The Suicide Club (7 page)

“What happened?” he demanded.

Without any hesitation, she told him what she believed. “Somebody put a rattlesnake in my clothes hamper.”

“Somebody?”

She’d already been through this with the neighbors and the deputy. As convenient as it might be to accept the theory that the snake had enclosed itself in that basket, the explanation didn’t fly. And she was tired of trying to convince people who should know better why it wouldn’t.

“Somebody,”
she repeated. “They came into my house while I was at PTA and dumped a snake where they knew I’d find it.”

“Any signs of forced entry?”

“No, but I found a window in the study that wasn’t locked. They may have used that.”

“So how could they be sure you’d open the hamper?”

“Chances were good I was going to undress tonight.”

“You always put your clothes in the hamper.”

“Of course.”

There was a visible relaxation of his tension. “Most people don’t, you know.”

“Don’t put their dirty clothes in the laundry?”

“The snake might have died of old age at my place.”

“Anybody who knows me—”

“Knew full well you’d open that hamper tonight.”

She nodded and then realized she’d made his point.

“You want to show me?”

“The hamper?”

“Eventually. The window first.”

“All right.”

She moved past him, leading the way toward the back of the house. When she’d bought the place, she’d turned one of the two generous-size bedrooms into an office, which was where she’d discovered the unlocked window. It was one of the few that hadn’t been painted shut.

When she’d worked in there last spring, she had opened the window and turned on the ceiling fan, allowing it to pull in the scent of honeysuckle along with the cooler night air. It had been too hot and humid to do that this summer, of course, and although she found it hard to believe the window had been unlocked for months, she couldn’t deny the possibility.

“In here.”

Jace stood in the doorway of the room she’d indicated, a hand on either side of the frame. “They dust for prints?”

“I didn’t find this was unlocked until after they’d left.”

He walked across the room, looking intently at the carpet, which, chosen for its tight weave and durability, didn’t show footprints. Then he leaned forward, making an inspection of the sill. “I’ll get someone out here.”

“What for?”

“To dust for prints.”

“Does it have to be tonight?”

He turned, eyes examining her face. “Were you asleep?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She laughed. “Call it residual snake phobia.”

“You don’t like them.”

“No better and no less than the average person.”

“Yeah? They give me the creeps.”

His honesty surprised her. Most men she knew, even if they felt that way, would have been reluctant to admit it.

“He strike at you?”

She nodded, crossing her arms over her body as she remembered the near miss.

“So how come he didn’t hit you?”

“I don’t know. I heard him. But first…”

“What?” he asked when she hesitated.

“I remembered something my grandmother told me when I was a little girl.”

“Your
grandmother?
”

“We used to pick blackberries every summer when we went to visit her. Snakes love to hide in the vines. They stink—like goats, my grandmother told us—and that if we ever smelled that, we should run.”

“Goats?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what goats smell like. This was…rank. Unpleasant. I smelled it when I leaned over the hamper. Actually, I smelled it when I came into the bathroom, but I didn’t know what it was. Not until I heard the rattle. By that time…” She shivered, the image of that lethal, arrow-shaped head shooting out of the basket in her mind again. “In the middle of lifting the top off the basket, I just suddenly knew what was inside. I jumped back and let go of the lid. It fell on the snake. I don’t know whether that distracted him or whether he wasn’t long enough to get to me. And I didn’t stop to figure it out.”

“At least he warned you.”

“I wondered if that was deliberate.”

“On the part of the snake?” Again, there was that hint of amusement in his voice.

She found she didn’t mind it, even if it was at her expense. “On the part of whoever put it there.”

“You think…they didn’t intend for you to get bitten.”

“Wishful thinking?”

“Maybe. If this was a prank, it was a dangerous one. And they went to a lot of trouble to carry it off.”

“I don’t think it was a prank.”

“Yeah? Neither do I. For what it’s worth.”

“My kids knew we had dinner together.”

“So?”

“It was discussed in my senior English class yesterday.”

“And you think this is related.”

