Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) (16 page)

***

Stepping inside Cynthia’s apartment, the strong aroma of bleach hit Jase’s nostrils first, before he picked up an even stronger metallic odor. It was one he recognized well from his 13 years in Homicide.

Pulling out his gun, he did a quick surveillance of the living room. Carefully and slowly, he did a sweep of each room until he was standing in front of the last room at the end of the hallway. Opening the door, his heartbeat was rapid, unsure of what he would find inside. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the bloodied and battered body confronting him, nor for the woman he recognized only too well.

Dropping to his knees beside the bed, he checked for a pulse, knowing even as he did so, he would not find one. Pulling out his cell, he dialed 911. “This is an emergency. I’d like to report a murder.”

Chapter Sixteen

“I’m going to kill him,” Jesse growled, adding from between gritted teeth, “Slowly and painfully.”

“No, you won’t,” Ben said calmly. The only indication Ben felt the same fury Jesse openly displayed was within the dangerous glint of his icy blue eyes.

“Why the hell am I not?” Jesse growled again, gently pressing a cold compress to Stephanie’s cheek.

“Because, Jesse, I’m going to,” Ben said unevenly, his grip on Stephanie’s hand tightening. “It won’t be slowly either. It will be fast. The bastard won’t even see me coming.”

Stephanie reached over and took the cold compress from Jesse, holding it lightly against her cheek. She winced at the feel of the compress, icy cold, against her bruised skin.

“Ben, Jesse you’re not going to do anything,” she admonished, annoyed at the tremble she could hear in her voice. “Beside this isn’t the first time some jerk’s hit me. I just didn’t expect Leigh to be like this. God damn, I sure know how to pick them, don’t I?”

Ben and Jesse exchanged concerned glances with each other; both were unaware, until now, that this wasn’t the first time Stephanie had been abused by someone. The thought made both shift uncomfortably.

“Babe, come sit down on the couch,” Ben said, tucking his arm around her waist and guiding her to the velvet red loveseat, sitting down beside her.

Jesse moved to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a shot of Bourbon and swallowing it down in one gulp. Refilling the glass, he moved towards the couch, lowering himself down into a squat in front of Stephanie.

“Drink this,” he insisted.

She shook her head. “You know I don’t like to drink alcohol. Not since Dominic -” she broke off, her voice barely a whisper.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem a couple of nights ago,” Jesse reminded her dryly, his lips quirking.

Stephanie shot him a filthy look, a stubborn glint in her eyes. It was one Jesse recognized well. He tried another tactic.

“What about just this once, Stephanie? I think if Dominic were here he would insist on it,” he coaxed, smiling in remembrance of the man who had been his best friend since childhood. “In fact, I believe he would have forced it down your throat if you’d said no.”

Stephanie laughed huskily, her laughter turning to a wince when she touched her split lip.

“Please, drink it Steph. Please, for us?” Ben whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

She nodded, taking the glass from Jesse, tossing back the Bourbon with one deep gulp. She gasped, feeling the fiery liquid slid smoothly down her throat.

“You know that’s 50-year-old Bourbon you just tossed back, champ,” Ben teased.

Stephanie touched her neck gingerly. She could still feel Leigh’s hand around her throat. She felt like her throat was closing up and she gasped for air. Her struggling had excited him. He’d got off on trying to dominate her; he’d been turned on by her struggles. It was a side of him she’d never expected and one she didn’t plan on seeing again. His excitement disturbed her.

She’d felt so helpless and hated herself for it. She hated Leigh for leaving her so exposed. She hated him for exposing her weaknesses to her friends; hated him for leaving her so defenseless. She may have been able to forgive his hitting her but she would never, for as long as she lived, forgive him for exposing her vulnerability.

Jesse watched Stephanie touch her throat. His lips tightened into a snarl and a muscle in his cheek flexed. He’d kill Leigh if he ever went near Stephanie again. Noticing her tremble, he contemplated killing him anyway.

Touching her knee, he said quietly, “I think we should call Gena. We should ask her to press charges against Leigh.”

Stephanie shook her head. “No. No charges.”

“Stephanie, we can’t just let him get away with what he did to you,” Ben exclaimed.

