Forbidden Temptation

Chapter Fifteen

“He’s been released?” Daniel stared at Captain Green.

“Five minutes before you got here.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“We did. Kept getting your voice mail.” Sheila Green gave him a pointed look.

Daniel checked his cell phone, horrified to find it off. What if Rose had been trying to call him? He thumbed through the messages and found two from Captain Green but none from Rose. He let himself relax. “Why’d you let him go?”

“He had a solid alibi for last night’s murder, and a plausible one for the Donovan murder. Those were the only two we could remotely connect him to, so we had to cut him loose.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t kill the other two.”

“It doesn’t mean he did, either.”

Daniel sighed, frustrated. He’d blown off Rose to come here, not even an hour after making love with her. She must be furious. Or hurt. Or both. “What about the name change?”

“He had a nervous breakdown when he was twenty, ended up in an institution for a few months. Said he changed his name as soon as he got out to turn a new page in his life.” Green shrugged. “He gave us permission to check with the hospital where he was institutionalized. They faxed over the admission date, confirming it.” She handed him a sheet of paper.

The date at the top caught his eye. “April 14th.”

“Does that mean something?”

Tina had been killed the night of April 13th. “Maybe. Did Phillips say what caused his breakdown?”

“School pressures-he was having trouble in college.”

“Did he mention a girlfriend-a bad breakup or anything like that?”

“No. He was pretty vague about it.”

“What college? Maybe he spoke to a counselor there.”

“U.A.B.”

Same as Tina, Daniel thought. Might be significant. Had Tina ever told him about someone named Jesse Pennington? He couldn’t remember. While he was away at college, they’d mostly corresponded by mail. She hadn’t wanted to run up a big phone bill with her family on a limited income.

Had she mentioned Jesse’s name in any of her notes to him?

“I need to check on something.” He waved the sheet of paper at Captain Green. “Can I get a copy of this for my file?”

“Sure.” She frowned. “Does it mean something to you?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I’m about to find out.”

ROSE STARED at the shimmer over her reflection, trying to convince herself she was imagining it. But the streaks of crimson bleeding through the silver remained no matter how hard she blinked her eyes.

Outside, the weather had worsened, wind rattling her rain-streaked windowpanes. A flash of lightning strobed the sky, lighting up her bedroom as she scrambled for the phone on her bedside table. She picked up the receiver.

There was no dial tone.

She turned on the bedside lamp. Warm yellow light spread across the darkened room. She slumped on the side of her bed. At least, she wasn’t stuck without a phone in a darkened house.

She dressed quickly in jeans and a cashmere pullover. The soft sweater was warm and soft against her damp skin, easing some of the shivers rattling through her.

But not all of them.

She forced herself to check the dresser mirror. The death veil remained. What did it mean? Was Jesse Phillips not the killer, after all?

Daniel would know, she realized. Where was her cell phone? Mentally she retraced her steps. She’d had it when she came in with Lily-and put it on the kitchen counter.

The moan of the wind followed her to the staircase, howling around the eaves. Halfway down, the lights went off, the ambient hum of electricity dying away. Rose detoured to the front door, peering through the glass side pane. The streetlamps were dark. The whole block was without power.

Perversely, seeing evidence of the power outage made her feel marginally better as she felt her way along the hall to the kitchen. At least, she could stop worrying that someone outside had cut her power. Relaxing, she stepped through the doorway.

And froze.

The back door stood wide-open, rain slanting inside.

Rose went utterly still, listening. Wind moaned through the trees outside, rain clattering against the concrete patio. She heard nothing else, save her own harsh breathing and the rapid-fire pulse in her ears.

She edged toward the counter where she’d left her cell phone. Minimal light flowed in through the open door, barely enough to make out the pale granite countertop. She felt her way along the counter, fingers flexing in search of the phone.

It wasn’t there.

No time to look for it. She had to get out now. Where were her car keys?

She’d left her purse on one of the kitchen chairs, she remembered. She padded silently to the other side of the room and groped for the chair. Her hand tangled in her purse strap.

Then she heard the front door open.

Her fingers went numb, the purse sliding from her grasp. Panic blackened the edges of her vision.

Someone was in the house.

DANIEL TURNED OFF Clairmont Avenue and headed up the hill past the Lakeview Golf Course, his headlights bouncing off the driving rain. As he turned left onto his mother’s street, he tried Rose’s cell phone again. Still no answer. Her home phone wasn’t working, either. He told himself it was the storm.

He almost believed it.

The two-story brick house had been his childhood home. He parked in front and sat for a moment, staring up at the familiar facade. He hadn’t been back since his dad’s funeral, he realized. What kind of son would let so much time pass between visits with his mother?

