The Perfect Look, page 17
“Should I get out the good stuff?” he asked, trying to shake her out of her sudden melancholy.
Her face turned hard.
“I don’t do drugs anymore,” she said coldly.
He giggled nervously.
“I didn’t mean drugs, Lexi. I’m talking about the memorabilia collection.”
Her face softened slightly.
“Oh, right, of course. Please do.”
He got up to access the hidden panel where he kept it. Then, realizing he’d need both hands to unlock it, he put his drink back down on the table next to Lexi’s.
“This will only take a minute,” he assured.
She smiled tightly. Andy understood.
She must really be nervous about seeing such valuable material.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Jessie and Ryan walked into Teddy’s at the Roosevelt Hotel, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. It was 10:06 p.m.
They’d already called Hollywood Station on the drive over, asking for several plainclothes officers to go to the bar and look for anyone matching the chat forum description Alex had given of herself. If they saw her, they were not to approach her, merely observe.
They were just pulling up when they got the report that there were no obvious candidates in the bar. Jessie didn’t immediately lose hope, as it was possible that Alex had decided to change her appearance between this afternoon and now. It was only when she began to circle the bar that her heart sank.
There were two redheads. But one was in her forties and the other, though the right general age, had on a black pantsuit and glasses. Her eyes were hazel and her hair was barely shoulder length.
Jessie scanned every other female in the room, focusing less on whether they matched the clothing and hair description and more on age, facial bone structure, and eye color. It took her less than a minute to dismiss every woman in the place. She reconnected with Ryan at the bar. He looked equally disappointed.
“Maybe she got cold feet,” he suggested hopefully. “Or never showed up at all?”
Jessie looked at him skeptically.
“I doubt it,” she said. “She’s cunning. But I don’t get the impression that Alex is the sort of person who can just turn herself off like that, even if she wanted to, which I don’t think she does. She’s committed at this point.”
“Okay then,” Ryan said, conceding the point. “Then let’s find out if anyone saw her.”
They waved down the bartender closest to them, a thirty-something woman with a ponytail and a harried expression.
“What can I get you?’ she asked curtly.
“Hopefully, a positive identification,” Ryan said, flashing his badge. “Have you seen a pretty redhead in here recently; blue eyes, blue dress, wearing a scarf?”
“No,” she answered, apparently unfazed at being questioned by a cop. “But I only started my shift five minutes ago. Frank might know more. He’s on break in the back.”
They started to head in the direction she’d pointed when a guy sitting nearby leaned over.
“Did you say you were looking for a pretty redhead?” he asked. His face was flushed and his words were sloppy, as if he’d already had three too many.
“Yes,” Jessie said, failing to contain her excitement. “Have you seen her?”
His friend, equally sauced, piped up.
“Yeah, she was frickin’ hot,” he said, before realizing he was being indiscreet. “I mean, she was very attractive, ma’am, like you.”
“Describe her,” Ryan said, pretending to ignore the last comment.
“Really blue eyes, slammin’ body,” the second guy said, quickly forgetting his earlier attempt at gentlemanliness. “We were both blown away when she started flirting with Andy.”
“Who’s Andy?” Jessie asked.
“He’s our buddy,” the first guy said. “She was giving him a look so he went over and they started talking, really seemed to hit it off.”
“I told you, man,” the second guy, who looked to Jessie like a surfer out of his element in this high-brow cocktail bar, said. “I think that chick makes a living out of hitting it off with any guy.”
“What do you mean?” Jessie asked.
“Dell was sure she was a pro,” the first guy said. “But I don’t know. She seemed to really like Andy. And he said she never mentioned money. She just wanted to see his Houdini stuff.”
“What?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah, man,” the one apparently named Dell said. “Andy’s got this collection of crap on this old magician-daredevil guy named Harry Houdini. He says it’s super valuable but it doesn’t look like much to me. Anyway, he said she was into seeing it. So they went back to his place. We’re hoping he gets to work a little magic of his own.”
“Where is Andy’s place?” Jessie demanded.
“Like three blocks from here,” Dell said.
“We need the address, now!”
*
Alex almost left the apartment.
The whole evening was a roller-coaster of emotions. One minute, she was ready to do what had to be done. The next she was full of doubt, asking if this guy was really like the others.
Even back at his place, he hadn’t made a move. She could tell that he was into her. He had that nervous energy all guys got when they were alone with her. But other than that, he hadn’t given any outward indication that he was like the others.
And yet, he’d charmed her into the back room of his apartment, the one with the heavy door and no windows. Sure, he said that was to protect his most prized passion—the Houdini collection. But it also made it easy to trap an unsuspecting girl.
Plus, he’d offered her a drink as soon as they walked in, usually a sign that he wanted to lower her inhibitions. Or he could just be polite. He’d sat down next to her on the loveseat, the only option in the room. But he’d asked permission first and even then, he’d left her some personal space. He was either the sweetest guy she’d met in Los Angeles or the sneakiest.
