See Jane Die (14 page)

Thursday, October 23, 2003
12:05 a.m
.

T
he phone dragged Stacy from a deep sleep. Instantly awake, she found the receiver and answered before the end of the second ring.

“Killian here.”

“Stacy, it's Ted Jackman. Jane's assistant.”

She sat up, swung her legs off the side of the bed. “Is Jane all right?”

He hesitated. “Physically, yes. But…somebody slipped a disturbing message through her mail slot. She's pretty upset. I think you'd better get over here.”

Stacy stood and crossed to her dresser. Propping the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she opened the top drawer, selected a sweater, then shut the drawer with her hip. She slid open the second drawer, grabbed her denims. “Did the message have anything to do with Ian or with the murders he's been arrested for?”

“No. At least I don't think so. It was a newspaper clipping. From 1987.”

Stacy's fingers stilled. “That's it?”

“He wrote on it. Said he did it on purpose. To hear her screams.”

“On my way.”

Stacy ended the call and immediately dialed Mac.

“It's Stacy,” she said as he answered. “Meet me at my sister's, ASAP.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, they arrived damn near simultaneously.

“What's up?” Mac asked, climbing out of his vehicle and crossing to meet her.

“Jane's studio assistant called. Seems somebody slipped an old news clipping about Jane's accident through her mail slot. A message accompanied it. Said he did it on purpose.” Stacy tucked her hair behind her ear. “Thought I'd better include you, just in case.”

The door opened. Ted waved them over. On the way up he explained how he had heard about Ian's arrest on the news and come to check on Jane. “The envelope was in the foyer, on the floor. She discovered it when she stepped on it.”

He closed and locked the door behind them, then started up the stairs. “Watch your step, the light's out.”

They found Jane in the living room, huddled under a blanket on the couch, knees to her chest. She looked up as Stacy said her name.

“I always knew,” she whispered. “I always knew he did it on purpose.”

Stacy glanced at Mac, then crossed to her sister. She crouched in front of her. “Where's the clipping, Jane?”

She nodded toward the coffee table behind her. Stacy twisted, gaze landing on the envelope.

Stacy glanced at Mac; he nodded slightly, giving her silent permission to go forward. Grabbing a tissue from the box on the couch beside Jane, she used it to handle the envelope and its contents so not to further contaminate it. She read it twice, then stood and carried it to Mac. He, too, read it, then handed it back without comment.

“It's just like my nightmare,” Jane murmured, breaking the silence. “He's come back. To finish the job.”

Stacy's mouth went dry. “Most likely, this is somebody's idea of a sick joke.”

“No.” Jane shook her head. “It's him. I know it is.”

Stacy returned to the couch, knelt in front of her sister. She took her hands and, finding them as cold as ice, rubbed them gently to warm them. “Think this through. The timing couldn't be worse, but the likelihood of this being from the boater from sixteen years ago is almost zilch. Someone has become aware of you through all the recent new stories.
Texas Monthly
just hit the streets this week. Most of Dallas now knows your past. This is some sick bastard's idea of a joke.”

Jane withdrew her hands and curled them into fists. “He may have found me through the new stories, but it is him.”

Stacy looked from her sister to Mac, then Ted. Her partner looked troubled; Ted gazed intently, almost fiercely, at Jane. Stacy realized in that moment how much the man cared for her sister.

“Mac and I will follow up on this. We'll check for prints and other trace evidence. Did you both handle it?”

“Yes,” Ted said. “Sorry.”

Stacy stood. “Call me if you receive anything else like this. Promise?” Jane nodded and Stacy started for the door. She stopped at the doorway, an offer to stay on the tip of her tongue.

Jane thought of her as the enemy. She had made that clear the last time she had offered her help
.

Jane looked at her, eyes glassy. “I'm the only one who ever thought he did it on purpose,” she said softly. “But I was the only one there in the water, wasn't I?”

Stacy stared at her sibling a moment, aching. Guilty. Yes, her sister had been the one in the water that day. She, the older of the two, the one who should have been behaving responsibly, had encouraged her to swim.

“If you need anything, call me. Anytime.”

The words landed hollowly between them. She could tell
Jane didn't believe her. That she thought her words empty platitudes.

She and Mac let themselves out. He walked with her to her vehicle. “Maybe you should stay with her?”

She glanced up at her sister's windows, then back at her partner. “She doesn't want me here.”

“I'm not so certain of that. You're her sister. Family.”

“Not tonight. Tonight I'm the law.”

A gust of wind blew her hair across her face. He pushed it back, tucking it behind her ear. “We need to talk.”

The familiarity, the intimacy, of the gesture took her by surprise. He stood too close, she realized. Closer than a partner should.

Awareness stirred inside her. Uncomfortable, she took a step backward. “About?”

“A story I heard while working Vice.”

“Truth or fiction?”