“Don’t you?”

“You first.”

“Maybe I’m too prone to look for symbolism, but…” She took a breath, steeling herself to say it. “I
do
believe it’s related. Somebody thinks I’m helping you.”

“So they put a snake in your house.”

“Snake in the grass,” she said softly.

“What?”

“They’re saying I’m a snake for helping you.”

“Sorry. A little
too
much symbolism for me.”

“Even the kind of snake they used, notorious for warning about its intentions to harm.”

“So…you think this was a warning?”

“Don’t you?”

He shrugged, his eyes tracking back to the window that had probably given them access to her home. Her sanctuary.

“If it
isn’t
a warning,” she prodded, “what is it?”

“It’s exactly what I told you before.”

“I don’t understand?”

“A new way to get that rush. You know. The one that, before we stopped them, they used to get from setting fires.”

“
N
o fingerprints on the window or the basket. Other than yours.” Jace flipped the page, eyes scanning the report he’d received shortly before Lindsey arrived at his office this afternoon. She’d given him a key to her house last night so that he could get a crew out there this morning. “And no footprints in the ground under it.”

It was exactly what he’d expected. Actually it was almost satisfying, although he didn’t think Lindsey Sloan was going to see it that way.

“So what you’re saying is you have nothing.”

“There’s also no sign of forced entry, and this time they checked every inch of the place. So…”

“
So?
I don’t understand.”

“They were careful to leave no evidence.”

“You think I’m right.” She sounded surprised.

“I think you might be. And I owe you an apology for getting you involved.”

“If you
were
right, I was already involved.”

“Because they’re your students?”

“As hard as it is for me to believe. And even accepting that…” She stopped, shaking her head.

“It’s harder to believe that they’d invade your home and threaten your life.”

And what had occurred was nothing less, Jace thought. This had not been the action of some unthinking kid. It had been a well-planned attack, vicious and cold-blooded.

Although snake bites were rarely fatal when treatment was available, they were extremely painful and carried a danger of infection and tissue loss. If Lindsey’s students were as smart as they were represented to be, they would know that. Or they would have taken the trouble to find it out.

They hadn’t meant to kill her. If they had, they would have chosen some other method. So she was probably also right about the symbolism.

“It’s hard to explain the connection that exists between you and students you’ve taught for a couple of years,” she said. “You’ve mentored them. Disciplined them. Encouraged them. Loved them.”

“Loved them?” It sounded maudlin and emotional, and he hadn’t pegged her as either. Unless…

She laughed. “Not all of them. But certainly some.”

“That ever go beyond the classroom?”

“I’m sorry?”

She sounded at a loss about what he meant, but everybody had seen those stories on the news. Maybe there was something more to this than the fact that he’d tried to make her an ally.

Looking for a Get Out of Jail Free card, Nolan?

Maybe he was. Although he was usually able to put mistakes out of his head as being part of the process, he’d been feeling guilty since last night. This morning, he amended.

He didn’t relish the thought that there might have been something going on between her and a student, but it was an avenue he needed to explore. Not only because of what she’d just said, but because the attack had taken place at her home rather than at school or somewhere else. That made it personal.

“I’m talking about your relationship with your students. Has that ever gotten a little
more
than professional with any one of them?” He watched the realization of what he meant form in her eyes. Just before they grew cold.

“When I said that I loved them, lieutenant, I mean like a parent. I’ve never had an affair with a student, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Her indignation struck him as genuine. After more than fifteen years in this business, his radar was well-honed for cheats and liars. He didn’t believe Lindsey Sloan was either.

Just some innocent who got caught in your drive to explore every angle of those fires.

“It’s my job to ask the hard questions,” he said. “Consider that one asked and answered. And I guess I owe you another apology.”

“Right now I’m more concerned with where we go from here.”

“For one thing we’ll add your address to the list of regular patrols the deputies are making. Ever think about installing a security system?”

“I’ve never
had
to think about it. Not here.”

He let her words rest between them without a response.

