01 Only Fear (19 page)

“Why did Sharon have it?” Maria asked.

“She took care of my house and cat while I was away at a conference a few months ago. I just never got around to asking for it back. I never use the device, anyway. I just punch in the code when I walk in or out.”

“And Fearmonger, if he’d been watching you closely by that time, would have seen Sharon coming and going.”

“So he began to date her because he’d seen she had access to my house,” Maggie theorized.

Maria nodded. “That’s our current assumption. That, and she worked with you at the station. Sharon’s roommate said the boyfriend’s name is Christopher, but didn’t know anything else. Does that name stand out for any reason, Maggie?”

Maggie shook her head. “I don’t remember anyone named Christopher.”

“Of course, it could be another alias.”

“Fearmonger sure has a way with the women,” Becca said into the silence that followed. She placed a small stack of papers on the table. “Fascinating reading.”

Noah looked a page over. “These are the letters between Fearmonger—going by the name Owen—and Deborah Frame?”

“Yep. Copies, anyway.”

“That probably explains why Fearmonger knows personal details of your relationship with Deborah,” Ethan said to Maggie.

Her eyes widened as she silently implored him not to share those intimate details—the scars that a madwoman had left behind. He gave her a slight nod to indicate he understood her wishes and would respect them. The fact that she so had so quickly forgotten their newfound bond of trust irritated him.

“And did they find the guard who helped Frame escape?” Damian asked.

Becca shook her head. “Not yet. It’s like she just disappeared.”

“Convenient.”

“For Fearmonger, yes. She could be one of his victims, for all we know, and we just haven’t found her yet.”

Damian grunted in agreement. “Either way, it leaves us without a physical description of our killer. What else do we have?”

With a nod toward the Levine family, Noah spoke. “Julia Levine is missing, but she didn’t go willingly. In her apartment, there are smears of blood in the hallway that connects her bedroom to the living area. Her car is parked under the carport. We have officers canvassing the neighborhood, asking anyone if they saw or heard anything.”

“So are we proceeding as if this was an abduction, not a murder?” Lorena inserted. She shot an apologetic glance to the Levines. “Sorry. I had to ask.”

“We understand,” Mr. Levine said, his voice weary but strong. “We just want her found—alive if possible, of course. We know you have to consider all the possibilities.”

“There’s no sign she was murdered. Yet,” Noah qualified. “The amount of blood was minimal and the smears of palm prints on the walls indicated she was conscious and struggled with her captor.”

“And the police officer who was supposedly watching over her?” Walter asked.

Noah shook his head. “The department had an emergency call nobody else could handle. A report of shots fired a few miles away. Someone made a decision and pulled him off the stakeout.”

“How long of a window of opportunity did Fearmonger have?” Becca asked.

“It was about half an hour before the officer could get back to Julia’s place. The apartment was dark, and he assumed she’d gone to sleep.”

“Still, it’s a very populated area, even if people were asleep,” Maria pointed out. “Fearmonger risked someone hearing her scream.”

“He subdued her,” Maggie suggested.

“He must have,” Maria agreed. “But she put up a hell of a fight.” Admiration rang clear in her voice. “In the bloody handprint she left behind, we found a couple of what appears to be the attacker’s hairs that she’d pulled out.”

“DNA?” Damian asked, leaning forward. The room held its collective breath.

Maria nodded, her eyes glittering with excitement. “It appears so.”

“If you can give it to my lab,” he said, “I’ll have Sandy put a rush on it.”

“I’m working on getting it cleared through our facility to get a sample over to you.”

“Good work.” Damian said, turning his attention to Lorena. “Are we sure Fearmonger has her?”

Lorena nodded, her look grim. “It has to be. It’s just too coincidental that Miss Levine would have been taken by someone else at the same time Fearmonger is intent on harming Dr. Levine by targeting people in her life.”

At this, Ethan glanced at Maggie and saw her wince. He knew she was blaming herself for a killer’s actions. He’d set her straight as soon as he could get her alone.

“There wasn’t the usual bloody message of fear,” Lorena added, “but he might not have had time, especially if Julia struggled. He didn’t exhibit much of his usual behavior at the scene of Frame’s murder, either, but claimed responsibility the next day with that bouquet. The menu left in Dr. Levine’s classroom this morning was the same kind of message.”

“He seems to enjoy leaving me little presents,” Maggie muttered.

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he?” Lorena tapped her pencil against the table.

“What are you thinking?” Damian asked.

“This man can’t seem to keep from approaching her, whether by messenger or on his own. And as he escalates…”

Noah spoke up, completing her thought. “He won’t be able to resist approaching her himself. You’ve always been the key, Maggie, but we don’t want to put you at risk.”

