Murder, Madness & Love (Detective Quaid Mysteries #1) Page 4

  No response. Stunned, Sarah almost dropped the phone. Her day had been so busy, she managed to forget the valentines and the eerie, silent telephone calls, but he had not forgotten her. She knew the caller patiently listened, waiting for her reaction. She wondered what he hoped to achieve and realized he had achieved it. He wanted fear to become part of her conscious thoughts, not just her nightmares.

  Sarah still held the receiver tight when Eddie came through the door, carrying several bags of groceries. He set the groceries on the kitchen counter and carefully took the telephone out of her hand. His touch startled her, and Sarah gasped. Eddie put the receiver to his ear, but hearing only the dial tone, he placed the receiver back in its cradle. She gave him a weak smile before picking up her coat and briefcase to put them away properly. Without saying a word, she went into the kitchen and began to put away the groceries.

  Eddie followed her. “Did he threaten you?”

  She stopped her work. “No … not with words.”

  “Sarah, these guys don’t usually do more than make crank calls.”

  Despite his comforting words, they both knew the caller’s perfect timing spoke volumes. Sarah watched him check the calls listed on her telephone. The only call since 2:14 a.m. Sarah realized the caller knew her schedule. Eddie tried hard not to let her know his concern, but his frown and his behavior only confirmed them. She watched him pull out his phone and walk to the far end of the room. She knew Eddie was informing John of the latest developments. Sarah did her best to brush her feelings aside and put on a bright smile.

  Eddie returned to the kitchen, and Sarah made an announcement. “I promised you a spaghetti dinner and a game of chess. Pour the wine while I get this show on the road.”

  They did not discuss the telephone calls or the valentine again, and Eddie left early to spend some quality time with his girlfriend. Despite John’s insistence on a bodyguard, Sarah saw no reason to deny Eddie a social life. She felt safe in her own home, especially after the manager, Mrs. Deets, confessed to putting the card under her door. The manager, found the card on her desk earlier that evening and slipped it under Sarah’s door, thinking it was an invitation and nothing more. Sarah was also convinced that John would solve the mystery in record time, and, after an evening of reviewing sales reports, she went to bed exhausted.

  Playing in the snow, Sarah began to build a snowman. She thought she heard a noise, and glanced up from her work, surprised at how dark it had become. Just a moment ago, it seemed, the park had been awash in light. Shrouded in shadows, she sensed a presence. Fear gripped her like the deepening blackness. Sarah could barely breathe. The air thick and the silence ominous, she froze.

  A shadow moved. Slowly, she backed away. Her mind kept insisting she run, but her body would not cooperate. She thought her heart might beat straight out of her chest. She wanted to run, but she also wanted to see his face. Sarah saw a flash of silver. He wore black, melting into the shadow. He crept closer, as if he knew she would not run, and he had no reason to hurry, because she was his for the taking. Several steps away, he raised the knife as she turned to flee. Her body would not move. Fear held her tightly, making escape impossible. The knife came down…

  Sarah woke up screaming. The telephone rang. She stared at the clock. 2:14 a.m. flashed across the screen. The green display on the telephone flashed Unknown Caller. She picked up the telephone, aware that if she did not play the game, the calls would continue, so for a second or two she listened to the silence at the other end. This time, she refused to say hello.

  Covering her mouth with her hand, Sarah hoped to mask the sound of her panicked breathing. She replaced the receiver as soon as she heard the dial tone, then sank against her pillows and listened to the night sounds she used to ignore. Now even the slightest bump made her question its source. Sarah stayed awake for a long time and turned the alarm off before a brash radio voice could announce the time.

  teven fumed. Every lead from the Piano Bar murder had failed. Nothing connected the bus boy to murder. His apron, covered in alcohol, salsa, and beef blood, had no DNA connection to Debra. Ginger and Cole were friends, not lovers. At home, with his two kids when Debra died, Cole had no motive—he loved his wife. Financial records showed every dime of their earnings still in savings. However, a check of the bar patrons continued, but no one stood out as a clear suspect. The killing nagged at him because of its brutality and lack of sexual overtones. What the hell is the motive? He called his team together.

