The Perfect Murder

Eighteen

Wearing only his jeans, Sebastian held his coffee cup loosely. He was sitting at the breakfast table with Jane, trying to figure out why she made him feel better when Constance always made him feel worse. It made no sense. There’d been times over the past few months when his former girlfriend had wanted to make love and he’d had no interest, times she’d begged him to open up and talk and he’d been unable to do so.

But it was different with Jane. Was it because she understood what he felt without his having to explain? That was part of it, but he liked too much about her to pin his feelings exclusively on her understanding. Mary had kids. She understood, too. But he hadn’t been attracted to her.

“So what are we going to do about Malcolm?” Jane asked.

He’d just told her about the e-mail Malcolm had sent Mary, Mary’s response and the intruder she’d subsequently had at her house. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, Mary can’t go back home.”

Setting down his coffee cup, he leaned back and stretched out his legs. “No, not until we’re sure Malcolm has moved on.”

“What makes you think he’ll move on?”

“Escape is his best option in terms of risk management.”

“But killers don’t necessarily think logically. You’ve chased him all over kingdom come. Maybe he’s planning to put a stop to it here.”

The fact that Malcolm had broken into Mary’s house suggested he wasn’t willing to let her betrayal go unpunished. But Malcolm was basically a coward. Sebastian had always believed it, and he believed it more than ever now. “You think he might try to get rid of me and Mary?”

She added some cream to her coffee. “That’s what Oliver would do. He’d stay until he tied up the loose ends, then he’d move on.”

Malcolm wasn’t the same kind of killer. But he was definitely the kind of man who’d hold a grudge. And this was growing more personal by the day. “As long as he comes after me and not Mary, I wouldn’t mind. I’d rather put an end to it, too.”

“One way or another.”

“It’s not a death wish. I’m just tired of living like this.”

The phone rang before she could comment. While she answered, Sebastian started clearing away the dishes.

“Don’t make Grandma drive all the way over here,” she said into the phone. “I’ll bring it to school.” She listened for a bit. “You want to what?”

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder and found her watching him. When their eyes met, she turned away.

“No, I’ll bring it to you…Because you don’t need to come home right now…I’ll feed your hamster. I do that when you’re gone on the weekends, don’t I?…Kate, it’ll make you late for school…I said I’ll bring it, okay?…I love you…Bye.”

“Kate forget something?” he asked as she hung up.

“Yeah, but it’s not a problem. I can drop it off at the school.”

He leaned against the counter. “You seem a little rattled.”

She set the phone on the counter. “I’m just wondering what I would’ve done if they’d shown up here without calling first,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Can you imagine? I haven’t even gone on a date since her father was killed.”

“Does she know Skye’s the one who killed her father?”

“Yes.”

“And she knows why?”

“Yes.”

“If she can handle that, she can handle anything,” he said. He was about to add, “There’s nothing wrong with having a male friend,” but didn’t. He doubted it would be smart to categorize their relationship. At this stage, neither one of them really knew what they were to each other.

“But it’s eight o’clock in the morning,” she muttered.

“Maybe I stopped by because we’re working together.”

She arched her eyebrows at his state of half-dress. “Like that? It’s not as if she would’ve waited for you to put on your shirt before barging in. She has a key. This is her home.”

It would’ve been awkward. But he was too stubborn to concede. He didn’t want to feel he had to be hidden or segregated from her regular life. “Having a romantic interest isn’t exactly unnatural, Jane.”

“It’s more complicated than that and you know it.”

She started to slip away, probably so she could shower and dress, but he caught her elbow. “I’d like to meet Kate.” If he could back up a little and include her daughter, maybe Jane would be able to relax, maybe she wouldn’t view him as merely a guilty pleasure.

“Sure. Someday,” she said.

“Today. Why don’t I take you both to dinner?”

She pretended to consider the invitation, but he knew she wouldn’t accept it. “I don’t think so. There’s no need to confuse her. You’ll be going back to New York when this is all over, and then…”

He let go of her. He understood why she might be extraprotective, especially of Kate. But she had to get beyond that sometime. “And then she’ll have a friend in a different state. So will you. How can that hurt?”

“There’s just no point.”

“Because…”

“Because this is a temporary fling.”

That was how she justified getting involved in such a high-risk situation? “What if you’re pregnant?”

Twin spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. “We’ll deal with that if it happens.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to explain if she’d at least met me? Maybe she’s only twelve, but surely she knows it takes two to make a baby.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t handle even the possibility. Not now. I mean…I’m forty-six. I’m too old to be having another child.”

Sebastian shrugged. “People are waiting longer these days.”

“And if they wait this long, they face some serious risks.”