Maggie’s laugh was harsh. “I’m already at risk. And if he hurts my sister, he’d better be wearing full body armor before he approaches me. Use me. Use me as bait,
please.
Anything to draw him out before he hurts Julia.”

He’d had something much different in mind. Something like wrapping her in bubble wrap and locking her in a padded room at the top of a very tall tower. Anything to keep her safe.

The table was silent, obviously considering her plea.

“No,” he said, his voice hard as granite.

Maggie’s stubborn glare collided with his, flashing all the fire of a sunset at him. “It’s the only way.”

“No,” Nancy said. “How can we risk losing you, too?”

“Maggie may be right,” Damian said, putting a hand up to subdue Ethan’s objection. “But so is her mother. However, we might be able to do this without putting her in danger. We’ll put her back on the air. It worked last time.”

Putting her on the air would be just as bad, Ethan wanted to say, knowing Maggie was prone to anxiety attacks. However, he wouldn’t give her secret away.

“I can talk to Steve,” Maggie said, more animated now that she had a purpose. “He could advertise a special edition of my show. After two nights of playing reruns of old shows, he’d love this idea. I can talk about victims, and families who have lost loved ones to violent crime, as well as sharing my personal experiences with Brad and…Sam.” Her gaze collided with Damian’s, but after an uncomfortable moment, the man just nodded. “He won’t be able to resist calling me. Tap the phone, trace the call, do whatever you need to do.”

Noah and Maria exchanged a look. “It could work,” Noah agreed.

Damian nodded. “Okay, Maggie, set it up with your station manager.”

Ethan had a sinking feeling his job of protecting Maggie from Fearmonger just got a hell of a lot more difficult.

As the meeting concluded, Maggie realized her mother’s hand was still on hers, providing gentle support. “Honey, come back to Damian’s place with us.”

She met her mother’s pleading brown eyes. “I can’t. Not yet. I have things to do.”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a tight line but, with a sigh, they suddenly relaxed. “I know you blame yourself for this, but we don’t hold you responsible. We never did.”

Maggie felt her chest tighten. Her father came to stand behind her as the room emptied of other occupants. He laid his warm hands on her shoulders.

“Listen to your mother. We don’t want to lose you too.”

Maggie stood suddenly. “Julia’s not dead. They’ll find her. Don’t talk like she’s gone forever.”

“I didn’t mean that, Magpie,” her dad insisted. “I just meant, we can’t watch you pull away again. Julia wouldn’t have wanted that. Neither would Brad.”

Maggie felt the childish urge to slap her palms over her ears and shake her head until they stopped talking. Instead, she folded her hands into fists at her sides. “You’re talking like she’s dead again.”

Her father paled. “I didn’t mean to. Your mother and I have hope.”

“You know what happened to Sam,” she threw at them, wanting for some strange reason to lash out. Probably to get it through to them that this was why she’d kept them at a distance this past year. This was what she’d been hoping to avoid.

Pain.
But you couldn’t avoid pain. It was everywhere.

Her mother stood and wrapped her arms around Maggie’s waist, pulling her into an embrace that had the tears tumbling free. “We do have hope, honey. And faith. And yes, we know what happened to Sam. Probably more than you do. You were only thirteen at the time. And we were Damian’s friends, his neighbors.”

Her mother pulled away but laid a smooth, warm palm against Maggie’s cheek. “And I refuse to believe the same thing will happen to Julia. As a parent, I can’t afford to think about that. We’ll focus on the hope. But we could use your help.”

Maggie nodded. “You have it. But I have to do what I can. I want to prepare a broadcast on just such a topic—the pain of families who have fallen victim to these psychopaths.”

“Interview us.”

“I don’t know if I can. It’s too close to us. I don’t know if I can let myself be that vulnerable.” Not without having a panic attack. But she had to admit, letting her parents speak on the radio was a good idea. It would definitely earn Fearmonger’s attention, making it that much more tempting to call in. “I’ll get back to you, okay?”

Sensing a presence behind her, she knew who it was without turning. Was it possible to know someone by the heat he gave off? And in such a short time span?

Ethan said something reassuring to her parents before her father led her mother from the room. A police officer waited outside to escort them to Damian’s house.

“You okay?” He came to her and placed a hand against her cheek. She resisted the urge to lean into it. If other people saw her as emotionally crippled, it was time to stand on her own two feet.

She nodded, trying not to feel regret as his hand fell away. “I will be.”

