Don’t Look Now, page 29
Several minutes later, both reconvened in the living room. “All the windows are locked.”
“And none look like they’ve been tampered with?”
“No.” Avery laid a gentle hand on Jordan’s arm. “You’ve been under a hell of a lot of stress since your attack.”
“Do not tell me this is in my mind,” Jordan said.
“Let’s be realistic. With all that’s going on, it’s easy to move something and then forget you did it.”
“I did not forget.”
“Okay, let’s assume you didn’t.”
“I don’t assume. I know.”
“Then what do you propose to do about it?”
“I want to get a camera in the house. Whoever was here moved my shit around to get under my skin.”
“Who would do that, Jordan? How did he get in?”
“I don’t know, hence the camera!” Since she had lost her sight, she had been patronized far too much. She had lost her ability to see, not her mind.
“Okay, okay!” Avery countered. “I have a friend at the university who sells reconditioned nanny cams. He hides them in stuffed bears, clocks, and shit. We’ll go see him in the morning.”
Having an action plan calmed Jordan’s nerves, but it did not banish her worries. Someone had been in her house, and despite what the cops thought they knew about Rawlings, until she figured out who had invaded her space, she would remain on edge.
“Where were you?” Jordan asked.
“Remember I said I lost my cell phone?”
“You bought the disposable phone until you found it.”
“Because I knew it would turn up. My friend Maisy found it. Nice to have it back. God only knows how many messages I’ve missed. It’s charging now.”
“You were gone for hours.” She sounded like a mother, but given her state, she did not care.
“We lost track of time. Maisy was telling me about her recovery. Wanted to talk to someone who’d been down that road.”
“And?”
Avery sighed. “Before that I went to find my old friend Stacey.”
“I remember Stacey.”
“I wondered if she had seen anything that might connect to the dead girls.”
“And?”
“She said there was a guy who worked with Walker. He took the girls as a form of payment. Stacey said he could be rough.”
“You need to be more careful now, Avery.”
“I was careful. I know these people. It was my world.”
“Not anymore.”
“You were at a crime scene, Jordan. Talk about being careful.”
“I’m a cop. And it might not be safe now.”
“You just said Rawlings is dead.”
“From an apparent suicide. Nothing about Rawlings’s death has felt right to me. Walker’s death could also have been a setup. Nothing is a given right now.”
“I’m not going to stop living because there’s a nut running around. Because honestly there’re always crazy people on the streets.”
“This one kills women that look like you. Big difference.”
“We look alike, Jordan.”
Jordan drew in a breath, trying to find the words that expressed the frustration chewing her alive since the day of her attack. Before, she was fearless. Other than losing Avery to the drugs, she was not afraid of much. Now fear was always present, and it took effort to keep it away.
“I don’t want to fight,” Avery said.
“Please be careful. Text me when you’re gone for more than a few hours.”
“Text me when you go to a crime scene.”
“I will as soon as I master this damn phone.”
“You’re smart, Jordan. And if I can stay sober, you can learn to use your phone and tackle braille.”
“Has it been hard for you to stay sober since my attack?”
Avery did not speak immediately. “I’ve always had days that are harder than others, but the last few weeks have been tough. And in full disclosure, I’ve missed a few meetings lately.”
“That’s not good.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “You keep going to meetings, and I’ll figure this out.”
“Teamwork.”
“Something like that.”
Avery hugged her, holding her close. And for once, Jordan relaxed into the embrace.
“We’ll be okay,” Avery said.
Jordan wanted to believe that. But until she had surveillance on the house and the police proved Rawlings had indeed shot himself, she would not let her guard down.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Saturday, April 24
8:00 a.m.
Dr. McIntyre had several questions for Spencer when he called her about Rawlings’s body. Was there a note? Prolific killers often had an agenda known only to them, and if they did opt for suicide, they often shared their motives in a note or video message. Had Rawlings fired a practice shot in the ceiling? Suicides by handgun were not as easy as most thought. If the bullet was not properly angled, it did a good job of maiming the individual but did not kill them. And the practice shot into the ceiling allowed them to judge the gun’s recoil and sound.
Spencer noted her questions and replied negative to both. When he hung up, he stood in the hallway outside Rawlings’s apartment. When the medical examiner’s office arrived and removed the body, he followed it down to the street.
Lucas approached Spencer. “I’ll call if I find anything. No sense in you hanging around.”
“Right.” None of this felt right. None of it.
Spencer went home, closed and locked the door behind him. He unfastened his gun belt and locked his weapon in a secured box before he sat and pulled off his boots. Needing to wash the crime scene smells and memories away, he undressed and turned on the shower. Stepping under the hot spray, he leaned against the tile wall, savoring the hot water as it pummeled his back.