“You decide. I heard it from a slimy little snitch we called Doobie.” Mac looked away a moment, then back. “He was the kind of guy who was always whining about his life. How everything bad that ever happened to him was somebody else's fault.”

“What are we talking here? Pimp? Bookie?”

“Both. An all-around bad guy and loser. Anyway, he claimed an incident that happened when he was a teenager was the root of all his woes.”

Mac expelled a breath. “He and a friend had skipped school, taken a case of beer out on the kid's dad's boat. They were whooping it up until they came upon a swimmer. A girl. Out in the lake alone.”

Stacy knew what was coming. She braced herself for it.

“It started out, Doobie thought, as a joke. His friend aimed the boat at the swimmer. To scare her. Make her pee herself. They'd have a few laughs, no real harm done.

“But his friend didn't turn the boat away. Doobie tried to get the wheel; he screamed for his friend to stop. And then he knew it was too late.

“The girl screamed. There was this sickening…thump. The water turned red.”

Stacy realized she was holding her breath. That she had fisted her fingers so tightly her nails bit into her palms. She forced herself to breathe, to relax her hands.

“Doobie was sobbing, begging his friend to go back and help. He laughed at him. Called him a pussy. He threatened Doobie. Promised he would kill him if he told anyone.”

“And he believed him?” Stacy asked.

“The kid's family had money. They wielded considerable power in Dallas.”

Jane had always insisted he'd done it on purpose. She had been right
.

And now, maybe, he was back
.

She felt ill. She struggled to detach herself from her emotions, evaluate what Mac was telling her. To sort the pieces of the story and decide on their next move.

“Doobie insisted his life went downhill after that. He never could move beyond it. Never get the sound of the girl's screams out of his head, the image of her there, helpless, in the water.”

Same as her, Stacy thought. “What was the kid's name?” she demanded. “The one driving the boat.”

“I don't know. He wouldn't tell me.”

“I want that name.”

“I'll ask around. See if I can locate him. He may be long gone, though. Guys like him tend to have a short shelf life.”

“Fair enough.”

He gazed at her a moment, assessingly. “You do acknowledge that the chance of the person who sent the clipping being the same one who ran your sister down sixteen years ago is damn slim? Your comment to Jane was right on, why would this guy appear after all these years?”

She laughed, the sound hard. “True. But even a damn slim chance makes me uncomfortable. She's my sister, Mac.”

“The wording on the clipping—‘I did it to hear your screams'—how certain are you that those words didn't
appear in any of the news stories that ran at the time? Jane, or someone else, could have uttered them. It would have made an attention-grabbing headline.”

Stacy could imagine it:
Girl insists he did it on purpose
.

“I'm not certain,” Stacy murmured. “But I will be.” She frowned. “The immediate question is, how serious should we take what happened tonight? A sick joke or real threat?”

“You want my opinion?”

“Of course.”

“For now, a sick joke. She hears from him again and I'll reevaluate.”

He glanced up at Jane's windows, brow furrowed in thought. “How well do you know Ted?” he asked.

“Ted? Not well, though he's been with my sister for some time. She's quite fond of him. Why?”

“He was here when she arrived home. So was the envelope. Could be a coincidence.”

“Or not,” she finished. They fell silent a moment. “Maybe I'll run a background check on him.”

“Good idea. I'll give my buddies in Vice a call.”

He held her gaze. Once again Stacy was struck by the intensity of his. The way she reacted to it.

He glanced at his watch. “I hate to be the first to leave this party, but I'm looking at a hell of a day ahead.”

“Go on. I'm out of here, too.”

She opened her car door. Before she climbed in, he called her name, stopping her. She turned and met his eyes once more. “Yeah?”

“Doobie, the snitch. He was still afraid of the guy, after all these years. That's why he wouldn't tell me his name. He said this kid was the scariest son of a bitch he'd ever known.”

Thursday, October 23, 2003
1:15 a.m
.

S
tacy sat behind the wheel of her SUV, gazing up at Jane's loft for a long time after Mac drove off. She made no move to start her engine, though she was cold and her hands, curled tightly around the steering wheel, had grown numb.

This kid was the scariest son of a bitch he'd ever known
.

I did it on purpose. To hear your screams
.

Like Mac's snitch, she had never been able to get the sound of Jane's screams out of her head. She could recall them now, if she would allow herself.

Stacy leaned her head against the rest and closed her eyes. Her head filled with an image—not of that horrific day at the lake, not of one of the murder scenes she had processed over the years—but of Mac. His expression as he had tucked her hair behind her ear. His smile. The intensity in his gaze.

He had looked at her the way a man looked at a woman he was attracted to.

She was more tired than she thought, Stacy decided, sitting up and jamming the key into the ignition. Mac was not attracted to her. She was not so foolish as to be attracted
to him. They were partners. Any kind of relationship that extended beyond that would be suicide.

In one fell swoop she could destroy the reputation she had worked so hard to build. Sleep with your partner, you became a bimbo. Period. Forget keeping it secret; that kind of news always got out. Forget the relationship becoming permanent; it wouldn't.