It was moot anyway. When he’d gotten up to unlock his Houdini safe, she’d poured the sedative into his drink. He seemed okay now as he guided her through the (surprisingly interesting) artifacts from some of Houdini’s coolest stunts. But any second now, he’d start slurring his words. His movements would get clumsy. He’d grow weak. And then, the Reckoning could begin.
*
Andy tried to stay cool.
This girl was almost too good to be true. Painfully beautiful, with eyes that pierced right through him and a figure he was hesitant to look at directly, she was also genuinely interested in the kind of obscure stuff he found fascinating. She’d even put on some latex gloves she happened to have with her so as not to get her skin oils on the old material. She seemed to have appeared out of a dream.
Yet she was real. And unless he was imagining it, as he described Houdini’s New York midair, upside-down subway crane, straitjacket escape, she seemed to be inching closer to him on the loveseat so that there was no longer any unoccupied space between them.
And then, as if to prove it wasn’t his imagination, she put her hand on his leg. He felt a ripple of electricity course through him and heard himself stop talking. He could feel her eyes on him and almost, scared, looked over at her.
“Maybe we should take a little break,” she purred.
“Okay,” he replied hoarsely, his voice cracking a little.
Before he knew what was happening, she leaned into him and her warm lips were pressed against his. He lost his balance slightly and toppled back on the loveseat. She didn’t seem to mind, climbing on top of him and giggling slightly as she nibbled at his neck.
She had gone from coy to ravenous in moments. And while he wasn’t upset about it, he was a little confused. Had he said or done something to turn a switch on in her? And if so, what was it and how could he replicate it?
Stop asking questions. Just go with it.
He was so annoyed with himself that he actually shook his head slightly in frustration. To his surprise, it didn’t move immediately on command. His skull felt slightly heavier than usual, like someone had strapped a ten-pound helmet to it.
“You okay?” Lexi asked, briefly stopping what she was doing to his earlobe.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, not wanting to mess up the moment by telling her that he actually felt a bit woozy.
“You are good,” she murmured as she kissed the top of his chest.
When her lips bumped up against his shirt collar, she sat up and simply ripped the thing open. Buttons popped, flying everywhere. Her arm bumped into his tumbler, knocking it off the coffee table. He heard it break into several pieces on the floor but Lexi seemed oblivious. She smiled at him greedily before diving back toward him, licking her way down.
Andy looked up at the ceiling, stunned at the sudden turn of events. This might be the best day ever: successful IPO followed by meeting a sexy, geeky girl who wanted to ravage him. He was so amped that he feared it might be affecting his vision, which was slightly blurry. The overhead light seemed to be shifting in and out of focus.
Then, to his horror, he found that he was getting sleepy. This could not be happening now. He decided he needed to take a more active role in events, if for no other reason than to shake off this unexpected drowsiness.
He tried to slide his arms up so that he could push off and sit up slightly. He was surprised to discover that they wouldn’t move. He glanced down at his right hand and ordered it to turn palm down so that he could push up. It didn’t respond. In fact, now that he thought about it, his whole body felt weighted down and unresponsive. He couldn’t feel Lexi’s tongue on his skin anymore.
“Something’s wrong,” he said, noticing that his own tongue seemed to be fighting him.
Lexi looked up.
“What is it?’ she asked, her voice like warm honey.
“I feels funny,” he said with great effort. “Everything heavy.”
She sat up, still straddling him, with a concerned look on her face. Grabbing his right arm, she lifted it into the air.
“Keep this up,” she instructed and let go.
His arm flopped back onto the couch.
“You’re right,” she said. “Are you allergic to something?”
“Peanoots…”
“I don’t think there were any peanuts in that drink,” she said, smiling sympathetically. “Maybe someone slipped you something.”
The way she said it, as if she’d been waiting to speak those words, sent a chill down Andy’s spine. He was surprised he could even feel that.
“Whaa mean?” he managed to garble out.
Lexi looked down at him silently. He couldn’t understand her expression. She was smiling but there were tears in her eyes, which were exuding a combination of anticipation and sadness. Finally she spoke.
“I’m so sorry, Andy,” she said softly. “I’m sorry it had to be you.”
“Whaaa…?”
His whole body was clammy now and, though he couldn’t feel it, he was sure he was sweating. He was consumed by a mix of confusion, fear, and nausea.
“I did this to you,” she said as she climbed off him and took off his shoes and socks. She unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down to reveal his Mickey Mouse boxers. Seeing them made her giggle slightly before she stifled a sob. “Oh, you are making this so difficult.”
She slid his arms out of his shirt and placed them gently back on the loveseat. Then she looked down at floor. He followed her gaze to the pieces of glass from the broken tumbler. She seemed to sense he was watching her and looked back at over at him.
“Don’t worry,” she told him soothingly. “Stabbing is not my style. I’m more hands on.”
Despite the outside of his body being completely numb, Andy felt his insides clench up in terror.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Alex wasn’t enjoying this.
There was none of the thrill from the previous Reckonings. Usually she lingered on each moment leading up to the kill, luxuriating in teasing her victim as he lay helpless, feeding off the dread rising from his body like steam on a winter’s day.