  “Talk to me. Tell me where we are.”

  They all stared at him.

  “Well?”

  “Sorry, Steve. Nothing new yet, it’s only been two hours since our last meeting,” Joe carefully informed him.

  “Then what are you doing here? Hit the streets. Did you get all the security tapes? Have you identified everyone in them? Have you interviewed all the customers, especially new customers? Maybe Debra overheard something she shouldn’t have. I don’t want to see any of you until you can bring me something constructive.”

  The room cleared, and Steven followed them out the door. The Piano Bar, open for the first time since the murder, had planned a wake for Debra. He would be there to observe the participants.

  Something about this crime reminded him of his first case. That winter had become a season of terror when young prostitutes began disappearing. With each snowstorm, another woman turned up missing. Soon, the press had labeled their abductor “The Snowman.” Three months passed with no leads, until the Sunday the Seahawks played for the championship. A couple of teenage boys snowmobiling in the mountains south of town had discovered a body under the snow.

  Steven, the youngest and newest detective at the time, went alone on what the department thought was just another teenage prank. Steven immediately recognized the victim and knew the weather report called for another storm. He simply waited, and, before long, The Snowman arrived, his latest victim in a burlap sack tied to the back of his snow machine.

  The killer confessed, and the case ended with a life sentence. The Seahawks won the championship, and Steven, an avid fan, credited his success with theirs. Now, he wore a Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt to the scene of every case he investigated, earning the nickname Hawk among his colleagues, which both embarrassed and pleased him. Solving his first case brought him instant respect and a reputation he worked hard to maintain.

  On the porch, Ginger kicked the snow from her boots, and her coworker, Jim, right behind her, did the same.

  “Come in, Jim, just for a second, I’m afraid I’m still a bit skittish after what happened to Deb.” Ginger turned on all the lights, while he checked each of the rooms of her small house. “Sorry, I make everyone go through this routine before I let them leave.”

  “I don’t blame you. I talked to Detective Quaid; they still don’t have a clue. I just want the bastard off the streets. The girls at school are afraid too.” He settled on the edge of a stool.

  “I know what you mean. The wake, though, was beautiful. Deb would’ve loved it. All those people came out just for her. Chancy said they’d raised all the money Cole will need to buy the property and more. It’s such a shame Deb won’t be able to enjoy it.” Ginger pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Would you like a drink?”

  “No, if you’re all right, I need to get home. I have to study for an exam.”

  She gave him a big hug. “Thanks, doll. I do appreciate it. Things will change, soon, and this vigilance won’t be necessary. I’m coming into some money, and I’ll be moving uptown into one of those nice condominiums.”

  “Really. Someone leave you a fortune?”

  “Well, sort of. Tell you what, as soon as it’s in the bank, I’ll take you out for a big steak, just you and me, and maybe some dancing. What do you say?”

  “Sounds like fun, but won’t your boyfriend be jealous?” He asked.

  “Nah, he’s on the slope. He left yesterday, and I won’t see him again for a month. Besides, Troy’s not the jealous typ
e.”

  He ambled to the front door. “Then it’s a date. Goodnight, Ginger!”

  He pulled the door closed and Ginger turned on the stereo. Evanescence’s My Immortal began to play. Ginger sang along as she prepared her bath. She turned the water on, poured two capfuls of bubble bath in the tub, and danced her way to the bedroom to finish undressing. The benefits of renting a small cabin on the outskirts of town, besides the price, were the privacy and the ability to play her music as loud as she wanted.

  Suddenly, though, the music stopped. Ginger did, too. She waited, listening for the next song, wondering if the speakers had blown out, or if the CD had skipped.

  “Jim? Did you forget something?” Her voice quivered with fear, and Ginger struggled to remember if she had locked the front door behind him. There was no answer, nothing but the sound of the water running in the bathroom.

