Midnight Caller (17 page)

“T
ony!” Jack pushed his walker across the floor with the speed of a winning sprinter in the Special Olympics and greeted the man in the doorway.

“Hi, champ.” Tony ruffled the boy’s hair. He tried to take another step when a thirty-five-pound force of nature slammed into his knees.

“Toe nee. Toe nee.” He glanced down to see golden curls pressed against his leg and felt two tiny arms wrapped around him. He crouched down and hugged Amy, wincing when she bumped his right arm.

“Let Tony come inside,” Erin instructed the children.

Tess placed a mug of coffee out for him. “You’ve been here day and night for two days now. You’d think you could run to the pharmacy without them actin’ like they haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Must be my charm,” Tony grinned.

“Maybe it’s the treats that keep popping out of your pockets,” Erin teased.

Tony wished the smile on her face would reach her eyes. He saw her pain residing just beneath the surface.

“It’s my birthday.” Jack’s voice spilled over with excite
ment. “We’re having a party with balloons and cake and presents and everything.”

“Cake. Ummm.” Amy leaned her elbow on his thigh and grinned.

Tony laughed and then winced again from the sharp pain the movement caused.

“Tony knows all about the party,” Erin assured them. “You guys better get out of your pajamas or the party just might have to start without you.”

The morning passed quickly. They were still seated at the table trying unsuccessfully to explain to the children why apple pie was only a grown-up choice for breakfast and not on the children’s menu when Patrick arrived. They set another place at the table.

Erin lifted Amy out of her booster seat and set her on the floor for the third time in the past hour, but not until Amy paid the toll of a kiss on Erin’s cheek each time. Tony caught Erin’s eyes and smiled at her across the table.
This
is what family is all about. Little things. Nothing things. Things he’d avoided and replaced with work. What a fool he’d been.

“Look at the time,” Tess said. “It’s eleven-thirty and I still have to pick up the cake.”

“Don’t get keyed up.” Patrick stood. “You have plenty of time.”

Tess chided, “Patrick Fitzgerald, I don’t need you telling me I have plenty of time when I can see the hands whizzing by on that clock over there. Do you think I’m blind, old man?”

Jack and Amy giggled. Tony knew, like himself, they loved to see Tess and Patrick squabble.

“Oh, go on now.” He waved his hand dismissively. “C’mon, old woman. I’ll drive. Tick. Tick. You’re wasting time.”

Tess muttered under her breath, rolled her eyes and played the drama queen to the hilt.

Patrick chuckled and whispered in Tony’s direction. “I love that woman.” He lifted Amy into his arms and took Jack’s hand. “We’ll take the children with us. When we get back, I’ll keep them at my house. You’ll get more done without them underfoot.”

Erin smiled. “You’re a lifesaver, Patrick. Remember, the party starts at two.” Amid a flurry of hugs, kisses and waves, she hustled the four of them outside.

Tony started to cross toward her when his phone vibrated. “Marino.” He listened and then shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll meet you at IHOP in twenty.” He knew from the expression on Erin’s face she was bracing herself for bad news. “Stone’s out on bond.”

Erin stood there, speechless.

Tony gently held her forearm. “Don’t worry. Between the media coverage and our guys, he’ll be under constant surveillance. He wouldn’t chance coming anywhere near here.”

Erin nodded but remained silent.

“I’ve got to go out for a little bit.”

“I thought you were off the case?”

“I am. Officially, I’m on medical leave. But I’m meeting Spence and Winters at a restaurant. They’re keeping me in the loop. Unofficially, of course.” He planted a quick peck on her temple. “I’ll be back in time for Jack’s party. I promise.” He winked and rushed out the door.

“We’ve got trouble,” Spence said.

The waitress placed the men’s meals on the table. When she left, Tony leaned his left forearm on the table. “What kind of trouble?”

