I’m Watching You (Richmond Novels #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Friday, July 11, 10:30 A.M.

The cemetery’s surveillance tapes for the past year had arrived around eight last night and Zack had reviewed them most of the night. Slowly he’d been able to piece together a chain of events. He rewound the footage and stopped the tape on February eleventh. The landscape on the screen was covered in a dusting of snow. Icicles hung from the trees. The sky was as dull and gray as the headstones.

The homicide team assembled in the conference room. Zack stood and ran his hand over his head.

The entire division had worked all night. No one was going to sleep until this guy had been caught. Detectives from other divisions and uniforms were now helping them run down leads.

Ayden, Ricker, and Vega sat down. ‘So what do you have? You said it was important.’

‘I spoke with the cemetery director yesterday because I noticed cameras posted in several of the trees and by the front entrance. It seems he installed surveillance equipment right after Christmas last year. He’d had trouble with someone spray painting satanic symbols on some of the headstones. His graffiti artists haven’t reappeared or been caught on tape. But, he did catch us another fish,’ Zack said.

Ayden frowned. ‘Where’s Warwick? I want him to see this.’

‘He’s at the Department of Motor Vehicles,’ Zack said. ‘He’ll be here soon.’ He hit ‘play.’ On the television screen a grainy image showed a white van rolling down a distant snowy road into the cemetery. ‘Pay attention to the vehicle entering the back entrance of the cemetery. As you can see, this segment was recorded on February eleventh. The vehicle enters but stops at the crest of the hill.’ He touched the screen where the vehicle stopped. ‘The driver doesn’t pull up far enough for us to get a shot at the plates or a look at his face. But if you look closely, you can see that the driver is carrying roses, which he leaves on Deb Hines’s grave. Lindsay O’Neil’s mother’s grave.’ Everyone in the room leaned forward and watched the driver. ‘He keeps his head low as he lays the flowers on the grave. He pauses for a moment of prayer and then leaves through the back entrance.’

Ayden leaned forward. ‘He’s paying his respects.’

Vega folded his arms over his broad chest. ‘What time is this?’

‘Eleven fifty-eight A.M.’ Zack hit the fast-forward button. ‘March sixth. The van appears again. It’s about noontime. The driver again is careful to keep his face from the camera and the van out of close view. He leaves flowers and again leaves by the back entrance. The Guardian has already proven he’s savvy with surveillance equipment, so he must realize the front entrance is covered by a camera.’

Ayden muttered an oath. ‘How the hell are we going to catch this guy?’

Zack grinned. ‘Stay with me. Now we’re coming to April second. Lindsay arrives at the grave. She leaves flowers and stays twenty minutes. She begins to leave. The van arrives. They almost meet this time. But she exits via the front entrance. She said she’d seen a van that day and had thought it was the caretaker.’

‘She never noticed the flowers before?’ Ricker said.

‘The cemetery has a policy stating that all live flowers are to be removed every Saturday. Cemetery maintenance always cleared away the old flowers before she arrived.’

He hit the fast-forward button again. ‘It’s May third. Again he leaves flowers.’

Ricker cocked her head. Her curly hair was twisted up into a high ponytail and her face pale from too little sleep. ‘May third is the day the article on Lindsay appeared in the paper.’

Zack nodded. ‘Yes. And on this day our mystery man lingers at the Hines grave for over an hour. He seems to be talking to the headstone. His body language suggests that he’s agitated. He doesn’t show his face, but this time he starts to leave through the front entrance. He catches himself and backs up. But before he does, he gets close enough for us to pull a partial on the plates. That’s why Warwick is at the DMV.’

Warwick came into the room. He had a file tucked under his arm and was breathless, as if he’d sprinted across the parking lot and up the stairs to the second floor. ‘Did I miss anything?’

Zack nodded. ‘Right on time.’

Ayden didn’t look amused. ‘What do you have?’

‘The DMV ran the stats Kier supplied them. They had fifty-two possible matches. They’d printed out five copies of the list by the time I arrived. I haven’t had a chance to look at them.’

Ayden shoved out a sigh. ‘Great work.’

Warwick handed copies of the list to the detectives. They each scanned it.

‘This could take days to track all these down,’ Zack said.

C.C. sighed. ‘I can get the guys from robbery to help.’

Warwick frowned as he glared down at the list. The deep tan of his face paled. He blinked and reread the list. ‘That’s odd.’

‘What do you mean?’ Ayden said.

