Dead Ringer (11 page)

He
relaxed back on the sofa. "Thank God. So I've completed my mandatory visits?"

She
looked amused. "You are free and clear."

"Great."
He rose but noted the tension that had normally lingered in his lower back had
eased. And he could breathe without feeling a weight on his shoulders.

She
picked up her appointment book and scanned the pages. "See you in two weeks?"

"You
just said I was in the clear."

She
stood, straightening to her five feet two inches. "You're correct. You don't
have to come back. I thought maybe you'd want to."

Committing
to therapy felt extreme. It was the kind of thing wimps and bleeding heart
liberals did. And yet he heard himself say, "Let me think about it."

She
shrugged and closed the book.
"Fair enough."

Jacob
left her office, shrugged on his jacket, and crossed to the elevator. He
punched the
DOWN
button,
feeling better than he had in a long time. He no longer had the urge to pound
on a punching bag. A weight had lifted from his shoulders. Seconds passed and
the doors dinged open.

A
woman stood on the elevator. Her gaze was lowered, but judging by her body
language, she looked as if she'd gone a couple of rounds in a ring. She raised
her head and her gaze met his.

It
was Kendall Shaw.

"What
the hell happened to you? Are you all right?"

Concern
for
her
in Jacob Warwick's voice had Kendall Shaw lifting her head.
She'd not heard
that
in a long time.

He
was just about the last person she wanted to see. She'd just finished a round
of physical therapy on her shoulder and wasn't in the mood for sparring.

Still
Kendall lifted her chin. She refused to show the pain she felt in her arm. "My
physical therapist is a sadist."

Confusion
darkened his eyes as he stepped onto the elevator and hit the button for the
lobby.
"How's that?"

His
natural masculine scent permeated her senses. His presence added energy to the
bland elevator car. Both softened the tone of her voice.
"My
shoulder.
I was shot.
Rehab."

Jacob
frowned as the doors closed.
"Right."

A
silence settled between them as they both tried to ignore the fact that his
foster father had shot and nearly killed her. He flexed his fingers.

Body
language spoke volumes and she was a master at reading it. Just like a gypsy
read tea leaves, she read people. It was killing Detective Warwick that his
foster father had been a killer. As much as the guy could make her blood boil,
she couldn't help but pity him. He'd been blindsided by the revelation.

"The
doctor says I'll make a full recovery." She kept her voice upbeat. She didn't
mind going toe-to-toe with the guy when he was 100 percent but she never took
satisfaction kicking someone when he was down.

He
met her gaze and searched her face for something. "I'm glad."

When
she was around him she always felt alive and on her toes. "So what brings you
here on a Friday afternoon?
A case?"

He
hesitated.
"Yeah."

"Care
to tell me about it?"

He
rolled his eyes. "Are you always this nosey?"

She
laughed. "It's one of the things I do best."

The
doors opened. He blocked them with his hand so they wouldn't close. He faced
her. "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"Pete."

She
understood that this exchange cost him emotionally. "Why? You didn't know what he
was doing."

"I
should have."

So
like a man. "Are you a mind reader?"

"No."

"Then
stop beating yourself up."

"He
nearly killed you." He ground each word out.

It
would have been so easy to wallow in self-pity. She'd refused. "I'm a big girl,
Detective. And I goaded him on purpose. I wanted a story.
Wanted
a reaction.
And I got one. I blame no one but Pete Myers."

Jacob
knitted his brow. He was silent for a long moment. "You can let it go just like
that?"

"Yes."

"I
thought you'd be pissed as hell with me."

Kendall
stepped forward and he dropped his arms so she could pass him into the lobby.
She stood straighter and kept all traces of emotion from her voice. "Victims
wallow. They fret over what they cannot control. And I'm no victim. And if I
may say, Detective Warwick, neither are you."

The
sun had set when Allen stood in the shadows watching her emerge from the liquor
store near Mercy Hospital. Holding a brown bag close, she cut across the street
and stepped around a plume of steam rising from a storm-water drain.

Judith
was beautiful. Her dark brown hair was shorter than he'd have liked and the
purple and red streaks didn't suit her, but he could see past all of that. She
wore ragged jeans and a leather jacket. She looked more like a bum than the
dignified woman he knew she could be.

Despite
her faults, he wanted to touch her hair. Was it soft? Did it smell like
coconuts, as Ruth's had?

Allen's
muscles tingled with anticipation. It was hard to hold back when he wanted to
run his hands through her hair, to touch her skin and kiss her lips. He wanted
her to join the Family.