Pushing himself out of the car, he raced through the rain up the front walk and rang the bell.

Footsteps approached and the porch light came on. A moment later the front door opened. His mother stood in the entrance, older and frailer than he remembered.

“Hi, Mom.”

Dinah Hartman stepped back to let him in. “What’s wrong?”

He stared at her a moment, shamed by the question. That she’d think something had to be wrong for him to visit-

Except, that was exactly the case, wasn’t it?

He started to give her a hug, then realized his suit jacket was dripping wet. He settled for kissing her cheek. The soft powder scent of her brought back an overwhelming rush of memories. He pushed them away before they paralyzed him. “Nothing’s wrong. Least, I hope not.”

He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it toward the coatrack, which had stood in the foyer as long as he could remember. It fell to the floor.

“I moved the coatrack,” Dinah Hartman murmured, picking up the jacket. She folded it and draped it over the new hall table. “Been in town long?”

“A few weeks,” he admitted, hating the look of resignation in her eyes. “Should’ve called earlier.”

“Yes, you should’ve.” She started toward the living room.

He caught her arm. “Actually, I need to know where you stored all my old stuff.”

ROSE CROUCHED AND GRABBED for the purse she’d dropped, moaning as some of the contents spilled to the floor. Ignoring the mess, she felt for the keys. They rattled under her fingers, sending terror jolting through her. Had he heard?

She grabbed the keys and scrambled out the back door, sprinting through the sheeting rain. Something loomed out of the darkness, right into her path. She hit a solid wall of denim and leather. A pair of hands curled around her arms, pinning her in place. She opened her mouth to scream.

“Shh, it’s me.” Frank Carter’s voice, low and tense, froze the breath in her lungs. “Is he in there?”

Rose blinked away the rain stinging her eyes. “I don’t know. I locked the back door, but it was open, and I heard the front door open and shut-”

“We let Phillips go. I was following him but he shook my tail. I came here on a hunch.” Frank motioned toward the alley and handed Rose a set of keys. He pulled a gun from a holster hidden inside his leather jacket. “Get in my car and lock it. I’ll check your house.”

Rose hesitated, not sure she was ready to be alone, even in a locked car. But Frank was already moving toward the house.

Rose scurried up the steps and unlocked the sedan parked behind her Chevy. She slid into the passenger seat, locked all the doors and slumped low in the seat, shivering.

Movement in her backyard caught her gaze. Frank was coming up the steps toward the car. His gun was in its holster; he obviously hadn’t found anyone inside. She let him in, handing over the keys.

“I found signs of breaking and entering, but he’s gone. I’ll send a squad car out when we get to H.Q.”

“Can’t you call it in on the radio?”

“I’m off duty. I don’t have a radio in my personal car.”

“Can I use your cell phone? I need to call Daniel.”

“Sure.” He handed over his phone and started the car.

She punched the on button but nothing happened. “Am I doing something wrong?”

Frank took the phone from her and gave it a try. “Piece of crap battery.” He leaned toward the glove box but pulled back, muttering a curse. “My charger’s in my department car.”

“I’ll catch up with him at the police station.”

“Do you mind if we stop by my house, first, to get another battery? It’s a quick detour. I’d rather avoid another lecture from my captain about keeping equipment up to date.”

“I don’t mind,” she assured him.

She just wanted to get as far away from her house as possible.

DANIEL STARED at the boxes lining the basement shelves. “All that’s mine?”

“Yours, mine, your father’s, your brother’s…” Dinah shrugged. “If I’d only known to organize it, in case you dropped by.”

He slanted a look at his mother, noting her sly smile. Suddenly she didn’t seem nearly as old or fragile as he’d thought when she first opened the door. “Touché.”

“If you tell me what we’re looking for, I’ll help.”

“I’m looking for some old letters from Tina Carter.” Daniel pulled the closest box from the shelf and put it on the table. “Want to see if she mentioned someone in her letters.”

The humor left his mother’s face. She pulled down a second box. “Does this have to do with the Southside killer?”

Daniel looked up, surprised.

“You think I couldn’t guess why you’re here? You’re a profiler. There’s a murderer loose.”

“We have a suspect in the case. Turns out he went to high school with Tina, and had a breakdown the day after her murder.” Daniel riffled through the box in front of him quickly, finding nothing. He reached for another box.

“This looks like something from Tina.” Dinah held up a piece of paper. “There are several in here.”

Daniel took the note from her. She was right; it was from Tina. He took the box from her and handed a stack of the letters to his mother, taking another stack for himself. “Look for the name Jesse Pennington anywhere in the notes.”

