Web of Justice (8 page)

But not this time.

His reaction caught her off guard. He stroked his beard and smiled. “Come in.” He took a step back and motioned for them to enter.

Lisa stepped inside, Don behind her. Wilde held a cane in his right hand and walked with a visible limp as he led the way into a large modern living room.

He pointed toward a couch, dropped his sturdily built body into a comfortable chair, and set his cane beside him, his right leg stretched out in a straight line. He brushed back his short hair, rested his arms on the armrests, and smiled at his guests. “Please call me Carter.”

Lisa avoided the couch and pulled up a wooden chair sitting against the wall. She pushed it in front of Wilde, sat down, and switched on her cordless mike. The camera hummed beside her and its red light glowed.

“Carter,” she began, shoving the mike at him. “As I’m sure you’re aware, your brother’s a suspect in the murder of Olivia Bragg.”

Carter’s smile faded and he nodded. “A detective came to see me earlier. It’s a sad situation. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to help him with anything useful.”

“When was the last time you saw your brother?”

The man shook his head and frowned in thought. “It’s been several months.” He let out a light sigh. “He might be my brother, but we’ve never been close. He’s always been odd.”

Lisa leaned forward. “Odd? In what way?”

Carter pursed his lips. “I don’t want to reveal too much of our family history. Let’s just say he has a lot of quirks. He’s three years younger than me, and though boys often try to emulate an older brother, with him it was too much. After my mother … died, I had to break all ties with him and move out of the house.”

Lisa was getting to the meat of the story at last. “You were eighteen when your mother was murdered, is that right?”

Carter nodded. “That’s when I moved out. I couldn’t stay there any longer after that.”

“Your brother Izzy was suspected to have been the killer. What’s your take on that?”

Carter leaned forward, massaged his game leg, then sat back again. “I don’t think it was him. He was sincerely heartbroken. Clung to me even more after that.”

“Even after the murder of Olivia Bragg, you still believe someone else killed your mother?”

Carter took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“The police think he did it.”

“The police don’t know Izzy the way I do.”

Lisa narrowed her eyes and spoke into the mike. “Carter, did your brother murder Olivia Bragg?”

Carter hesitated, glared down at the mike now held under his nose, and spoke in a soft voice. “I don’t know.”

Lisa studied his face. His look told her the whole story. Carter was convinced his brother was guilty.

“Do you know where he might be hiding out?” she asked.

“No idea. He has very few friends as far as I know. Maybe none. And if he can’t go back to the house, then he could be anywhere.”

“Has he tried to contact you?”

“No. I don’t see any reason for him to be in touch with me.” He shrugged. “I’ll let the police figure it out.”

The interview was interesting, but Lisa hadn’t gotten anything sensational. She needed something more. It was time for a whopper of a lie.

“Carter, certain stories claim you and your brother were both involved in the murder of your mother. Is there any truth to that?”

The man frowned deeply. “Where did you hear that? It’s ridiculous.”

“Just rumors,” Lisa said. She was finding it hard to get this guy upset, and so far she hadn’t even secured a sound bite she could take out of context and build a story around.

She sat back, flicked off the mike, and looked at Don. She drew a finger across her throat and the camera blinked off. She leaned forward, smiled at Carter, and spoke in a low voice. “What I want is to interview your brother. If you can put me in contact with him, I’d be grateful. Any information you can give me will be completely off the record.”

Carter’s spoke in a steady voice. “I’m sorry, Ms. Krunk. I don’t know where he is.” He picked up his cane and struggled to his feet. “And now, if there’re no more questions, I have things to take care of.” He smiled down at her. “But perhaps when this is all over, we could discuss it further over a drink.”

Lisa stood slowly and faked another smile. “Thank you, Carter.” She thought fast. “Perhaps we might,” she said, knowing it was out of the question. As handsome as Carter Wilde was, she wasn’t about to get involved with someone who had such a seriously dysfunctional family history. She decided to leave it open-ended. She might have further use for him. “I’ll let you know.”