He'd
hoped to wait another week before he brought her to the fold, but the
loneliness ate at him day and night. He crossed the street keeping a discreet
distance from her.

As
she approached the alleyway she paused. She glanced down the cut-through as if
weighing the merits of passing down a dark alley to save time.

Squaring
her shoulders, she headed forward.

He
followed and waited at the lip of the passageway until she was midway down and
passed under a dim overhead light. He sprinted down the narrow alley, which
smelled of garbage and urine. "Judith!"

She
didn't turn around and he realized she was wearing earbuds. She was listening
to music. Teetering between annoyance and relief, he hurried closer and reached
out to her.

She
whirled around. "Who the hell are you?"

He
stammered, "I...thought I knew you."

Up
close he could see her heavily lined eyes and streaked hair more clearly. Both
made her look so cheap.

She
interpreted his hesitation for weakness. "Well you don't."

Her
perfume triggered a shameful hardening of his body. God, but he wanted to touch
her. He lifted his gaze to Judith's eyes. The set of her jaw telegraphed her
distaste. "I didn't mean to be so bold."

"Buzz
off, freak!" She turned and started to walk away.

The
dismissal made Allen feel like a fumbling boy and it also enraged him. He
didn't deserve this disrespect. He was owed better.

Only
a couple of feet separated them but the gap was growing. If he was going to
stop her, it had to be now. He quickly closed the gap between them and put his
hand firmly on her shoulder this time.

She
recoiled and faced him. "Don't touch me."

From
his pocket he pulled a gold chain. It dangled in front of her. For a split second,
the quality piece of jewelry caught her eye. She wasn't used to pretty things.
"This is for you."

"Nice."

"Women
always like pretty things, don't they?"

Her
gaze narrowed as she stared at him. "Who are you?"

His
hand shot out with lightning quickness. He grabbed her hand and wrenched it
around her back as he pushed his other hand over her mouth. Using his body
weight, he shoved her against the wall. Before she could scream he jabbed his
forearm against her throat and held her in place. "You're not going to leave me
again."

Terror
blazed in her eyes. She kicked him and clawed at his hands, her actions
unpinning her from the wall. "Who are you, you crazy fucker?"

Her
chest rose and fell quickly under him and he wanted to touch her, to do things
to her that
were
so wrong. Angry, he slammed her back
against the brick wall a second time.
"Temptress."

He
fumbled in his pocket for a hypodermic and stabbed it into her chest. He
pressed the liquid into her system. She collapsed almost immediately.

Glancing
from left to right, he made sure no one had seen; then he wrapped his arm
around her shoulders, pulled her upright, and dragged her down the alley. To
anyone who glanced at them it would appear he was helping her to his truck.

His
truck was parked at the lip of the alley. He dragged her to the passenger door,
opened it, and gently set her upright in the seat. He clicked her seat belt
over her body so she wouldn't slump forward.

When
Allen slid behind the wheel of the truck, his heart raced and sweat dampened his
shirt. But he felt good. He had Judith. And soon she'd join the Family.

Saturday, January 12, 8:00
A.M.

Jacob
leaned against the counter in the break room. He cradled a cup of coffee in his
hands. He'd just popped two aspirin and wasn't in a good mood.

"You
look like shit," Zack said as he moved into the room and poured himself a cup
of coffee. "You've been here all night?"

"Yeah.
The tapes from the store's parking lot
arrived. I decided to review them."

Zack
frowned over his coffee cup. "Why didn't you call me?"

"No
sense ruining both our evenings. Besides, you and Lindsay don't get much
downtime."

A
hint of a smile reached Zack's eyes. "It was nice just being with her." He
sipped his coffee. "So what did you find?"

"It
took a while but I found the sixty-second bit of footage we needed."

Zack
leaned forward. "You saw Jackie on the footage?"

He
nodded. "Ten twenty-one p.m. Friday a week ago. Come into the conference room
and see the tape."

They
moved down the carpeted hallway and pushed through the double doors of the
conference room. The walls were covered with dry-erase boards and a large map
of the county. A U-shaped conference table faced the front of the room, where a
TV and VCR sat on a metal stand.

Jacob
sipped his coffee and picked up the TV/VCR remote.

Zack
leaned against the conference table, crossed his ankles, and sipped his coffee.
"Did you get a clean picture?"

"See
for yourself." Jacob hit
PLAY
.

The
grainy, color image showed Jackie White approaching her car with a cart full of
groceries. She loaded the first three bags without incident but the fourth
split at the bottom as she lifted it. The cans rolled away from her.

