In His Sights (22 page)

When the call was finished, he slumped over the conference table, brain scrambling to think where to start next.

Suddenly, he straightened. “Shea got Miller's social security number from his records. If he owns any other property, his social will be tied to it, right?”

“Probably, because of the taxes.” Tonio grinned. “And I think I know somebody at the county clerk's office who can get her hands on that tidbit of information. She owes me.”

“I'm not even going to ask.”

“You don't want to know.” Scrolling through his contacts, Tonio finally found the one he wanted and punched the contact button. After a few seconds, the call was answered and he poured on the charm. “Hey, gorgeous. How's it shakin'?” Pause. “Yeah, I enjoyed that, too. I'm up for a repeat if you are.”

Chris sighed and did his best to tune out his friend's attempt to wheedle information out of his current bed buddy. It appeared the guy's lifestyle wasn't as stale and boring as Chris had previously believed. Ignorance really was bliss sometimes.

After a couple of minutes of playing verbal footsie, his partner hung up the phone, his expression victorious. “Score. She's going to poke around the county records and see what she can turn up on Lee Miller.”

“I hope she finds something. Anything. I can't take much more of this.”

“She will. Just a little longer, and we'll have something to go on. I'm sure of it.”

The four of them talked quietly, waiting for the important call. Chris tried to distract himself listening to their bull as they razzed each other about this and that, but he couldn't focus on anything but getting Robyn back.

He loved her so much, he ached. He needed her back in his arms, in his bed.

Conversation came to an abrupt halt as Tonio's cell phone rang. The man answered, then asked for the address and started writing it on his notepad. When he was done with the call, he nodded to them and gestured to the address he'd written.

“Miller owns some property outside of town, an old house that sits on a two-acre lot. The records show the place used to belong to his parents, then apparently passed to him after his father died. We ready to do this?”

“I've been ready,” Chris said, pushing to his feet. “I want to bury that fucker.”

Shane threw in some caution. “Remember, that's what he wants as well. We can't play into his hands if we can help it.”

“I know, but part of me wants to, and save the taxpayers a lot of money.” At the looks his friends exchanged, Chris held up a hand. “Don't worry. I'm solid. I promise not to go Rambo on his ass unless I don't have a choice.”

“Good enough,” Shane said.

A bit more waiting was involved as Rainey called the
judge again, revising the warrant to include the second property. With that taken care of, they were set.

Chris headed for the door. “Let's go.”

Tonio put the address into his GPS and they were on their way. This time the four detectives rode together, the same two uniforms following again in their patrol car. When they reached the turn that led into a rural area with the houses spread apart every few acres, Chris began to tense. This was it. Miller wanted them here, for this. One way or another, the ordeal would be over soon.

At last the address came into view, and Tonio slowed, but didn't stop. This allowed them to get a good look at the property as they went past.

“Jesus, look at that big house. It used to be quite a showplace,” Chris remarked. “He's let it go totally to ruin.”

His partner snorted. “If what we suspect about his home life growing up is as bad as Dr. Chin indicated, or even worse, then it makes perfect sense that he'd allow his father's symbol of wealth to rot. The place is as broken and hopeless as Miller himself.”

From the backseat, Taylor chimed in. “Damn, you should be an FBI profiler or some shit.”

“Nah. The stress would suck.”

“True that,” Taylor agreed.

Tonio drove down the road to the next driveway, then turned around and went back to the house. Miller knew they were coming, but his partner still parked out on the road behind cover of a stand of trees instead of pulling down the driveway. Every bit of surprise they could hold on to until the last minute, they'd take.

Quietly, they exited the vehicle and made their way to the house. Chris and Tonio took the front, Shane and Taylor the back in case he tried to escape. The two uniforms passed over the battering ram and positioned themselves on either side of the house, which was now virtually surrounded.

Holding the ram, Chris repeated the action he'd taken at the apartment earlier. He had to follow procedure, though it made him burn with anger. Banging on the door, he yelled:

“Lee Miller, this is the Sugarland Police! Open up—we have a warrant!” He waited the space of about three heartbeats before he hefted the tool. “Fuck this.”

