I’m Watching You (Richmond Novels #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Thursday, July 10, 11:00 A.M.

Lindsay felt dirty and violated as she watched the cops go through her house searching for electronic bugs. So far they’d found five: one in the kitchen, one in the back patio, one in the front entryway, and two in the living room.

Zack came down the stairs and moved within inches of her. ‘We didn’t find any bugs in your bedroom or the bathrooms upstairs.’

She didn’t feel any relief. ‘I guess that’s the Guardian’s way of protecting my privacy.’

Zack nodded. ‘I think you’re right. In his own way, he seems to be looking out for you.’

She glanced around the room at each of the vents. She hugged her body, warding off a sudden chill. ‘Nicole said this place gave her the creeps. I even felt it once or twice. But I shrugged it off to fatigue. Do you have any idea how long the bugs have been there?’

‘No. But if I had to guess I’d say all this started around the time that article came out in the paper about you.’

‘I agreed to that damn piece because Dana had said it would boost fund-raising. Now I wish I’d never met Kendall Shaw.’

‘That article landed you on someone’s radar,’ Zack said. ‘Anyone different you’ve noticed lurking around lately?’

She lifted an amused brow. ‘Zack, you know me. I’m so busy on any given day I couldn’t tell you if it’s raining or not.’

Zack offered her a half smile as if a memory played in his head. ‘Can you think of anyone who might have come into your home?’

‘Just Steve the maintenance guy as far as I know. But I don’t own this place. The property management firm has the right to send in anyone they want if there are maintenance problems.’

‘What about Nicole? Did she bring anyone in here?’

‘No. She’s barely getting used to the place herself.’

He considered what she’d said. ‘Does the property manager have to notify you when they come in?’

‘They’re supposed to. But the girls in the rental office are young and not so focused on their jobs.’

Zack’s face looked as if it had been carved from stone. ‘I’ll talk to the rental office. How many people know you legally changed your name when you turned eighteen?’

‘Since I returned to Richmond, I’ve told no one about my past except you. But I grew up in Ashland, and any one of the people there could have seen the article and recognized me.’

‘Have you had contact with anyone from the old days? Like Joel, maybe?’

‘How do you know about him?’

‘Warwick and I spoke to him the other day.’

She couldn’t be angry. He was being thorough. ‘I haven’t seen him since high school.’

‘He was worried about you.’

‘He was a good guy.’

He didn’t confirm or dispute the comment. ‘What about family?’

‘There wasn’t much family. My dad was an only child and his parents were gone by the time I was born. My mom’s parents were dead too. And her brother only saw her rarely.’ She stopped, remembering the dream she’d had last night. ‘I remember my uncle called my mom when I was about ten. Mom had lunch with him. My father was furious.’

‘Any pictures of your uncle or your parents?’

‘As a matter of fact, I found a few pictures the other night.’ She went to the closet below the stairs and pulled out the box of photos. She had to dig deep to find what she wanted. She handed Zack the grainy color photo. ‘It was taken on my parents’ back porch. That’s my mom and dad, me in the center, and my uncle on the end.’

Zack studied the picture. ‘He’s in a Navy uniform.’

‘Yes. That’s why he was away so much.’

‘What was your uncle’s name?’

‘Henry is all I remember.’

‘O’Neil?’

‘No. He and Mom were half brother and sister. They had different fathers. There was a fifteen-year age difference between them. I don’t remember his last name.’

‘Which would make him how old?’

‘Sixty-nine. Mom would have been fifty-four this year.’

As thirty loomed for her, she realized just how young her mother had been when she’d died.

He tucked the photo in his pocket. ‘Who is Claire Carmichael?’

The out-of-the-blue comment stunned her. ‘Claire? She runs a bookstore in San Francisco but also does a lot of volunteer work with battered women. She gave Nicole money so she could leave the city. Why?’

‘She was murdered on Tuesday.’

Grief washed over her. Claire and she had been good friends. They’d lost touch but she’d liked the woman immensely. ‘My God.’

‘Someone placed a call from her cell to your phone on the night she died. Tuesday night.’

‘I got a late-night call on Tuesday on my cell phone. It woke me out of a sound sleep. It really rattled me. The call came from outside the calling area, so I just figured it was a misdial. Was it Claire who called me?’

‘We don’t know.’

An unthinkable thought crossed her mind. ‘Richard Braxton got to her.’

