Don't Tell (29 page)

„But – “

He slapped her again and blood swelled from her lip. „Surely you’re not that stupid, Angie. Surely.“ He trapped her hands above her head and grabbed the roll of duct tape he’d purchased at the corner hardware store especially for this occasion. Angie saw the tape and her eyes widened. She screamed and fought, clawed her nails down the side of his face. Swearing viciously, Winters forced her back down to the mattress, overpowering her with no effort at all. He taped her wrists together. Then silenced her with a six-inch strip across her mouth. Her ankles were last. He looked down at her face, eyes wide and terrified. She shook her head, desperate. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes down into her ears.

He smiled, stood and grabbed one of her ankles and taped it to one of the posts at the foot of the bed, then repeated it with the other ankle. She was spread-eagled. Wide open. He shrugged, looking down at her with revulsion. „You’re a hooker, Angie. Did you honestly think this would never happen to you?“ He taped her bound wrists to the rails of the headboard. He’d planned this from the moment he walked into this sleazy fleabag of a hotel. Lumpy mattress, but a great bed frame.

Leaving her to struggle to no end whatsoever, he picked up his cell phone and dialed Randy Livermore, Wonder-Hacker. „I’ve got some names I want you to run through the Illinois Department of Motor Vehicles computer,“ Winters said. „I’ll fax you the list in twenty minutes. I want you to find their addresses and pictures. Oh, and narrow the search to any women five-five and under.“ She could change her name and maybe even her hair and eye color, but Mary Grace couldn’t change her height. Most people wouldn’t even think of lying about it. „Call me on my cell phone when you’re through.“

He disconnected and turned back to Angie who was lying very still. But still breathing. That was important. Only sickos did women after they were dead.

Asheville

Thursday, March 15

5:45 p.m.

The phone rang in Ross’s office and all present jumped in their chairs. They’d been gathered, silently waiting since four o’clock.

Ross picked up. „Ross, here.“ She nodded to the group. „I’m going to put you on the speaker phone.“ She pushed the speaker button. „You still there, Lieutenant Spinnelli?“

„Yes, I am. Who do you have in the room?“

„Detectives Lambert and Jolley from my department and Special Agent Stephen Thatcher, North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation. Tell me, did our idea work?“

„Well… yes and no.“ Spinnelli sighed. „Technically it worked like a charm. Jolley chats with Winters, we trace the call through the local wireless company faster because they know the exact time to search for the signal, and we deploy our men to the scene.“

„But you still didn’t find Winters.“ Steven didn’t even have to ask.

Spinnelli sighed again. „No. We got to the hotel too late. The room was empty with the exception of one thing.“

„And that was?“ Toni asked, frustration etched deep in her face.

Steven watched Ben Jolley stiffen. After Toni had confronted him with his calls to Winters’s cell phone, Jolley had agreed to place the call only to clear his friend’s name, once and for all. From the tone of Spinnelli’s voice, Ben Jolley was about to be gravely disappointed.

„A dead hooker. Hands, feet and mouth duct taped. She’d been sexually assaulted.“

Jolley paled, sweat beaded across his forehead. „No,“ he whispered hoarsely.

Toni dropped her forehead into her hand. „Sweet Jesus.“

Jonathan Lambert leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

Steven watched Lambert’s throat work as he struggled for composure and realized how difficult this must be for all of them – discovering a man they’d stood with for years was capable of cold-blooded murder. Steven cursed softly. „Broken neck?“

„Yep,“ Spinnelli answered, his voice hard. „I gather this is not a new MO.“

Steven turned to look at the photo of the broken, bloated body of Susan Crenshaw, his stomach rolling over. „No, it’s not new. Did you find any physical evidence linking Winters to the murdered woman?“

„That’s the good news. She scratched him good; we found skin under her nails. The lab will get us something tomorrow afternoon at the latest. He must have been so excited about whatever it was that she brought him that he didn’t think to clean under her nails. We posted his picture and the picture you sent of his wife in every precinct in the downtown area. He’ll make a mistake soon, then we’ll find him.“

Steven sighed when Toni disconnected. „Potato chips.“

„He can’t seem to stop at just one,“ Toni agreed woodenly. „Let’s pray we find Mary Grace soon.“ She looked over at Ben Jolley whose pale face had become noticeably green. Steven almost felt sorry for the man. „Are you okay, Ben?“

Jolley nodded shakily. „Yeah. I…“ He stood, visibly trembling. „I need to get some air.“ He turned for the door, then turned back, his expression tortured. „I didn’t know, Toni. I swear it.“ He swallowed hard. „My God,“ he whispered. „What have I done?“

Chapter Fourteen

Chicago

Thursday, March 15

6 p.m.

