Trust Me (17 page)

"No."

"Good." David accepted his change and the receipt for his meal from the waitress and gathered the take-out boxes. "What then?"

"Jane Burke."

"How is she a problem?"

"She's having an affair with Oliver's brother."

David froze halfway to the door, torn between two responses: shock and dismay over the affair, and the realization that this information probably shouldn't be coming from Skye.

Concern over Skye's involvement won out. "And how would you 106

know something so personal about Jane Burke?"

"I saw them together."

"Where?"

She didn't answer right away.

"I just asked you a question, Skye."

"Don't freak out, but..."

"But?"

"It was through the window. Last night."

"What window?"

"Jane's window."

"You were surveilling Jane's house?" He shook his head. This was the woman who kept him from reconciling with Lynnette? How could he let himself get any more involved with her? She didn't even know when to avoid a dangerous situation, one that risked her own safety and that of anyone associated with her--which could include his son. "Did anyone recognize you?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't sound too sure."

"Jane and her brother-in-law saw my car."

People in the nearest booth were staring at him, so David walked outside but stood under the eaves because it had begun to rain. "When you say they saw your car... You didn't do anything to draw attention to yourself, did you? Your Volvo was just one car among many," he said.

No response.

"Please tell me I'm right, Skye. We don't need this to get back to the psychopath who'll be living there in a few days."

"There weren't a lot of other cars on the street last night. My Volvo might've stood out a little. But it was so late I expected Jane and everyone else to be asleep." Her voice fell. "I just wanted to get a glimpse of the place, check out the situation."

"But Jane wasn't asleep."

"No."

"Great," he said with a sigh, too preoccupied to cross the puddle-filled lot.

"It's okay. Once they saw each other, Jane and Noah weren't interested in anyone else."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe I should start by reiterating that I believe Burke murdered three women."

"I haven't forgotten."

"Then would it do me any good to tell you to stay the hell away?"

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"None."

"Just as I thought." He breathed in the rain-scented air. "You're flirting with danger, Skye."

"Consider me warned."

"Those weapons of yours will only help if you see him coming."

"Scaring me won't make any difference. That's why I own those weapons. That's why I went to his house in the first place."

"So what do I do?"

"You listen, okay? Just listen. I've found something else you should know about."

He muttered a curse. "I'm almost afraid to hear it."

"I visited Oliver's former residence, too."

He shoved his free hand inside the warm pocket of his jacket, intrigued in spite of his anger and concern. "And?"

"I had a nice visit with the Griffins, the people who bought the house from the bank after Jane lost it."

"I've already been there, talked to them. Do you think I'm not doing my job?"

"This is one of those chance timing issues."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, when Mr. Griffin put away the Christmas decorations a few weeks ago, he decided to have some lighting installed in the attic. He was tired of trying to organize stuff with a flashlight. So he hired an electrician, who spotted something shoved into a crack near a beam at the far corner."

David's heart began to pound. Two years ago, just after they'd moved in, he'd asked the Griffins to search every nook and cranny of their house hoping they'd find the knife or another object that might have been missed during the police search. Oliver had been living in that house when he was carted off to prison. It stood to reason that if he'd hidden something, it would be there. But the Griffins had insisted the house was empty.

Thank God for Christmas storage. Skye was right--this was about timing. "Jewelry? Clothing?" He stepped back as a car drove by and nearly splashed his shoes. 'The knife?"

"No. A spiral notebook."

That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Tell me it contains a signed confession."

"It might. I don't know. It's in some sort of code."

Encryption? That could prove interesting. Provided the notebook had belonged to Burke. And provided they could break the code.

"It's written in a very meticulous hand, a neat hand--I think it's 108

Oliver's," she added.

It was tough to be too upset with Skye when she came up with possible evidence like this. He'd pretty much given up on finding anything at Burke's former house. "Does it look complicated?"

"Complicated enough. I've been fiddling with it for a while and I think I know the character for e because it shows up the most often, but that's it."

"Mr. Griffin should've called me the minute his electrician handed that over."

"He wasn't sure it meant anything. The Burkes weren't the first people to own the house so, as far as he was concerned, it didn't necessarily belong to them. And it's very strange. Not only are the letters scrambled, there's a few geometric shapes mixed in. He would've thrown it out if not for the drawings in the back."

"What kind of drawings?"

"Skulls, knives."

Gooseflesh rose on David's arms. "I'd bet my soul it belonged to Burke."

"I would, too." She paused for a moment. "And guess what? There are even dates in here. For whatever reason, he didn't bother putting numbers in code. There's one with each entry."

"When's the last entry?"

"June of 2004. Several months before he broke into my house."

David fished in his pocket for his keys. "You have the notebook with you?"

"Yes."

"Can you bring it to the station? I want it checked for prints, among other things."

"Can we get prints after so long?"

"It's actually a good surface. The amino acids left behind by a human hand often seep down into the paper fibers. Fingerprints on paper can last up to forty years if it hasn't been exposed to water."

"I don't think it has been."

"It might be more beneficial to break the code first. That could reveal the author and his thoughts."

"There's enough here to do both at once, believe me."

"Okay, I'll have some specialists look at it," he said.

"How long do you suppose it'll take to break the code?"

"With a computer, maybe an hour or so. Unless he's a whole lot smarter than I think he is."

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. "Let's hope it 109

tells us what we need to know."

"Skye?" he said before she could hang up.

"What?"

"Detective Fitzer isn't enjoying the input of the private investigator you hired to search for Sean Regan."

"He said something to you?"

"Yes."

"Well, I don't care," she said. "Fitzer isn't doing his job. Someone needs to help Sean."

"How do you know Fitzer isn't doing his job?"

"He refuses to listen or cooperate."

"He's lead detective on this, Skye, not you. Your guy's pushing too hard."

