The One That Got Away (26 page)

He went to his entry point—a sliding door—and dropped to his knees. It opened into the master bedroom, from the looks of it. He loved sliding doors. They used lock technology a half step up from a filing cabinet. He brought out his pick and worked the catch, which yielded to him in a matter of moments. He allowed himself a smile before slipping inside.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Cooking wasn’t one of Zoë’s things. It wasn’t that she was bad at it, she just didn’t have the inclination. Meals for her had always been simple affairs—salads and things she could buy premade. This was a by-product of college life, where there had been little to no time between classes and internships to invest in meal preparation, nor any once she’d started the long shifts at the mall after she’d taken the security job. Her enforced detention meant she had a lot of time on her hands. Since Jarocki was putting a roof over her head, the least she could do was make him a decent meal.

She was making beef-and-pork raviolis in a vodka sauce. It wasn’t particularly adventurous, but she was making it all from scratch. She’d looked up a recipe on the Food Network and had gotten Greening to bring the ingredients. She’d thought making pasta was going to be a fast and straightforward affair, but it wasn’t proving to be as simple as the recipe implied. Her first attempts at making the dough, let alone constructing the raviolis themselves, hadn’t passed muster, but she persevered until she had something that bordered on competent. However, competence had taken time. It was close to midnight. She had the salad and the vodka sauce done. All she needed to do was put the raviolis on to boil.

She left the vodka sauce on simmer and went to Jarocki’s bedroom office. It was the smallest of the rooms in the house. He could have had any one he pleased, but he stuck to his childhood room. She found him at work on his laptop.

She leaned against the doorway. “Dinner will be ready in about five minutes.”

Jarocki checked his watch. “More like a midnight feast.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think making pasta from scratch would take so long.”

“It’s OK. I had work to do. I’m just finishing up now, so perfect timing.”

She returned to the kitchen and put the raviolis in the boiling water. They sank to the bottom of the pan. When they were done, they’d all float to the top. She liked this communication method between food and chef.

This was nice. She found cooking relaxing. Her world was in turmoil and still she could find peace among it all. Jarocki had been telling her for months to find hobbies and interests that brought her pleasure and emotional nourishment, but she’d resisted because she hadn’t seen the point. If she was being honest, she’d never taken the time to find leisure pursuits. Her self-defense classes provided her with a sense of accomplishment but offered no relaxation. She’d always claimed that hitting the clubs and bars, getting wrecked, and seeing who’d pick her up was her release valve. It wasn’t. She put herself out there with no idea how the night would end, which was its own form of stress.

She smiled as the raviolis, good to their word, all rose to the top of the water. Maybe cooking would become her next thing.

“Two minutes,” she called out and received a grunt in reply.

She drained the raviolis and dumped them in the vodka sauce, letting them soak it up for a minute or two before dishing them up.

“C’mon, Doctor. It’s going on the table.”

She heard the bang of what sounded like a drawer closing.
At least he’s finishing up
, she thought as she took their plates over to the dining table.

Another thump followed. It sounded like something hitting the ground. Then a choking sound came up the hallway from the bedrooms.

Zoë froze for a moment as her instincts kicked in, then went into motion before she even knew the conclusion her brain had reached.

She dropped the plates on the table, the pink sauce splattering the surface and her T-shirt, then lunged for the kitchen and snatched up a butcher knife from the block. It was heavy in her hand, which was good for momentum, but bad for agility. There was no time to change her selection.

From the corner of her eye, she caught movement in the dark hallway. A figure, large and black, held a struggling Jarocki in a one-armed headlock, dragging him toward her. In his free hand, he held a Bowie knife to Jarocki’s throat. She’d seen that knife before.

The Tally Man stopped at the threshold of the living room and watched her. He was dressed the same way as when he’d attacked her a few days ago—in black with a ski mask to hide his identity.

Thirty feet of living room separated them, but Zoë was less than twenty from the front door. She had more than a ten-foot head start, and she wasn’t encumbered by Jarocki. She could make it to the street before the Tally Man and wake the neighborhood, which would force him into a decision—kill her and be caught, or run and hide.