‘Whoever killed Claire was a sadist.’

‘Nicole said Richard could be quite violent. We’ve got to warn her.’

‘I’ll have a sheriff’s deputy posted outside my folks’ place so we can keep an eye on her. I want you back there.’

‘No.’ When he frowned she added, ‘I appreciate what you’re doing, Zack, but I can’t let the Guardian or Richard ruin my life.’

‘You can’t stay here.’

‘I know. I’ll bunk with Ruby. No one will ever find me there.’

*

The elevator doors opened to Mercy Hospital’s fifth floor and out stepped a grim-faced Captain Ayden. Anger overrode fatigue and fueled him as he approached the intercom by the locked metal doors of the surgical recovery floor. He’d not slept in forty-eight hours. He had arranged for his boys to stay with the neighbors and had called them a couple of times just to hear the sound of their voices. He missed them now more than ever.

This latest shooting of the teenage boys had hit too close to home for him. His own sons, fourteen-year-old Zane and sixteen-year-old Caleb, were athletic and active in local mountain bike clubs. Each could have been on that trail this morning and stumbled upon the Guardian.

Ayden pressed the buzzer that sounded at the ICU nurses station.

‘Yes,’ a woman said.

‘I’m Captain Ayden and I’m here to see Dr Moore.’

‘Sure, just a moment.’ Another buzzer sounded and this time a lock on the door clicked and the doors swung open.

Ayden strode into the ICU ward toward the nurses station, where a woman stood reading a chart. She was in her early fifties and wore her shoulder-length dark hair tied back with a rubber band. Wisps of hair stuck out, framing her angled face. Dark shadows hung under vivid blue eyes.

He pulled out his badge. ‘I’m Captain Ayden.’

The woman closed the chart and set it down. ‘My name is Dr Moore. I’m Mr Langford’s surgeon.’

‘Mr Langford.’ Ayden swallowed an oath. He was doing his best to keep his voice calm. ‘The kid isn’t old enough to shave and we’re talking about him like he’s an adult.’

Dr Moore kept her expression neutral, unapologetic. ‘The less attached I am the better, detective. I can’t do my job if I’m emotionally involved. A cop should understand that.’

Ayden frowned. ‘I understand but I still don’t like it.’ He turned his back to the curtain separating them from patients. Unseen monitors beeped. ‘How’s the kid doing?’

‘The bullet tore into his chest.’

‘But he will live,’ Ayden said.

Dr Moore met his direct gaze head-on. ‘I’m going to do everything I can to save him. Either way he’s got a long road ahead of him.’

He shoved out a breath. ‘Does he know his friend died?’

‘No.’

‘Can I talk to him?’

‘You can only if you promise to keep your conversation very short. The boy’s only been out of surgery for an hour.’

‘Understood,’ Ayden said. ‘I won’t do anything to jeopardize his health.’

Dr Moore led Ayden to a corner cubicle curtained off from the rest of the floor. She pushed back the curtain. The boy in the bed was deathly pale and shirtless. IVs stuck in each arm. Sensors were pasted to his bare chest. Blood dripped from a bag into his arm.

‘Mr Langford,’ Dr Moore said.

The boy laid open-mouthed, his eyes shut.

Ayden shifted. ‘What does his mom call him?’

Dr Moore checked her chart. ‘Jeff.’

Ayden leaned close to the bed, careful not to disrupt the wires. ‘Jeff.’

The boy’s eyelids fluttered.

‘Jeff,’ Ayden said louder.

A monitor indicated that the boy’s heart rate rose from sixty beats a minute to seventy. He was waking up.

‘Jeff, I’m a cop. I’m trying to figure out who shot you. Can you tell me anything about the person who did this to you?’

Jeff moistened his dry lips. In a bare whisper, he said, ‘Never saw him before.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘Gray hair.’ He ran his tongue over his dry lips again.

Ayden laid his hand gently on Jeff’s. It felt cold. ‘Can you tell me anything else, Jeff?’

‘He limped, like he’d been hurt.’ The boy shut his eyes.

Dr Moore glanced at the monitors. The boy’s heart rate was dropping again. ‘He’s not going to be able to give you much more. Not until tomorrow.’

‘Where’s Mark?’ the boy whispered.

Ayden squeezed the boy’s hand. ‘Don’t worry about him now.’