But right now, she was consumed by conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to complete the task, to get the high that could only come from snuffing out the life of a perpetrator. And yet, despite what she told herself, a nagging thought kept darting into her brain.
What if he’s not like them?
This man, more a boy still really, had never said or done anything to suggest he deserved this fate. He seemed to be innocent of the crimes she wanted to punish him for. And yet…
He’d been in the bar. He’d hit on her. He’d invited her back to his place. He clearly had an agenda and it wasn’t to look at memorabilia all night. And when she’d jumped him he hadn’t protested or suggested they wait until they knew each other better. He was a willing participant. In fact, based on his involuntary reaction when she’d climbed on top of him, he was an enthusiastic one. Andy was no angel.
It didn’t matter anyway. He’d already taken the dose. Unless he got the antidote medication, called flumazenil, which she didn’t have, he’d be dead in a few minutes anyway. She’d already started this process. It was time to finish it. Honor demanded it.
She wiped the tears away from her cheeks and smiled down at Andy, who was frozen except for his uncomprehending eyes and his wordless, rasping lips. This time when she smiled, it finally felt right—ruthless and triumphant.
“It has to be done, Andy,” she said as she carefully adjusted her gloves. “I wish I could tell you it won’t hurt. But even with the drugs, it will. That’s kind of the point, actually—for you to hurt. It’s only fair.”
He blinked desperately at her and she knew what it meant. He was giving her one last plea to stop. She admired the effort.
But the time for stopping had passed. Dan hadn’t stopped when she begged him to. Her stepfather hadn’t stopped when she pleaded with him. He hadn’t stopped when she agreed to be quiet so as not to “upset her mother” in the next bedroom. No one ever stopped with her. So why should she?
She’d stop when she was done.
*
Jessie didn’t want to wait.
On the two-minute drive over, after calling for reinforcements, Ryan had suggested they hold off on breaking through the door of Andy Gelman’s apartment until they had the tactical entry battering ram. She understood the argument. They wanted to get in fast and clean so that Alex couldn’t use any delay in entry to harm Andy Gelman.
But she was worried they might already be too late. Andy’s friends said they left the bar over forty minutes ago. That was more than enough time to return to his apartment, drug him, and strangle him. Any delay could be the difference between life and death.
They agreed to decide on how to proceed when they saw how heavy the front door of his apartment was. After they pulled up, hopped out of the car, and sprinted up to the building, they saw that the complex was protected by a security gate.
Jessie, whose feet still throbbed from hours of searching downtown motels, was debating whether they should just shoot the lock when Ryan grabbed hold of the bars and leapt up, scaling the eight-foot wall as if it was nothing. He dropped down the other side and pushed open the door for Jessie, who stared at him in amazement.
“Cross training,” he said, grinning, then turned and hurried into the complex.
The building had four stories and Andy’s was on the second, in unit 207. As they rushed down the hall, Ryan turned back and whispered to Jessie.
“The doors aren’t that impressive. I think I can bust it in with one kick.”
She nodded back, too out of breath to reply. She still wasn’t totally back in shape from her recent injuries. When they got to unit 207, they paused for a moment, each trying to get their wind back, if only briefly.
After what amounted to three seconds, Ryan gave her the “you ready?” look and she nodded. They both pulled out their weapons.
“Open up, police,” Ryan shouted quickly even as he kicked the door.
It flew open and they both rushed in. Jessie went left as Ryan took the right side of the apartment. There was a small sitting room with an open door leading to the empty kitchen. She stepped back into the center hall where she met Ryan again as he exited an apparently unoccupied bedroom after having cleared the living room. They passed the dining nook and Jessie checked the bathroom while Ryan searched the master bedroom. They both came out shaking their heads.
As they heard the sound of other officers running down the hall, they both looked at the last unopened door in the apartment. It was heavy-looking and at first, Jessie thought they would need the battering ram. But then she noticed that it was actually slightly ajar, which she found odd. If Alex was in there, wouldn’t she have locked it to give herself time to escape?
Ryan indicated for her to push it open so he could dive in first. She nodded and gave the door a shove. As it swung open, he rolled in somersault-style and popped up impressively. Jessie followed, though without the acrobatics.
It took a moment to fully comprehend the scene in front of her. Lying on his back on a loveseat at the other end of the room was a young man she assumed was Andy Gelman. He was naked except for a pair of boxers. His eyes were flittering open and shut as if he was on the verge of falling asleep.
Crouched on top of him, in a blue dress, was Alex Cutter. She was holding what looked like a shard of glass to Andy’s carotid artery, her eyes darting back and forth between the two people pointing guns at her. It was also clear why she hadn’t locked herself in. There were no windows in the room. There was no escape.
Even in this moment, Jessie was upended by how stunning the young woman was. She looked like something out of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, curves everywhere. Despite the nature of the situation, the girl somehow looked above it all, with her defined cheekbones, regal chin, and delicate, refined nose. None of the horrors she’d experienced seemed to have done anything to muddy her pristine features.
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