“I realize that. But even when the mother’s forty-six, most babies are healthy.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m just not going to panic, that’s all.” He had no idea how they’d work out the details but, as crazy as he knew it was, a baby sort of made sense to him. Why he’d want to have that baby with a woman he’d only known for a few days, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was because Constance had been so definite about not wanting children. It hadn’t been a problem between them. When he’d made a commitment to her, he’d been satisfied with the one kid he had. Since the issue was already decided, he’d never reconsidered. But now…

He wouldn’t be unhappy if it happened, he decided. Maybe another child would help fill the terrible void in his heart since Colton’s murder. Maybe he’d have a little girl this time. Although no one could take the place of his son, it’d be nice to have a child he could love as much.

But having a baby with Jane would be a nightmare if she wasn’t as pleased as he was. “Would you be too upset?” he asked.

She folded her arms in a protective manner. “I don’t know if upset is the right word.”

What would she do? A man had so little control. “Would you consider an abortion?”

“I can’t even think about that. Not right now.”

“Just so you know, if you are pregnant and you don’t want the baby, I’ll take it,” he said. “You could tell everyone you agreed to be a surrogate. It’ll be an easy out.”

Pressing a hand to her stomach, she said, “Don’t you dare offer me money!”

He chuckled. She wouldn’t worry about that if she knew his financial situation. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Okay, then. Let’s make sure there is a baby before we discuss it further. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“I’m having a shower.”

He reclaimed the dish towel. “I won’t be here when you get out. I’m going over to check on Mary.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I get hold of David. I’m hoping one of Mary’s neighbors jotted down Malcolm’s license-plate number.”

“Or at least noticed the make and model of his car.”

“That would help.”

They were finished with the conversation and had, essentially, said goodbye. But she didn’t leave the kitchen. She stood there studying him.

“What is it?” he asked.

Her expression grew wistful. “Do you really want a baby?”

The thought triggered another smile. “What do you think?”

She shook her head. “It seems like it’s never the man who wants a child.”

“This time it is,” he said.

“It’d be a change.” With that understatement, she headed down the hall. But a frantic knock at the front door stopped her from getting in the shower.

Jane wasn’t sure whether she should ask Sebastian to duck out of sight, or if she should answer the door while he was bare chested and drying dishes in her kitchen. She tried to check through the window but whoever it was stood too far to the right. Surely, Betty hadn’t brought Kate home to get her phys ed clothes. Jane had been very clear with her daughter on the phone that she wasn’t to come home right now…

A trickle of anxiety made her tense. “Who is it?” she called out to her visitor.

While she waited for a response, she half expected to hear a key in the lock. But it wasn’t Kate.

“Jane? It’s Bob.”

She breathed out in relief. Bob lived in the unit at the far end of the building. She saw him out walking his dog occasionally. They exchanged pleasantries, but this was the first time he’d ever come to her door. “Um, I’m not quite up and ready for the day, Bob. What can I do for you?”

“There’s a Lexus in visitor parking. Do you have any idea who it belongs to?”

Her eyes cut to Sebastian.

“Was I supposed to park somewhere else?” he whispered.

“I know the owner,” she told Bob through the door. “He’s a…a work associate.”

“Who just might be the father of your baby,” Sebastian teased.

She couldn’t help smiling as she waved him off. “Stop it. Something’s wrong.”

“They’d better not have towed my car,” he grumbled as he strode toward the bedroom.

“Can you have him come out here?” Bob asked.

“What’s the matter?” Jane replied. “Do you need him to move his vehicle?”

“No. The police are in the lot. They want to talk to him.”

At the word police Sebastian whipped around to face her before reaching her bedroom.

“What’s going on?” she asked him.

Obviously as confused as she was, he shook his head, so she repeated the question more loudly, this time for Bob. “What’s going on?”

“I’d rather not yell it through the door,” he said.

Sebastian disappeared from the hallway. After running her hand self-consciously through her hair and making sure her robe covered any hint of nudity, she turned the dead bolt. “What is it?” she asked once she’d opened the door.

A bone-thin retired widower, her neighbor had on his typical polyester slacks, Windbreaker and comfortable shoes. “There’s been a murder,” he explained.

The words were so far from what she’d been expecting, it took her a moment to absorb their meaning. “A…what?”

Sebastian came up behind her, fully dressed.

“There’s been a murder.” Bob’s eyes shifted to Sebastian. “Do you own the white Lexus in visitor parking?”

A muscle twitched in Sebastian’s cheek. “I do.”

“What does his car have to do with anything?” Jane asked.

“There’s a body in the backseat.”

Sebastian was already stepping around her. The levity and excitement she’d seen in his face a few minutes earlier were gone. Now he was alert and intent on finding out what had happened. But he stopped when he saw her horrified expression.