“Alibi trouble.” Winters swallowed a bite of his burger. “We checked and double-checked the time frames the medical examiner gave us for all four deaths. Stone couldn’t prove his whereabouts at the time of the murders for any one of them.”

“Yeah,” Spence said. “The verbal time frame checked out. But the official written report that Stone’s fancy lawyer dug up is another story.”

Tony’s insides tensed. He was grateful he hadn’t ordered food.

“Originally, the M.E. gave us a four-day window for Cynthia Mayors’s case based on the bruise discolorations she sustained during that time frame,” Winters said.

“And the official report?” Tony asked, steeling himself for the information he didn’t want to hear.

“In the official report, she extended the time frame three days. She stated the discoloration of some of the earlier bruising may have occurred over a seven-day period of time depending on environmental conditions prior to Mayors’s death.” Winters slid his half-eaten pancake platter away and downed a TUMS. “Best pancakes in town, but this case has my stomach tore up.”

“So she extended the window to seven days,” Tony said. “What’s the problem?”

“During those additional three days, Stone gave a medical presentation in another state to several hundred of his peers.” Spence waved his fork while he spoke. “We know it wouldn’t bother the cold-hearted brute one iota to kill a girl on a Thursday and fly out and play Mr. Big Shot for a bunch of doctors on a Friday, but tell that to a jury. A shyster lawyer is going to push hard for reasonable doubt.”

Tony frowned, stirred his coffee and considered what he had just heard. “The rest of the evidence is solid, right?”

“Yep,” Spence insisted.

“What’s bugging you, Tony?” Winters asked.

Tony shrugged. “I interviewed the guy right after he reported Carol missing. I didn’t get the feeling he was involved.”

“Yeah, that’ll hold up in front of a jury,” Spence said sarcastically. “Your, Honor, please drop the charges because I have a feeling the man’s innocent.”

Winters glowered at Spence. “A good cop trusts his instincts. But look who I’m talking to. You probably wouldn’t know anything about instinct, would you?”

“I’ll admit my instincts on this one could be skewed,” Tony said.

Spence grinned. “You wouldn’t be the only one. The FBI lady called it wrong, too. I’ve been waiting to point that out to her.” He picked up his coffee cup. “I’d do it diplomatically, of course.”

“Wrong, how?” Tony tried to remember the things Special Agent Davidson had said.

“She told us he was a loner. Disorganized. Labeled a creep. This guy is a media darling. He’s on every upscale charity invite in town.”

“When I spoke with Stone and, later, when I saw him at Carol’s wake—” Tony shook his head. “I believe Stone loved Carol. I recognize grief when I see it. That wake tore him up.”

Winters studied Tony for several minutes, then pushed his plate out of the way and took out his pad and pencil. “Okay, let’s go over what we’ve got. Maybe we missed something.”

Spence rolled his eyes, but pushed his plate aside and leaned forward. “Okay, one more time. All four victims were single mothers with handicapped children. Stone was their pediatrician. Each woman received calls that scared them enough to change to private numbers. But every number turned up in Stone’s records.”

Tony poured himself a second cup of coffee. “So the doctor has the new numbers. That’s easily explained and certainly not ironclad evidence he did anything wrong.”

“The nail in his coffin is the physical evidence found in his car.” Winters poured a cup of coffee from the thermos on the table.

“Okay, let’s look at that evidence,” Tony said. “The locket doesn’t prove anything. He dated Carol. She could have dropped it.”

“And the bloody scrap of material found under the tire iron in his trunk?” Spence huffed. “That a date souvenir, too?”

“Let’s play devil’s advocate for a few minutes,” Tony said. “Let’s assume Stone is innocent.”

Winters set down his cup and stared at Tony. “You think he was framed.”

“Okay,” Spence said. “I’ll bite. Who had access to Stone’s schedule, his files and his car? ’Cause if he’s being framed, it’s being done by somebody pretty close to him.”

“What about the office staff? How many people work for him?” Tony asked.