And he splintered the bastard's front door into a million pieces.

Robyn's head was nodding.

Despite her best efforts not to fall asleep, the constant vigil, remaining alert for the sounds of Lee moving about, was taking its toll. But she didn't want to be surprised by his return.

In fact, she'd spent hours fashioning a little surprise of her own.

After the weird conversation with Lee the previous night, he'd disappeared and mostly left her alone. She could hear him pacing, sometimes ranting to a person she suspected wasn't really there. But he kept to himself, thank God for small favors.

Well, except to offer her breakfast, which she refused. A human could live for weeks without food. Water was a different matter, and she had accepted a sealed bottle with some trepidation. She had taken a sip and thanked him warily, but she was still trying to be alert to any possible side effects. As she drank, he'd beamed at her as though she'd given him a gold star. She couldn't fathom how his messed-up brain worked.

When he left, she spent long moments examining the bottle itself. She considered dumping the water and trying to shape the bottle into a sharp weapon, but the plastic was too flimsy. She needed something sturdier. Besides, if he asked for the bottle back to throw away, she'd be in trouble.

Next she forced herself from the corner and prowled around the bedroom as silently as possible. The house was old, and she didn't need her footsteps giving her away. The room was a sad little time capsule filled with bric-a-brac she suspected had belonged to his mother. Whom Robyn studiously avoided looking at.

It was almost a shrine. On the antique dresser were lace doilies, an old figurine of a ballerina, a small doll, and a gorgeous jewelry box. Robyn wondered whether this stuff had belonged to one of Lee's grandmothers, since his mother wasn't nearly old enough to have used these things when they were brand-new.

She was drawn to the jewelry box, so she walked over and opened the lid. Idly, she began to sift through a string of pearls, brooches, clip-on earrings, and other trinkets ladies wore long ago. Briefly, she considered a brooch as a possible weapon. Picking one up, she turned it over, examining it from all angles. It wouldn't do. The edges weren't sharp enough and the pin was too small to do any damage.

Finished examining the box, she went on to the small writing desk against an opposite wall near where she'd been huddled. The desk was small and plain, and other than some stationery, pens, paper clips, and such, it didn't
reveal much. Until she dug toward the back of the middle drawer . . .

And found an ornate letter opener.

Her pulse sped up as she stared at the slim silver object with its pretty, swirly handle. This might be her savior. Footsteps sounded from down the hallway, closing in fast, and she quickly pocketed the opener. Since it was slippery, she pointed it down and stuck the sharp end through the seam of her pants pocket to keep it in place.

And none too soon. The door was flung open and Lee hurried inside, stopping when he saw her away from the corner.

“What are you doing?” His eyes narrowed.

“Your mom has some lovely things,” she said calmly, gesturing to the dresser. “Did they belong to
her
mother?”

“Yeah,” he snapped, moving toward her. “We don't have time to talk about that. We've got company.”

“Who—?”

But her question was aborted as he grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room and down the hallway. Stumbling to keep up, she managed the stairs without falling. At the bottom he kept going, pulling her into the middle of the living room. Spinning her to face the front door, he stood behind her and hooked his left arm around her neck in a tight hold. With his right, he pressed something sharp into her side. A knife? Oh God.

“What are we doing?” She couldn't keep the fear from her voice.

“They're here,” he said, sounding excited. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” The police? She fervently hoped so. Terror threatened to steal all rational thought, and she held on by a thread. Carefully, she started to inch her fingers into her front pocket.

Just then, a loud banging sounded on the front door. And it was followed by a very welcome voice.

“Lee Miller, this is the Sugarland Police! Open up—we have a warrant!”

She didn't have time to celebrate. There was a murmur from the other side of the door, and then something huge slammed against the wood. The old door exploded inward, no match for whatever tool they'd use to break it down. It banged against the opposite wall and Chris rushed in, gun drawn on her captor, followed by three other detectives who were also armed and ready to shoot.

