Love on the Edge: Nine Shades of Romantic Suspense, page 151
“So did you get a good look at Taylor as he drove off into the sunset in your shiny red Mustang?”
He glared at his brother. “Just the back of the bastard’s head.”
“Kid like Danny Hurley wouldn’t have a chance with a bruiser like that.” Justin shook his head. “For that matter, neither would I.”
“Nope.” The very idea of what Taylor had done sickened him, and he knew in his gut Taylor was the serial killer. If they could catch him before he blew town, there wouldn’t be any more victims. Let it stop here where it began.
The problem was MNPD wouldn’t acknowledge Taylor as the suspect. All they had on Taylor was assault on a police officer, his mother, and a stolen vehicle charge. Ned Forbes was still locked up.
Scott reached for the phone and punched in the number for Ned’s attorney. Without taking time for the niceties, Scott told Raul Palermo what was going on. Specifically, he shared that the MNPD was holding a man they now knew was innocent and the real killer was Dakota Taylor, aka Doug Silvey.
Satisfied, Scott hung up from the call. What a day.
In the distance, he heard the low rumble of thunder. Outside lightning flashed.
*
One foot in front of the other.
Danny stumbled over a rock and went down to his knees, then struggled to get back on his feet.
Each time he fell, it was harder to get up. No more hunger pains. Must be bad. He hadn’t eaten since Monday afternoon. What day was it, anyway?
Getting dark in the middle of nowhere. No streetlights. So tired.
A flash of lightning streaked across the sky. Maybe it’d rain. If it did, he’d just lie down, open his mouth and drink it in. So dry, he couldn’t piss or break a sweat. Water. He needed water.
Keep going. One foot in front of the other.
What was that? He shook his head and blinked his eyes. Was that a light in the distance? Somebody was home.
One foot in front of the other.
He began to run.
*
From her window on First Avenue South, Tess watched the twinkling lights of boats on the river and then across to east Nashville, even to Madison. In the distance, she heard the unmistakable roll of thunder. Heat lightning brightened the sky a few moments later. Maybe it would rain soon and end the drought.
Alone. She didn’t have to be, but she’d chosen a different path. She’d chosen to follow in her father’s footsteps. Granted, there were times when she almost regretted it.
Like now.
Her cell phone sang. What now? She yanked it off her belt and answered. “O’Malley.”
The desk sergeant called to tell her Scott’s Mustang had been found in a parking lot at David Lipscomb University and was in perfect condition. He also told her another car had been stolen from the same lot. Taylor was likely in a silver Buick sedan and the BOLO was already updated to reflect the new information. She thanked the sergeant and disconnected.
Now she had to call Scott. As much as she dreaded hearing his soft sultry tones, calling him was the right thing to do.
After a single ring, he answered. “You must be a mind reader. I was about to call you—”
“Really? I don’t think—”
“Will you just shut up and listen for once? Dakota Taylor and your eyewitness, Doug Silvey, are the same person. Silvey didn’t exist until two years ago and he was hired as a fitness coach at Camp Einstein this summer.”
“Interesting. Now for the reason I called. Your car’s been located.”
A low groan reached her through the phone. “Wrecked, stripped or totaled?”
“Cherry condition.”
“No shit?”
His response was so real and unguarded, she forced herself to hold back a giggle. A giggle would only encourage him. “No shit,” she said, careful to keep her tone flat.
“Thanks. When and where can I pick it up?”
“When? After we’re through dusting it for prints. Where? Metro Impound lot. They’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Tess. I—uh, appreciate your calling.”
“Just doing my job.” Why had Scott paused? What else did he want to say? “Thought you’d want to know,” she finished, sounding as lame as she felt.
“Duly noted.”
She paused, wanting to say more, but couldn’t come up with anything she hadn’t already said.
“G’night.” His voice sounded thick with emotion. “Night.” Somehow she managed to keep her tone crisp and businesslike. Knees weakening, she clicked the OFF button and flopped on the couch. She missed sparring with him. In spite of his mistaken ideas about her, he was a good man. A caring man.