"I just talked to Jonathan. He's discovered some very interesting stuff."

"Like..."

"There's a four-door sedan that keeps showing up at Tasha Regan's house late at night."

"You think she's having an affair?"

"I think the consistency and timing are suspicious, don't you?"

David considered the information in light of Mike Fitzer's complaint, and ultimately had to agree with Skye. "It is suspicious. The license plate you want Fitzer to run-- does it belong to the sedan?"

"Yes. But Fitzer won't help. He won't even entertain the possibility that Tasha Regan could be responsible. You know why?"

"Why?"

"He thinks she's hot."

Remembering Mike's comment about Miranda Dodge, David cringed.

"How do you know?"

"He's been showing up at her place a little more often than you might expect. If he ends up solving this thing, it'll be because he stumbled into this other guy and finally got serious about uncovering the truth."

"Doesn't Jonathon have a contact at the DMV who can handle this?"

"That's illegal, remember?" she retorted.

"It happens." David scowled at the bleak weather--and the fact that he was about to get involved in something he was better off avoiding. "Fine,"

he said at length. "What's the plate number?"

"I'll drop it off with the notebook."

"You do that."

"Thanks, David," she said.

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He heard the smile in her voice and hung up before he could ask about seeing her tonight. Maybe she had too many emotional scars from Burke's attack and was too obsessed with weapons to be an ideal mother for Jeremy, but he knew she'd be one hell of a lover. She was passionate about everything. He wanted to experience her intensity skin to skin, feel her arms around his neck as she offered him what he'd craved since he'd come to know her four years ago. Especially now, when every second seemed so precious.

He was going to be in trouble Saturday night....

Sheltering his phone beneath his jacket so it wouldn't get wet, he ducked into the rain. Lynnette had slept with her date. That gave him license, didn't it?

No. It wouldn't be the same. If he ever made love with Skye, there'd be no going back. At least not to the life he'd known with his ex. Not for the sake of Lynnette's health. Not for Jeremy's sake. Not for anyone's sake.

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Chapter
10

"You've known for almost a week and you didn't call me?"

Wincing at the hurt in Jennifer's voice, Skye adjusted the earpiece that let her use her cell phone in the car as she brought her Volvo to a stop at the intersection of Sunrise and Madison Avenue. The light had barely turned yellow-- she could've made it through--but she wanted a few seconds to concentrate on the conversation instead of driving. She'd been meaning to call her family. Every morning since she'd heard the news about Burke, she'd gotten out of bed planning to contact them. But she always managed to find some excuse to put it off another day.

The main problem was that she didn't really want to talk to her former stepfather. Although there'd never been any kind of impropriety or falling out, she felt uncomfortable around Joe Rumsey, as if they should mean more to each other than they did. How had they gone from being father and daughter to being...nothing? Or maybe "nothing" wasn't the best way to describe the relationship. They were cordial. Casual friends. But friends seemed an odd label for the man she'd once called Daddy.

"I've been crazy busy," she said. Which was true. Right now she was on her way to NSL Construction. She knew she'd be smarter to stay away, but since she'd started The Last Stand, keeping a low profile wasn't on the agenda.

"Too busy to tell us about Burke?"

More or less. David had run the license plate number she'd given him and called her with information about the driver, which she'd passed to Jonathan. It was registered to a woman, but when Jonathan followed up he'd learned that the woman was the live-in lover of Sean's boss at the jewelry store. More and more it seemed that Sean had been right all along--Tasha was having an affair. But there was still no sign of Sean himself.

"That news must've hit you hard, Skye," Jennifer was saying. "You weren't expecting him to get out for another five to seven years."

The news had hit hard. She was still trying to grasp that he'd be circulating in Sacramento--her city--by tomorrow night. But she couldn't admit her worries to Jennifer. That would only trigger an obligatory call 112

from Skye's former stepfather, who worked about twenty minutes from where Jennifer shared an apartment with two friends. Joe felt bad that Skye's mother had died, leaving her virtually alone in the world, and occasionally attempted to include her. He'd invited her down for Christmas last month.

But, regardless of his good intentions, he already had Jennifer and Brenna and a couple of younger children with his new wife. There wasn't any room in his life for her. Skye appreciated his attempt to be generous, but she was also afraid to love him as a father for fear the gestures he made were merely that--gestures.

"It's just the way things are," she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact about the situation.

"Why do you always withdraw when something bad happens?"

Jennifer asked.

"I'm not withdrawing. I've been busy, like I said."

She was relieved when Jennifer didn't pursue the accusation. It was an old argument, one she definitely didn't want to rehash. "Is he coming back to Sacramento?" her stepsister asked instead.

The light turned green. Reluctant to arrive at the construction office before she could finish her conversation with Jennifer. Skye started out slowly enough to receive an impatient honk from the car behind her. "I'm going, I'm going," she muttered.

"What'd you say?"

"Burke can't practice dentistry anymore. But his wife still lives here, as well as the rest of his family."

"Won't he be too embarrassed to face them? If I were him, I'd rather crawl under a rock than go back home after being in prison for that kind of crime."

"He's not like you. For starters, he's not taking responsibility for what he did. He insists he's innocent, and there are people who believe him. We've had several incidents of vandalism at TLS, all aimed at me for what I supposedly did to a 'good family man.'"

"His wife's probably behind them."

It was possible. Jane had sent enough nasty letters.

"I don't know how she can believe in him," Jennifer went on. "My God, he--"

She caught herself before she finished, and Skye was grateful. She didn't need a reminder of what he'd done. She still had nightmares in which she felt Burke's blade slicing into her neck. Nightmares in which she struggled beneath his weight only to wake and find that she'd been battling the covers. He must've eaten a mint immediately prior to the attack because 113