Briefly, Chris's eyes met hers, but revealed nothing. No indication of how to handle this situation. So she did the only thing she could—watched and waited. And trusted her lover.

“Drop the knife, Lee,” Chris said in a firm, even voice.

“I can't do that.”

“Yes, you can. Put it down and we'll walk out of here, get you some help.”

His laugh was maniacal. “Help? That's rich! Where were you when I needed help before, huh? When Daddy was terrorizing me, beating up Mom for more entertainment, and then having cocktails with his buddies like nothing happened? Where were you then?”

“I wasn't around then, Lee.”

“Lying cop!” he yelled. “I saw you take my dad's
money and just walk away! I saw that smirk on your face. He bought you, and you were my last hope!”

Chris's eyes widened. “No, Lee. That was another cop, not me. I'm not much older than you are. I was in grade school, just like you. I couldn't have done anything back then, but I can help now. I'll get—”

“It's too little, too late! Don't you see?”

“Not true.” Chris's body was tense, but it was obvious he was trying to convey sincerity. “People believe you now. You've showed them how it was. With a good lawyer explaining those extenuating circumstances, you can get a lighter sentence. Maybe even go to a hospital instead of prison. You could have a new life.”

“Bullshit!” The point of the knife dug deeper into her side. “I knew a long time ago there would never be any help for me. Everybody failed me. Nobody cared. That's why I had to do what I did, to get people out there to understand how fake they are! The people who are supposed to save kids from monsters are fake and they don't give a shit!”

He was losing it. The sting in her side became a burning sensation, and warmth trickled down her skin. This was what Lee wanted. She was his sacrificial lamb, his way to commit suicide by cop.

Lee wanted to die. But, by God, she wasn't going to go with him.

Chris's gaze strayed to hers again, then dipped for a second to the hand she was still inching into her pocket.

With a slight smile, she mouthed,
I love you
. And braced herself to end this thing.

*   *   *

Sweat rolled down Chris's spine.

Miller was done, had given up. The truth was in his dead eyes, the rage in his tone. The bitter defeat.

Lee no longer wanted help; he wanted peace. In the abused man's mind, there was only one way to achieve that. But Chris wasn't going to allow it to go down on Lee's terms.

Chris tried changing tactics. “You were smart, hiding the poison in the shampoo bottles. We never figured out how you got the cyanide, though.”

The man's stance eased some. “The army. Made all kinds of contacts in the military. Helps to know people who can get you stuff under the table.”

“I'll bet. Yeah, you were the smart one all around. Nobody had a clue for a long time. Once you're treated, you can turn your life around. Put that intelligence to use reaching out to people like you, who've been through so much.”

For a few seconds, Lee seemed to consider the idea. Then he sneered. “I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work. It's lip service, just like I've gotten my whole life. And you know what? I'm tired of fighting, tired of everything.”

“It's not lip service,” Chris said, easing closer. “If you'd just—”

“Sorry, Detective. This ends now.”

Before Chris could blink, Lee drove his right arm forward. Robyn cried out and Chris had a split second to realize Lee had stabbed her before she jerked a long, silver blade from her pants pocket, drew her arm back, and thrust it into his thigh as deep as possible.

With a roar, Lee let go of Robyn and she fell.

“Drop the knife!” Chris shouted.

The man had to be in agony, but that didn't stop him from straightening and rushing at Chris, knife raised to attack. He had no choice but to fire. Rapidly, he pulled the trigger, feeling no satisfaction as the man jerked and red bloomed on his shoulder. Lee staggered backward and sprawled on the floor, moaning.

Tonio bounded past Chris to kick the knife away from their suspect and make sure he was subdued. Chris's sole attention was on Robyn as he rushed to her side and fell to his knees, studying her side.

Red was staining her blouse and white doctor's coat and was starting to pool on the floor. She was staring up at him with scared blue eyes, panting, in obvious pain.

“Chris,” she whispered.

“Shh. You're going to be okay, sweetheart.”

Shane appeared beside him. “Taylor's calling the paramedics.”

