Perfect Victim, The (38 page)

"It looks like the police went over the place thoroughly," she said.

"She didn't have much."

Addison had known beforehand the search was a long shot
.
She should have been prepared for the disappointment
.
But she wasn't, and that
she'd come up empty-handed again hit her hard.

"I didn't really think we'd find anything." She hated the resignation in her voice, and that she was lying to keep the disappointment at bay.

"Yes, you did."

Raising her gaze to his, she searched his face, surprised to see understanding. She wasn't sure why she let that affect her, but for a moment she had to blink away tears.

"Don't give up hope," he said gently. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

"I was hoping for a break."

Surprising her, he reached out and pressed his palm against her face. He was so close she could smell his aftershave. Memories of their lovemaking the night before played wickedly through her mind. She wasn't sorry she'd let it happen. The time had been right for her
.
He'd definitely been
the right man. Too bad he had his sights set on another life in another state.

"I'll check the master bedroom." She turned away before she had the chance to do something stupid, like cry or let him kiss her.

"I'll take the other one."

She started for the larger of the two bedrooms, nearly bumping into the broken chair leaning against the wall.

"Careful." The beam of his flashlight played over the chair.

"You'd think the cops would be more vigilant about—" Her voice died in her throat when the flashlight beam illuminated a wide, dark stain on the paneled wall. At first, Addison thought it was rust from a leaky roof or hot water heater. But when she looked down and saw the stain spread out on the carpet, her blood ran cold.

She stared for what seemed like an eternity. The dark stain covered the wall and carpeting like an old wound that continued to seep in its injustice. Instinctively, she knew the smell pervading her nose was that of old blood. Of death. Of murder.

Randall averted the light. "Shit, I want you to wait outside."

His words cut through the shock, like light through fog. Before she could move, his hand gripped her wrist, turning her, pushing her toward the door.

Addison's feet felt anchored to the floor. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. She, felt seasick, chilled to the bone. The contents of her stomach climbed into her throat. To her horror her stomach clenched, and she realized she was going to be sick.

She staggered toward the door, choking back sickness. She wanted air, mouthfuls of cold, clean air.

Randall reached the door before she did, shoved it open, and guided her to it. At the threshold, Addison fell to her knees and threw up violently, her body shuddering convulsively with each retch.

Dizzy and humiliated, she gripped the jamb and let the icy wind wash over her heated face. For several minutes, she stayed that way, willing her stomach to calm. She refused to think about the crime scene photos. She refused to let her mind show her the splattered blood that streamed down the wall like a black waterfall.

Slowly
,
she became aware of Randall's hand on her shoulder, reassuring her with his touch. He stood over her, holding the door open, waiting patiently for her to finish. "Easy does it," he said gently
.

"Just let me sit here for a moment."

"Take as much time as you need."

"Leave me alone. This is humiliating."

"Don't sweat it, Ace. I've been in your shoes before." He caressed her nape with the tips of his fingers. "I should have known better than to bring you here."

"It was my idea. I didn't leave you much choice."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I can hold my own when I put my mind to it
.
"

When her stomach had settled to a manageable level, Addison raised her head, willing the dizziness away. "I want to finish searching the bedroom."

Randall helped her to her feet
.
"You're in no condition
to do any more searching."

"I want to do this. Dammit, I need to do this." She leaned heavily against the jamb when dizziness threatened to send her back down
.

He reached for her just in time to keep her knees from buckling. "You've had enough."

"We may not get another chance."

He raised the flashlight to her face, careful not to blind her. "Christ
,
you're pale as a sheet
.
"

"I'm not leaving. Dammit, I feel better
.
"

"Right
.
" He touched her cheek with the back of his hand.

"I want to finish this."

"I'll search the goddamn bedrooms
,
" he growled. "I want you to wait for me in the car.
"

Addison didn't have the energy to argue further. She, turned to the door, then jumped to the ground. "I'll wait for you here."

"I'll be five minutes," he said.

"Be thorough. Don't hurry on my account." She turned her back to the wind, hoping the cold would take her mind off the stench of death that lingered like a dark cloud in the trailer.

