The Perfect Murder (23 page)

"Of course. You want to stop by to get another picture on your way?"

"Unless you'd like to come along," she said.

"Where are you planning to start?"

"Thunder Valley. I want to hit Cache Creek later, once the nightlife really gets rolling, since it's our best bet."

He didn't need the promise of her tattoo to tempt him. Wanting to find Malcolm was enough. But Sebastian knew he'd be lying to himself if he pretended, even for a moment, that he didn't think of that tattoo whenever he thought of Jane.

"I'm in," he said. "Where do you live? I'll pick you up."

It was nearly midnight when Mary got home. Fortunately, she'd caravanned with a friend who gave her babysitter a lift so she wouldn't need to drag her kids out of bed. That was nice. These days, Mary found herself grateful for the slightest kindness. She'd never dreamed being a single mom would be so hard.

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Her boys were safe and sleeping soundly. That was a relief. But it was also a relief to get a break from the drudgery of daily life. She needed to have more fun.

The movie had been a chick flick, the perfect let-it-all-out-and-cry movie, and she'd done just that. Her eyes felt swollen, which made her eager to take off her makeup. But she was even more eager to see if anything had happened with Malcolm and Sebastian in her absence.

She hesitated as she walked past the flowers on her dining room table.

Should she throw them out? She didn't want flowers from a man who'd murdered his wife and stepson. But she left them where they were. They didn't commemorate reconnecting. They were more like funeral flowers, marking the death of the positive image she'd once had of her first real boyfriend.

Saddened by the memories of holding hands while walking down the hallway of their old school, attending prom together and cruising down Main Street, not to mention their more intimate moments, she muttered, "How could you?" and sat down in the kids' homework room to sign on to the computer.

She checked her work account first. She wanted to be able to tell Sebastian whether or not Malcolm had responded.

Sure enough, Malcolm--or "Wesley"--had sent her a brief note. He didn't provide his address but he seemed to be intrigued. Give me a hint. What are you sending?

She didn't answer right away. She switched over to her regular account--it wasn't currently in use or she wouldn't have been able to sign on--and saw a message from Sebastian. It came from a different account, not his regular one, but he'd just set her up with a new account so she figured he'd created a new one for himself, too. This one included his full name:
[email protected].

With a click, she opened it. Hey, any word from Malcolm?

Hoping he was still up, she tried to instant message him at both addresses, but he wasn't online so she decided to reply to his e-mail and go to bed. They could talk more tomorrow.

Malcolm responded, she wrote. He wants to know what's in the package, but he didn't leave an address. I'll reply, see if I can get it out of him, okay?

Sleep tight. I'm glad you got to bed early for once.

Mary

Yawning, she sent it, then went back to her work account and replied to

"Wesley."

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It's something you gave me a long time ago. Interested?

Love and hugs--Mary

Maybe if he thought those flowers had given him away, that she was beginning to realize who he really was, he'd drop the charade and agree to meet.

It was impossible to be with Sebastian and not think about what'd happened between them earlier. Jane had known that their previous intimacy would be a problem, but she didn't want to be alone all night, driving from casino to casino.

Latisha's father had been leaving hateful messages on her voice mail, claiming she couldn't be working hard enough if she hadn't found Latisha by now. In the last message, he'd even accused her of giving priority to the white victims she was trying to help.

Jane didn't know how to respond to that. She wanted to find Latisha and Marcie as much as he did, but the color of her skin had convinced him otherwise.

And part of her
did
feel guilty--not because she wasn't doing her best but because she didn't know how to do any better.

"It's nearly one o'clock. How are you holding up?" Sebastian asked as they pulled out of the parking lot at Red Hawk.

Since they hadn't come across anyone who recognized Malcolm's picture, not particularly well. The fatigue dragging at her heels made it difficult to keep going. She and Sebastian hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and she'd been on her feet all day. But she
had
to finish canvassing the casinos. She wasn't about to call Gloria or Luther and tell them she had no more to go on now than she did yesterday. Besides, there was only one more place to visit, and it was the one that mattered most.