  Ginger grabbed her robe from the bed, cautiously approaching the bedroom door. Abruptly, the sound of the water filling the tub disappeared. Someone had turned the spigots off. She searched the room for her purse, and her cell phone, her lifeline.

  “Damn!”

  Her purse sat on the kitchen counter.

  “Come on, Jim, this isn’t funny. Answer me, or I’m calling the police.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt. She waited, desperate to hear the front door close.

  The stereo came back on, and the music continued where it had left off. Ginger breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Must be a glitch, a short in the wiring.”

  She opened the bedroom door, and screamed.

  When Steven surveyed the scene two days later, his exasperation over the case had escalated. Investigating death never came easily, but this death was particularly heartbreaking. Ginger Hardin had sat across from him during questioning five days earlier at the Piano Bar. She had expressed her fear of the monster who killed her best friend, and, two days ago, he had seen her at Debra Johnson’s wake. Ginger had smiled and apologized because she felt happiness instead of sorrow at such a solemn occasion.

  Now a monster had taken her life, too. Strangled, stabbed more than thirty times, her throat cut, and savagely raped, Ginger Hardin had suffered an unspeakable death. Amidst all the blood, someone had strewn a cache of money. They would not know for sure until they counted it, but he estimated at least ten thousand dollars.

  “Damn it! Shut that stereo off!”

  “Sorry, Steve, just wanted you to experience it how we did,” Joe said. “The stereo was set at repeat on this song.”

  The song was My Last Breath, by Evanescence.

  John escorted Sarah from her office to the restaurant. Earlier, he sent Eddie to Sarah’s other home in the foothills of the mountains to set up security. Eddie would move in with her and be available even during her break from work, but tonight she belonged to John.

  She looked stunning and managed not to show any signs of a stressful week. John had missed his chance with her some years ago when they were in high school, and memories of his shyness came back to haunt him while he seated her. The Crow’s Nest served the best seafood in Anchorage and boasted breathtaking views of downtown, the Chugach Mountains, and Cook Inlet. At night, the lights on the inlet were like a thousand burning candles. While in high school, he would have given anything to be with her in a place like this; he had lacked the courage to ask her for a date.

  In high school Sarah was beautiful, serious, and aloof. They became good friends during biology, sharing a worktable as well as lab assignments, homework, and occasional milkshakes while Sarah tutored him. He claimed she’d helped him pass biology, and, while his family became hers, she had always held a special place in his heart. John felt guilty that they had let so much time pass, but now with her back in Anchorage those years no longer mattered.

  The memory made him smile. As her protector, the one she came to when she needed help, John liked his place in her life. “How are you holding up?”

  “Work is going well, and for most of the day I can manage, but the evenings are stressful. I won’t lie to you; I’ll be glad to get rid of those calls at 2:14 a.m. I suppose I look like I haven’t slept for a week.”

  “Don’t be silly. You look wonderful. You always do.”

  “Thank you. Have you uncovered anything?”

  “Right to the point I see. Can I at least order a drink?”

  “Sorry, I guess the pressure is getting to me. I’ll try to relax, I promise.” She placed the napkin across her lap and picked up her glass of water. Sarah sipped the water while she tried to feign interest in the view outside the window.

  John smiled at her attempt for relaxation, and he did not want to overreact to the valentine or the telephone calls, which were clearly threats, but he knew Sarah needed answers. She had been through a lot in the last year, and he realized her nerves were on edge. He wanted to reassure her, yet he had nothing. The waiter gave him a few moments to gather his thoughts while he ordered a bottle of wine.

  “At this point, all we know is someone purchased a whole load of untraceable cell phones, and even correlating the signal gave us nothing but empty streets. Whoever is calling you is taking extreme measures to avoid discovery, and, so far, nothing stands out in the background checks of your neighbors. I’m sorry, Sarah, I think it’s time to get the police involved.”

  His statement caught Sarah off guard. She put her napkin back on the table and sat up straight. She appeared ready to leave. Instead, she sighed. “It’s not just an idle threat, is it?”