Annoyed with her thoughts and with the longing that nibbled at her resolve, she twisted the key and the engine came to life. She shifted into first, glancing up at her sister's window as she did.

Ted Jackman stood at the window, silhouetted against the light, staring down at her.

A chill moved over her.

How well do you know Ted Jackman?

Not well enough to trust him, she realized. Not well enough to leave her sister in his care.

Muttering an oath, she flipped open her cell phone and dialed Jane. Her sister answered immediately.

“Jane, it's Stacy. I'm downstairs.” Stacy didn't give her a chance to respond. “You shouldn't be alone tonight. I think I should stay with you.”

“I'll be all right,” she said stiffly. “Ted's still here. He's offered to stay.”

“I'm your sister. Protecting you is my job.”

“And here I thought you were a cop.”

“I'm family first.” As she said it, she realized she meant it. The job be damned; Jane was all the family she had left. “I didn't have anything to do with what's happened to Ian. And there was nothing I could have done to stop it. In fact, I was reprimanded because of my personal involvement, first by my partner, then my captain.

“Yes,” she continued, “I'm a police officer. But I've been your sister a lot longer. And you need me, whether you want to admit it or not. Now, are you going to buzz me up or what?”

For a long moment, Jane remained silent. Just as Stacy
opened her mouth to tell Jane just how pigheaded she was being, her sister capitulated. “Give me two minutes.”

Stacy climbed out of her vehicle, locked it and crossed the sidewalk to Jane's door. She reached it just as the buzzer announced it unlocked. She pushed it open and stepped inside. Ted was coming down the stairs toward her; Jane stood in the doorway above, silhouetted by the light behind her.

Stacy stepped aside so the man could pass. He met her eyes as he did. The malevolence in his surprised her.

“Excuse me?” she said.

He stopped, looked back, expression benign. “I didn't say anything.”

She frowned. Had she imagined the ill will she'd seen in his eyes? Or had he quickly masked his true feelings?

“Thanks for staying,” she said.

He stared at her a moment, then nodded. “I love Jane. Of course I stayed.”

She heard the indictment in his tone; the accusation:
You're Jane's sister, why haven't you been here for her?

Even as guilt licked at her, she watched him go, frowning. The door slammed shut behind him, automatically locking. She checked it to be certain, then climbed the stairs.

“Interesting guy,” she said as she reached the top.

“He's very loyal.”

Meaning she wasn't
. Stacy made a noncommittal sound. “Where did you find him?”

“He found me, actually.”

An alarm sounded in Stacy's head. She kept her expression impassive. “No kidding? Where?”

“He saw one of my shows and approached me about a job. I had just realized how badly I needed an assistant and hired him.” She closed the door behind them.

Stacy bent and petted Ranger. “You ran a background check on him, right?”

“Stop it, Stacy.”

“What?”

“I'm not going to live my life that way.”

“How's that? Being careful?”

“No, being suspicious. Expecting the worst from people instead of the best.”

The comment got her back up. “That's fine, Jane. Except I'm not the one who has a wacko slipping nasty little hellos through my mail slot.”

Red stained her sister's cheeks. “Did you come up here to make me feel better? Or worse?”

“I'm just saying that a bit of caution would serve you well right now.”

“I'm scared, all right? Terrified, actually. Happy now?”

“No,” Stacy said softly, catching Jane's hand and squeezing her fingers. “I'm worried.”

Jane's expression softened. She returned the pressure of Stacy's fingers, then released them. “Guest room bed's made up. There are plenty of bath linens in the closet.”

The loft's guest bedroom was located on the opposite side of the apartment from Jane's, in back. Stacy wanted to be closer to both her sister and the front door. “If you don't mind, I'd rather sleep on the couch.”

Jane didn't and went in search of bedding. She returned moments later. “I brought you a nightshirt. There's a new toothbrush and other toiletries in the far-right vanity drawer. Help yourself.”

“Thanks. Jane?” Her sister met her gaze. “You want to talk?”

“I just want to go to bed.”

Stacy nodded. She understood. “Sleep well, then. I'll see you in the morning.”

Stacy watched her go, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was it supposed to be so awkward between siblings? she wondered. Was it this way between other sisters?

She removed her shoulder holster and laid it on the coffee table, then made up the couch. That done, she slipped her Glock under the pillow, then headed to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. After changing into the nightshirt, she padded back to the living room. She checked
to make certain her weapon was just where she'd left it, then slid under the covers.

Once she was comfortable, Stacy lay still, senses on alert. She took inventory—of the shadows, their depth and darkness, the sounds of the loft, the tick from the antique mantel clock, the faint sounds of traffic, the hum of the heater kicking on.

And then, the sound of Jane crying. The sobs of a woman lost, despairing.

Stacy squeezed her eyes shut, hurting for her sister. Longing to comfort her but knowing no one but Ian could.