“Jane?”

There was a strange numbness creeping up from her toes. But she ignored his concern, keeping her focus on Bob. He was the one with the information. “A body?” she repeated. “Whose is it? Surely, no one in the complex.”

“No.” Her neighbor shoved his hands in his pockets and jingled his change. “It’s an African-American girl.”

Terror clutched at Jane’s chest. “How old?”

“Early twenties or so. Difficult to tell. I’ve never seen her before. She’s not from around here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That wasn’t what she was asking. She was afraid this girl was one of the two she’d been hoping and praying to save.

The floor began to spin. She grabbed for the door handle and felt Sebastian haul her up against him before she could even touch it. “Breathe,” he murmured.

She nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m fine,” she said, but he didn’t believe her. He forced her to sit down at the kitchen table.

“You okay?” he asked and waited until she met his eyes and he could tell that she was before he stalked off and out the door.

Bob had followed her inside and was sitting next to her. He was always a hard person to escape, even when they were standing in the rain. Obviously shaken by what he’d seen, he was more talkative than ever. “I was out walking my dog when I saw that someone had broken out the window of one of the cars in the lot,” he explained. “So I went over to investigate.” He leaned closer. “We’ve had some burglaries in the area,” he told her as if she hadn’t received the same notices he had. “You can’t leave anything in your car.”

“I know,” Jane answered, as though this was no different from any other conversation they’d had in the past. It was the only reaction she could muster. She wanted to follow Sebastian to the parking lot, but her legs wouldn’t hold her weight. Leaning her head against the back of the chair, she took several deep breaths.

“And when I looked inside, there she was,” he went on. “I’ve never seen anything like it. There was so much blood. I couldn’t tell if she’d been shot or stabbed.” He massaged the back of his own neck. “But I knew she was dead.”

Was the victim one of Gloria’s sisters, as Jane feared? The color of the girl’s skin, the placement of the body, the timing-it was too much to be a coincidence.

What did that say about the man Sebastian was chasing?

It said he hadn’t fled Mary’s house when he was nearly caught. He’d waited around and watched the activity. Then he’d brazenly followed Sebastian. How else could he have found Sebastian’s car?

Had he killed Latisha-or Marcie? And did that mean he’d eventually kill Sebastian, too?

That was the thought that finally brought Jane to her feet. She was still in her robe, but she didn’t care. Leaving her neighbor in the middle of another rambling sentence, she walked out the door and, as her strength returned, started to jog.

“I don’t think you want to see that,” Bob called after her. “I’d stay here, if I were you.”

He wished he hadn’t seen it. That was clear. But Jane was suddenly desperate to know if this was true, if this was reality, because it felt so much like one of her bad dreams.

“Jane?” He’d come to the door to yell, but she could tell he didn’t intend to return to the scene. He stayed where he was, as if just the thought of going back evoked images he’d rather forget.

She didn’t answer. She was already turning the corner, where she could see the activity previously blocked by the building. There were six cop cars surrounding the Lexus-and two men were photographing the body of a young black woman in the backseat.

Latisha had been tied up for so many hours, she could no longer feel her hands or feet. And the headache that had started last night had only grown worse, since she’d been forced to lie in one place. But when she heard the front door open and knew Wesley was finally back, she could think only of her sister. He’d dragged Marcie out of the room when he’d left last night.

“Wesley?” she called. “Is everything okay?”

He didn’t respond, but he must have heard her. The house wasn’t that big, and his footsteps traveled past her door several times. She would’ve shouted again, but she didn’t dare. The last time she’d bothered him when he didn’t answer he’d entered her room with a loaded gun.

The shower went on in the master bedroom. Closing her eyes, she counted to a thousand over and over again, trying to endure the aches and pains. Usually when he tied her up, she could at least sit-but that was when he shackled her to her own stake in the floor. Last night, he’d chained her feet to her stake and tied her hands. The added security measures suggested he had something big planned.

He finished showering and went outside. A few minutes later, she could smell smoke. Had he set the house on fire? Was he leaving her to die?

Helpless, she whimpered at the possibility. But although she strained to hear the crackle of wood or to see smoke creeping beneath her door, there was nothing.

The bang of the front door told her he hadn’t left. She guessed from his movements that he’d gone into the kitchen. She heard the chime of the microwave, smelled coffee. He was making breakfast, which suggested he hadn’t set the house on fire. So what had he done? Why didn’t he come for her? Why hadn’t he made her do the cooking?