According to Rawlings’s neighbors and associates, he had operated his store for twenty years at this location. He always took a week off in the spring to go fishing. He never took his phone with him, telling everyone he needed time off the grid to decompress. He was friendly and kept his store and the sidewalk in front of it clean, and he regularly donated food to the local shelter and food bank. It all fit Jordan’s assessment of Rawlings, who appeared to all to be a hardworking man. Serial killers could hide in plain sight, but in retrospect there was always something that someone thought was off. It was still very early in the investigation, but something about this didn’t sit right with him.
He turned and faced the spray, letting it bead on his face. He had promised Jordan an update, and in all honesty, he wanted to see her.
Out of the shower, he toweled off and stepped up to the steamed mirror. As he stared at his distorted, nearly invisible reflection, he tried to imagine what Jordan saw all the time. He wiped his towel over the mirror until his reflection reappeared. How many times had she done the same in the last week and a half, only to find that no amount of wiping brought her vision back?
Twenty minutes later he was shaved, dressed, and ready to leave. Out the door, he drove to a favorite coffee shop, ordered a bag of bagels and three cups: one for him, Avery, and Jordan. Back in his vehicle he called Jordan.
“Spencer.” Her voice rumbled with sleep.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, just got up.”
“I can bring coffee and bagels, and we can go over what’s been found so far at the Rawlings scene.”
“That’s music to my ears,” she said.
“See you in fifteen?”
“I’ll be ready-ish. The wheels of progress still don’t move fast. But I’ll be decent.”
For a flash, he imagined her indecent, and the image triggered a bolt of desire. “See you soon.”
When he arrived, there was only Avery’s car in the driveway. He crossed to the front door and rang the bell. Footsteps mingled with the steady tap of a cane. The door opened to Jordan.
“Spencer,” she said.
“What gave me away? The soap?”
“And the large shadow you cast. You take up all the space directly in front of me.”
“Interesting.”
“Come on inside. I smell coffee and bagels.”
“I brought three coffees,” he said. “I thought Avery was going to be here.”
“She took an early shift at the café. We’re trying to get back to the new normal.”
“And what about you? If this case is truly solved as we thought, then what?”
“Then I work with Sally and the eye doctors and try to make the best of what I have.” She led him to the kitchen island. “Did you find any trace of Casey Andrews at Rawlings’s house?”
“We found her driver’s license. But nothing to tell us where she might be.”
She frowned. “A souvenir is not a good sign. Men like him keep the collectibles so they can relive it all.”
“I’m afraid that one day we’ll find her body in an old house, a shallow grave, or in the woods.”
“I thought I could save her.”
“You did more than most.”
“But not enough.”
He set the cup in front of her along with two creams and a sugar. “Coffee, sugar, and cream at three o’clock.”
“Thanks.” She carefully pried off the lid and poured in both creams and the sugar. “I’m going to have to call on her mother this morning and tell her what was found.”
“Let’s do it together. It’ll mean more if it’s coming from you, and it’ll be official if I’m present.”
“Not relishing the task, but it has to be done.”
He opened the bag of bagels. “I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I got cinnamon raisin, plain, and sesame.”
“Cinnamon raisin.” She turned to the kitchen cabinet and retrieved a couple of plates and two knives. She set it all on the island.
He placed a bagel on her plate and pried open the tub of whipped cream cheese.
“Why do you think he killed himself?” she asked.
“I can only think my visit triggered something in him.”
“Seems like he would have been tougher than that. He’s killed at least three women. He’s seen me almost weekly for years.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’d feel better if I did.”
“Can anyone place him with Walker?” She felt for the cream cheese, found the tub, and scooped out a generous serving with her knife.
“Not yet. There’re a lot of puzzle pieces that’ll have to be pasted together.”
They both ate in silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. He felt a kinship with her. When she wiped a bit of cream cheese from her lips, his gaze was drawn to the simple action that suddenly felt very erotic. He wondered if her lips tasted as good as they looked.
“I can feel you looking at me,” she said.
“That so?”
“Beams of energy radiate from your eyes,” she said. “It’s almost tangible.”
“I’ll remember to be more circumspect.”
“Don’t change on my account.” She set her bagel down and wiped her fingers with her napkin.
He had never had a solid read on Jordan. He wanted her right now, but that was a complication neither one of them needed.
“You’re thinking so hard I can almost smell the smoke coming from your brain,” she said.
He chuckled. “I’m not a deep thinker.”
“Neither am I. That’s what I like about you. You act and don’t hesitate.”
She came around the island and moved within inches of him. He swiveled around on his barstool so that he faced her. It was one of the few times they were eye to eye.
“When I saw you in the courtroom that first time, I thought you were hot,” Jordan said.
“That so?” As tempted as he was to touch her, he kept his hands at his sides.
A small frown furrowed her brow. “Not being able to see your face now makes it hard. I can’t get a read on you. I can’t tell if you might be a little into me or not.”
“What if I am?”