‘I recognize one of the names.’ He swallowed as if he were struggling now. ‘Pete Myers. He runs the gym where I work out.’ He shook his head. ‘This has to be a coincidence. Pete’s a great guy.’

Ayden frowned. ‘I just got a report back from Sara. Remember that white powder found at the Turner murder scene embedded in the footprint? She’s identified the powder as talc.’

Warwick shook his head. ‘It’s not Pete. I know this guy. He’d give you the shirt off his back.’

Zack understood Warwick’s worry. He’d lived with it when Lindsay had appeared to be the killer. ‘Let’s check him out first. We clear him and you’ll concentrate better.’

Warwick nodded, grateful. ‘Thanks. I’d appreciate that.’

‘C.C., divide the list between you and Vega and robbery. When Kier and Warwick return from Myers’s gym give them some of the names,’ Ayden ordered. ‘I want this guy found.’

The team disbanded. Within ten minutes Zack and Warwick were in Zack’s car headed east. ‘So how long have you known Pete?’

Warwick’s trademark confidence had vanished. He looked worried. ‘Since I was a kid. I still work out at his gym, but it’s more than that. He raised me. I was a handful. He kept me in line, gave me direction.’

‘Do you know anything about him?’

Warwick tapped long fingers on his thigh. ‘Pete isn’t the Guardian. This is just one of those damn coincidences.’

No point in arguing. Evidence, not words, would sway Warwick. ‘I get it. But I still need to ask. What can you tell me about him?’

Warwick understood questions had to be asked even if he didn’t like them. ‘He opened his boxing gym in town twenty years ago. I know because I slathered his grand-opening sign with eggs. He could’ve called the cops. Instead he gave me a job.’

Zack merged onto I-95 south and headed downtown. ‘Do you have any background on him?’

‘He did some time in the military police. Retired in his late forties and came back here to open his gym.’

‘So he’s from Richmond.’

Warwick frowned. ‘I don’t know. I do know he has supported dozens of children’s charities over the years. Last year he hosted a party at the gym for a bunch of kids whose folks were in prison. He even dressed up as Santa and handed out gifts.’

‘What do you know about his past?’

‘Not much. I do know his name isn’t Henry. He never talked about a sister named Debra or a niece named Lindsay.’

‘Names can be changed. And he plays his cards close to his vest.’

Warwick looked troubled but seemed to shake the dark thoughts away. ‘Maybe.’

‘Anything else you can tell me about him?’

‘He never talks about himself much. He talks about his fighters. He talks about the gym. He talks a little bit about when he boxed in the military.’ Warwick frowned. ‘This is bullshit. Let’s get to the gym and clear this shit up so we can catch the real killer.’

Zack took the Franklin Street exit. ‘Sure.’

‘Right.’ Warwick didn’t like this.

Zack maneuvered a few corners and a side alley before he came up behind the gym. There were no cars in the lot.

‘The place is usually deserted?’

Warwick got out of the car. ‘Not usually. But it’s not unheard of for him to take off during the middle of the day if business is slow.’

‘Is summer a slow time?’

‘It can be. The weather is warm and people want to get outside.’

Zack quietly closed the car door behind him. They moved across the gritty alley to the front door. There was a CLOSED sign on the door.

Warwick tried the door. Locked.

Zack had a bad feeling about this. Warwick was praying Pete wasn’t involved. But the whole situation didn’t smell right. ‘Does he still train fighters?’

‘He was training a couple last year but he cut them loose a few months ago. Hooked them up with a couple of good trainers. Said he was ready to slow down.’

Zack peeked in the front window. The interior was dark. ‘That seem odd to you?’

‘At first, but then I figured he was just getting old.’

Zack wasn’t leaving this place until he got a look inside. ‘Any other way inside?’

‘There’s a door in the back. I have a key.’ They moved around the side of the building down the chipped sidewalk. The area smelled of garbage. Warwick moved ahead of Zack toward a small metal door, shoved his key in the lock, and unlocked it. ‘I have a standing invitation to come into the gym. He knows my schedule is squirrelly.’

‘Myers sounds like a good guy.’

Warwick pushed open the door. ‘He is.’

The gym was dark. The only sound came from the drip-drip of a faucet in the men’s bathroom.

‘Pete!’ Warwick shouted.

His voice echoed on the walls. No answer.

Warwick flipped on the lights. He moved down a dark hallway toward Pete’s office. The desk was a disheveled mess. ‘Pete usually keeps his desk neat. Lately, he’s let it go. I figured it was just because he’s getting old.’

