The Perfect Murder

Twenty-Two

There it was.

Malcolm drove past The Last Stand twice before turning in. It was only six o’clock in the evening, but dark came early in January, and he wasn’t really worried that he’d be recognized-at least, not at first glance. He’d stopped by a secondhand store on the way and bought a wig, a pair of glasses and some women’s clothing. Although he’d never used a disguise before, the image staring back at him whenever he looked in the rearview mirror seemed pretty damn convincing, certainly convincing enough to let him move around unnoticed, especially after dark. If he’d been a bigger man, it might not have worked so well, but this was one time when being only five foot nine was an advantage.

The reception area appeared to be closed for the night, but there was a light in one of the back offices. Did that mean someone was working late? Jane Burke, perhaps?

The possibility sent a tremor of excitement through him.

A single car sat in the lot, parked behind the building, by the rear exit.

The Chinese restaurant and the liquor store at the far end of the adjacent strip mall had moderate traffic. Malcolm drove around to the front and parked his van there so it wouldn’t stand out. Then he waited for a man who’d just exited the liquor store to drive off-he saw no reason to invite scrutiny of his costume up close-and climbed out.

An obscure-sounding church and a few thousand square feet of empty retail space were sandwiched between the liquor store and The Last Stand. Wearing size ten high heels, which clicked confidently against the pavement as he walked, Malcolm passed them, along with a dry cleaner, as if he had a legitimate reason to be there. Then he ducked into the narrow alley between the end of the mall and the building that housed the charity and took off his shoes. How women maneuvered in such uncomfortable footwear, he had no idea.

Shoving a heel in each pocket of the heavy wool coat he’d bought to go over his dress, he hugged the cinder block wall as he slipped on his tennis shoes and moved around to the back. Once there, he stood in the shadow of the building, waiting to see if he could catch a glimpse of the occupant.

Movement in the hallway outside the office with the light on caught his attention. Someone was standing there, using a copier. Malcolm could see the distinctive glow each time the machine lid was lifted. But it wasn’t a woman. This person was far too tall.

Disappointed, Malcolm cursed under his breath. He’d been entertaining visions of leaving Jane Burke bleeding on her desk. If he couldn’t get to Mary, he’d take someone who meant even more to Sebastian. He liked the ruthlessness of giving the bastard an immediate and vicious response to his e-mail.

But he hadn’t really expected it to be that easy. He had to do his homework, make plans. This was more of a reconnaissance mission than anything else. He’d known that from the beginning.

Carrying a stack of copies, the man went back into an office, and Malcolm took out his gun before creeping closer. The door was unlocked. He could tell without even touching it. The guy inside probably saw no reason for heightened security, not this early at night and not if he was only stopping by to make a few copies.

Would he come back into the hall right away?

No, Malcolm didn’t think so. From the muted sounds drifting toward him, he could tell that the man was now on the phone.

With one gloved hand, Malcolm pulled the swinging door open far enough to squeeze inside. Maybe he wouldn’t meet Jane in the next few minutes. But he’d meet her soon. Especially if he could learn a little more about her. Starting with her address…

“So he looks like his picture?” The voice of the man in the office came to him more clearly, since they were both in the building.

“He’s put on some weight, but you can definitely tell it’s him.”

The second voice surprised Malcolm. Maybe this person wasn’t alone, after all.

Leaning slightly to the right so he could see into the room, he found the guy he’d watched in the hall standing behind a desk, collating copies. The second voice was coming from a speakerphone.

“When was he last there?” The punch of a stapler punctuated this question.

“Just after Christmas.”

He plopped the document on a stack of others and stapled the next one. “Did he win anything that night?”

“No. From what I can tell he generally loses.”

Afraid of giving his presence away, Malcolm stepped into the room closest to the office and pressed his back against the wall.

“Stands to reason,” the man said. “A good gambler wouldn’t have to kill his wife.”

Were they talking about him? Was that Jane on the phone-or someone else?

“Sebastian says he isn’t good at anything. That’s why being a cop meant so much to him. He used the uniform to create some self-respect and to cover up his shortcomings.”

Malcolm’s hand tightened on his gun. Sebastian would say that. He’d always felt so damn superior.

“Sebastian told you that, huh?” the man said. “So he’s still staying with you?”

“Jonathan, cut it out. I don’t want to get into that.”

He chuckled. “It’s a simple question, Jane.”

“He doesn’t want to leave me here alone. He’s afraid Malcolm will come back and somehow find out which condo is mine.”

“Then I’m glad he’s staying. Don’t take any chances.” The stapler sounds had stopped. “I’m finished here. I’ll check in with you later.”

“Thanks again for picking up that DVD from Cache Creek. It helps us get a feel for the kind of monster we’re dealing with.”

Monster? She had no idea. But she’d soon learn, Malcolm thought.

“It was nice of that security guard to provide it,” the man said.

“I just hope they call us if he comes back.”

“Did they say they would?”

“Sebastian hired another guy, one who’s working security at night, to keep a lookout.”

“Then let’s hope that particular guard’s there when Malcolm or Wesley or whoever the hell he is shows up.”

“It’s Malcolm Turner. Sebastian’s right. He didn’t die in that burning car.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Talk to you tomorrow,” he said and that was the end of the call.