The dull roar assaulted Caroline’s ears before she’d even entered the gymnasium. Tom had a home game tonight. The cheerleaders were warming up on the sidelines and for a moment Caroline envied their high kicks and youthful bounces. She could walk, but like Max, she’d never fly. Rob had seen to that.

„Hi, Miz Stewart!“

Forcing a smile to her lips she waved at the miniskirted group of pom-pom girls on her way to the bleachers. It wasn’t their fault she had terrible judgement when it came to men. It wasn’t their fault that her note to Max had gone unanswered the whole damn day. She wished it was someone’s fault, but in the end, the finger pointed squarely back at herself.

She leaned back, propping both elbows on the bleacher above her and dropped her head back, trying to stretch her tight neck muscles. She shook her head, feeling her hair brush against the bleachers. It was hard to believe almost two weeks had passed since she looked up to find Max Hunter standing before her. In only two weeks, she’d had her heart turned inside out, felt the first stirrings of lust in her life, and held the man of her dreams in her arms for a few brief shining moments.

She shook her head again. But he wasn’t the man of her dreams. He wasn’t a man she could respect. She’d meant every word of her note. She’d even typed her resume and had several jobs circled in yesterday’s want ads. Leaving Carrington before graduation would be hard, but working so close to Max Hunter would be worse. She’d fold eventually, tolerate his self-pity. Tolerate his blaming something or someone for his misfortunes. And start the cycle all over again.

That cycle must never start again.

„I need to thank you, Beautiful.“

Caroline jumped a foot, much to the amusement of Tom’s coach. A hulk of a man, he towered over everyone she knew. Everyone but Max, that is. Angrily, she banished the thought from her mind as she struggled to straighten her body.

Angling a glance up, she found his black eyes dancing with suppressed laughter.

„Don’t, Frank,“ she warned. „Don’t tease me. I’ve had a hell of a bad day.“

One eyebrow arched, stretching one side of his ebony face. „That’s the first time I’ve heard you use the dreaded H-E-double hockey sticks, Cara-line.“ He said her name with the smooth drawl of deep Mississippi, drawing her name out to four syllables.

She hung her head. „I’m sorry. It’s just been… well, whatever.“ She looked up to find his expression calm and waiting. He’d been a good friend to her for years. She’d met Frank and his wife when the three of them volunteered at the local grammar school and Caroline had been so glad when Tom became a member of Frank’s JV team. He was truly a good man. „How are you?“

„Happy as a dog scratchin’ a flea.“ He grinned when her lips twitched. „But I didn’t come over here to discuss my personal state of being. I came to thank you.“

Caroline frowned. „For what?“

Frank’s bass laugh was enough to vibrate the glossy wood beneath their feet. „For sending a legend my way, Beautiful.“ He gently grabbed her chin between two beefy fingers and turned her gaze to the end of the court. „He’s going to be a godsend. The boys are practically drooling puddles on their shoes. A Laker. I still can’t believe it.“

„When… Uh…“ Caroline stuttered and gave up.

„Today. Uh.“ Frank tilted her chin up to check her eyes. „You’re surprised. You didn’t think he’d come. Hmm. And just why did you have an H-E-double hockey stick of a day, Cara-line?“

„Shut up, Frank.“ But her smile was practically ripping her face. „He’s good with the kids?“

„Oh, yes. Is he good with Cara-line?“ His laugh boomed out again at her blush. „No need for words, darlin’. You just said it all. I won’t tire him out on his first day. I’ll make sure I leave some of him for you.“

„Oh, stop.“ With a mock push she sent Frank on his way, then turned and watched Max. For a full fifteen minutes he drilled the second string while the first string kept missing their cues to rebound as they stared at the sight of a former pro in their midst. As a pre-game warm-up it was a bust, but Caroline doubted any of the boys would complain.