She looked reluctant. “Sure you want me to read these?”

He nodded, already scanning another letter.

A few moments later he came across an envelope that was still sealed. The date stamp was April 8.

Five days before Tina’s death.

The faded memory came back to him. He’d received a letter from Tina the afternoon he’d been packing up for a weekend trip home. Since he’d see her in a few hours, he’d tucked the note into his backpack and forgot about it until after her death.

He’d never been able to talk himself into opening it.

Slowly, he slid his finger under the flap and opened the envelope. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out the letter tucked inside and unfolded it.

The first few paragraphs were standard greetings and professions of affection, written in Tina’s neat, girlish script. But a couple of paragraphs down, he saw the name he was looking for.

Jesse Pennington from my psych class won’t stop asking me out. I told him I have a fiancé, but he said you’ve probably got a half-dozen girls at Vandy. You don’t, do you?

“Did you find something?” his mother asked. Nodding, he read the rest of it silently.

He’s so intense. I swear, I think he thinks he’s the one I’m supposed to marry or something. Maybe I could introduce you to him this weekend so he’ll know I’m not just making you up.

Daniel stared at the letter, numbness spreading over him in tingly waves.

It was right here. The answer had been right here in Tina’s letter the whole time. If he hadn’t been such a coward, if he’d made himself open the letter and face the guilt and shame, he could have given the police an invaluable clue to the murderer’s identity.

Had Jesse been stalking Tina that night and seen their fight? She’d run off-had he followed? Maybe he’d tried to make his move, been rebuffed and struck out in hurt and rage. Wouldn’t be the first time a broken heart led to a murder.

Daniel picked up his phone and dialed Captain Green’s number. When she answered, he told her what he’d found. “You need to bring Phillips back in for more questioning. Ask him about Tina Carter’s murder.”

“Will do,” Green said.

Daniel hung up and started to fold the letter when the notepaper style suddenly caught his eye. The paper was a bit faded, but the silver butterflies lining the edge of the paper were unmistakable.

It looked like the same paper the killer had used to send his notes to Rose, he realized.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Captain Green. “Me again. Lab have anything yet on the notepaper?”

“Yeah, something just came in.” There was a pause filled with rustling noises. “Yeah, they’ve ID’d the notepaper. Butterfly Symphony, from the Signature Expressions series available by special order about fourteen years ago exclusively from Magic City Paper here in town. The brand was available for two years and then discontinued.”

Special order, Daniel thought, his chest tightening. “What about the cut part of the note?”

“The lab tech notes the original notepaper had a rectangular section at the bottom where the owner’s name would have been printed. Our guy must’ve cut it off because it could identify him in some way.”

Daniel looked down at the notepaper in his hand. There at the bottom was a pale silver rectangle with Tina’s name embossed across it. His heart skipped a beat. “Is Frank Carter there?”

“No,” Captain Green answered. “He left right after we let Phillips go. I’m about to call him to pick up Phillips-you want him to give you a call?”

Daniel’s chest tightened. “Yeah. Do that.” He hung up, his stomach coiling into a knot.

“You think this Jesse person is the Southside killer?”

Daniel’s looked into his mother’s troubled eyes. “I think he killed Tina. But I don’t know if he killed the others.”

“I INHERITED this house from my mother,” Frank told Rose as he led her into the small foyer of the brick bungalow. The house was spotless, the air fragrant with a lemony-clean smell. “She died this past spring.”

Frank led her down a narrow hallway to a room near the back. All the hallway doors were open but one that bore a fading sign tacked into the white painted wood: No Brothers Allowed. Frank gave the door a wide berth as he passed.

The shrine, Rose thought.

They reached a back room, which Frank used as an office. Unlike the rest of the house, this room looked lived in. Papers and bills lay in stacks on the other end of the desk. A touch-tone phone sat at one end-not cordless, Rose noted, but a model from a decade or more ago. The house had frozen in time thirteen years ago. “May I use your phone?” she asked.

“Sure.” Frank started searching one of the drawers.

Rose picked up the phone. There was no dial tone. She toggled the switch hook without luck. “It’s not working.”

Frank looked up. “What?” He took the phone she handed him, rattling the switch hook himself. He frowned. “Old house. When I find a battery, you can use my cell phone.”

Rose sighed and sat in the desk chair. Lightning flashed outside, followed by a rattling boom of thunder that made her jump. Her hand knocked a cardboard box off the desk. It opened when it hit, spilling its contents. Silver-embossed notepaper scattered around her feet.

Her heart stuttered.

“Damn,” Frank murmured behind her. “I wasn’t ready for you to see that.”