“I don’t like the idea of you luring Fearmonger out with your radio show. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

No, last time it had cost Sharon her life. But maybe that was only because Sharon would have been able to identify Fearmonger if she became suspicious. Maybe Julia still had time. “It’s our only chance at the moment.”

“You’re not to leave my side.”

“Except just this once.” There was something she had to do.

“What do you mean?”

“I have to talk to Damian. And I think it’s best if I do it in private.” She’d seen the way his jaw had clenched when she’d mentioned Sam. He’d left immediately after the meeting, without speaking to anyone.

Ethan nodded. “I’ll be in my office when you’re done.”

Damian greeted the knock on his office door with a curt response. He didn’t even raise his head from his notes when he called, “Enter.”

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding.” Maggie stood in the doorway, looking tentative.

He stifled a sigh. She’d obviously seen the pain he’d tried so hard to hide. Knowing her as he did, she couldn’t turn her back on it. Caring and perceptive, she was an extraordinary woman. When she’d mentioned Sam in the meeting, and how she wanted to discuss the circumstances and impact of Sam’s death on her show, it had taken him off guard.

“Come on in. How can I help?”

She huffed out a mirthless laugh. “I think you’re doing all you can already.” Seating herself across the desk from him, she eyed him with concern. “I’m worried about you. You look tired.” He tried to stifle his annoyance, wanting everyone to just leave him alone. If she finished what she had to say, he could go back to thinking about Sam. “Everyone could use a break. Killing yourself isn’t going to find Julia any faster.”

But did anyone know that for sure? If he’d tried harder with Sam, if he’d made sure Maggie planned to be at the mall that day before she’d left the house, would she still be alive?

“How do you know? How does anyone know what will help?” Maybe, once upon a time, he’d wanted to die. And still, on occasion, he had flashes of hopelessness and intense, almost crippling grief, but a sense of purpose changed all of that. At least on most days. One side of his mouth lifted. “I promise you I’m not trying to kill myself, but I can’t promise I won’t work to exhaustion. I will continue to do everything humanly possible to find Fearmonger.”

“And some things inhuman.” She leaned forward, reaching across the desk to still his hand, forcing him to set his pen down. “It won’t bring her back.”

Frustration and anger surged within, but he contained them with the skill he’d developed with years of practice. Had Sam lived, would she have become as bold and caring as Maggie? He smiled as he recalled his daughter’s stubborn streak. It rivaled that of the redhead sitting in front of him. Undoubtedly, Sam would have forced him to take care of himself, too.

When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse with tenderness. “I know, Maggie. You don’t have to play psychiatrist with me.” Hurt flashed in her eyes and he cursed himself. “I know nothing will bring my daughter back. But I have to help those I can.”

“But not at the expense of losing yourself,” she persisted. “There are people who care about you. Deeply. Me. My parents. Your employees. They won’t tell you how worried they are, but I will. We have ties that will never be severed, no matter what I say. At least, I hope that’s true. Please take care of yourself. That’s all I ask.”

He nodded. “I will. But taking another murderer off the street is what my heart and soul needs right now.”

“And I can’t wait to help you. Deborah and Fearmonger have thrown my life so far off track, sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore. And look what I’ve done to my parents and sister.” Her voice caught as she undoubtedly pictured her sister in the clutches of evil. Damian could well imagine, probably even more so than Maggie, what Julia was enduring.

“You’re so young. Too young to be going through this.”

“You were only about ten years older than I am now when Sam disappeared. You did the same thing.”

He scowled. “And I wouldn’t recommend it,” he snapped, then wiped a hand over his face. “Priscilla and I…our marriage fell apart because of pain neither of us could endure. I wouldn’t let myself lean on her. And I couldn’t be there for her. I couldn’t even be there for myself. I was a failure as a father and a husband.”

He blew out a breath. “I’ve never told anyone that before. Pride wouldn’t let me admit it, I suppose. But I want you to understand, so that you’ll keep the same thing from happening to you. Don’t shut your parents out.” He raised a hand against her objection. “After this is over—and it will be over soon, I promise—make sure you make amends. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”

“I will. It’s recently come to my attention how much of life I’ve shut out.”

He chuckled. “I suspect Ethan has something to do with that. Am I right?”

She blushed and his grin widened. “Yes.”

“Then grab at it. At life. Hold on to the people who love you. If Ethan’s the person who can help you live again, don’t let him go.” He knew all too well what his inability to see past his pain had cost him. “Besides, he could use your help with a thing or two in his own life.”

“I don’t feel like I can be any help to anyone, the way things are right now.”

“I can tell you, he feels the same. You two are perfect for each other.”

“And you?” she asked. “When will you open up, let the pain out?”

