Seeing Red (38 page)

Ellis sat in the chair and watched Nate move the candles to the table closest to her. He hadn’t put down that plasticbagged envelope since Charlie handed it to him. It was now tucked beneath his arm as he collected two more candles from another room and lit them.

He set the flashlight on the table with its beam pointed to reflect off the white ceiling. Then he took a seat on the ottoman in front of her.

She bit her lip and straightened her spine, ready for whatever was making him frown so.

He took her hands and said, “You were right to send one of the guys to check on your uncle.”

“Oh, no,” she moaned, bracing herself for the worst.

“He wasn’t there. Neither was his car. So we can’t jump to conclusions. Charlie let himself in, to make sure your uncle wasn’t in there needing help. He found a restraining order lying on the floor near the front door.”

“Restraining order? From who?” Had he pushed Jodi too far?

Nate’s jaw tensed. “Alexander.”

“What!”

Nate shook his head. “We can’t find out the details tonight. I’m sure it’s all part of Alexander’s game.”

Her eyes shifted to the envelope. “And those?”

“Charlie found these photographs on the kitchen table—beside two empty scotch bottles.”

She went cold. “A nudge,” she whispered through numb lips.

“What?”

“Alexander said he didn’t have to do anything to Uncle Greg except give him a nudge now and again.”

“When?” Nate’s voice rose. He leaned back and let go of her hands.

She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to tell Nate about the call. So much else had happened, it had gotten lost in the sweep of the day. “Alexander called me at home this morning.” She rushed on when she saw his face cloud with anger. “He just wanted to scare me. I was so afraid he’d done something to you or Uncle Greg; that’s why I listened.”

“What did he say?” The cold edge in his voice sent a chill creeping across her scalp.

“He said he didn’t have to do anything
to
you. And Uncle Greg only needed a nudge; he was doing it to himself.”

Nate got up and walked around the room, as if suddenly filled with too much energy to be still.

She felt the opposite, as if all strength had been drained from her.

Nate came and stood in front of her, his mouth pressed into a firm frown. “And what did he say about
you
?”

That cold reptilian voice hissed through her mind. She wondered if it would haunt her dreams for years to come. “That he was saving me . . . for last. He wanted me to anticipate our time together.”

He slammed his fist onto the tabletop. The candles on it flickered. “And you
forgot
to tell me this!”

“I’m telling you now. A lot of shit has been happening. Sit down and get your boxers out of a bunch.”

He sat, but he looked like he wanted to break something.

She said, “I called the police. I gave them permission to do whatever was necessary to trace the phone calls. What more could you have done had you known before now?” She suddenly realized she hadn’t told him about Buckley either.

After she did, he said, “Jesus, Ellis! Is there anything else you’ve forgotten?”

“Nope. That’s all.”

With an exasperated shake of his head, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Hey, Raymond, it’s Nate. I need you to work your magic and get me some phone records.” He recited her home phone number. “Thanks.” He disconnected and looked at Ellis. “If you’d told me, I could have done that hours ago.”

She took a deep breath. “I can’t see what good it’ll do us. If it doesn’t go through proper channels, the police won’t be able to use it.”

“Alexander’s threatening you. He won’t sit and wait for police procedure. Neither will I.”

She looked up into his eyes, worried for his safety, worried he’d do something that would rightfully bring the law after
him.

Even so, the protectiveness she saw in his face made her feel . . .
safe.
How could that be? She was in the most danger she’d ever been in, and he made her feel truly safe for the first time since Laura’s attack.

She wanted to say something to make him understand how she felt but couldn’t find the words that expressed how he’d taken the most horrific days of her life and made her feel secure.

He held her gaze, his eyes looking dangerous in the candlelight. She wanted to warn him not to do something rash, something that would risk his life or his freedom. But his flinty expression told her the words would be wasted.

Suddenly he turned and walked away, going through the bathroom’s open door, taking the envelope with him.

Ellis took the time alone to settle her racing heart. Her insides felt as if they’d been churned by a whirlwind. So many emotions. So much frustration. She was furious over Alexander’s arrogance. Worried about her uncle. Afraid for Nate. Confused by her sudden sense of security. Astounded to discover she wasn’t made of ice. Strangled by longing for what could never be. Amazed that the seed of love—it seemed impossible, but it was there, greater than friendship, stronger than desire—could grow in such a toxic time.

Nate was in the other room long enough that she sensed he was working on reining in his own emotions.

When he returned, she’d managed to get her head closer to where it needed to be. In addition to the envelope, Nate now carried a box of tissues and a pair of tweezers.

“White cotton gloves or latex would be best, but these will have to do.” He set the box on the floor, pulled a tissue out, and handed it to her. “Someone hand-delivered these photos to your uncle today. Charlie said they’re very explicit, so I’d rather you let me look through them first.”

Her sense of trust grew yet again; he’d held to his word and not sneaked looking at them while in the other room. “No.”

He sat there on the edge of the ottoman for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to argue further. Then he said, “Touch them as little as possible. We’ll use the tweezers to move them around. If you have to pick one up, make sure a tissue is between your fingers and the photo.”

She managed a mute nod.

He dumped the envelope out of the baggie, then opened it using tissue-covered fingers. He gave her one last look that questioned if she was sure this was the way she wanted to handle it.

She responded with a single dip of her chin.

He knelt on the floor and slid the stack of black-and-white five-by-seven photos out onto the large ottoman where the light was best.

Ellis had to force herself not to turn away. In her mind, she’d already created a scenario for how these “explicit” photos had come to be; Alexander had had Laura pose in exchange for buying her alcohol.