Zack jabbed his thumb toward a door. ‘What’s this?’

‘Basement access.’

‘Anything down there?’

‘Old equipment mostly.’

Zack sighed. Something didn’t feel right. He glanced around the office a second time. Myers’s desk was covered with stacks of papers, a torn boxing glove, half-eaten food, forms. Being a slob wasn’t a crime. And then he saw the black-and-white photo tucked in the corner of a bulletin board on his desk. It was the image of a twenty-something man and a young girl. ‘This Pete?’

‘Yeah. I don’t know who the kid is.’

The five-year-old girl looked familiar. ‘Damn. This kid looks like Lindsay.’

‘Can’t be. Look at the clothes. It’s early nineteen sixties.’

Zack flipped the picture over. Someone had scribbled Deb and Pete, 1963 in bold handwriting. ‘You’re right.’ Still, he flicked the edge of the photo with his thumb. ‘Lindsay showed me a picture of herself as a kid. She looked just like this child.’

‘I don’t know who it is. I figured it was a sister or a cousin.’

‘A sister.’ Zack exhaled a breath. ‘This is a picture of Lindsay’s mother.’

Warwick’s mouth hardened as the implications sunk in. ‘It can’t be.’

‘Lindsay had a couple of photos in a box when we were married. I only saw them once. But hold up Lindsay’s kindergarten picture next to this one and you’d see that she and this kid are the spitting image of each other.’

‘Oh, Jesus.’

Zack scanned the row of shelves above the desk. ‘We know the Guardian has some connection to Lindsay.’

‘That doesn’t mean Pete does. Likeness or not, this kid could be anyone.’

Zack glared at Warwick. ‘For now we have to assume that that child pictured with Pete is Lindsay’s mother.’

‘Pete can’t be her uncle.’ He sounded as if he were grasping at straws.

‘He sure as hell can be.’ There was a small television set on the file cabinet behind Pete’s desk. Built into the set was a VCR. ‘What did Pete do in the military?’

‘Something with radios and the military police.’

‘Electronics?’

Tension radiated from Warwick. ‘Maybe.’

‘The Guardian has been watching Lindsay. And the cameras were positioned in the living room and kitchen. Nothing in the bathrooms or the bedrooms. Private places where a good uncle wouldn’t venture.’ Zack pushed back the VCR tape flap on the television. Inside was a tape dated July 11. He turned on the television and hit ‘Play.’ Instantly, a black-and-white image of Lindsay appeared. She was standing in Ruby’s living room. The time stamp was less than an hour ago.

‘Shit,’ Zack said. ‘She spent last night with Ruby.’

Warwick paled. ‘Jesus.’

‘Vega said Ruby had a break-in last week. But nothing was taken. Something was added, though.’ Zack flipped open his cell and called Ayden. ‘We have a hit.’ He explained what they’d found. ‘Send backup.’

Warwick shoved out a breath. He was struggling to hold it together. And if they’d had time, Zack would have pulled him out of there immediately. But he sensed that time was running out.

‘I want a look in that basement but I don’t want a defense attorney crapping on my case because I don’t have a warrant.’

Warwick dug in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. ‘I have access to the gym with no restrictions.’ He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. ‘If I needed a new set of gloves and couldn’t find them upstairs, I’d look in the basement. It’s where Pete kept extra equipment when I was here last year.’

Zack smiled but there was no pleasure. ‘I was hoping you’d say something like that.’

Warwick opened the basement door lock and flipped the light switch at the top of the stairs. Both cops drew their guns. Slowly they made their way down the rickety steps, their bodies crouched.

Halfway down, Zack moved past Warwick and peered around a blind corner. He saw the computer table. The monitors. And the rows and rows of tapes, each meticulously dated and arranged in chronological order.

Warwick stared at the room in horror and disbelief. His world was shattering. But he was holding it together. Later the problems would come as the enormity of it all hit him.

The heavy coppery scent of blood rose up as they moved toward the computer. Zack glanced toward a second door. He motioned to Warwick.

Warwick nodded. Guns raised, they moved to either side of the door. Zack counted to three. On three he shoved open the door. ‘Police, come out with your hands up.’

A faint moan echoed from the corner. It sounded as if someone was injured. Still, he didn’t rush the room.

Careful to keep his body out of a shooter’s line of fire, Zack slid his hand into the room and felt around for a light switch. He found one and clicked it on.