"Knowing Malcolm Turner, when would you expect him to gamble? During the day, in the afternoon, or at night?"

"I have no idea. This Malcolm Turner isn't the Malcolm Turner I thought I knew. Even if he wasn't the nicest guy, I believed he cared about Emily and Colton. I believed he hated me, but that he'd do the right thing because he was a cop." He shook his head helplessly. "This person--this man who could kill with impunity--he's as much a stranger to me as he is to you."

He adjusted the heater while she stared at Malcolm's picture. "It'd be nice to 168

finally catch a break, wouldn't it?"

"We're doing everything we can, Jane. You're going to have to accept that this might not happen fast or you'll run yourself into the ground."

He should know. He'd been searching for more than a year. But it really wasn't the long hours that were getting to her. It was the
what if
questions that chased each other around and around in her mind.
What if
she wasn't a good enough investigator to be handling this case?
What if
she or the police didn't get to Latisha and Marcie in time? How would she deal with that?
What if
she was pregnant? How would she tell her friends and in-laws--and Kate? Would she ever tell Sebastian? It hardly seemed fair to burden him with her mistake. But it didn't seem fair to make his decisions for him, either.

Then, as she grew more tired, there was another
what if
question that kept presenting itself.
What if
she went home with him tonight?
What if
she allowed their relationship to turn into a full-blown affair for the duration of his stay in Sacramento?

But she had no business even
considering
that, much less acting on it. She'd told Sebastian she couldn't get pregnant, which meant she couldn't let him touch her again. If there was a next time, he'd see no reason to use a condom, and a repeat performance would significantly increase the risk of destroying everything she'd created--her new life, her sense of security.

She must have dozed off as they drove because the next thing she knew, Sebastian was gently shaking her shoulder. "We're at Cache Creek, Jane. I'm going to go in. You wait here."

Maybe he liked being large and in charge, but she had to admit he was always willing to carry the heavy end, always willing to do more than his share.

Oliver had been so different, more like an indulged little boy who expected her to make all the sacrifices.

When Sebastian covered her with his coat, she wanted to close her eyes and drift away again. But letting him take care of her somehow weakened her resistance to him.

Forcing herself to return his coat, she sat up. "No, it'll be quicker if we both go. You must be tired, too."

"Jane--"

"I'm fine," she insisted. "You've got your copy of Malcolm's picture?"

"Listen to me. Running yourself ragged isn't going to help."

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She arched her eyebrows at him. "I can do it if you can."

His lips were compressed in a straight, unhappy line. "Suit yourself."

As soon as they passed into the casino, Jane looked for the security guard she'd met earlier, but she couldn't find him. No doubt his shift had ended.

Sebastian touched her arm. "You take that side, I'll take this one."

Hoping she was doing it subtly enough, she stepped out of reach. The attraction she felt grew stronger when they stood close together. "Okay."

"Maybe you should get a cup of coffee first."

"Are you kidding? Then I'll be up for the rest of the night. This won't take long."

She strode purposefully off, but when she glanced over her shoulder to see if he'd done the same, he was still standing there, watching her. "What?"

"Nothing," he muttered and disappeared into the crowd.

Covering a yawn, Jane headed to the closest table, which turned out to be a blackjack table. She'd been to so many casinos and spoken to so many people, she expected another negative response. But this time when she flashed Malcolm's picture, she saw immediate recognition on the dealer's face.

"Yeah, I know him," he said while someone cut the deck. "He used to come in all the time."

Like magic, her exhaustion disappeared. "Have you seen him tonight?"

"No, not for a while. Several weeks."

"When does he normally come in?"

Obviously feeling some pressure to get back to work, he looked uncomfortably at the people waiting for him to deal. "He done something wrong?"

