Kill Me Once (23 page)

Nathan let out an irritated breath. How many goddamn times did he have to warn Kelly about locking their door at night? That living downtown wasn’t always the safest place to be? Although perfect in just about every other respect, actually
following through
on things had never been one of his lovely wife’s greatest qualities.

He walked into their modest apartment, surprised and a bit hurt to find that she hadn’t waited up for him. Then again, Jennifer was teething now, so that milestone probably wore away at his wife’s frazzled nerves every bit as much as it did at their sweet baby’s tender little gums.

He called out tentatively anyway, not wanting to wake Jennifer in case she’d just fallen asleep. ‘Kelly? Honey? I’m home.’

There was no answer; not a sound in the entire apartment save for the rhythmic ticking of the mantel clock. Nathan’s heart thrummed painfully in his chest as he tossed the flowers onto the kitchen table and quickly hurried through the darkness to the open doorway of their bedroom.

He peered in and let out a grateful sigh of relief when he saw his wife and beautiful little baby girl curled up in bed together.

They were fast asleep.

Smiling down at them, Nathan couldn’t resist flipping on the light for a better look at the two loves of his life.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Dana had packed light – just the one carry-on bag – so she didn’t have to stop by to visit the baggage-claim area. Instead, she fought her way through the crowded terminal and took her place waiting in line for the string of yellow cabs outside. When it was her turn, she climbed inside an ancient vehicle that smelled like at least fifty cartons’ worth of stale cigarette smoke and wrinkled her nose up against the odour as she gave the driver directions to her modest apartment complex in Lakewood, a suburb on the western outskirts of Cleveland.

Half an hour later the driver pulled up to the kerb in front of her building. Dana fumbled in her purse for a fifty to pay him with before she hastily hopped out.

She breathed in several deep lungfuls of fresh air as she made her way to the front doors, infinitely happy to finally be out of the stinky cab. But her brain felt hardboiled as she punched the button in the elevator for the fourth floor in the nine-storey complex. In her heart of hearts, Dana knew that she should probably be heading out to Chicago immediately, but she felt that she should be the one to check out the house where the call had come from – the home of her childhood. Maybe it wasn’t at the top of the investigating team’s to-do list, but they had to pick up on any and every possible link. And something was drawing her back. She
had
to go back. Besides, Brown had arranged for details around all the major hospitals in Chicago, where Dana suspected the Cleveland Slasher – she still thought of him as that, original monikers tended to stick – might strike next in order to recreate the crimes of serial killer Richard Speck. It wasn’t as if they weren’t following all the proper procedures. Plus, Crawford himself hadn’t said anything to question the course of action. Instead, he was coming out to Cleveland to assist Dana in working the investigation. Crawford was the best agent she’d ever known, and he would have immediately questioned the trip to Cleveland if he had thought it was a wild-goose chase.

Dana fought back more tears. Poor Crawford. What would she do without him in her life? He’d single-handedly turned her into the woman she was today, taking a nervous young agent who hadn’t known her ass from her elbow and selflessly shaping her into one of the top agents in the Bureau, at least according to Dana’s file folder back at FBI Headquarters.

There was always hope, of course. Dana had read about cases where supposedly terminal cancers had gone into sudden and mysterious remission. She only prayed her former partner was lucky enough to be one of them. Hell, he
deserved
that much after everything he’d been through. Losing his wife and daughter to murder hadn’t turned him into a helpless mess like it would have done to so many lesser men. Instead, he’d focused his energies on making the world a better place, which was a lot more than most people could have said in his situation.

When the elevator doors opened, Dana stepped out and walked down the hall to apartment D13, accidentally scratching the delicate glass face of her mother’s watch against the concrete wall in the process.

‘Goddamn it,’ she hissed under her breath.

She came to the outside of the apartment door and took a deep breath. This was not her apartment – hers was D12, directly across the hall – but it was time for a little good old-fashioned TLC. God knew she needed it right now. She could pick up her notebooks later.

Dana rested her head against the cold surface of the apartment door and knocked. A deep mellifluous voice sounded from inside almost at once.