And where was Marcie? That was the question that frightened Latisha the most. Was her sister still tied up in the van? If so, why didn’t he bring her in? It didn’t make sense that he’d leave her out there alone. He had to keep an eye on her, couldn’t risk letting her get free. She was the one who’d almost escaped the last time he took her from the house…

Something was wrong. Latisha could feel it deep inside. This wasn’t Wesley’s normal behavior…

After what seemed like an hour, maybe two, Latisha couldn’t take another minute of not knowing. Maybe he’d kill her for it, but she had to call out again, had to find out if Marcie was okay. “Wesley? You there?”

Finally, he approached. There was a click, then the hinges of the door whined as he pushed it inward. “You awake?” he asked.

The lightness of his tone told her he was pretending he hadn’t heard her yell before. Latisha could tell he had, but she didn’t bring it up. She was still trying to figure out what had changed. He had thick razor stubble on his jaw and chin, and the lines around his eyes and mouth were more pronounced than usual. Obviously, he’d been up all night. But why?

Glad she’d caught him before he fell asleep and left her chained up even longer, she sent him a tentative smile. “My-my head’s killing me. C-can you let me up?”

“Sure. Then I’ll get you some painkillers.” He bent immediately to release her.

Could he see the tracks of her tears? Latisha wondered. Did he care? Her pain had never mattered to him before. But he was different today, nicer…

“Where’s Marcie?” she asked.

He smiled as he finished with her hands and turned his attention to her feet. “I let her go.”

“You did?” Latisha could hardly believe it. Her hands were swollen. They burned as the blood flowed back into them, but she didn’t care. Not if what he said was true. “Really?”

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” he said proudly. “You gave me what I wanted, and I returned the favor.”

Latisha studied him more closely. She wanted to believe him, but what he said just seemed so…odd. He’d been worried they’d get free. Why would he suddenly let Marcie go?

“How’d you do it?” she asked uncertainly.

He shrugged. “Just dumped her on a street corner. I imagine she’s home by now.”

Latisha grasped for some hope in his words. If her sister had escaped, then a part of her had, too. There was also the hope that Marcie would bring help. But if Wesley had let Marcie go, wouldn’t he be scared that she’d tell? Wouldn’t he at least act worried? Or maybe start packing up and moving them somewhere else?

“She doesn’t know where this place is,” he said as if he could read her mind. “It’s not like she’d ever be able to lead anyone here.”

The crazy thing was, for all his fear that they might expose him, that was probably true. The day he’d kidnapped them, he’d tossed them in his van and cuffed them to a bar welded onto the floor. They couldn’t see anything, and they’d been completely overwhelmed and confused, wondering why a police officer, even an undercover officer, would be acting in such a bizarre way. Latisha knew they were out in the country somewhere, but that was all.

Could she trust that he’d really let Marcie go?

His smile promised she could. Now alone and more frightened than ever, she so wanted to trust him.

“I’ll get you some Tylenol.”

He brought her two tablets. Then he freed her from her makeshift prison to clean the house. Movement was difficult at first, but once the pain in her hands went away, she began to feel encouraged. Maybe she wasn’t at home, but her sister was, she told herself. Picturing Marcie falling into Gloria’s arms made her so happy…

But while she stood at the window in Wesley’s room looking out at the backyard, she saw the barrel that’d been the source of that burning smell. There were still wisps of smoke rising from it.

Getting as close to the glass as possible, she tried to determine what, exactly, he’d destroyed. He’d never started a fire before. He must’ve had a reason. What was it?

It could be anything. He was sick, weird. But that was partly what concerned her so much.

Turning, she went back to cleaning his room. But it wasn’t long before she came across the shoes he’d worn last night and concern turned to panic. She picked them up from where he’d kicked them off and was about to place them in his closet when she spotted several flecks of a dark brown substance spattered near the sole.

Licking her finger, she rubbed one of the droplets. It smeared into a red blur that looked just like-she gulped-blood.

Then it dawned on her what Wesley might have been burning in that barrel. Was it the clothes he’d worn last night? She didn’t see them in the room. Maybe they were so soaked with blood he hadn’t wanted her to see them-or hadn’t wanted to deal with washing them.

But if he’d burned his clothes, why hadn’t he burned his shoes?

Because he had fewer shoes. Because he liked this particular pair. Because he didn’t see the blood or thought he could wash it off. There could be a lot of reasons. But if he’d really let Marcie go, why would he need to burn anything?

“You just about done in here?”

Trying to see through the blur of tears, she tossed his shoes into the closet and leaned down to straighten the bedding so he wouldn’t see her eyes. “Almost.”

“I’ve decided to move you in here with me.” He said it as if she should be happy about it. She wouldn’t have minded so much if she thought Marcie was really at home with Gloria. But Marcie wasn’t. She was dead, and Latisha knew that if she didn’t do something to save herself, she’d be next.