After a moment, she turned her head, looking at the door to his office. “I guess all that’s changed now, hasn’t it?”

“It changed with the first fire. Randolph isn’t immune to the kinds of things that happen in other places. Those burned churches were proof of that.”

“Do you still think they’ll do something else?” she asked, meeting his eyes again.

“To
you?
I’m going to do everything in my power to see they don’t. If this was a reaction to your being seen with me, then they may well be satisfied with their warning. You might indicate somehow that you got the message.”

“Indicate that to the
kids?
”

“You’re the one who said people talk. Let it be known that you’re not going to talk to the police anymore.”

“You think that will convince them to leave me alone?”

“That and a patrol of your neighborhood.”

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes.”

“How will you know when that is?”

“When I know who they are.”

Jace had set up the patrol he’d promised, but despite that, he wasn’t comfortable with the situation. When Lindsey’s place was being searched, he had made sure there were no more unlocked windows and that the dead bolts were strong. All of which meant less than nothing if someone was determined to get in.

Which was why he was sitting in his car on the street behind her house. He was convinced that whoever had put the snake in Lindsey’s hamper had gotten in through that study window at the back. The front of the place was too exposed. You’d have to be an idiot to attempt a break-in there. And no matter what else he thought about the people involved in this, they were far from idiots.

He reached for the thermos he’d brought, pouring the last of the coffee into the plastic top. It was almost two. If these kids had parents who enforced curfews as he suspected, they wouldn’t be out at this time of night. He should go back to his apartment. Get some sleep like a human being for a change. Lack of rest wasn’t going to help him solve this case.

The kids had delivered their message. They were probably home in their beds, in that near-comatose state only teenage boys seemed able to achieve. And if he were smart—

He didn’t finish the thought. The same vague restlessness that had driven him to undertake this vigil wouldn’t let him abandon it. Call it cop’s intuition. Call it whatever the hell you wanted, something he needed to know about was going on.

He shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable. The change of position didn’t relieve the ache in his spine. That was better at some times than others, but obviously this wasn’t going to be one of them.

As he brought his cup up to his mouth, his gaze lifted to scan the back of Lindsey’s house. Before the rim made contact with his lips, he straightened, his eyes narrowing as he focused on a faint light that moved waveringly behind Lindsey’s curtained windows.

He watched for perhaps five more seconds, verifying his initial impression, before he opened his door. He threw the coffee on the street and then pitched the plastic cup back onto the passenger’s seat.

By the time he was standing, he’d drawn his weapon. He eased his door closed, not bothering to fully shut or lock it. And then, staying low and taking advantage of the abundant cover the heavily planted yards provided, he skirted between the houses of Lindsey’s neighbors and slipped into her backyard.

The wavering light he’d seen from his car had disappeared. Maybe Lindsey had been watching television in the dark again. Maybe she was having trouble sleeping, too. If so, she probably wouldn’t mind a little company.

Providing she didn’t already have some.

After hours spent tossing and turning, Lindsey had finally decided she’d be better off up doing something productive. She certainly had enough that needed doing.

She couldn’t bring herself to go into the office to work. Although she knew the window was now locked, there was something about sitting in that room that kept her mind off whatever she was trying to concentrate on.

She picked her tote up off the hall table where she’d put it in preparation for the morning. Its familiar weight didn’t ease the feeling that something in her world was very wrong.

She sat down on the couch, digging through the canvas bag for her American Lit anthology. Maybe trying to come up with enough essay questions for Monday’s tests and their makeups would carry her through to dawn. If it didn’t…

She took a breath, lifting her eyes from the book to fight an unexpected burn of tears. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry since she’d found the snake. She’d had a feeling that once she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

As she blinked away the unwanted moisture, a shadow moved between the light from the streetlamp and her front windows. A chill began in the middle of her chest and then dropped like a rock into her stomach. Hardly daring to breathe, she laid the anthology down carefully on the coffee table and eased up off the couch, intending to call the police.