One day he’d make someone a good husband—just not her.
*
The dial tone whined in Scott’s ear like a blind date with a bad attitude. An intense urge to toss the cell phone across the study grew in his chest, but he clenched his fists and resisted. Instead, he stood, snagged his beer from the side table and started pacing.
Dammit. He’d handed Tess the direct connection between the serial killer and the eyewitness against Ned Forbes. Couldn’t she at least be grateful? Not that he expected fireworks and a band, but stiff and formal didn’t fit his favorite redhead…the one he’d made such hot, sweet love to.
So warm and willing, responsive to his touch. Skin softer than a well-seasoned catcher’s mitt. Legs long enough to run all the bases…and then some.
He sank back into the overstuffed recliner and banged his fist on the table. Dammit. How could he just give up on his first chance at a real relationship in the last two years? True, his initial thoughts leaned more toward having some fun with the fiery redhead, but fun quickly turned into something more. At least it had for him.
Since he wasn’t the stalker type, he wasn’t about to go chasing after her. Not this time. The next move in their little game was hers.
Grabbing the remote, he turned on the TV just as his brother ambled into the study and stretched out on the couch. “What’s on?”
Scott shrugged. “Beats me.”
“What’s the matter with you? Someone take a whiz in your cereal bowl?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He crossed his arms across his chest and huffed. “It’s over.”
Justin shot Scott a skeptical glance. “The game? Looks like it’s just starting.”
Could his brother be any more obtuse? “No, Tess and me. We’re done.”
“Too bad, dude. She was smoking hot.”
“You got that right.” Scott picked up his beer and killed it. For once, he could’ve cared less the Sounds were playing.
*
A sound.
Dakota startled awake. He hadn’t planned on a long nap, but the week’s fruitless business had taken its toll. What the hell? Had Metro found him already? No, it sounded like someone coming in the front door. Faintly, he heard the sound of a woman’s voice—no, two women.
“I really appreciate you showing me this place so late.”
“I don’t usually show property after it gets dark, but this is a nice neighborhood.”
A real estate agent—fuck!
He pulled his weapon from the waist of his pants, checked the magazine, and jammed it back into the butt end of the gun. Carefully, he pulled back on the slide and chambered a round with a loud snick that echoed in the empty house.
From the living room, one of the women said, “Did you hear that?”
“Is someone here?” The other women’s voice quivered.
Yeah, lady, the big bad wolf. Silently, he rose to his feet and held his breath.
“You see why I don’t like showing property at night?”
“Maybe we should leave and come back in the daytime.”
Thunder crashed. Both women squealed like pigs for slaughter.
“Let’s get out of here,” one of them screeched.
Good idea, ladies. Then I’ll be long gone. He held his breath. Go on. Get your Yuppie asses outta here.
*
Step. Step. Another shuffling step. Each one an effort. Feet must weigh a ton each. He bit his cracked lips and tasted the salty tang of his own blood. His tongue so dry and caked, he couldn’t summon enough spit to lick his lips.
If he didn’t get some water soon, he’d die of dehydration. What he wouldn’t give for a gallon of a sports drink, any drink.
Lightning flashed overhead and thunder cracked loud and sharp. Too close. Danny jumped, glanced upward, then stumbled and fell for the umpteenth time only five yards from the front porch—the light where he’d aimed his depleted body for what seemed like hours. He rolled to his side and whimpered. Almost there. Almost wasn’t good enough. Don’t give up.
No, he wasn’t a sissy girl. He scrabbled in the rocky driveway, trying to get to his knees. The sharp stones dug into his knees and he collapsed, sobbing.
“Holy Mary, Mother…”
The flashes of lightning bloomed, and then the sky faded to black.