Jarocki was the flaw in her simple plan. If she ran, the Tally Man would kill him in a second. She’d abandoned Holli, and living with the shame had destroyed her life. There’d be no coming back from the guilt if Jarocki died because of her.

She felt the psychologist’s gaze on her, terror shining in his eyes. It had to be hard for him. He always dealt with other people’s fears. He never experienced them. She couldn’t abandon him. She wouldn’t abandon him.

“Don’t hurt him.”

“Drop the knife, Zoë.” The Tally Man waited for her to comply. He had over six inches in height on Jarocki, and he hoisted the shrink onto his toes, cutting off his breath. “I will kill him.”

As usual, the Tally Man thought he held all the cards, but he didn’t. The fact she’d already escaped him twice proved that. Having Jarocki as a hostage was an advantage, but it was also a hindrance. He couldn’t attack her and lug Jarocki around at the same time. He could kill Jarocki, but that would take time, and it was time she could use to attack him. Where the Tally Man really fell down in odds was that this fight was two against one. That was, if she could get Jarocki to join the battle.

“You’re going to kill us both. Why pretend?” she said.

A grunt of acknowledgement came from behind the ski mask.

She shared a quick glance with Jarocki. She hoped he got the message she was trying to transmit. He needed to watch for a distraction.

She sidled over to the dining table, then grabbed one of the dinner plates and hurled it Frisbee-like at the Tally Man. Instinctively, he raised his knife arm to protect himself.

In that moment, Jarocki yanked on the arm the Tally Man had around his neck. Off balance, the Tally Man staggered forward, losing his grip on the doctor. Suddenly free of his captor, Jarocki scrabbled toward Zoë as the plate of food hit the Tally Man in the chest.

Zoë charged at the Tally Man as soon as she released the plate. With so many things happening to him at once, he was vulnerable. Zoë wouldn’t get another chance like this. She hurled herself forward.

She slammed into him, but the Tally Man had turned his body to reduce the impact. Instead of hitting full on, it was only a glancing blow, and she went flying over the top of him. She crashed down on her back in the hallway, losing her grip on the knife.

She flipped over and jumped to her feet. She expected to see the Tally Man bearing down on her, but he was running the other way, chasing after Jarocki, who was making a beeline for the front door. He didn’t make it. The Tally Man dropped a shoulder, slammed into Jarocki, and drove him into the closed door. Jarocki yelled out, then slumped to the ground.

Zoë raced across the living room, but not before the Tally Man hauled Jarocki to his knees. The therapist gasped when the Tally Man jammed the knife back under his neck.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Zoë stopped dead and raised her hands in surrender. Any thought she had that the Tally Man wouldn’t harm Jarocki evaporated. The Bowie’s blade was tight against the doctor’s throat. Before, the Tally Man had just held it close. He wasn’t toying with her anymore.

“I have to kill him now.”

“No. Stop. Please.”

The Tally Man froze. “Give me a reason why.”

“It’s not right.”

“What do you know about right and wrong?” he said with disgust.

She needed to save Jarocki, for her sake as well as his. Her only chance was to fight the Tally Man on his own terms. “It’s not about my right and wrong. It’s about yours. You chose Laurie Hernandez, Holli, and me for a reason.”

“Don’t do this, Zoë,” Jarocki said before the Tally Man pressed the blade even deeper.

“We broke the rules, your rules, and we paid the price. Dr. Jarocki hasn’t broken your rules. He’s a good man who helps people, and he doesn’t deserve to die. If you kill him, everything you’ve ever done will be tainted. You’ll be just as bad as me and all the others.”

The Tally Man paused. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind that mask, while Jarocki had no mask to hide his emotions. His expression was clearly one of stunned amazement.

“What do you want?” the Tally Man asked.

“I want to make a bargain. You let him go, and I’ll go with you. No questions. No games. No more fighting. It’s about time we finished this thing. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder. Tired of you hounding me. I just want an end to this.”