But these weren’t the
Playboy
-like poses she’d expected. They were worse. Much, much worse.

She’d thought she’d been prepared. But nothing could have prepared her for the shock of the total desecration of her memory of her beautiful, perfect, beloved cousin.

When she grew dizzy, she realized she wasn’t breathing.

“Ellis?” Nate’s voice was quiet, concerned.

She dragged in a breath. “I’m okay.” She swallowed. “I’m okay.” It was a lie, but in order to get to the truth, they had to press on.

She tried to block Laura out of all the photographs. This was a collection of anonymous voyeuristic pornography. It had nothing to do with Laura.

It didn’t help much.

The first was taken against a pockmarked brick wall that could easily have been in a city alley somewhere. Ellis didn’t recognize the guy. She couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse.

She didn’t recognize the next guy either. And what he and Laura were doing had nothing to do with love.

Nate pushed the photos around, spreading them out on the ottoman.

His voice was tight with anger when he said, “Some of these look like they were taken with a telephoto lens. She didn’t know he was following her.
I
didn’t know . . . .”

“He
was
a Peeping Tom.” Ellis averted her eyes, feeling like a Peeping Tom herself. “Dear God. Uncle Greg . . . ” These pictures scrambled Ellis’s insides; what had they done to her uncle?

This wasn’t a nudge. This was a shove over a cliff.

If the neighbor saw these being delivered at six and there were two empty scotch bottles, it was damn likely he’d crashed his too-fast car somewhere.

Nate said, “Somehow I thought Alexander was one of the guys trading alcohol for . . . ” He pursed his lips. “But this paints a different picture altogether.”

“Stalker. Unless he kept photos of him and Laura to himself.” The words felt oily and bitter on Ellis’s tongue.

Nate gave a humorless bark of laughter. “No way. He wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to show your uncle that he was doing his daughter and that she was a willing participant.”

“True enough.” Alexander’s revenge was as cruel as his other crimes.

“Besides,” Nate said, “if she was voluntarily having sex with him, why rape her?”

“Rape isn’t about sex,” Ellis said. “Just look at these.” She pointed to the photos. “He’s a sick bastard. Who knows how many women he’s stalked and photographed before he attacked them?” Unfortunately, Laura’s behavior had given him an abundance of subject matter and opportunity.

Nate continued to study the photos, his elbow on the ottoman, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.

Ellis made herself look at all the photos, just in case something offered a clue. Some of the shots were taken through car windows, others through building windows, some in dirty, exposed places. All of the telephoto close-ups had a corresponding normal distance shot, as if Alexander was flaunting how far away he could be and still invade a person’s most intimate privacy.

Ellis’s eyes moved quickly over the rest of the pictures. One caught her eye. The guy was wearing a wedding ring.
A cheater and a prick.

Alexander had included a regular photo to match all of his close-ups; there had to be one that went with this one.

She looked over the rest. Bingo. It was taken through a window in a brick building. The guy was leaning back on a desktop. There was a large clock on the wall in the background. It was four-fifteen.

“Oh, my God!” Ellis thrust the photo at Nate as she jumped out of her chair, the heat of fury rocketing in her veins. “Oh. My. God!” She started pacing in a tight circle. “Recognize him?”

Nate’s voice was cold when he said, “Wayne Carr. Younger, yet still a bastard.”

Gritting her teeth, she said, “What a duplicitous jerk! He was the journalism advisor at the high school! I mean, how can he sit there and spout all kinds of ’protection for our young women’ when he’d used Laura like that?”

“Maybe it’s his guilty conscience working overtime,” he said. “Atonement.”

She slapped her fingers against the edge of the photo. “That son of a bitch doesn’t have a conscience.” She threw her head back and yelled, “God! If I had a gun—”

Nate stood up and captured her arms, stopping her frantic movement. “You do. So you need to get yourself back under some control here.”

She wanted to slap him. “How can you be so calm?”

“Because anger isn’t going to get the job done.” He looked her in the eyes, his gaze sympathetic. “I was hoping for something incriminating toward Alexander, something we could take to the police. Unfortunately, instead of incriminating Alexander, these could be used in his appeal. Laura’s behavior placed her in the path of scores of guys who could have beaten her.”

She stilled. “Do you think it’s possible? Someone else did beat her?”

“Unlikely . . . but possible. First thing we have to concentrate on is getting Alexander off the streets. Then we can explore that kind of prospect.”

Ellis wrapped her arms around her middle. It had never, never occurred to her that anyone but Alexander had attacked Laura.

She pushed the thought away. Right now it didn’t matter. Alexander killed Kimberly Potter. He had to be caught.

Nate reached out and rubbed her upper arms. “Okay?”

She nodded.

Nate let her go.

As her blind rage began to settle into a simmering anger, a question came to mind. “I wonder . . . ”

“What?”

“If Alexander had these photos, why didn’t he expose them at the time of his trial? It could have muddied up the waters enough for him to get off.”

“Or it could have proven to the conservative jury that he was exactly the pervert they thought him to be. It would be a gamble.” Nate swiped a hand over his hair. “Alexander didn’t get bail, and these weren’t seized when the police searched his place, so maybe they were someplace he couldn’t let anyone know about. Maybe these are personal trophies he didn’t really want to share with anyone. Who knows what goes on in a mind like his?”

Ellis had to admit, the inside of that man’s mind was someplace she hoped to never see.

As Nate shuffled the photos back into a stack, his hands suddenly stopped. “Look at these carefully. See the dust specks? And the slightly grainy quality of the film? He could hardly have taken these to the local Photomat and had them developed.”