Jesse voiced his own opinion. “Babe, Ben is right. I saw the state you were in when you came home. The bastard deserves to be lynched for what he tried to do to you.”

His eyes narrowed in pleasure at the thought, Stephanie noticed, and she touched Jesse’s arm. “Please, Jess, promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”

She looked from him to Ben, adding quickly, “You too Ben. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to either of you. You’re my whole world now. The only family I have left.”

Ben wrapped his arms tighter around Stephanie, knowing instinctively she was thinking of Angel. He loved her. The knowledge took him by surprise, the impact of his feelings hitting him in full force. But then, hadn’t he always? In some form or another, he’d always loved her.

They’d first met when he was working at
The Whisky,
bar-tending and fitting in gigs whenever he could. He’d been so unsure about his music, not confident whether it was a career path or nothing more than a fading dream. In her first year of university, unsure of where she was going, what she was doing, or who she wanted to be, Stephanie had only known she wanted to make a difference through the power of words.

One night she’d appeared at his gig, stayed for the whole show and approached him afterwards to sing his praises. She’d been so passionate about his music, maybe even more than he’d been. The next night she’d returned, this time with her friends Gena, Lyn and Angel. After the show he’d joined them, drinking and talking until the club closed. They’d stumbled back to his one-bedroom apartment in Hollywood and stayed up all night, drinking cheap tequila and arguing over their favorite bands.

He’d become her friend first, taking it slowly, before he’d eventually become her lover. It was only after they’d started sleeping together that he’d found out about the nightmares keeping her awake at night, nightmares she refused to talk about. He’d been so sure he could keep them at bay, so sure he would be able to break through the invisible walls she kept around herself. He’d been so sure of it, all because he loved her.

Then he’d made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He introduced her to his best friend. From the moment Dominic and Stephanie met, it was as if everyone faded into the background and ceased to exist. Ben had known then that any hopes for a future with Stephanie were gone, as long as Dominic was alive. She fell for him hard, with his daredevil personality, charismatic charm and loving nature.

He tried to hold onto her for as long as he could before he’d come to the realization he had a choice. He could take their breakup badly and walk away from her, or take his defeat gracefully and simply accept her friendship. It didn’t take him long to realize he’d rather have her in his life than out of it and he’d accepted friendship and never looked back.

“Ben?” Stephanie’s voice intruded his thoughts, and he looked up to see both Jesse and Stephanie watching him expectantly.

“What love?” he asked, concern etched on his face at her pained expression.

She linked her fingers with his, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “You have to promise me. Promise you won’t do anything to Leigh.”

He sighed in frustration. There was nothing more he’d like to do than beat Leigh Walker into a bloody pulp. He’d had the same urge from the first moment Leigh approached him with his smug smile, at Angel’s funeral.

“I promise,” he vowed, seeing Jesse’s guarded expression when Stephanie made him promise the same.

Jesse watched the tension leave Stephanie’s body after their promise. Sharing a concerned look with Ben, he said softly, “Now, Stephanie, you need to promise us something too.”

Stephanie put up her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve already promised myself to never marry someone without talking to you guys first. I learned my lesson with Leigh. I already know if you’d have met him first, you would have told me to run like hell away from him.”

Ben grunted in agreement. “I hated the guy from the beginning,” he grumbled, ignoring Jesse’s scowl of displeasure.

“Hell, I think I’ll avoid marriage altogether. It only seems to give me pain in some form or another,” Stephanie said bitterly.

Ben grinned at Jesse’s growing impatience. Drawing Stephanie closer to him, his grin widened when she rested her head on his shoulder. “I think what Jesse’s trying to says is we want you to promise us you won’t go anywhere near Leigh, at least not without protection.”

Stephanie lifted her head from Ben’s shoulder, smiling coolly. “Trust me Ben, the next time I see Leigh I plan on protecting myself.”

Ben sighed in relief, pleased Stephanie was willing to listen to them. His relief was short-lived.

“Ben, neither you nor Jesse need to worry about my safety ever again.” Stephanie said, her voice rising from a whisper to a hard, icy rasp. She touched her throat again, a dangerous glint in her eyes, she added coldly, “Because if that bastard ever tries to hurt me again, I’ll kill him myself.”