She turned and snapped her fingers at Don. The cameraman produced a business card from his pocket and held it out. She took the card and set it on a small table by Carter’s chair. “If you change your mind about setting me up with an interview, please give me a call.”

Carter limped to the door and saw them out, closing the door behind them.

Lisa led the way out of the building to the van. She climbed inside, more frustrated now than before. The interview had been a flop, and she seriously doubted if she could put a story together that would be the least bit compelling.

Her dedicated fans would have to wait another day, but she was determined not to let them down. She’d make something of this story yet, one way or another.

Chapter 13

Tuesday, 11:44 p.m.

LINDY METZ SMILED, her dark brown eyes sparkling as she smiled and waved goodbye. She walked down the path to the sidewalk, hugging her handbag, and thought about the thirty dollars she’d earned babysitting that evening.

In the whole scheme of things, it wasn’t a lot of money, but after adding it to the growing amount in her bank account, she’d be that much closer to her goal. College tuition was costly, but every penny she could save would reduce the size of the student loan she’d require.

Her parents weren’t well off, but they’d promised to kick in as much as they could scrape up, fully supporting her dream to be a personal care aide. She loved the thought of helping to take care of those who needed a little extra love and encouragement to live a full and happy life.

She stepped off the sidewalk, crossed the parking lot of a strip plaza, and went into a 7-Eleven. She treated herself to a French vanilla iced coffee—her favorite. Suppressing the impulse to buy a slice of pizza, she left the shop, sipping at her drink.

She turned down the next street. The house where she lived with her parents was three blocks away, and after the heat of the day, she enjoyed the cool evening walk.

Lindy turned her head as a car drove by. It pulled over half a block ahead and the lights died. A man got out and stepped onto the sidewalk, carrying a plastic grocery bag in one hand. It slipped from his grasp and fell to the sidewalk.

He crouched down to gather up his belongings as she drew closer. Now only a few feet away, he stood, the bag in his hand.

“Good evening,” he said, a wide smile crossing his face.

She smiled back as he stepped aside to let her pass. But she didn’t get past. He took a step toward her and slipped the bag over her head, his strong hands tightening it around her neck.

Her attempts to scream were stifled by the lack of air in the bag and the viselike grip around her throat. Her drink hit the sidewalk, the cool liquid splashing her legs as she grabbed frantically at his wrists and struggled to free herself.

She grew weak, her head faint from lack of oxygen. He spun her around, and she fought to hold her footing as he wrapped an arm about her neck and dragged her off the sidewalk. She stumbled over the curb, twisted her right leg, and felt a sharp pain in her ankle.

He hissed in her ear. “Stay still or I’ll kill you.”

A ring of keys jingled, the trunk of his vehicle popped open, and he pushed her inside. Her head struck the lid, stunning her, and she fell to her back. She clawed at the suffocating bag, ripped it loose, and took a deep gasp of air as the trunk lid slammed.

She screamed, “Help!” Her muffled voice echoed in the confined area. “Help!”

A car door closed, the muffler rumbled beneath her, and the vehicle pulled away. Tires whined as the car gathered speed.

Panic engulfed her, and her heart raced, thumping uncontrollably in her chest. She lay on her back and took deep breaths to clear her mind. What would her father tell her to do? He had taught her to remain calm in any emergency, to try to relax and think her way through.

A weapon. She needed something to protect herself with. Anything she could use against him when he opened the trunk. If he ever did.

Lindy scrambled to her knees and searched in the darkness, but found nothing she could use. The trunk was absolutely empty.

All attempts to find an interior latch went unrewarded. Until he opened the lid, there was no way out of the trunk.

She was at his mercy, overwhelmed by a sense of total helplessness, and she fought back a sudden surge of hysteria.

Why had he chosen her? She’d walked down that street in her quiet neighborhood many times, often late at night, and never sensed any danger. Nothing like this had ever happened to anyone she knew.

She rummaged through the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her key ring. It was all she had to protect herself. She held the keys in her right hand, one key protruding between her fingers, her fist tightened around the rest.