Winters flipped another page in his notepad. “Two. A receptionist who handled the front desk and a nurse.”

“Yeah, Pollyanna and Brunhilde,” Spence said. “The receptionist is a kid fresh out of high school and the nurse has been with the doc since he hung his shingle out to dry.”

“Besides,” Winters added, “we checked them out. They’re clean.”

“There’s got to be something we’re missing.”
Think. Think
. Tony tapped his spoon on the table.
Who else is a trusted regular in a doctor’s office?
A prickly sensation crept up the back of his neck. Snatches of conversation and flashes of images raced through his mind. The janitor mopping the
hospital floor. The same man who moonlighted cleaning offices but had never been asked to work outside the hospital as a clown. No. No. No. It couldn’t be. “Winters, what’s the name of his office cleaning service?” He held his breath while he waited for the answer.

Winters stared down at his tablet. “He doesn’t have a service. He uses a private individual.”

Tony’s stomach clenched and cold fear twisted his insides so hard he couldn’t move.

“The guy’s worked for him for years. Works over at the hospital, too.” Winters looked up from his pad. “The name is Peters. Jim Peters.”

Tony bolted from the booth and dialed his cell phone before Winters finished uttering the man’s last name. “Call for backup. The killer’s heading for Erin’s,” he yelled over his shoulder and ran for the door.
Erin. Please, God, save Erin
.

The phone rang at the same time as the doorbell chimed. Erin frowned, decided the caller could call back, and hurried down the hall to the front door. She wasn’t expecting anyone this early. The party didn’t start for another two hours. She peeked through the curtains and unfastened the locks.

“Mr. Peters.” Erin smiled at the man standing on her porch. “I’m sorry. Did I tell you the wrong time? The party’s not supposed to start until two.”

“No, ma’am. You told me two.”

“I don’t understand. You’re early.”

“Nobody’s ever asked me to do my clown act in their home.” He gestured with the small bag he carried. “So I thought I’d show up and help you get ready, ma’am. My way of saying thanks.”

“That’s so sweet,” Erin said. “But everything’s under
control. My aunt took the children to pick up the cake and everything else is pretty much ready.”

Peters shifted his weight side to side. “There must be something I can do to help, ma’am. By the time I get home I’ll just have to turn around and come back again.”

“Of course, where are my manners?” Erin opened the door wide and gestured him inside. “I was just getting ready to blow up some balloons. Would you like to help?”

“I’d like that.” Jim Peters stepped into the foyer.

Erin closed and dead-bolted the door. She felt his eyes boring into her back and it unnerved her. She turned her head and the intensity of his gaze caused a shiver to run up her spine. She shifted uncomfortably. Something felt off. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She opened her mouth, intending to call the whole thing off and ask him to leave, when the phone rang again. Both of them jumped at the sound. She hurried toward the phone, but the ringing stopped before she reached it. Feeling foolish for her uneasiness around the shy man, she mentally chastised herself. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Peters?” she called over her shoulder as she crossed the kitchen and reached up into the kitchen cabinet. She placed two mugs on the counter and turned. “Mr. Peters?”

T
he stealth of his movements set off an internal alarm. Fear slithered through her body. What was the matter with her? This was Mr. Peters, the clown from the hospital, the shy janitor, the man who graciously agreed to spend his Saturday afternoon entertaining her children. Why was her imagination running wild?

He placed his bag between them on the kitchen island and then he grinned. It wasn’t a friendly grin. It was feral. Malicious. Her uneasiness escalated. Slowly, he eased his hand out of the bag. The reflective glint of metal drew her eye.
Oh, God, help me. He has a knife
.

“You fooled them,” Peters said as he circled around the counter. “Everyone thinks you’re Mother of the Year. Taking in another woman’s handicapped child. But I know the truth. It isn’t enough to ruin one child’s life. You have to destroy two.” His lips curled into a sneer. “You pretend to care about these children, but it’s an act. I know the evil in your heart.”