His smile turned grim. “Guess I haven’t found the right woman.” And if he never put any effort into it, he never would. But he doubted there was such a person out there for him, anyway. Priscilla had been a good wife and wonderful mother, but she hadn’t understood the need for justice that had consumed everything in his life, including his marriage.

“It would help if you would make yourself available. Not work so hard.”

“It might. But then, everything has its right time and place. You just have to recognize it and seize hold when it comes along.”

“Bitch!” Fearmonger screamed as he clasped his bloody wrist to his chest with his good hand. She’d bitten him, breaking the skin. He wouldn’t allow her to make that mistake twice.

He smacked her across the face hard enough to make her head snap back. Maggie’s sister had more fire in her than he’d expected. He’d miscalculated, assuming he could break into her apartment once she was asleep and drug her. Instead, she’d heard him and put up a fight. He should have known that after what Deborah had put Maggie through, the women in her family would take self-defense courses.

Stupid.
The voice in his head was his father’s.

“I’m not stupid!” he screamed at the walls.

You thought you had everything under control again. Idiot. And you thought you could handle the factory after my stroke, too. Look how that’s working out. You never were worth shit. And now you’ve miscalculated with this little bitch. You’re going to pay.
His father’s mirthless laugh echoed in his head.

Julia hadn’t been sleeping when he walked into her apartment, not deeply anyway. But he hadn’t been able to wait any longer. The cop who’d been parked outside her place had been due to return anytime. That was the chance he’d been waiting for.

She’d kicked and elbowed, clawed and spit until he’d subdued her in the hallway with his special syringe. For emergencies. He’d never had to use it before, and it gave him a little thrill to see how well his cocktail had worked. Really, you could find anything on the internet these days. He had another little cocktail just for Maggie. But that was a different, special brew just for her.

He’d been in a good mood. Until he’d checked just now to see if Julia was awake and she’d bitten his wrist hard enough to draw blood.

Bitch, he thought again. But it was a minor wound. She could have her petty attempts at escape. In the end, it wouldn’t matter.

A grin spread across his face. He’d enjoy the challenge. His last victims had been way too easy. Of course, Sharon and Deborah had trusted him. He’d taken the time to cultivate relationships with them. And after his employees had dared to question him today about how he was running things in his father’s absence, he could use a little stress relief. People were starting to notice that his dear mother and father hadn’t been around in a couple weeks. He wouldn’t have long to enact the rest of his plan.

Thinking of his plan, in great detail, was enough to cheer him.

“Ther-a-py,” he said, enjoying the way Julia’s eyes sparked with anger and confusion. He’d finally gagged her, but he could see the question in her eyes, so he continued. Because he felt like it. Because there was no longer anyone on earth who could make him do anything he didn’t want to do. “Therapy. You’re my therapy today, babe. And Maggie will be next. Sweet Maggie.

“If only Fearmonger had emerged earlier, if only my mother and father had seen this side of me, they never would have dared to touch me. But then, Fearmonger would never have been created.” He chuckled. “What a puzzle. And another example of how fear is the most powerful emotion in the world. It’s like a drug. Why else would people jump out of planes and ride roller coasters? For the thrill that comes with fear.”

His laughter died and he scowled. “And my parents will never know I was smarter than both of them, even without a fucking graduate degree. That I had the follow-through to succeed despite Maggie and her committee rejecting my med school application. Righteous hypocrites.” Julia’s chin quivered in his hand as he refocused his thoughts. “My parents didn’t recognize my intelligence. But
you
will. Maggie will.”

He ran the back of his hand down her creamy cheek, smeared with dried blood from the cut she’d earned when she struggled. When she pulled his hair, he’d slapped her so hard she’d fallen into a table, cutting her head.

Yeah, she had spunk. It was going to be fun to teach her a lesson.

Julia flinched and jerked her face away from his touch. He smacked her again. The sound rang against the cold concrete walls along with her moan. Then his cold laugh replaced all sound.

Julia’s tears made him feel a little better. Just a little.

He’d kept her longer than the others. Because she was just the bait.

Maggie was the prize.

But it was harder and harder to keep from just ending Julia’s life. The desire to see her blood flow free was growing by the hour.

No, he told himself. Patience. Maggie had to be there for that part, or everything would be ruined.

As the splintered rays of sunset pushed their way through the grimy barred window, he turned on the radio in the corner of the room. It was always tuned to the appropriate channel.

He smiled. They’d been advertising all afternoon. Dr. Margaret Levine was going to feature a special segment of her talk show this evening, beginning in a couple hours. And he’d be one of her many eager listeners. And the only one who mattered to her.

Soon now, he would be her whole world.