By the time Randall jumped to the ground next to her, she was shaking uncontrollably. It had started with just her teeth chattering. After .a few minutes the trembling had spread to her hands, her knees, until her entire body quaked with cold and the remnants of sickness.

"I told you to wait in the car." Grasping the sleeve of her coat, he forced her in the general direction of the car. "Your stubborn streak is beginning to annoy me."

"I could say the same thing about you."

"You catch pneumonia and I'm off the case. I don't do hospitals," he growled, but his voice was too soft for the words to sting.

Addison didn't miss the concern laced in between the nasty looks and harsh words. "Sorry I blew it, Talbot."

"Don't apologize for something you had no control over."

It was then, beneath the yellow light of the street lamp, that she realized he hadn't yet looked at her. Odd for a man who was a stickler for eye contact. "Why won't you look at me?" she asked.

Randall unlocked the passenger door. "Get inside."

Mechanically, Addison slid onto the passenger seat and removed her gloves, rubbing her hands together to warm them. He got in a moment later, started the car, and switched on the heater. "Feeling better?" he asked.

Leaning back against the seat, she closed her eyes. "Peachy."

"We need to find a phone."

Her heart kicked hard against her ribs. She opened her
eyes and turned to him. "Did you find something?"

From the inside pocket of his parka, he handed her a small, black book
.
"This was on the top shelf in the closet
.
"

"A bible?" She stared at the tattered cover, almost afraid to touch it
.
Mildew and the tang of dust tickled her nose as she took it from him.

Randall put the car in gear and pulled onto the street
.
"There's a newspaper clipping inside."

Feeling acutely the weight of his gaze, she switched
on the overhead light and paged through the bible
.
The yellowed clipping lay within the tattered pages halfway into the book.

She slid it from its ancient nest with two fingers, unfolded the delicate paper, and saw it was from
.
the November 21, 1974, edition of a paper called the
County Crier
.
She began to read.

LOCAL GIRL ALLEGES RAPE

Al Stukins, Reporter

A sixteen-year
-
old Siloam Springs girl reported on Tuesday that she was repeatedly raped and sodomized by an out
-
of
-
state student who had allegedly paid her for a night of sex. A spokesman for the local sheriff's department reported that they have been unable to substantiate the charges due to the lack of physical evidence and allegations that the woman was under the influence of LSD and possibly marijuana at the time of the incident
.
As of this afternoon, no charges have been filed.

Chapter 18

Jack Talbot leaned back in his wheelchair and watched the computer screen roll by with each click of the mouse. He'd been writing code for so many hours he barely noticed the twitching in his eyes or the tight muscles at the base of his neck. He'd lost count of the hours. As far as he knew, it could have been days since he'd last eaten or showered or talked to another human being.

But he was so damned close.

"Come on, you sweet bitch." The screen continued a seemingly endless scroll. A blur of names and dates flew by. He slowed the flow of data when he saw the list of babies born on August 20, 1975, in Dayton's Good Samaritan Hospital. Delivering physician, Dr. Heimer Kourt.

"Yeah, baby, talk to me." He clicked the mouse. A dozen names scrolled by. Alpha order. He clicked the mouse. Halfway down the page, the name Agnes Beckett materialized.

It was the closest thing to an orgasm he'd had in five years.

Victory, as sweet as a lover's kiss, made his chest swell. His breath jammed in his throat. With a trembling hand, he
touched the monitor, leaving a greasy smear where the name Colleen Glass appeared
.
The name of her doctor
.
Heimer Kourt. He clicked the mouse and searched to see if the father had been named.

And he froze.

He stared in disbelief, knowing that somehow his high tech lover had failed him
,
"This can't be." He punched the Print Screen key. The laser spit out the name in indisputable black and white. "Sweet Jesus."

The bell on the alley door jingled. Surprised
,
disoriented from so many hours of work
,
Jack spun his chair around
,
expecting to see Randall
.
Instead
,
it masked man dressed in black
l
eveled a semiautomatic pistol at his chest
.

Adrenaline danced through his midsection, but stopped at his hips
.
With an eerie calm
,
Jack noticed the silencer
,
realizing immediately he
'
d discovered the truth too late
.
His only thought was that he would never be able to tell his brother what he'd found. The injustice of it nearly sent him from the chair.