‘Come on in! It’s unlocked!’

Dana turned the knob and stepped inside. There, in an expensively upholstered wing-backed chair, sat Eric Carlton, an unlit briarwood pipe on the end table by his side and a dog-eared copy of
Memoirs of a Geisha
in his hands. Oreo was curled up in a furry ball in his lap, purring contentedly.

‘Well, now, if this ain’t the picture of domestic bliss, I don’t know what is,’ Dana said, almost overcome by the normality of the tableau before her. ‘Reminds me of a Norman Rockwell painting. Either that or Norman Bates. To tell you the truth, I haven’t quite made my up mind yet when it comes to you two characters.’

Eric laughed and rose to his feet as Dana entered the stylishly decorated apartment. Art deco furniture was tastefully arranged around the room, with original oil paintings of Cleveland’s skyline spaced evenly on the walls.

‘Dana!’ he said happily. He placed Oreo down on the floor and took a step in her direction to give her a hug. ‘It’s about time you got home. We’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you guys, too,’ Dana said, a catch in her voice. She hugged him back before leaning down to scratch Oreo behind his pointy ears, tears threatening again. In return, the cat rubbed his fat body against her legs and purred like a generator.

Eric picked up on the emotion in her voice at once. ‘What’s wrong, honey?’ he asked softly. ‘Here, sit down. I’ll get us some coffee and then you can tell me all about it.’

He took her firmly by the shoulders and led her to the dining-room table before disappearing into the kitchen and returning a moment later with two steaming mugs. ‘Now, tell me what’s going on.’

So Dana took a deep breath and filled him in on all the latest developments, leaving out the part about Crawford’s diagnosis and her planned upcoming trip to the house of her childhood. That would only make Eric worry more than he already did.

He frowned. ‘So you’ve got to go out to Chicago now?’ he asked incredulously. ‘Dana – do you really have to? When is this shit ever going to end?’

‘It’s going to end when we finally catch this guy.’

Eric pressed his lips together. He’d always respected what she did, even when things got tough – but that didn’t stop him from caring. ‘Well, that makes sense, I suppose. Still, I’m worried about you. You don’t seem yourself.’

Dana smiled at him. ‘I’m just frustrated, is all. I’ve got a million great questions but not a single goddamn answer to any of them.’

Eric shifted in his chair. ‘And you really think Crawford Bell’s going to help out all that much answering those questions, Dana? I don’t know.’ Eric had never liked Crawford. He’d only met him once, at a party, and they’d gotten into a bullheaded argument about healthcare, of all things. ‘Seems to me he’s coming into this pretty late in the day,’ Eric continued. ‘You’ve already told me he still hasn’t given you a profile, and something about him rubs me the wrong way.’

Dana waved his concern away with a sweep of her hand. ‘And here I was thinking another man couldn’t possibly rub you the wrong way. Guess I was wrong, huh?’

Eric didn’t laugh at her feeble attempt at a joke. ‘Just watch your ass around him, would you?’

Dana laughed. ‘If you weren’t so goddamn gay maybe I’d leave that job up to you, Rock Hudson.’

Eric finally cracked a smile. ‘In another lifetime, Dana. In another lifetime.’

‘Just my luck. All the good ones are either taken or gay.’

Eric leaned back in his chair and looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. A devious smile played across his full lips. ‘Or taken
and
gay, dear. Don’t forget about that possibility.’

Dana widened her eyes in surprise. ‘Find yourself a boyfriend now, did you? Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘You’ve been away, remember?’ he said. ‘Anyway, up to this point it’s only been over the computer but it’s looking pretty promising so far.’

Dana rose to her feet and tousled his hair. Seeing Eric had done her a little bit of good at least, as she knew it would. Shame she couldn’t just stay here for ever. ‘Good for you, you old dog, you. But that guy better treat you right or he’ll have to answer to me.’

She leaned down and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. ‘Sweetie, could you please watch Oreo while I’m in Chicago? I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back.’