The first thing they saw was the blood. The entire floor was covered with it. This had been the Guardian’s killing room. No doubt Saunders’s DNA would be all over the place.

Warwick’s gaze settled in a shadowed corner. ‘Oh my God.’

Zack tightened his grip on his gun. ‘What?’

‘Kendall Shaw.’

While Zack covered him, Warwick holstered his gun and hurried toward the reporter. She lay on the floor curled in a fetal position. Fresh blood pooled around her and stained her clothes.

Zack still didn’t trust that this wasn’t some kind of trap. ‘Is she alive?’

Warwick touched his fingers to her neck. ‘A faint pulse. She’s been shot in the shoulder.’ He flipped open his cell phone and dialed Dispatch. ‘All this blood. It’s a miracle she’s alive.’

‘Check her hands. Does she have both her hands?’

The doors to the hospital’s garage elevator opened and Dr Sam Begley walked out. The Guardian got out of the van and glanced at the clock above the elevator. ‘About damn time.’

The doctor frowned and kept moving toward his shiny BMW. ‘I couldn’t get away. We had an emergency.’

‘I have an emergency. I need to know where Lindsay is.’

‘She’s not in the hospital. I looked everywhere.’

‘Who was the battered woman brought in? You know never to call Lindsay without calling me first.’

Sam’s forehead perspired. ‘I didn’t treat a battered woman today. No one from the hospital called Lindsay.’

‘Damn it.’

‘The cops were here. They brought Lindsay and her roommate in for blood tests Wednesday. Did you drug them?’

The Guardian was running over an image of Lindsay standing in Ruby’s kitchen. She’d been called by the hospital. He was certain. ‘Yes. It was the only way to keep them safe while I worked.’

‘Jesus. You never said anything about hurting Lindsay.’

He didn’t like the doctor’s tone. ‘I would never hurt her.’

Begley shook his head. ‘You shot those kids today. Christ, one is dead and the other is fighting to stay alive.’

Guilt gnawed at him. ‘They could ID me. They had to go.’

‘This has gone too far. I’m out. It’s just a matter of time before the cops connect us.’

The doctor didn’t have the conviction to honor agreements. Spoiled rich boy had had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He didn’t understand commitment. ‘You promised me you’d help whenever I asked.’

Begley lowered his voice. ‘I’d never have gotten into this if not for my debts. I’ve more than satisfied my gambling debts to you. I never want to see you again.’

The Guardian slid his hand into his pocket. His fingers brushed the cool metal of his gun and silencer. ‘You’re done when I say you’re done.’

Begley pulled off his glasses and cleaned the lenses on his shirt. The man actually looked defiant. ‘I’m finished.’

The shrill tone in the doctor’s voice grated. The Guardian could see the man was nervous. It wouldn’t take much squeezing from the cops to make him talk. He’d like to use the doctor longer, but now he realized the time had come for them to part ways. ‘If that’s the way you want it.’

‘Good.’

The Guardian pulled the gun and silencer from his pocket and before the doctor realized what was happening, he fired three times. Each bullet struck Begley in the heart. For just a split second, surprise marred the doctor’s face as he glanced down at the plume of blood growing on his chest. He staggered and would have fallen if the Guardian hadn’t caught him.

The thrill of taking life sent a tingle through the Guardian’s body. ‘You were part of a noble cause and I won’t forget what you did for me.’

Begley’s eyes rolled back in his head. He was dead.

The Guardian opened the back of his van and dumped Begley’s body in. He’d deal with him later. Now, he needed to find Lindsay.

He got in the front seat of the van and turned on a GPS system. The system tracked a bug he’d put under the back bumper of Lindsay’s car. Since he’d seen the article about her in May and realized who she was he’d been determined never to lose sight of her again. At any given moment, he could find her.

The GPS beeped and at first he thought it was broken. Then he realized she was parked in the hospital deck. He turned on the engine and started to patrol the decks. He found her car on the bottom level. With the van still running, he got out and checked her car. It was locked. He scanned the deck but there was no sign of her.

Something was wrong.

The feeling was as intense as it had been those years Debra had lived with her husband. He’d known she was in danger then but he’d bowed to her will and left them alone as she’d begged him to.

He got back in the van and pulled a disposable cell from his pocket and he dialed Lindsay’s number. It rang six times and then went to voice mail. Something was very wrong. She always answered her cell.

He closed his eyes. Think. Where could she be? Think.