Erin’s gaze flew around the kitchen, assessing both her situation and her closest means of escape. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man laughed. “This is the part I love. Where the fly understands it just entered the spider’s web.” He sobered.
“Let me introduce myself. My name is Death and I am right in front of you.”

Terror seized Erin’s chest. She had to force every breath she took.

This is the day I die. This man killed Carol. He’s going to kill me and no one will know who it was
.

Panic overcame her and her body began to shake.

Help me, Jesus
.

The twenty-third psalm popped into her mind. She began to silently pray. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me.”

The prayer grounded her. A wave of calmness swept over her and her trembling ceased. She knew no matter what was going to happen, she would not be alone. Staying calm gave her time to think. Her mind raced with possible scenarios that might get her out of this alive. “Mr. Peters…please…put down the knife.” She kept her voice low and nonthreatening. “Sit down. Let’s talk. Tell me what I’ve done to upset you.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he roared, his arms flailing, his bag sliding across the kitchen island. “I’m not stupid.”

She startled when he yelled. “No, of course not.” Her voice softened to a whisper. “You need help, Mr. Peters. You’re sick. Let me help—”

“Sick?” The singsong of his voice silenced her. “I’m not sick, Ms. O’Malley. I’m gifted. I can see inside people’s hearts and it’s my duty to punish the sinners.” His voice lowered and the evil in his tone caused goose bumps to skitter along her flesh. “Your heart is the blackest of them all.”

She coughed and hoped her upper body movements would distract him from her slow, side-step movements. “I don’t understand,” she said, bending at the waist, coughing, leaning
heavily on the counter, then facing him again.
Eight steps. She’d made it eight steps closer to the back door
.

“I don’t know what you think I’ve done.” She moved another inch, then another. “I’m sorry if I offended you. Really, I am.” She slid her foot three more inches to the left. “If you leave right now, I promise I won’t say anything to anyone.”

His sneer revealed uneven, yellow teeth, and for a moment, Erin pictured a vicious animal in front of her instead of a person. “Liar!” He pounded his fist on the counter.

The phone rang, startling them. Peters wailed and grabbed his head, rocking back and forth as though he were in unbearable pain.

Erin took advantage of the moment and raced to the back door. Her hand closed around the door knob.

“No, no, Miss Erin.” He taunted her like she was a misbehaving child. “You don’t want me to shoot you, do you?”

Her mind raced. She’d only seen a knife. Did he grab a gun from his case? She twisted the knob even though she knew it was useless. He’d kill her before she could open the dead bolt.

The phone fell silent.

She reached for the dead bolt.

“Oh, goody. You’re going to make me shoot.” His voice sounded closer. “But I won’t kill you. I’ll do just enough damage to make you wish you were dead.”

Erin had no doubt he meant every word.

“Killing comes later,” he said. “Much later. First, you’ll beg me to stop. Then, you’ll beg me for mercy. Finally, you’ll beg me to die.”

Erin swung around, her body quivering with rage. “Is that what you did to Carol? Did you torture her? Make her beg for death?” Tears burned her eyes as she confronted the man standing only inches from her.

“You’re quick. Figured that out all by yourself. Sit down,” he commanded, pushing her into a nearby chair. He rubbed his forehead.

Erin tried desperately to stall for time as she searched her mind for anything that might help her find a way out of the situation. Maybe if she distracted him, it would buy her the precious moments she would need to get away.

“I’ve got some pain pills in the medicine cabinet,” Erin said. “I’ll get them for you. Maybe they’ll help.”

A flash of light, followed by intense pain, shot through the left side of her face. Blood pooled in her mouth. He had backhanded her with the gun. “You don’t know anything about pain. Not yet.”

Erin stared into the darkest eyes she had ever seen and knew she was looking into the gates of hell.

The phone rang again.

