”
“I know crazy,” she said, and he smiled and pressed a kiss into her hair, which elevated her pulse.
“My parents just happened to like naming their children after months. My older brother and sisters were named March, May and July. Of course, my parents realized they were going to have to break that tradition when they found out they were having twins, but nope. Guess again. According to my mother, we could have both been born in August, but my father . . . has a way of getting what he wants, so they delayed the process just long enough for my sister to be born in September.”
“What if you’d been born last, your sister first?”
“My guess is, my name would be September. There’s no logic to it.”
“Are you close with your family?”
“I’m close with my twin,” was his careful answer. “At least most of the time.”
Angela Navarone stepped from the boutique and spied them sitting on the bench. Auggie got up and offered her a seat. She wanted to refuse, but after a moment she sank onto the bench gratefully, taking off one shoe and massaging her foot. “I knew I was going to regret wearing these today. The heel’s too high to work in.”
Liv wasn’t much of a fashion maven, but after seeing the purse, she made a stab at it. “Are those Michael Kors?”
“Ferragamos.” She wiggled the toes on her free foot and sighed. “Okay, Detective, why are you looking for my brother? I’m not on good terms with him.” She arched a brow at Liv. “And how do you fit in?”
I think your brother’s a serial murderer who’s been stalking me.
Liv shot Auggie a look, wondering how she should respond. He opened his mouth to answer for her, but she decided to take things into her own hands. “My name’s Olivia Dugan. I think your brother was a visiting doctor at Hathaway House when I was there in my teens.”
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