The Guardian’s mind raced. This morning when Lindsay had been in Ruby’s kitchen, Ruby had spoken of the San Francisco murder. The Carmichael woman. She’d also mentioned that Nicole’s husband, Richard Braxton, was from San Francisco.

It made sense that Richard would eventually find Nicole. But he hadn’t thought it would be so soon. If Richard was in the area, he’d not likely find her, because she was safely hidden at the Kiers’. But Lindsay was an open target. He’d go after Lindsay first and use her to get to Nicole.

How could he have been such a fool?

He’d been so consumed with Kendall that he’d ignored a critical danger. He’d made the same mistake he’d made with Debra all those years ago, when he’d underestimated his brother-in-law’s rage.

The Guardian felt a rush of panic as he tightened his hands on the steering wheel. He had to think. Think like a hunter. What would he do with Lindsay if he were Richard?

He might kill her in front of Nicole as some sort of lesson. Richard would need a secluded place. The scenarios made the Guardian sick but also gave him hope. There might still be time.

Nicole was at the Kiers’ and there was the possibility he could beat Braxton there. He dialed the Kiers’ home number.

‘Hello.’

He suspected the young voice belonged to Zack’s sister, Eleanor. She was a sweet kid and Lindsay had great affection for her. ‘This is Dr Begley at the hospital. I’m calling to speak to Lindsay.’

‘Lindsay’s not here.’

‘Is her friend Nicole there?’

‘She’s in the bathroom.’

Good. She was still there. ‘Don’t bother her. I’ll just call back.’

‘Okay.’

He hung up and threw the car in drive. He still had time, but how much he didn’t know. He raced out of the parking deck and cut through city traffic and onto I-95 north.

His heart pounded as he wove in and out of the traffic. He couldn’t screw this one up. He couldn’t.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled onto the rural road leading to the Kiers’ and slowly drove past their house. He parked in a driveway down the street, climbed out of the van, and hurried through the woods that separated the houses. Staying low, he moved toward the house. At first he saw only Mrs Kier, who was at the kitchen sink washing dishes. He needed to move closer to get a better look but feared being detected.

His pulse raced. ‘Get out of the way,’ he whispered.

And then she stepped aside and he was able to see into the kitchen. Nicole was at the table playing cards with anther woman and an older man.

He breathed a sigh of relief. There was still time. He hurried back to his van and prayed Braxton hadn’t hurt Lindsay.

The drugs in Lindsay’s system made it hard for her to concentrate. She was aware of strong hands supporting her as she stumbled forward. She couldn’t seem to lift her feet or keep her balance.

The area around them was quiet. Wherever they were was far from the main road. She opened her eyes and saw she was being taken toward an old barn.

The air was thick with humidity and sweat had dampened the back of her shirt. ‘Where are we?’ she muttered.

The man holding her laughed. ‘We are in a very private place. Where no one will bother us. Where no one will hear you scream.’

Lindsay swallowed her rising terror. ‘Why are you doing this? Who are you?’

‘I’m someone who doesn’t appreciate you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Christina’s husband.’

Christina. Nicole. ‘Richard Braxton.’

‘So she’s talked about me?’ Hate and resentment laced the words.

‘Yes.’

Braxton kicked open the rickety barn door and pulled her inside across the dirt floor. When they were in the center, he let go of her. She crumpled face-first into a heap. She tasted dirt and tried to spit it out of her mouth as she rolled onto her back. Above, she saw sunshine peeking through the slats of a room. In the distance she heard birds.

Lindsay moistened her lips. She felt so dry. There was little doubt that Richard planned an awful death for her. She remembered what Zack had told her he’d done to Claire.

She opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred but she could make out dark hair and a square face. She tried to sit up but he roughly pushed her against the hard ground. He straddled her body. She felt his erection press against her belly and she thought he was going to rape her.

She wanted to fight but found her body drifting as if she were on a raft floating out to sea.

Instead, he pounded two stakes into the ground above her head and then roughly grabbed her hands and lashed them tightly to the stakes. His weight lifted and he moved to her legs. He yanked her legs open wide and tied them to more stakes, then hammered them into the ground.

She tried to pull her hands free of the stakes, but they didn’t budge. The hemp cut into the tender flesh of her wrist.

Through the haze, Lindsay understood that she needed to do something to save herself. She drew in a lungful of air and screamed as loud as she could.

Richard cursed, drew back, and slapped her hard across the face. ‘Shut up, bitch. I don’t have time for this.’

Pain rattled through her head.