Max had discarded the jacket of his suit and his tie and stood in his street shoes, his shirtsleeves rolled to just below his elbows. A steady line of perspiration dripped from his forehead down the side of his face and that lock of black hair kept falling across his forehead. Sweat had darkened his underarms and soaked the back of his shirt.

He’d never looked more disheveled.

She wanted him with a fierceness that stole her breath.

Then he stopped with his hand on a boy’s shoulder and turned around. He caught her gaze as that slow smile she’d come to love lit his eyes, then curved his beautiful mouth. And he winked, just once, before turning back to instruct the lucky boy in the art of the free throw.

And quietly, without thunder or lightning, it all fell into place. A sweet peace filled her as she watched him. This was right. This was for keeps. Her lips curved. She’d call Dana tonight and tell her to stop cursing Max with every spare breath. But for the moment she hoarded the absolute happiness, the sheer contentment of knowing she’d found the one. The right one.

„Time for bed, Tom,“ Caroline said from the sofa to her son sitting at her feet.

Guarding her, Max thought.

„But, Mom – “

„Good night, Tom,“ Caroline repeated firmly. „Tomorrow’s a school day.“

Tom rose, clearly unwilling to leave his mother alone. „Good night, Mom.“ He hesitated, then added much more quietly, „Good night, Max.“

Caroline rose from her comfortable seat nestled in the crook of Max’s arm to muss Tom’s blond hair, standing on her toes to reach.

„Good night, Tom.“ Max didn’t move from his position on the hard, lumpy sofa. Couldn’t move. Wouldn’t move. His back hurt like the devil, but that pain was nothing compared to the throbbing of his body. If he stood up now, Caroline’s politely surly son would get a lesson in the birds and the bees that he’d never forget. Max doubted that would elevate his position on Tom’s meter of trust.

Caroline was looking at Tom expectantly. She threw a pointed glance at Max.

Tom flushed, shifting his body uncomfortably. „Um… Thanks for coming, Max.“

„No problem, Tom. I should have gotten off my pity train and done something like that a long time ago. You should thank your mom for helping me see the light.“

The two exchanged glances, eyes equally blue, equally expressive. I don’t trust him, Tom’s gaze screamed. Don’t argue with me, young man, Caroline’s answered firmly. „Go, honey.“ Her command was soft, yet somehow brooked no argument. „Homework, then bed.“

She watched Tom move stiffly to his bedroom, and when his door closed, her shoulders sagged for just a moment. But she straightened them, then returned to snuggle at Max’s side. „Well,“ she said, smiling up at him.

„Well.“ He shifted against the corner of the sofa, but the position change brought no relief. The hour he’d spent watching television while she snuggled against him in a soft blue sweater and very snug jeans, with her suspicious son coiled on the floor like a guard dog at her feet had been pure torture.

„That was pretty wonderful.“ Her fingers toyed with the short hairs at his temple. „I was proud of you.“

„It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.“ He swallowed as emotion returned to battle the lust. „I told Frank I’d coach through the end of the season. I’ll, uh…“ He swallowed again. „I’ll have to have my secretary clear my calendar of all late afternoon appointments.“

Caroline caressed his lower lip. „I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.“

„Caroline, about that note. Do you really want to quit?“

„Do you want me to?“

„No. No,“ he repeated softly when she flinched. „I don’t want you to go.“

Caroline felt relief course through her. Perhaps everything was going to be all right after all. „I didn’t want to leave you.“ She couldn’t miss the flash in those smoky eyes, intensely trained on her face. „I just didn’t think I could stay.“

„You mean with me acting like an ungrateful, pompous, self-pitying sonofabitch?“

Embarrassment heated her cheeks. „I’m sorry. I normally don’t talk like that.“

„But you meant it.“

„Yes.“

„Do you mean it now?“

„No.“

„Good.“ He’d leaned closer with every word until he covered her mouth with his. Lightly at first, reacquainting. Then he pulled away, making her sigh. „I missed you.“

„Is that why you did this tonight?“ she asked.

„Partly,“ he admitted. „I don’t think I would ever have done it on my own. It was hard, Caroline. I tried to go back, to look at pictures, to remember playing. I couldn’t.“

„You will.“ Her hands tunneled into his hair, bringing his face close again. „I’ll make you.“

„Promise?“

„I promise.“

Sober, he pulled back far enough to see her eyes. „I’ve been thinking about everything you said. Your injury, learning to walk again. What happened?“