Chapter Twenty-five
After the ten o’clock news, Tess pondered Scott’s intel while she showered, then dressed for bed in a short night shirt. At the very moment she was ready to slip between the fresh cool sheets, her cell phone rang. She growled, then answered, “You’ve reached Detective O’Malley’s voice mail. Please leave a message and she’ll return your call after she’s had a good night’s sleep.”
“You can’t fool me,” said Detective Sara Kagen, who happened to be pulling a rare nightshift. “Something interesting for you. Might be related to your case.”
All thoughts of sleep quickly evaporated. “Yeah? Go on.”
“West precinct had a call from a real estate agent who was showing a house earlier this evening—a duplex on Granny White. She and her customer heard a noise, got scared and hightailed it. When they circled the property, they saw a late model silver vehicle parked behind; the duplex is supposed to be empty. So when patrol got around to checking it out, the car was long gone, but one of the apartments had been broken into. Since the car matched the general description of the one stolen from Lipscomb, forensics is there checking for any possible DNA or fingerprint evidence.”
Tess nodded. “Could be Taylor hid out there until it got dark. Thanks, Sara. Appreciate the heads up.”
“Thought you might.”
After Kagen hung up, Tess hurriedly redressed.
Taylor, aka Doug Silvey, was a former Nashville resident, and as such, he’d know a hundred ways to get out of town. Putting a roadblock around a city like Nashville was impossible. No doubt he’d already taken any one of those hundred ways to leave town.
Wouldn’t hurt to check out the duplex. Not that it would help Todd Brennerman or Danny Hurley, but it might give her a lead on where Taylor was headed next.
*
Inside the duplex, there wasn’t much to see. It was empty and her trip was probably a major waste of time. She walked into the front bedroom and shined a flashlight around the room. “Looks like a greasy spot on the wall. Maybe he sat there and leaned back while he waited for nightfall. Check the area for hair and skin cells. Check the toilet, too. He’s bound to have taken a piss.”
Remembering the car parked under the carport, she said, “Check for tire marks. If you find any, make impressions and check them against the tire database to see if they’re consistent with the vehicle stolen earlier tonight at Lipscomb.”
She wandered back into the living room. The realtor and her client were two very lucky women. Good thing they’d beat it before Taylor got hold of them, or there’d be a bloodbath instead of just ratty old green carpet.
Reaching for her cell phone, she put her hand into her pocket, then stopped. Dammit. The impulse to call Scott and give him an update was entirely too strong. She’d gotten used to sharing info with him.
So what? He could just get his updates on the news like all the other citizens.
Crack! A flash of lightning dazzled her eyes.
Holy shit, that was close. She ducked instinctively at the sharp sound and headed outside for the shelter of her SUV. Before she could reach it, the skies opened and drenched her to the skin.
Once inside, she wiped the water from her arms, brushed the wet tangles from her hair and pulled it back with a band she found in the glove box.
Where would Taylor go next? Most likely, he’d rip off another vehicle and head out of town. How would they ever catch him? They’d missed their best chance while he was holed up just down the street from where he’d stolen the Buick.
*
The women had no doubt seen his car when they circled the duplex, so now it was a liability.
Where was his young redhead? Little bastard. No one had ever gotten away from him before. His size and strength had overcome all of his other choices. Must be slipping. The kid would probably die from dehydration or starvation before anyone found him. Serve him right.
Fat drops of rain started smacking against his windshield; he reached and turned on the wipers.
Fuck it. He hated driving in the rain, especially at night.
All his souvenirs were back at his cabin. No way he could leave town without them. Each and every one of the shoes was a dear memory.
He was too recognizable now. Surely, the police would put out a bulletin on him. So much for his football career.
Maybe it was time he called in his backup. He hit the speed dial.
Damn. Voice mail.
He grinned as he left a cryptic message, one his friend would understand yet would seem innocuous to anyone else. “It’s your old buddy. I’m in town for a while. Thought we ought to get together…at our old place.”
*
“Hey there.”