Then an idea struck her. She’d heard on a TV show that if you were kidnapped and held in the trunk of a car, the best thing was to break out the taillight. She’d never expected to be in such a situation, and though it seemed like a long shot, it was worth a try.

She twisted around and lay on her back, facing the rear of the vehicle. From her awkward position, she managed to work one foot forward and back, forward and back, kicking like a piston at the faint glow of the taillight. It wasn’t as easy as they’d made it sound on TV, and she only managed to make a lot of noise. Nothing gave way.

A muffled voice sounded through the backseat. Her kidnapper had heard her banging, and by the tone of his voice, he was angry. Good.

She had another idea. She spun around and, using her keys, she ripped at the lining covering the backseat of the vehicle. Maybe she could work her way through. He was still cursing as she tugged at the small hole she’d made and tore the fabric away. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Lindy braced her back and kicked at the seat. She had no idea what she’d do if she managed to break through, but anything that played havoc with his plans was a good thing. A moment later she felt something give. The seat rattled as she kicked, but it held, and he was getting angrier.

She screamed as she worked at the seat, adding to the noise, and adding to his rage. His anger made her calmer. She was disrupting his plans, and the racket wouldn’t go unheard if anyone happened to be close by.

His cursing stopped as the vehicle took a sudden turn, throwing Lindy to one side. Then tires screeched and the car came to a quick stop. A door opened and slammed, and her kidnapper muttered something as his footsteps sounded by the side of the vehicle.

He might be angry enough to kill her on the spot, just to shut her up. Lindy had but one shot. Only one chance.

She twisted to face the rear of the vehicle and crouched down with her head against the lid, the keys gripped in her fist. She waited.

The trunk lid opened. She sprang upright and swung her arm with all her strength. Her aim was accurate, and the protruding key raked her abductor’s face. His eyes widened, his breath shot out, and he stumbled backwards.

Lindy jumped from the trunk, clenched her teeth, and swung again. He ducked to avoid her onslaught and lost his balance, went down, and hit the asphalt with one shoulder.

Now was her chance.

The dark side street stretched out in front of her. To her right were rows of houses. Dead ahead was nothing but a long expanse of asphalt.

She turned to run, but a shooting pain in her ankle made her leg buckle, and she fell heavily to one knee. She heard him scramble to his feet behind her, and she managed to rise, wincing at each careful step. Then renewed pain caused her to stumble, and she sagged to the sidewalk.

A hand covered her mouth and she tasted his sweat. She shook her head and worked her jaw, struggling to open her mouth enough to clamp her teeth into his fingers.

He howled as she bit down and held on, the taste of his warm blood now in her mouth. A sudden blow to the side of her head stunned her, and he pulled his hand from the grip of her teeth, grasped her long black ponytail, and dragged her to her feet.

Lindy fought back another surge of panic. She was terrified, but if she let her fear overcome her, she’d have no chance of escape. She was determined to give it all she had.

She screamed, and her abductor repeated his mistake. This time she was ready for him, and as he clamped his hand over her mouth, she sank her teeth into his flesh, this time to the bone.

He howled and worked his hand free. Lindy spun around. Her abductor stood with his mouth gaping, his eyes wide, gazing at the blood dripping from his injured hand and pooling on the pavement at his feet.

She disregarded the pain in her ankle and stumbled toward the sidewalk. Then a car door slammed and an engine roared. As she succumbed to exhaustion and crumpled to the ground, through her dimming eyes she saw her abductor drive out of sight.

She had won.

Chapter 14

DAY 3 - Wednesday, 7:35 a.m.

THE MURDER OF Olivia Bragg had weighed heavily on Annie’s mind most of the night, and she’d been up with the sun. With the police manhunt underway, it was a matter of time before Izzy Wilde was apprehended, but she feared what could happen in the meantime. The almost ritual murder, the way the body had been posed in the park, and the trophies found in the shed, were all hallmarks of a serial killer.