  John watched the color drain from her face. He put his hand over hers. “It’s all right. We’ll get him. Don’t worry. I know this is difficult, but you have the two best bloodhounds in Anchorage working the case. Since the trace did show regular phantom calls, the phone company will assign you an unlisted number by Monday. I am sorry we didn’t get more.”

  She tried to smile, but failed. “I’m all right, John, honestly. It’s just the lack of sleep.”

  “I’d hoped to give you something more positive. So far, though, there’s nothing. Like I said, I’ve already discussed the phone trace with the police.”

  Sarah sighed deeply and fidgeted in her seat, clearly distressed.

  “But I would like to give another friend, a detective, the valentine. Maybe he can find something we missed. I had it checked for fingerprints and anomalies but found nothing noteworthy. It’s standard construction paper, available anywhere. A detective will have access to better forensic technology and also more insight into what we’re dealing with.”

  Sarah gulped her water. “I understand—really, I do. I hoped we could avoid the police. If they get involved, the press will too. It’s too soon after Michael’s death. Please, John, until we know something more definite?”

  John could not deny her. “All right, but first you have to agree not to take any unnecessary chances. The slightest incident, and I won’t hesitate.”

  Relieved, she nodded.

  “Sarah, I know you think your interview with the Anchorage Times triggered this. Have you given any thought to the board members? Board members have a tendency to resent the widow taking over.”

  “Because I’m a woman, or his widow?” She shook her head.

  John shrugged.

  “Why would they resort to telephone calls and valentine cards? No, not possible. Besides, they don’t even live in Anchorage.” She looked thoughtful. “Although, to be perfectly honest, my first thought went to the board too, but I immediately dismissed it.”

  “I don’t think we should dismiss it. I don’t see them doing the dirty work, but hiring someone, yes. I have to test all the angles. I want this bastard—excuse my French—and the first rule, is not to rule anyone out.”

  “All right, John. You’ll have it, a full list of the members. Anything else?”

  “Yes. Let’s eat.” He signaled the waiter, who finally brought the wine to the table and took their order. His attitude cheered her, and, during dinner, the conversation turned to famili
ar and happier topics.

  “How is Leeann? Isn’t Friday her night out on the town?”

  “Usually, but she’s in Hawaii. As soon as the snow started falling, she started making travel plans. She’s visiting her mother, but she’ll be back in time for Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh, dear, am I keeping you from a vacation?”

  “No, for heaven’s sake, she’s Hawaiian. She goes home at least three times during the season. I go maybe once a year. I love the cold Alaskan winters, but Leeann is more partial to sun and beaches. I’m just glad I can afford to let her go whenever she chooses. Honestly, I think absence makes for a more interesting marriage. Sometimes, I’m glad to see her go, but I’m always happy to see her come home.”

  “I’ll never forget how beautiful she looked on your wedding day, and you probably never realized this, but your elopement is what convinced me to suggest to Michael we elope. You were much quicker though—your six weeks of courtship, to six months for Michael and me. I still smile every time I see the picture of you two on your wedding day. You all of six foot seven, and her five foot two, the beautiful tiny woman who’d tamed the wild giant.”

  “Yes, but you were a witness at my wedding, and all I got regarding yours was an announcement.”

  “Sorry. I left the details to Michael.”

  “It’s okay. I wouldn’t have invited me either,” he laughed. “Although, I’m surprised. Don’t most little girls grow up dreaming of a fairytale wedding?”

  “Yes, and I admit—at one time, I did too. But then my parents died, and I saw no reason to have a big wedding.”

  “Gosh, I’m sorry, Sarah. I guess a size-fifteen is what I’m having for dinner.”

  Sarah giggled. “Oh John, we’re way beyond that.”

  “Thank you for saying so. But after my faux pas, it’ll be hard to get the taste of leather out of my mouth; maybe a piece of cheesecake will do the trick. Still your favorite dessert?”