Danny’s eyes opened. Night. A flicker of lightning. Rain in his face. He blinked. Throat dry as cotton. Opened his mouth. Nothing.
“’S okay,” a woman yelled at him over the sound of crashing thunder. “Gotta get you inside. Can you get up?”
He tried to nod, then pulled up his knees, rolled over on his stomach and managed to kneel. Gravel embedded in his knees. He moaned.
Somehow, the woman pulled him to his feet, and with her arm around his waist, managed to drag him up the porch and inside. It took fucking forever.
“Just a few more steps, hon.” Her tone was kind. An angel couldn’t have sounded any sweeter.
She turned him around and nudged him back into a recliner. His lids fluttered. “Thanks—”
And he was out.
The next thing he knew…cold. His entire body shivered and shook like a wet dog’s.
“Here you go.” She wrapped a towel around his head and set to rubbing all the skin from his arms and shoulders. “You’ll warm up in a bit. Gotta take care of those hands of yours.” She started loosening the duct tape.
Pain. “Ow!”
“Sorry. You gotta hold still so I don’t cut you.”
He held as still as he could, trying not to flinch. His lips were dry and caked. “Water,” he croaked.
“Of course. What was I thinking?” She bustled away and came back with a cup of water. “I got you some soda pop, too. Wish I had some of those whatchamacallit sports drinks. One of those would perk you up just fine.”
He gulped from the cup she had to hold for him. “Slow down or it’ll make you puke.”
“M-more,” he managed to gasp.
“What’s your name, son?”
He licked his cracked lips. “D-Dan…Dan…ny.”
“What happened to you?”
“A…man…he…”
“Good granny grunt. You’re the boy what disappeared from Bellevue. They’ve all but given you up for dead, son.”
He pulled his mouth into a smile. “Me…too.” So tired. He tried to open his eyes wider, but they were too heavy.
A nap. He just needed one so bad.
*
Danny awakened and struggled. Where the hell was he? His hands were wrapped in bandages and he was trapped in some kind of cushy recliner. He blinked from the bright morning sunlight shining directly in his eyes. Guess the storm had passed all right. As the smell of frying bacon reached his nose, he grinned.
Food. His stomach rumbled. “Hello!”
“Hold on, Danny boy, I’m a-coming.”
Who was coming? He searched through his memory. Right. A little old lady found him and brought him inside. He kicked at the chair’s footrest. “Kick down on the footrest. That lever hasn’t worked in years.”
With some effort, he managed the footrest. With the woman’s help, he stood, his head spinning like an out of balance top.
The woman placed her hand on his shoulder and steadied him. “Take a second, son. Get your legs under you.”
“Gotta pee.”
“Praise be. That’s a good sign.”
He held his hands in front of him. “They’re numb.”
“No matter, son. I’ll give you a hand.”
He gulped. “Uh—no.”
“Uh—yes, ’cause you can’t stand here and whiz on my carpet. The john’s back in the hall, and then we’ll get you a bath and some clean clothes.”
“No!” He shook his head. “Those police and forensics shows. They should see me like I am. DNA and clues—all that stuff.”
The woman nodded. “Didn’t think about that. You’re one smart kid.”
He glanced at the cordless phone on the side table. “Call my parents?”
“Can’t. Phone’s out, Danny boy. Now get a move on. Have a pee. Then I’m taking you to Williamson Medical Center. We’ll call ’em from there.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry you have to do this, ma’am. Please don’t tell anybody.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. Nobody but you and me are ever gonna know you needed this old woman’s help to pee.”
He let her nudge him toward the hallway. Danny winced, then asked, “Where am I anyway?”
“You’re in Williamson County between Franklin and Columbia. You look like you’ve been in the woods for days.”
“Feels like it. What day is it?”
“Friday. Go on now. I’ll tell you all I know on the way to the hospital.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stopped in the doorway to the bathroom and turned to face her. “Thank you.”
Didn’t take long. She slid down his stinky shorts. “Might be easier if you sat down.”