“I need to answer it,” Erin pleaded, stalling for time. “People will worry if I don’t answer.”

“Shut up.” His fingers dug painfully into her throat.

Erin clawed at his hand as she struggled to breathe.

The phone continued to ring.

“Stop that ringing!” With one angry yelp, Peters released Erin’s throat long enough to pull the phone off the wall and fling it across the room.

The second he released her, she sprinted toward the hallway. He tackled her. Flesh ripped from her elbows and knees as she slid against the hardwood floor.

He yanked her around, straddling her legs. He punched her in the face with such force, she had to fight to remain conscious. Her jaw and teeth throbbed.

“Why?” she whispered, spittle and blood streaming from the corner of her mouth.

He placed his gun out of her reach and drew his knife from his belt. Without a word he pressed the blade against her throat, provided pressure and grinned. A thousand fingers of fire burned her flesh as he sliced her throat.

“Why?” He giggled uncontrollably. He took the tip of the knife and slid it down her shirt, slicing away the top button. “Before I’m finished with you, you’ll know why.”

He straightened, still pinning her to the ground with his weight. He lowered the knife. “We’re going to get up now. You won’t try to run, will you? Or the next slice across your throat will be much deeper.”

“Don’t move or I’ll blow your brains all over this kitchen.” Tony pressed the hard muzzle of his gun into the base of the man’s skull. Relief flowed through Erin’s body and her tears became tears of joy.

“Drop your weapon. Do it now!” Tony demanded.

Peters dropped the knife. He raised his hands in surrender and slowly started to stand. “I underestimated you, Detective. I thought you’d be out of commission after I shot you. Let’s see, shall we?” Peters slammed an elbow backward into Tony’s right shoulder. Tony doubled over in pain, his weapon falling to his side. In a split second, Peters launched his attack. He punched Tony repeatedly in the vicinity of the bullet wound. Tony fell to the floor writhing in agony.

With a shriek she didn’t even recognize as her own, Erin jumped on Peters’s back. Wrapping her legs around the man’s waist, she desperately clawed at his face, gouging her fingers into his eyes. He screamed and tried to pull her hands away. Operating on pure adrenaline, she sank her teeth into the side of his neck. The taste of sweat and flesh nauseated her, but she held on to the bucking, screaming man as hard as she
could. Peters wrenched her hair so hard that a hunk came loose in his hand. They toppled to the floor and both of them scrambled like crabs across the floor trying to reach his discarded gun.

Erin got there first. With every ounce of strength remaining, she rolled out of his reach. Jumping to her feet, she pointed the gun at the man’s face. “Don’t move.”

Peters grinned and started to rise.

“Go ahead, you filthy piece of slime. Give me an excuse to pull this trigger.” Tears of rage, mixed with blood, poured down her face. One of her eyes had swollen shut, so she had to tilt her head to keep him in constant sight.

“You wouldn’t shoot me.”

“Try me.” She forced the words through a mouth so numb and swollen it felt like she’d had Novocain. Images filled her mind. Carol begging for her life, pleading to be able to return to her daughter. Newspaper pictures of three other women, lost to their families forever. Tony lying in a pool of blood. Amy crying and asking for her mother. Rage pulsed through her body. Her finger tightened on the trigger. She steadied the weapon with both hands.

“Don’t,” Tony whispered in her ear. He leaned heavily against her back as though it was difficult for him to support his own weight. His arm wrapped around her waist and his right hand slowly moved over hers. “Please, Erin. Give me the gun.”

She couldn’t let go. Her finger twitched against the trigger. She could easily kill this man and that self-knowledge scared her.

Help me, Lord. Help me remember judgment is Yours, not mine
.

Erin stared at Peters. “Why? Make me understand.”

“I did it for the children. Don’t you see?” Pride shone in his eyes. “Now they have a chance to be adopted. To have a real family with two parents. They have a chance to be happy. I would have been happy if someone had adopted me, if I had had a dad.”