Her proclamation had started as a line she was selling the Tally Man, but there was a lot of truth in it by the time she finished saying it. Her life was a train wreck and had been for over a year. She’d escaped a horrible situation only to live in another, one which had intensified since the Tally Man had rediscovered her. How much longer was she expected to exist like this, not knowing when he was going to pop up next, not knowing if the police would track him down so she could stop looking over her shoulder? At least if she surrendered herself to him now, it might sate his desire to add another woman to his tally for a while. Her sacrifice might be the thing that would get him caught, which would at least bring him to justice. Something bordering on a sense of relief washed through her.

“OK,” the Tally Man said, “but betray me and he’ll pay the price.”

She wouldn’t have another death on her conscience. “I won’t.”

“Zoë, no.”

The Tally Man reached into his pocket and tossed her a Ziploc bag with a cloth inside. She picked it up. Drops of moisture clung to the inside of the bag.

“It’s chloroform. Take the rag out and hold it to your nose and mouth.”

“Let him go first.”

“There’s no negotiation here, Zoë. We play by my rules.”

“I need to know you won’t hurt him.”

“Like you said, he hasn’t broken any rules, so I won’t hurt him, but I can’t very well have him running down the street, screaming for help. We need to finish our business.”

She wanted to believe him. As bizarre as it seemed, she did believe him. He had a code, a twisted code, but a code all the same. Jarocki was outside it. The doctor was safe as long as she gave the Tally Man what he wanted.

“Please don’t do this, Zoë. Not for me,” Jarocki pleaded.

The Tally Man jerked the knife back and smacked the butt of it across Jarocki’s temple. He released the doctor. He fell to all fours, sucking in ragged breaths.

“OK, OK. I’m doing it,” Zoë said, opening the bag and pulling the damp cloth free.

She stared at the rag in her hand, her heart thumping in her chest. Was she really about to do this? She wasn’t ready, but she never would be, so she raised the cloth to her face and inhaled.

She expected a sharp, chemical smell like bleach, but the chloroform smelled very sweet, floral even. The smell reminded her of dryer sheets, until she realized her hands and feet were going numb.

She kept breathing in. The numbness traveled up her arms and the strength left her legs as the peculiar feeling spread to her core.

The Tally Man pulled off his mask and smiled at her.

She recognized the Tally Man instantly, and she couldn’t believe it. It was Brad Ellis, the man from the mall. She’d gotten his iPhone back and disarmed a knife-wielding thief to do it. She’d been face-to-face with him, and she hadn’t recognized him.
How could I have been so stupid?
She tried to confront him but could barely string together her thoughts. All she managed was, “You. Mall. Phone thief.”

As his grinning face melted into a blur, her hand holding the cloth dropped. Then she was falling.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Greening slewed to a halt a half block from David Jarocki’s house. Napa police cars and an ambulance prevented him from getting closer. The report from Napa PD had been brief. Jarocki had phoned in a 911 call forty minutes earlier. The Tally Man had broken in, clubbed him, and snatched Zoë. Greening couldn’t believe it had all gone sideways and couldn’t imagine the fallout they’d be facing if Zoë turned up dead. Should that happen, they deserved any backlash they got. They should have done more to ensure her safety. That was what the cops were there for. Bounding across Jarocki’s front yard, he bottled the self-recriminations. Zoë needed him on the ball. He flashed his creds to get past the uniform on the door.

Inside the house, paramedics had Jarocki propped up on the sofa. Two Napa PD detectives were hovering around him, asking questions.

“Dr. Jarocki,” he said.

Greening introduced himself to the Napa detectives but that was as far as interagency protocols would go tonight. He didn’t have time for niceties. The Tally Man had a head start on them.

Jarocki pushed aside the paramedic who was working on an ugly gash at his temple. “Inspector, I need to talk to you.”

The psychologist pushed himself up from his seat, and Greening guided him back down. Greening dropped to his knees in front of Jarocki, giving the paramedics the room to carry on with their work.

“Tell me what happened.”

“The Tally Man broke into the house. He was going to kill me, but Zoë stopped him.”

“How?”

“She traded herself—her life for mine.”

“Why am I not surprised? That girl seems to have a death wish. Look, Doctor, it’s important we get details from you. When did this happen? What time? The clock is running.”