He struggled to keep the tremor out of his voice and his hands as he stroked her face. “You hear that? Help is coming. You're going to be fine.”

“This shit hurts.” She attempted a smile, but it didn't quite form.

“I know, baby.” He took one of her hands in both of his. “Just focus on me, okay? Listen to my voice. I know Maddy is going to be so happy to have her mom back.”

“Maddy! Where . . . ?” Her lids began to droop.

Fear surged into his throat. “Daisy's been taking care of her when Rachel's not there. I'm not sure what they've
told her but we'll deal with that when— Robyn? Baby, stay with me,” he begged.

But her eyes drifted closed despite his pleas. Tears stung his eyes and he kept talking, probably not even making sense, hoping she could hear. Finally the paramedics arrived, and he was forced to move aside.

“I love you,” he told her. “Stay with me.”

Shane stood next to him with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in support. “She'll be fine. These guys are the best and they'll take good care of her.”

The lump in his throat made speech impossible, so he simply watched, knowing now how helpless she must have felt when he had come into her ER poisoned. And then she had endured the added stress of treating him. He had a whole new respect for her.

Activity on the other side of the room caught his attention. He hadn't realized another team had arrived to work on Lee's shoulder wound. Searching his soul, he knew he didn't want the man to die, in spite of what he had done. Inside he was still a little boy who'd been tortured behind his mind's capacity to cope.

He never had the loving family unit Maddy did, and never would.

Taylor strode up to him and Shane. “We've got all the evidence we need. The office off the living room is full of the victims' profiles—all the stuff we had gathered on them and more. One of the uniforms just told me the garage is full of poison. Like enough to gas a city block if the house ever caught fire and burned.”

That was it. They had him.

The medics loaded Robyn, and almost refused to let
Chris ride. The city was cracking down on riders, but the badge and gun probably helped change their minds. He kept a watchful eye on her during the trip, terror gripping him when her blood pressure started to take a dive. Like a champ, she held on until they got to Sterling and she was rushed into surgery.

At loose ends, Chris prowled the ER, pacing every square inch. Then he expanded his walk to include the entire lower level. Like a tiger in a cage he walked, feeling trapped by circumstances out of his control. He wanted to fix her and he couldn't. That job belonged to someone else, and the wait was maddening.

When he noted he'd been gone almost two hours, he wasted no time getting back to the ER in case anyone came out to talk to him. But there was only Shane, who'd come to sit with his cousin while the others were wrapping up the crime scene.

“You're not going to believe this.” Shane took a seat beside him, expression grim.

“At this point? Try me.”

“There was a skeleton upstairs in one of the bedrooms. From the clothing and condition of the body, the forensics guys are saying it could be Lee's mother.”

Chris blinked at him. “Say what?”

“Yep. She'd been dead for years, nothing left but bone and a bit of hair and skin. Isn't that goddamn creepy as hell?”

“Jesus. Is Lee talking? Did he kill the woman, whoever she is?”

Shane sighed. “I'm sure he will, once his public defender gets his head out of his ass. Lee's got nothing to
lose and everything to gain by telling the truth at this point. He really
is
insane, unlike most killers. I did manage to get one tidbit before he lawyered up.”

“What's that?”

“Lee claims he killed his father, that it wasn't a natural death as everyone thought. He says doing in dear old Dad was his first taste of revenge.”

“If his father really did all the stuff Lee claims, then I'm not sorry to hear that. Just sorry he didn't stop there.”

“Yeah.”

Chris was silent a moment. Worry for Robyn bombarded him anew, and he clasped his hands tightly. “I love her, cuz.”

“I know you do,” he said. “You guys are lucky you found each other. And Maddy is a doll, too.”

He gave a watery laugh. “Isn't she? I never thought I'd have an instant family, a woman and a first grader. But you know, I wouldn't trade them for anything.” He paused. “She has to be okay.”

“She will be.”

His cousin seemed so sure, and he clung to that. Another half hour passed before the double doors opened and a familiar man spotted them and walked purposefully over. Dr. Alan Chin stopped in front of them, wearing a serene expression.