Chapter Seventeen

Gena left
Callendor
Studios with Sandra, neither comfortable with their progress.

“You think he’s our killer?” Sandra asked, grinning nastily.

Gena shook her head. “Did you see how pale he went when I dropped those crime scene photos on his desk? David Collins could barely stand the sight of them. My guess is he’d probably faint at the sight of his own blood let alone someone else’s. No, he’s not our killer. Besides, he doesn’t fit the profile I’ve been building. David Collins’ stands out in a crowd, whereas our killer probably blends. He’s a chameleon. He fits in anywhere.”

Lowering her voice, almost hesitant to voice her thoughts out aloud, Gena added, “Sandra, I think this case is linked to another murder – a recent one.”

“How do you figure? Did you find something to link Carolyn Mathers to another victim? Are we looking for a multiple killer or do you think we’ve got a serial killer on our hands?” Sandra asked, rapidly spitting out questions, her eyes shining in anticipation.

Gena grinned, listening to her partner of two years pepper her with questions faster than she could answer them. “Remember the scrapbook? There was a photo inside, one easily linking Carolyn Mathers’ murder to another unsolved sex crime.”

Sandra’s mouth dropped open. She quickly shut it, disbelief sliding across her face. “Wait, are you telling me you think this cat purposely put a photo into the scrapbook, knowing we would find it? He left us a photo to link him to another crime?”

Gena shrugged. Reaching their unmarked police car, she put her phone and notepad on the silver hood of their Crown Victoria, saying softly, “I think he’s taunting us Sandra. He’s taunting me. He’s making it personal.”

“Gena, every case you take on becomes personal,” Sandra said with a grin, waiting for Gena to unlock the passenger door.

Gena didn’t reply until they were seated inside the car. Turning the ignition, she started the car, speaking over the hum of the engine. “Do you remember Angel Monroe’s murder from a couple of weeks ago?”

Waiting for Sandra to nod, she cleared her throat. “Angel Monroe was raped, tortured and her throat slit. I’ve looked at the medical examiner’s findings for both cases and they’re virtually identical. Both were raped, tortured, and murdered. Their throats were cut in identical fashions and the findings indicate with the same type of knife. The only real difference is the crime scenes. Carolyn Mathers wasn’t killed where she was dumped. Angel’s housemate, Jesse Carlisle, came home and found her. She died in his arms while he waited for the ambulance to arrive.”

Sandra scowled in remembrance. “I still don’t know why we’re not looking closer at Carlisle for her murder. He had the means. She was living with him. It just feels a little too convenient that he came back and found her.”

Gena smiled coldly at Sandra, reversing out of the studio car park. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her hackles immediately rising at the accusations Sandra threw at Jesse.

“We didn’t like him for the crime because both his alibi and his story checked out. The built-in GPS showed where he was around the time Angel Monroe was attacked. I also listened to the 911 recording.”

Her voice icy, she added, “Even if his story hadn’t checked out, I still would have believed him. While you may think he had the means, I know he didn’t have a motive. Jesse Carlisle is one of the most honorable men I know. He has no time for anyone who abuses women, and he loved Angel like a sister.”

Sandra slammed her hand on the dashboard, groaning in disbelief. “Damn it Gena, don’t tell me you knew the victim.”

Gena laughed harshly, trying to avoid the lump in her throat. Clearing it, she said softly, “Know her? Sandra, she was one of my best friends. We met in university.”

“Gena, you need to remove yourself from the murder investigation. You need to walk away before you risk everything – the case and your career,” Sandra bit out, cursing.

“I can’t walk away, not until I catch this son of a bitch,” Gena said, giving Sandra a ghost of a smile. “Besides, it’s too late to walk away now. I’m involved whether I want to be or not.”

Sandra looked at her sharply. “Why would it be too late? What have you done, Gena?”

Gena scowled, turning her focus back to the highway. “Nothing, Sandra. It’s not what I’ve done, it’s what I’ve discovered. Do you remember how I told you about the photo connecting Carolyn Mathers to Angel Monroe’s murder?”