Revenge (10 page)

‘I know.’ Burnett’s shoulders sagged. ‘I don’t need verification, Jess. I’m just here to let you know that feathers are ruffled. I smoothed things over but you’ll need to proceed with caution. We talked about this.’

‘That’s
your
job.’ She snagged the other stemmed glass she owned and passed it to him. ‘You’re the chief of police. You keep things smoothed over. I’ – she waved her glass – ‘on the other hand, ruffle things, including feathers.’

Burnett splashed some wine into his glass and sipped it.

She poured herself another serving. ‘That’s what you do for all your chiefs, right?’

He nodded. ‘That’s what I do for all of them, yes.’ This time he downed the meager serving he’d allowed himself.

‘You show up at Black’s or Hogan’s door like this when they step on toes?’ She stared straight at him and waited for an answer.

‘You know the answer to that.’

‘That’s what I thought.’ Another gulp of wine for fortification. ‘It’s been almost a month, Burnett. At some point you have to stop treating me differently than you treat the others.’

He stared at his glass as if he wished he dared drink more and then drive home.
Because he was going home
. There would be no sleepovers during the workweek.

‘That might not be possible.’

At least he wasn’t still denying that he was treating her differently. ‘We’ll have to work on that,’ she suggested. ‘If it makes you happy, I will try not to tick off any more of Pratt’s uppity friends.’

‘Have you heard from Duvall since he returned to LA?’

Now there was a question out of left field. ‘He called to say he’d arrived safely.’ She shrugged. Wasn’t about to discuss the rest of what her ex
-
husband had said. ‘I haven’t heard from him since. Probably won’t unless he learns something from Lopez that we need to know about Captain Allen’s disappearance.’

‘He wants you back.’ Burnett placed his glass on the table and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘You still sure that’s not what you want?’

Where the hell had that come from? ‘We talked about this already. I’m happy here and now. I’m not looking to go backward.’

He fixed that blue gaze of his on hers and grinned. ‘See. That’s how I feel every time something else about one of my exes comes up. Like this Baron cookout. You only want to go because you’re curious about Nina.’

Well he had her there.

‘I have to turn off the water in the tub.’ She hurried to the bathroom before he could say more. The steam rising from the water as she shut off the valves had her considering just forgetting about Burnett and climbing in. But she couldn’t do that.

Resigned to hearing him out, she padded back to where he waited. ‘You could save us both a lot of trouble and just tell me the deal on Nina. Is she anything like her sister?’ Jess liked Sylvia. She was brash and a total smart-ass, but she was tough and determined and far more fragile inside than she was outside.

‘Good night, Jess.’ He headed for the door.

That he refused to come clean with her about this Nina woman bugged the heck out of her. ‘I saw Corlew today.’

Daniel Burnett stopped dead in his tracks. He turned back to her. ‘How?’

‘He’s a PI now.’

‘I know what he is,’ he said with a sharpness she seldom heard in his tone.

Well, well. The two hated each other just as much now as they had back in high school it seemed. Why was it men didn’t see how petty and immature that was? Women didn’t walk about with chips on their shoulders like that. They found a way to get even.

‘He did a background search and some surveillance on my vic.’ She shrugged. ‘I needed to follow up with him.’

Burnett held up both hands. ‘Don’t tell me, you found him in a bar.’

‘How’d you guess?’ Jess refused to rise to the bait. ‘We had a nice little reunion. According to my sources, his services are highly sought after these days.’

‘Watch him, Jess,’ Burnett warned, anger simmering in those baby blues. ‘He’s not the same man he used to be. He’s cold and calculating and he’ll do anything to win.’

Jess frowned. ‘That’s funny. He sounds exactly the same.’ Those parts of his personality she remembered vividly.

Clearly exasperated, Burnett changed the subject. ‘You need a ride to the office in the morning?’

‘Lori’s picking me up.’

Apparently satisfied, he reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘See you tomorrow.’

She cautioned him not to touch the railing and then she watched him go before locking up. At least the wine had her feeling a little more relaxed, despite his annoying warnings. Tread carefully with the mayor’s friends. Don’t trust Corlew. If she were totally honest with herself, she would have to admit that he used passing along the mayor’s comments as an excuse to stop by when he could have simply called. He was still worried about her safety. Maybe she should be a little more worried herself. But she had to find a way to make him see that he could not continue to single her out from all his other deputy chiefs. Doing so made her look incapable and cast a bad light on him. How long would it take the others to notice Burnett was playing favorites to some degree?

The absolute last thing Jess wanted was for her return to Birmingham to damage his career. She had to make him see what others undoubtedly already had. He was hovering like a helicopter mom.

‘I can take care of myself,’ she muttered as she snagged her Glock and headed for that nice, long soak. She placed the handgun on the little table that sat next to her tub. Thirty seconds later her clothes were on the floor and she was neck-deep in nice, warm water. A little draining and then a lot of adding heated things back up, had the steam rising again.