Erin blinked in astonishment, her stomach churned. “What?” The shock of his words combined with this afternoon’s trauma took its toll on her nervous system and her body trembled. “You killed these women because they were single parents?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.

“Single moms of special needs kids,” he spat out in anger. “Why do you keep us? You know you hate us. You can’t do the things you want to do when you have us around all the time. Who wants to babysit ‘special’ kids? Nobody. So you lock us in closets with coloring books and a flashlight and tell us to be quiet. If we make noise, if we ask to get out of the closet because we have to go to the bathroom or because our flashlight doesn’t work and it’s dark and we’re scared, you beat us.”

He pounded his head with his fist. “You think we don’t peek under the door and see you with all those men? You know how much we want a dad. So we sit in the closet. We wait and we hope. But the men don’t stay. They throw money on the table and leave. You tell us it’s our fault because nobody wants to be saddled with a handicapped kid. But that’s not true. If there was a dad in the house, the kids would be happy. I need to give the kids a chance to be adopted. I need to give them a chance to find a dad.”

Erin saw true pain in the man’s eyes.

Peters lowered his head. His voice became a whisper. “Did you know most people don’t close their curtains at night? I
like to look inside. I see the dads playing with their kids. I see families eating dinner together. Everybody is happy. Nobody is locked in a closet.” His eyes hardened when he looked up at her. “Kids deserve a chance to have a real family. Even a foster family would be better than a mother who hates you.”

Erin tried to imagine what it must have been like for Peters. To be a child locked in a closet in the dark. Even though she still despised him for all he had done, she knew she couldn’t hurt a child, no matter what the age. Slowly, she released her grip.

Tony grabbed the weapon and moved to her side. He held the gun in his left hand, his sling torn, his right arm hanging at his side. Perspiration coated his forehead. His eyes radiated pain. “Don’t give me a reason, Peters, to pull this trigger. At this moment, it’s the only thing I want to do.”

“Go ahead. Kill me. Do it.”

The front door banged open. Within seconds, the room filled with cops, weapons drawn. Winters hurried to Tony’s side, holding a gun at ready, while Spence cuffed Peters and dragged him away.

Tony collapsed back against the wall, his legs barely holding him up.

Erin rushed to his side. Her fingers moved gently over his chest as she checked the extent of his injuries. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Me? Have you looked at yourself lately?” Gently, he tilted her face. He grimaced at the sight of the angry discoloration on the whole left side of her face. Her eye was completely swollen shut. But he paled when he saw the red ribbon of blood seeping from her sliced throat. “Erin?”

Her hand flew to her throat. “I’m okay. It wasn’t deep.”

“You guys gonna make it?” Winters’s expression made Erin realize how bad they looked.

“I guess I got your friend hurt again, didn’t I?” Erin teased the detective.

“Naw,” Winters replied. “From the looks of it, the two of you saved one another.” He looked steadily from one to the other, and then nodded at Erin. “You did good, ma’am.”

Erin tried to smile, but knew from the odd twisting sensation in her lips and the horrified expression on Winters’s face that it didn’t look much like a smile. Matter of fact, she was certain of it when Winters dashed to collect the gurney and the EMTs personally.

The excruciating pain in her jaw made talking difficult, but there were things she needed to say. “Thank you,” she whispered to Tony through clenched teeth. “He would have killed me if you hadn’t gotten here when you did.”

His eyes glistened and his voice grew husky. “I was supposed to protect you. Instead, I left you alone which made you a prime target for a killer. Some job I did, huh?”

She cupped Tony’s face. “You couldn’t have known. No one knew.”

“I’m the detective, remember? It’s my job to know.” Tony couldn’t hold back anymore and his tears flowed freely. “When I think how close I came to losing you.” He swiped a hand across his face. “I prayed, Erin. I prayed a million times on the way over here that God would protect you and help me get to you in time.”