Jeff’s eyes fluttered closed.

Frustration dogged Ayden. This boy was the key to catching the psycho. ‘I have just one more question.’

The doctor looked annoyed. ‘You can ask all the questions you want but the boy isn’t going to talk. He’s heavily sedated and his mind isn’t going to clear for at least twenty-four hours.’

Ayden handed his card to the doctor. ‘Call me when he can talk again. I don’t care if it’s day or night.’

She tucked the card in her white coat pocket. ‘I’ll do that.’

He was grateful to leave the room and the hospital with its antiseptic smells and dull green colors. It was time to turn his attention to what he did best – catching killers.

Kendall Shaw had filed an updated news report on the Guardian just barely in time for the news at noon. It was a good piece. No, it was a great piece. Her best.

She’d known when she’d stuck the microphone in Lindsay’s face that she was going to get a hell of a quote. Lindsay was a powder keg. And it hadn’t taken much to set her off and get her talking.

And then Kendall had looked directly into the camera and challenged the Guardian. She’d called him a coward who hid behind Lindsay O’Neil.

If this wasn’t going to be the tape that got her noticed she’d be shocked. Success was so close she could almost taste it.

Kendall’s heels clicked on pavement as she crossed Channel 10’s small city parking lot to the side street where she’d parked her car. The sun was low in the sky and the day’s heat waning. She was headed to her hairdresser to treat herself to a wash and blow-dry. There hadn’t been much time to doll up before the noon news report, but when she rebroadcast at six she wanted to look her best.

Kendall reached her red sports car and clicked the lock open with the keyless remote.

‘Ms Shaw?’

The raspy voice had Kendall turning toward a pleasant looking man dressed in khakis and a white collared polo shirt. His graying hair was brushed off his face. Deep lines around his eyes made him looked distinguished more than old.

‘Yes?’

‘I saw your news report today. It was something else.’

She opened her car door, aware she had no time to spare if she was going to get her hair done and be back at the station in forty-five minutes. ‘Thank you for noticing.’

A smile tipped the edge of his mouth. ‘You’re one great reporter. Not many would have the spine to call this killer out.’

She was accustomed to being recognized. It was part of the job. She’d learned long ago to be nice to viewers while not getting pulled into lengthy conversations. Still, the clock was ticking. ‘Thanks. I’d chat but I’m really late for an appointment.’

He held up calloused hands. ‘Oh, no problem.’

She tossed her purse in the car, grateful that this guy, whoever he was, wasn’t going to ask a thousand questions. ‘You have a good afternoon.’

‘You too.’

Kendall had all but put the man out of her mind when she felt the first sharp electric bolt rip through her body. Every one of her muscles convulsed and gave way. Her knees buckled. She’d have hit the ground hard if the guy hadn’t grabbed her.

He smiled down at her, no hint of surprise in his warm brown eyes. ‘You all right there, Ms Shaw?’

She couldn’t speak.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ He pulled her up and half walked, half carried her toward a van parked next to her car.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

‘I wasn’t real happy about your report today. You baited Lindsay and made her say things she wouldn’t normally have said. You called me a coward. I didn’t like that either.’

Her blurred senses started to scream. This man was the Guardian.

A deep moan formed in her chest. She wanted to scream, to run, but her body refused to work. As if he read her thoughts, the Guardian touched her with the Taser again. Her knees buckled and he now supported her weight completely. He had surprising strength.

The Guardian opened the back door to the van. He laid her on the metal bed of the van, climbing in, and closed the doors behind them. He clicked on a dome light, whose light was contained by the blackened windows.

Kendall knew the grim statistics. Once a victim was trapped in a vehicle her chances of survival drastically diminished.

Her left hand twitched. If her body would start working, she could ball her fingers into a fist and punch him. She could still get away.

The Guardian put his lips close to her ear. ‘I know what you’re thinking. But you’re not going anywhere.’ He raised the Taser close to her face. The electrical current snapped and popped just inches from her eye.

He jabbed the Taser into her side. Her head jerked back as she convulsed and a silent scream clogged her throat. ‘You’re not going anywhere. Not until you’ve paid like all the other abusers.’

He grabbed a length of rope and tied her wrists together and then her ankles. Her fingers tingled as her too tight bindings constricted the blood flow. She forced herself to meet his gaze. She wanted to memorize every detail so that she could tell the police what this bastard looked like.