She closed her eyes and allowed the images and voices of the day to filter slowly through her head. Scott Baker’s wife was convinced that her husband had wanted to be murdered. The concept was a little too far-fetched in Jess’s opinion. More likely Trisha Baker was in deep denial and talking crazy. Jess would need a lot more than her emotional plea to put much stock in that scenario.

The poor woman needed some rationale that her husband was dead and this made him a hero. He was protecting their son. Delusional or not, there could be some truth in the part about Scott Baker sending his wife and son out of town. Since Baker likely knew and anticipated his killer’s visit, perhaps he felt that he and his family were threatened by this person and he wanted to ensure his family was safe.

Maybe the other woman had pulled a
Fatal Attraction
. If that were the case, why go through with the meeting without arming himself or having some manner of backup? Why not call the police? And why the hell did he turn off the security system?

The only logical reason for his decisions was that he had something to hide.

Jess groaned as her tense muscles started to melt.

If Baker had a secret, why didn’t Corlew find anything? Even the best-kept secrets were never really safe. There was always someone somewhere who knew something.

Maybe Corlew had been paid to find nothing. By Scott perhaps. The Baker family was rich and powerful. If the son had troubles, they could certainly have made them go away without him ending up dead.

That was the part that didn’t make sense.

The grind of metal on metal forced her eyes open. Jess held her breath and listened. Was someone at her door? The sound came again. She was out of the water and wrapping a towel around her body before the air released from her lungs. She claimed her Glock and eased to the bathroom door. She’d left it open a crack so seeing into the rest of her apartment was easy.

She slipped out of the bathroom and checked the door. Locked. One by one she checked the view out the windows. No vehicle in the driveway. No fleeing would-be intruder.

Just to be sure, she checked the lock on the door again. That grinding noise had sounded like the workings of a lock rubbing against each other.

Had to be Mr Louis doing something downstairs in the garage.

Satisfied that there was no one about, she cleaned up the mess she’d made. She’d tracked water everywhere. Then she finished her bath and climbed into bed. To hell with drying her hair. She’d forgotten to ask if the electrical problem had been resolved.

Just now she was too tired to care.

Her eyes drifted closed and her cell made that irritating sound that told her she had a text message.

Probably Burnett saying good night.

She reached for her phone.

Not Burnett.

Tormenter
.

Eric Spears. The serial killer who’d gotten away. The one who’d tortured and murdered dozens of women. The one who’d gotten close enough to destroy her career at the Bureau and then followed her to her hometown. The sick son of a bitch who had killed a federal agent right here in Birmingham and almost killed Lori and Dan.

She’d gotten a smart-ass remark from him on Saturday. Something about Burnett having won this round. He’d taunted her about her ex showing up. She’d ignored him. Maybe not a smart move. But his game was getting old.

Just something else for her to feel guilty about. Originally her plan had been to try and lure him into reacting so she could get another shot at taking him out. That had likely been foolhardy or just doomed from the start. Whatever the case, she was just too tired to play tonight.

But then if she didn’t . . . what would his next move be? To start a new game with someone else? An innocent victim her actions might have saved?

‘Just do it,’ she muttered. She swiped the screen, opening the text from him. Her lips tightened as she read his message. Just one word.
Cheers
.

Her attention settled on the empty wine bottle and glasses on her kitchen table. He couldn’t be here . . . watching her.

Impossible
.

Her feet hit the floor, Glock in her hand. Again, she went from window to window and checked the perimeter for as far as she could see in the moonlight.

Nothing.

She ordered her heart to slow. The undeniable fear he had prompted dissolved and outrage roared in its place. ‘Show your face, Spears.’ Her fingers tightened on her weapon.

Let him come.

The next time he showed up in her life, she planned on being the last thing he ever saw.

Chapter Ten

Laurel Drive, Hoover, 9.20
P.M.

E
lliott Carson studied the newspapers he had saved for more than a decade. His gut had turned inside out and then twisted into knots.

BIRMINGHAM HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR FOUND DEAD

Images from that night flashed like lightning through his mind. The seven of them seated in a circle on the roof with only the moon and a single candle for light. They had been drinking . . . a lot. Elliott and Juliette had smoked weed but the others had snorted coke. It was the first time any of them, to his knowledge, ever did drugs. They’d bought a whole load of shit. They were going to par-tay.

Look what it had cost them . . .

What had they been thinking?

Elliott braced his head in his hands and read the headline that had appeared in the
Birmingham News
a week later.

BIRMINGHAM TEEN’S DEATH RULED SUICIDE

He closed his eyes and prayed fervently, his lips moving frantically to keep up with the words pouring from his heart. How could they have done this awful thing? How could they just cover it up and pretend nothing had happened?

They had taken a life . . . the five of them. All this time they’d pretended. They had gone on with their lives as if
his
hadn’t mattered. Every day of every one of those years had been another he had not been allowed to enjoy because they had robbed him of that future.