"Enter
our suspect," Jacob said.

A
hooded figure emerged out of the shadows and started collecting the cans. He
approached Jackie with the cans cradled in his arms.

"He
startles her," Jacob said. "And she tries to take the cans from him."

Zack
frowned as the scene unfolded. "But Mr. Helpful refuses. He wants to put them
in her car. Probably accuses her of being too proud and that she should accept
help.
Standard predator bullshit."

Jacob
sipped his coffee.
"Yeah.
And it works. She lets him
put the cans in the car."

Zack
leaned forward. "The guy could be her husband."

"He's
the right build."

They
both watched the film. The man convinced Jackie to move, taking her out of the
camera's view. She never returned into view but he did. He locked and closed
her car door.

Jacob's
jaw tensed. "He must have had a car waiting."

"Yeah."

"Let's
have that chat with White now."

The
drive to White's town house took twenty minutes. His paper lay on the stoop in
front of the door. Jacob picked it up and knocked on the door. When no one
answered he knocked again.

The
door snapped open and White glared at him. He didn't look broken, as he had on
Thursday. Now he looked haggard. Dark stubble covered his chin and the
shirttail of his wrinkled cable TV uniform hung loose.

"What
do you want?" he snapped.

"We'd
like to talk to you." Jacob took a bit of satisfaction knowing he wasn't the
only one who'd not gotten much sleep last night.

"About?"
White prodded.

"Jackie
White," Jacob said.

The
two detectives stared at him. The challenge in Zack's gaze left no room for
argument. White let them come inside and closed the door. "Have you found
Jackie's killer?"

Zack
folded his arms over his chest. "We're working on it."

White
kept his hands at his sides, his fists clenched. "So what did you find?"

"Tell
me again where you were this past weekend?"

"I
was in Bath County hunting. I left Friday and came back late Monday."

"How
far is Bath County from here?"

"Three
hours."

Jacob
nodded. "It can be done in two hours if you're pushing it."

"Well,
there'd have been no 'pushing it' this past weekend because of the snow on
Afton Mountain." The mountain was just west of Charlottesville and in bad
weather was the first stretch of the interstate to become impassible.

Jacob
glanced at his notes as if reading something important. "What time did you
arrive?"

"I
don't know. Late."

"How about a time?"

White
sighed. "I had a flat tire outside of Staunton and had to change it. I didn't
get to the cabin until about one."

"Where
did you fix the tire?"

"I
don't remember. Like I
said,
a station in Staunton."

White
swallowed and leaned forward. "I didn't kill my wife."

"We
didn't say you did," Jacob said.

White's
eyes were wild with grief and fury.
"Then why all the
questions?"

Zack
unfolded his arms, ready to react if he had to. "Routine."

Jacob
thought about the tape. Jackie had vanished at 10:21
P.M
. on Friday.
Which would have
given White enough time to stash her and make it to Bath by one.
"Can
you give us the names of the men you hunted with so they can confirm when you
arrived?"

White's
lips flattened. "I don't see why you need the names."

Jacob's
eyes narrowed. He'd been waiting for that. "I can get a warrant and have your
tires examined for patches. And I'll track down and talk to your hunting
buddies no matter how long it takes."

White
shoved a trembling hand through his hair. He swallowed and sank into a nearby
chair. "I didn't have a flat."

Jacob
tensed but said nothing.

White
shoved out a ragged breath. "I didn't have a flat and my friends will tell you
I didn't get there until nearly two. I was at my girlfriend's house. Her name
is Kelly Green."

Jacob
wrote the name down.

"She's
pregnant. That's why I stopped by. She'd not been feeling well that day. I
didn't leave her house until eleven."

"Why
didn't you tell us about her before?"

"I
didn't want to drag her into this mess."

"Is
Kelly the reason you and Jackie fought at Christmas?" Zack asked.

"Yes.
I begged Jackie to give me a divorce. Our marriage had been a sham since our
disastrous honeymoon. Kelly wanted to be married by the time the baby was born.
We were running out of time."

"Jackie
didn't agree," Jacob said.

"No.
She said divorce wasn't an option. She refused to be a real wife but she
wouldn't let me go. Said marriage was a sacrament.
For better
or for worse.
How the hell was I supposed to know she'd be frigid as
ice?"

"Did
she ever see a therapist?" Jacob asked.

"Yeah.
Finally after months of expensive sessions she
told me that hypnosis revealed she'd been molested as a kid."

"Do
you have the doctor's name?"

"Thompson,
I think."