Eric reached up and pulled her arms closer around his body. ‘You know I could never say no to the mother of my only son. Now get the hell out of here and go do whatever the hell it is you’ve got to do, Special Agent Whitestone. But just be
careful
out there, for Christ’s sake, would you? Oreo and I worry about you, you know. We’ll be waiting for you here with bated breath until you get back home.’

Dana kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thanks, buddy. You’re a prince. I’ll stop by and say goodbye before I leave for the airport tonight, OK?’

Eric rose to his feet and shooed her out of the apartment with both hands. ‘Sounds great, but I’m no prince and we both know it. Now
scoot.’

CHAPTER FORTY

When the light went on in their bedroom Nathan saw red
everywhere
.

Kelly was naked, legs spread, her throat slashed. She’d probably been raped. Little Jennifer was cradled in her mother’s arms, her sweet face blue; the pillow that had been used to smother her to death had been tossed carelessly to one side.

In an instant, Nathan’s entire world collapsed. He looked numbly around the room and saw the bloody handprints covering the walls. The Kermit the Frog piggy bank in which they’d been carefully squirrelling money away for Jennifer’s college education was smashed open and empty. There had been about a thousand dollars inside.

Five hundred dollars apiece for the lives of his wife and daughter
.

Looking down at their destroyed bodies in horror, the silly little lullaby that Nathan had composed for Jennifer started playing in his mind. He sang it to her every night and it had always made her smile up at him and laugh. He’d
loved
those moments.

Jenny-Benny, you are the love of my life. Jenny-Benny, you are so pretty, you are so nice
.

The song in his head stopped playing as abruptly as the needle scratching off a record at a junior high-school dance when the familiar ringing sounded in his ears. But Nathan passed out cold before the connection could be made.

When his world finally swam back into focus an hour and a half later he felt strangely calm, knowing
exactly
what he had to do.

First he stripped completely naked and went into the kitchen. Returning a moment later with a packet of sponges and a bucket filled with steaming-hot water, he gently washed the blood off his dead wife and daughter. He carefully placed their bodies side by side on the floor and stripped the bloody sheets off the bed before shoving them into a large black garbage bag.

Next he remade the bed with fresh sheets and reclothed his beloved girls in clean attire. Placing them back in the bed, he fluffed the pillows up beneath their heads and pulled the comforter over their bodies to keep them warm. Jennifer went back in Kelly’s arms, her sweet blue face snugly cradled up against her mother’s soft breast.

In a trance, Nathan methodically scrubbed the bloody handprints off the wall. Then he vacuumed. Then he dusted. Retrieving the calla lilies from the kitchen table, he placed them in a vase on the bedside table and arranged them as carefully as a master florist before taking a long hot shower and finally crawling into bed with Kelly and Jennifer.

Exhausted, he wrapped his arms around his dead wife and daughter and quietly cried himself to sleep.

When the police arrived several hours later, Nathan was arrested on the spot and roughly tossed into a downtown cell for an overnight stay. But even with all the compulsive acts that had destroyed so much of the evidence, the
real
killer had left more than enough clues behind for the cops to catch up with him less than a week later.

As the story slowly unfolded in the media, Nathan was
stunned
to discover that the murders of his wife and daughter had been nothing more than thrill kills, inexpertly pulled off by the son of a wealthy Cleveland real-estate developer just for kicks.

He sat there in court every day just watching the man who’d so brutally butchered his young family. He would have gladly killed the bastard with his own bare hands had he been given half the chance, of course, but even through his overwhelming grief and despair at the loss of his beloved girls he couldn’t help feeling
dismayed
at the ham-handed manner in which the idiot had committed the murders. Kelly and Jennifer had deserved more.

At the very least they had
deserved professional
deaths.

The criminal trial resulted in the expected death sentence for young Prentice McIntyre when a jury of his peers took less than a week to decide unanimously that he wasn’t fit to walk the Earth with them any more. The civil trial that followed two years later made Nathan five million dollars richer, but he’d continued showing up for work every day for the next year anyway. From that terrible and bloody night forward, however, every waking moment of his life was consumed with his desire to extract revenge from the world that had fucked him up so badly in so many different ways since the very day he’d been born.