It was time they made this right. Scott shouldn’t have had to die for them to see how wrong it was to continue this lie. If Elliott hadn’t been such a coward, he would have done the right thing long ago.

He was a coward. He had a boy of his own now. Just like Scott did . . . 
had
. How could he expect his child to make the right choices in life if he didn’t? Sweet Jesus, when his wife and son found out . . . his whole family would be devastated.

Scott’s family would be further devastated.

They would all be devastated. Elliott’s jaw hardened. He had no sympathy for the others. But their families were a different story. Their one mistake was going to cost so many so very much.

Elliott picked up the pages. Handwritten pages torn from a diary or journal someone had left stuck in his door like a religious pamphlet. Thank God his wife hadn’t been home to find this ugliness.

Kevin was right.
He
was here and he wanted them to know he hadn’t forgotten what they had done . . .

March 15

It was always the same. We ran into them at the mall. Probably wasn’t a coincidence. Love did things to a guy. Made him stupid.

The Five were in the food court showing off. Ha! They thought they were celebrities or something. Thought their shit didn’t stink. Avoiding the phonies would have been the best thing to do. Not so lucky. He had to sit as close to them as possible.

No point trying to save him. He was a lost cause. But a friend didn’t leave a friend no matter that he was being a dork at the moment.

Elliott scrubbed at his eyes, his heart pounding, but he couldn’t stop reading.

Hot Scott, that’s what all the girls called him, was the leader of the Five but it was that smart-ass Elliott Carson who took a turn today. That’s what they did. They took turns making other people feel beneath them. Using those less fortunate for their entertainment. It made him so angry . . . and still he took it because his friend was a sucker in love.

It was the stupidest move. If those assholes were smart, they would at least come up with more original ways of making everyone else look like idiots. Elliott asked him to go grab him another Coke. He’d even buy a round for our table. I told him not to listen to just ignore them. But he didn’t. Poor bastard took the money and rushed to fill the order.

When he reached the table with the tray of Cokes, Elliott tripped him. Made a hell of a mess but mostly it hurt. Everyone stared at him and laughed. Maybe one day they would both get used to the humiliation. Not!

Life just wasn’t fair sometimes. But he figured the Five would get theirs one day.

Elliott crushed the pages in his hand and pushed out of the chair. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday. He’d just been fucking around. He hadn’t meant any real harm.

Goddammit! He walked around his desk to pace the room. His room. The private office and getaway he’d needed after his career-shattering injury had brought him back to Birmingham a lesser man. His wife had overseen the building of this big-ass mansion and getting them settled while he’d brooded, feeling sorry for himself. Eventually he’d gotten over it and started his new life – the one that didn’t include baseball.

At least he’d had a life . . . The man he’d helped murder hadn’t gotten that. All he’d ever gotten was laughed at after being made the butt of a joke.

How many times had Elliott been the one to initiate that kind of pain?

God, he didn’t want to think about it.

Tonight, Elliott had sent his wife and son to her mother’s. He needed some time alone to figure this out. A decision should have been reached by now. There was no excuse for this waffling back and forth. He knew what he had to do. If he’d had any doubts, receiving the pages from this journal had reminded him. All he needed was one ally in this mess.

Juliette was the most likely one he could count on. Kevin and Aaron would never go along with the idea of coming clean about that night. Both were too fucking selfish.

What they’d done back in high school was wrong.

His blood ran suddenly and completely cold. Would they get the death penalty for what they had done?

The law might decide to make an example out of them. Bullying and shit like that was on the news all the time now. All those generation Xers and Yers who whined about it now were the world’s worst at belittling and bullying when they were in high school. Just like him. What a crock.

Okay. He had to make this right. Do this the proper way. The PI he’d called hadn’t called him back and Elliott couldn’t take the waiting any longer. He had to act. He could call that lady cop who was investigating Scott’s murder. All he’d have to do was call the nonemergency line and get a message to her. She’d call him back when she got the message.

Elliott exhaled a big breath, let the tension flow out of him. Making that decision was a tremendous relief. He wished he’d made it years ago instead of listening to the others.

He touched the screen of his cell and pulled up the keypad. He tapped the first few digits. Something in his peripheral vision captured his attention. He stared at the wall above the credenza for two, then three beats before the reality of what he was seeing fully registered. His lucky bat was missing. His wife kept his trophies in a case in the family room, but that bat was extra special to him. He kept it here, in his home office.

Where the hell—

‘Batter up!’

Elliott pivoted to face the person who’d shouted those two words. The ski mask and gloves concealing the intruder’s identity registered, telling him nothing but stealing valuable time.

The bat swung.

Elliott saw it coming . . . but it was too late for him to duck. He’d been too startled, too stunned, too busy trying to figure out why someone in a ski mask would steal his lucky bat while he was in the house.

The bat slammed into his skull.

As he dropped to his knees, his lucky bat connected with his head again and the lights went out.