Jacob's
jaw tightened. "Who molested her?"

"She
said she couldn't remember. But I knew she did. She wouldn't tell me."

He
couldn't decide if White was telling the truth or spinning another lie. "I'm
going to need Kelly Green's phone number.
Also the full name
of Jackie's therapist."
Jacob handed a piece of paper and a pen to
White.

White's
hand trembled as he wrote. "I didn't kill Jackie."

Jacob
recited the Miranda rights to White.

"Why
the hell should I need to be read rights?" White bellowed. "I didn't do it.

"Get
an attorney, Mr. White."

Kendall
had a break in the Jackie White murder story. Phil White had called her and
agreed to talk to her.

Still
she was in a foul mood when she arrived at the news station just after eleven.
She'd taken extra care with her appearance today. She'd chosen the dark wrap
dress, black boots, and silver necklace. She'd swept her hair into a French
twist and applied her makeup with extra care, ensuring there was no hint of the
dark circles under her eyes.

The
dream stalked her several times a night now and she was more and more convinced
that it was a clue to her past.

The
increased frequency of the dream had to be linked to the visit to the adoption
agency. Since the meeting more and more questions about her birth mother
plagued her. Had her birth mother struggled with the decision to give her up,
as Nicole was now struggling? Or had she tossed her away without a second
thought?

When
Kendall was a teenager, she'd secretly conjured daydreams about the unknown
woman who'd given her away. In one scenario her birth mother was homeless and
unable to keep her. In another she was a rich movie star who'd been forced to
relinquish her by manipulative managers. No matter what the scenario, the
primary theme remained the same. Her birth mother had not wanted to give
Kendall up.

"So
why not just search, you coward?" she mumbled. "Put an end to the questions.
That's what you do."

She
knew the answer. Fear kept her from searching. She was afraid of what she would
find.

"Get
a grip, Kendall.
Today
is what counts. Jackie White's story is what
counts."

"Talking
to yourself is supposed to be a sign that you're insane." Mike had poked his
head around the corner of her office.

She
straightened,
embarrassed she'd been caught mumbling
to herself. "I've been called worse. Are you ready to go?"

He
bowed.
"Ready and willing.
Where
to?"

"Jackie
White's husband called. He wants to talk to me."

"Excellent."

Despite
her sour mood, Mike made her smile. Nothing ruffled the guy.

A half hour later Kendall and Mike were
climbing the steps to Phil White's town house.
Kendall knocked on the door.

Almost
immediately, the door snapped open to a man dressed in a gray suit, a white
shirt, and a pink striped tie. "Yes?"

"I'm
Kendall Shaw with Channel Ten News. I'd like to talk to Phil White about his
wife's death."

The
suit frowned. "He's not talking to reporters."

She
didn't back down. "And you are?"

"His attorney."

Ah,
there was a detail worth noting. "Mr. White called me."

"Doesn't matter.
He's not talking to the media."

He
moved to close the door but she stepped forward and blocked the threshold with
her foot. "If he has a story to tell, then I'm the one who should tell it."

"Go
away."

"I
want to talk to her." The male voice came from inside the town house. The man
whom she'd only glimpsed the other day approached her. He had dark circles
under his eyes and two days' growth of beard.

"Phil
White," Kendall said, now ignoring the suit.

"Yeah."

"Did
you kill your wife?"

Bloodshot
eyes studied her. "No, I did not."

The
urgency in his voice struck a cord in her, but she was careful not to be drawn
in. She'd interviewed some charming killers in her time. "Then let me say how
sorry I was to hear about your wife's death."

White
seemed to be mollified by the comment. "Thanks."

She
didn't budge from the doorjamb. She wanted this interview. "I'd like to talk to
you about Jackie. I want to hear your side of the story."

The
suit frowned. "Phil, it's not a good idea to talk to the press. You need to
keep a low profile right now."

White
shook his head. "If I don't talk to the press, then no one is going to know
what
I'm
thinking and feeling."

"They
don't need to know," the suit said.
"As long as the judge knows."

White
set his jaw and considered the advice. "No, Harvey, if the police have their
way I'll be railroaded to prison."

Excitement
burned in Kendall. The cops had to warn White of his rights so he wouldn't
incriminate himself, but she didn't have such restrictions. "Then tell me
what's going on."

The
suit tried to close the door one last time and change White's mind.

Kendall
kept her foot planted on the threshold. "Talk to me, Mr. White," she coaxed.

White
nudged his attorney aside and opened the door wide for her. She stepped into
the town house, letting her gaze absorb details.