As she started toward the foyer, she realized that her cell was closer since, like her bag, she’d laid her purse on the hall table in preparation for tomorrow. She tiptoed across the room, bare feet making no sound. She slipped her phone out and flipped open the case. Her finger hovered for a few seconds over the nine before she lowered the cell.

She was calling the cops because she’d seen a shadow?

Something that could have been nothing more than a play of light? Or a tree moving in the wind? A bird or bat flying directly in front of the streetlamp?

All she needed right now was to be sending up false alarms for help. That would make the police less likely to respond quickly in case of a real emergency.

Phone in hand, she tiptoed over to the front door and put her eye against the peephole. A human shape was silhouetted against the glow from the street.

She reached out and located the switch for the porch fixture. If she turned it on, she knew whoever was out there would run—a result she wasn’t exactly opposed to. If she could get a glimpse of him before he did, all the better. Even size and build would give her something to work with. Decision made, she pushed the switch, flooding the porch with light.

Her recognition was instantaneous; her relief so great that she didn’t even stop to wonder what Jace was doing outside her door in the middle of the night. Fingers trembling from the flood of adrenaline, she undid the chain and then the other locks, throwing open the door.

“You okay?”

She nodded automatically, although she didn’t understand the question. Or why his gun was in his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought I saw a flashlight moving around inside.”

“A flashlight?”

“Something dim. Maybe in the back hall.”

Where her office, the bedroom and the bath were located. The hall she’d walked down not five minutes ago. “When?”

Jace shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe…four or five minutes ago.”

“I was back there—”

Jace didn’t give her time to finish. He brushed by her, gun still drawn, and headed toward the back of the house. Not sure what she was supposed to do, Lindsey followed.

She stood at the end of the hallway and watched as he turned on lights and searched each room. In the heavy silence of the sleeping neighborhood, she could hear him opening the cabinets under the bathroom lavatory and then the closet door in her bedroom. It was not until he started down the hall toward her that she realized what he had seen from outside.

“The night light has a motion sensor. It must have come on when I got up. When I moved far enough past it, the light went out again.”

He glanced down at the small bulb attached to the wall plug, which was still burning. He took a few steps toward where she was standing. Just as she’d said, the light went out.

“Sorry. False alarm.” He shoved his gun back into the holster under his arm. “At least I didn’t wake you.”

“I was in the living room. I saw something move in front of the windows and thought…” The burn was again at the back of her eyes, and she hated it. She strengthened her voice to go on. “I thought they’d come back.”

“Yeah. So did I.”

“I looked out through the peephole and saw a shape. I thought maybe if I turned on the porch light, I’d be able to see enough to identify them.”

“Sorry.”

“For what? Looking out for me? That
is
what you were doing, wasn’t it? Watching my house.”

He looked almost embarrassed by her realization. Despite that, he nodded.

She knew by gauging the density of the stubble on his cheeks, something she was becoming adept at, that he hadn’t gotten up early to stand watch. He had been there all night.

“Something didn’t feel right,” he added.

Maybe Jace hadn’t been able to sleep, either. In spite of their obviously overdeveloped sense of impending danger, nothing had happened. And in another couple of hours, it would be morning.

“I can make coffee,” she offered tentatively.

Did that sound like an invitation to something else? Even if it did, she didn’t regret having made it. She wanted company. And she wasn’t opposed to that company being in the form of an armed detective.

“Or I could make it while you go back to bed,” he offered.

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t sleep. Everything keeps running through my mind like some kind of endless looping.”

“You have an internist? Somebody who could write you a prescription for sleeping pills?”

She had a family doctor. The one who had delivered her, actually. And she didn’t intend to ask him for drugs to help her cope with this. “I’ll get over it.”

“There’s no shame in taking medication to help you deal with trauma.”

“I didn’t say there was. I just…” She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

For the first time she was conscious of how thin and short her nightshirt was. Maybe that’s why Jace had suggested she go back to bed. Maybe she was embarrassing him.

“It also wouldn’t hurt to talk to somebody about what happened. A psychologist. Someone to help you deal with the possibility of PTSD.”