“It would feel like the most normal thing that’s happened to me in the last few weeks.”
His hand rose to her side. He could feel her muscles tense at his touch, but he held steady, waiting for her to either relax or pull away.
She leaned forward and kissed him gently on his lips. He did not deepen the kiss or pull her toward him—as far as he was concerned, this had to be her show.
She drew back and regarded his face with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “Was that not what you wanted?”
“It was mighty nice.”
“If you would rather not, no harm, no foul. I don’t want to mess up whatever professional relationship we have or had.”
His hand remained on her side. “Had?”
“Sounds like the case is behind us.”
“A kiss isn’t going to ruin anything,” he said carefully.
Jordan kissed him again, this time injecting more passion, which sent desire surging through him.
“I feel like myself when I kiss you,” she said. “I like it a lot.”
“Same.”
“I’m tired of death and loss,” she said. “I want to feel alive.” Her hand slid to the one pressed to her side. “My bedroom is down the hallway.”
“That’s a bigger step than a kiss.”
“Like I said, if you don’t want to, no harm, no foul.”
“I want to.”
“But?” she asked.
“I don’t want to take advantage.”
“If I didn’t want this, this conversation would have been handled over the phone.”
He rose, and she tipped her gaze toward him. He cupped her face and kissed her. Since the first moment in the courtroom parking lot when they had gone toe to toe, she’d had the ability to make him rock hard. Jesus, he had not wanted a woman like this in a very long time.
“I want this,” he said. “Maybe too much.”
She grinned, took his hand, and led him toward a hallway. “I promise to be gentle.”
He chuckled, following her. “Ma’am, don’t hold back on my account.”
She glanced back at him, her grin wicked. “I won’t.”
Avery stood on the street corner near Thompson’s Market. The building remained surrounded by cops, techs dressed in space suits, and miles of yellow crime scene tape. As she cradled a cup of coffee, she thought back to that night when the stranger’s hot breath had puffed against her skin as he shoved the plastic in her mouth. When she had seen Rawlings the other day, she had not gotten any vibe or hint that he had been that man.
“What brings you here?”
Leo Santiago’s familiar voice startled her.
“What are you doing here?” she countered.
“I’m a cop.”
“You keep popping up,” she said.
“I could say the same for you,” he said. “Why are you here?”
“Rawlings, I suppose. I can’t picture him doing what’s being said about him. He was a nice guy.”
“Not from my perspective.”
“You didn’t know him.”
Santiago slid his hand in his pocket, turning his back to the market and focusing on her. “What did you know about him that made you like him so much?”
“He boxed up his unsold food at the end of the day and delivered meals to the homeless. Why do something like that and then kill those women?”
“People are complicated. Good can coexist with the bad.”
Her life had been a study in extremes. “Maybe.”
“Are you off to the café?”
“I don’t work there anymore.” And then catching herself, she said, “I haven’t told Jordan yet. I quit after her attack. She was there for me when I needed her, and now it’s my turn.”
“That’s good.”
This should square us up. She remembered the words she had heard Walker utter to the shadow man. What could Walker have owed Rawlings?
“I guess the more you dig into Rawlings’s past, the more you’ll learn,” she said.
“Anywhere in particular I should be looking?” Santiago asked.
“I’m not really sure.”
She met his gaze and realized he was studying her intently. She was not sure how much Jordan had told him about her past. She hoped her sister had not said anything about the drugs because, for some reason, she did not want to disappoint. “I’ve got to go.”
“I won’t judge you, Avery.”
“You wouldn’t mean to, but you would. I know because I judge me every day.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Saturday, April 24
11:00 a.m.
Jordan lay on her side, her naked body close to Spencer’s. She savored the feel of his corded muscle pressed against her breasts and belly. He was a powerful man but had proved he had a real capacity for tenderness.
His breathing was even, relaxed, and she sensed that his eyes were closed, because when he looked at her, her skin tingled as if snapping with electricity.
Her phone rang, and with her eyes still closed, she quickly snapped it up before the second ring as she rolled on her other side. Without thinking, said, “Detective Poe.”
“This is Casey.”
The woman’s shaky voice sent a jolt of energy through Jordan’s body, and she quickly sat up. She felt Spencer’s muscles tighten and attention sharpen. “Who is this?”
“Casey Andrews,” the woman replied.
“Casey?” she asked. There had been enough media coverage for her to doubt the claim.
Spencer sat up and turned her hand to see the phone’s display. “That’s not the name on your screen,” he whispered.
“Casey. This isn’t your number.”
“He left me a phone. And Max was my teddy bear.”
“Where are you?” Jordan asked.
“I don’t know. It’s dark.”
“How did you get this phone?”
“He left it with me. It took time to find it in the dark. He programmed your number into it.”
Jordan swung her legs over the side of her bed, her heart pounding in her chest. Had Rawlings left the phone for her to find, knowing he would soon be dead?