He had only a few seconds. She had to convince him to reveal what he knew before he brushed her off. "He might've kidnapped two teenage girls."

The dealer whistled and shrugged off his hesitation. "Comes in late, usually on the weekends when it's crowded."

"Do you know his name, where he lives?"

He dealt the next hand. "No."

The man on the left was already asking for a hit, and the pit boss was coming to see why she was interrupting business, but Jane had to ask one more question. "Does he have any friends here? Anyone who might be able to tell me more about him?"

She realized from his manner that the dealer knew his boss was on the way.

170

He kept his eyes on the cards. "Not that I'm aware of," he said. "Keeps mostly to himself."

"Thank you." Before the man with the microphone in his ear could shoo her away, she walked over by the slot machines to call Sebastian.

"I just talked to someone who's seen him," she announced.

"So did I. Apparently he's a regular. But he hasn't been in tonight."

"The dealer I spoke to hasn't seen him in weeks."

"I'm guessing he's had other things on his mind."

She bit her lip. "Latisha and Marcie?"

"Something's been keeping him busy."

"Maybe he's been looking for you, trying to figure out what you've got on him."

"He could be doing that, too," he said. "Let's get out of here."

But instead of going to the exit, she perched on a stool. "I'd rather stay.

Maybe he'll come in tonight."

There was a long pause. "I have a better idea," he said when he spoke again.

"Meet me at the door."

171

Sixteen

"D
o you think that security guard you just paid will really call us if Malcolm comes in?" Jane asked.

Sebastian signaled before taking the Howe Avenue exit off Highway 50. "I do."

"He's already got your money. How do you know he won't forget?"

"Because I promised him more money if he remembers."

"How much more?"

The money he'd offered might make him appear far wealthier than he was at the moment. But he didn't want to make a bigger issue of it by refusing to answer.

"Five thousand."

"Dollars?"

"I tried pesos, but...no go."

She wouldn't be diverted by his flip remark. "Five thousand dollars just for making a call."

"No. Malcolm has to be there when we arrive. I have to get a glimpse of him."

She adjusted her seat belt so she could turn toward him. "You don't mind throwing away that kind of money?"

His bank account couldn't hold out much longer. He figured he might as well use what he had left to full advantage. "If this works, it'll be the best money I've ever spent, don't you think?"

"Saving Marcie and Latisha is worth any amount. It just seems like a lot to pay someone who's already on the clock," she said. "I bet he would've done it for less."

Maybe that was true, but Sebastian wasn't taking any chances. "We want to give him enough incentive."

"At that price he'll study every face."

"That's the point. Now we can go to bed with some confidence that he'll do his job."

"True," she murmured. "And I'm tired again."

172

He pulled into her condominium complex and parked. "I'll walk you to the door." He didn't ask. He stated it as if she didn't have a choice. Because there was no way he'd let her walk up there without knowing she got in safely.

Fortunately, she didn't argue. She actually surprised him by asking him to check inside, too. He thought it was her background that had her spooked until she explained that she'd been getting some harassing phone calls from Latisha's father, someone she called both Luther and Lucifer.

Jane had left the kitchen light on, but the rest of the apartment was dark.

They flipped switches as they walked from room to room. Sebastian had expected to see a fairly standard condo, furnished in a fairly standard fashion, but there was art everywhere--sculptures, paintings, handmade pottery, blown glass, metal objects. One painting, in particular, caught his eye. It was hanging on the wall in her bedroom and showed the outline of a man and a woman in a naked embrace.

There were no details--no eyes or ears or specific body parts--just shape and color, but it brought the image vividly to mind.

"You like art," he said.

She'd followed him into the room to watch him look in the closet, the bathroom and under the bed. "Yes. But it's actually a fairly new passion for me. I never really thought about it or noticed it much before, but since Oliver...I don't know. It helps me cope with the ugliness of the past."

"This is nice," he said, gesturing at the painting. "What is it, watercolor?"