He wadded up a cloth, shoved it in her mouth, and secured it with a piece of duct tape.

She struggled to breathe and her bravado waned. Tears welled in her eyes and she hated her weakness. She needed to stay calm. If she was going to get out of this alive, she needed to think. Her cell was in her purse in her car. She had a meeting with Mike soon. Would he see her car in the side street and launch a search for her?

The Guardian stroked her hair back off her face. ‘So soft and so pretty. But you have a heart of stone.’ He sighed. ‘You know what I do to my victims, don’t you?’

She winced as he jabbed a needle into her arm and emptied the syringe.

‘I cut their left hands off,’ he said quietly. He ran his hand lightly down the length of her arm to the hands tied behind her back. His fingers encircled her wrists. ‘What you may not know is that they’re alive when I take my trophy.’

The matter-of-fact tone made the statement all the more frightening. Panic could easily have tipped to hysteria, but the drugs he’d put into her system had started to take effect. Her mind grew foggy.

The Guardian cupped her chin in his calloused hands and moved his lips up to her ear. ‘I won’t have any trouble snapping your delicate wrist in two with my machete blade.’

Tears ran down Kendall’s face. She shook her head. This couldn’t be happening.

The Guardian got behind the wheel of the van and fired up the engine. He calmly merged into traffic as if he had all the time in the world. ‘I never thought I’d kill a woman. It just seemed wrong in so many ways. But then I saw that broadcast of yours today and I knew you would be the exception to the rule.’ He chuckled. ‘I never have liked you. And you know, from the moment you started covering this story, I knew we’d clash. I just knew it.’

Her mind tumbled and her muscles went slack.

‘Look at the bright side, Kendall. You’ll be headline news tomorrow when they find your body.’

Lindsay sat in her car, a suitcase packed and sitting on the passenger seat. Zack was wrapping up details at the town house, and then he was going to escort her to Ruby’s. She’d agreed that she couldn’t stay in the town house. In fact, she doubted she could ever live there again. And Zack had understood that she felt uncomfortable at his folks’ place. They’d compromised. She was staying at Ruby’s.

Before she headed out she wanted to touch base with Nicole. She called her at the Kiers’, and spoke to Eleanor briefly before Nicole picked up. ‘Nicole?’

‘Hey, how are you doing?’ Nicole’s voice sounded stronger, as if she’d gotten some sleep.

‘Been better. But I’m hanging tough. I wanted to let you know that I’m staying at Ruby’s tonight. I’ll drive out to see you in the morning.’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Hey, have you run that test yet?’

‘No. I’ll do it first thing in the morning.’ She sighed. ‘Pregnancy is a problem I don’t want right now.’

‘One step at a time.’

Nicole hesitated. ‘I dreamt about Richard again. I can’t help but think that he’s close.’

Lindsay thought about Claire. She chose not to tell Nicole. ‘Stay close to the Kiers. They’ll keep you safe.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I’ll call you in the morning.’

‘Good.’

Lindsay rung off and dialed Sam’s number. He’d have the results of the bloodwork by now. His phone rang five times and then went to voice mail: ‘This is Dr Sam Begley. Leave me a message unless this is an emergency. If it is, hang up and call 911.’

‘Sam, this is Lindsay. Where are you? Call me. I need to talk to you.’

*

‘Detective Warwick, this is Rio from San Francisco.’ Warwick glanced at the clock on his desk. It was ten here so it was seven in the evening on the West Coast.

‘Were you able to find Braxton?’

‘My partner and I went to his house. He’s gone. According to his secretary, he filed a flight plan to Vancouver. He has businesses up there. Airport records show that he did file the flight plan.’

Warwick closed his eyes and pinched the edge of his nose. He was bone tired. ‘Did you find him in Vancouver?’

‘Not yet. But we’re in contact with Canadian authorities. I’ll let you know as soon as we find him.’

‘If you even get a whiff that he’s headed east call me. Anytime.’

‘Consider it done.’

‘I don’t know anything about Braxton. What’s your gut reaction on this one?’

Rio sighed. ‘He’s a tricky bastard. Looks clean and acts clean but it didn’t take much digging to find out he came up hard. When he was seventeen he killed a man. Because he was under eighteen, he got off with time in juvenile hall. He was linked to other violent crimes but nothing ever stuck. I wouldn’t put anything past him.’