Anger simmered in Malcolm’s chest as he stood in the empty office next door. He wasn’t good at anything? He’d known Sebastian felt that way all along. Sebastian had always considered himself better than everyone else, had always done what he could to make Malcolm look bad, especially to Emily and Colton.

But Sebastian wasn’t as smart as he thought. Maybe he’d paid the security personnel at Cache Creek to rat him out. But Sebastian would be dead long before Malcolm ever went back to that casino.

All Malcolm had to do was find out which condo belonged to Jane Burke, and she’d be dead, too.

The man Jane had called Jonathan turned off the light and passed right by on his way out. Malcolm heard him lock the door behind him, but he didn’t mind getting shut in. He could throw the bolt from the inside whenever he was ready to leave.

Meanwhile, he had work to do.

Waiting until Jonathan had driven off, he turned the light back on and poked through the offices until he came across a name placard that read Jane Burke. Surely, somewhere, there’d be a Rolodex card, an envelope or a piece of paper with her home address on it.

But he didn’t find the information he needed in her office. It was in the storage room. Apparently, she’d brought in several empty boxes from shipments she’d received before Christmas.

Thank God for recycling.

According to the labels, she lived in unit 53.

Jane stood in the middle of her living room, staring at the grainy image on TV. That was Malcolm Turner, the man guilty of murdering his wife and stepson, impersonating a police officer, kidnapping two teenage girls and ultimately stabbing one of them. Who knew what he’d done to Latisha-or what he might do if they didn’t get to her in time. Jane had no faith whatsoever in the e-mail Latisha had sent. She wasn’t sure what that was about, but she was confident it didn’t reflect Malcolm’s true plans.

How did Malcolm justify his actions? she wondered. How could he live with himself?

By avoiding responsibility for what he’d done. As long as he could blame others for provoking him, he wouldn’t have to accept any of the blame. At least, that was how Oliver had done it.

“You’re watching that again?”

Jane turned to see Sebastian behind her. For the past forty-five minutes, he’d been helping Kate with her homework. Jane had tried to step in-she was always the one who helped, except when Kate was at her grandparents’-but Kate had been far more interested in Sebastian. “I want to know what he’s thinking,” she explained as Malcolm threw the dice at a craps table.

Sebastian’s attention was fixed on Malcolm, too. “You wouldn’t understand it, even if you could read his mind,” he said. “Looking for sanity and reason in people like Oliver and Malcolm will only drive you crazy. They have a twisted view of the world and of themselves.”

“All they can see is how it affects them,” she agreed.

“We should know. We’ve had front-row seats.” He grabbed his coat, which he’d tossed on the couch.

She felt her eyebrows go up. “You’re leaving?”

“Some of your neighbors weren’t home earlier. I’m hoping to catch them this evening.”

She’d been more than a little disappointed that they hadn’t located a single person who’d heard or seen anything that morning, not even in the units closer to the parking lot. Malcolm had entered the lot and broken Sebastian’s window, then dumped a dead body in his backseat. Granted, that wouldn’t take a lot of time, but it seemed bizarre that it could go unnoticed in such a public setting, on such a busy street. “Do you want some help?”

“No, you stay with Kate. She might have a few more questions on her math.”

“I don’t think she had any questions to begin with. Not really. She just wanted your attention.”

His grin told her he already understood that. “She’s a great kid.”

Jane tried not to let the fact that he was so good with Kate influence the way she felt about Sebastian, but Kate’s adoration chipped away at her biggest objection to getting involved with him. “I’m proud of her.”

As Sebastian left, her cell phone rang. Leaning over so she could retrieve it from the coffee table, she checked caller ID-and immediately recognized the number.

“Hello, Luther,” she said.

“You called?”

“Yes. I wanted to make sure you’d heard the latest.”

“That Latisha e-mailed Gloria?”

“Yes.”

“Gloria told me.”

“Okay.” She’d expected his negative energy to be difficult to tolerate, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. Tonight Latisha’s father seemed uncharacteristically subdued. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“He drives a van,” he suddenly announced.

Jane brought her phone back to her ear. “What did you say? Who drives a van?”

“The man who took Latisha and Marcie. I been talkin’ to the girls on the street. They tell me Officer Boss drives a white utility van.”

“You don’t happen to have a license number, do you?”

“Not yet, but everyone I know is keepin’ an eye out.”

“I appreciate the information. I’ll call you if we find anything on this end.”

He didn’t answer right away. Assuming he wouldn’t, she started to hang up again, but the sound of his voice made her hesitate. “Thanks for callin’,” he said. Then he was gone.

Jane pursed her lips as she pressed the end button on her phone.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?”

Preoccupied with Luther’s phone call, she met her daughter’s curious gaze. “That was a man from the case I’m working on. I thought I disliked him, but…”

“You don’t?”

“Not anymore. I guess I never really did. I was just scared of him.”

“Does he think you’re nice, too?”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” she said with a laugh. “But maybe he’s figuring out that I’m not as bad as he thought.”

“Is he like Sebastian?” she asked.

No one was like Sebastian. “Not really.”

Kate used her chewing gum to blow a bubble that popped in her face. “It’s too bad Sebastian doesn’t have kids,” she said as she pushed her gum back into her mouth.

Sensing a setup, Jane cocked her head. “Why’s that?”

“He’d be a perfect daddy.”

Jane rolled her eyes at her daughter’s attempt to be sly. “That’s quite a hint, young lady.”

Kate’s smile stretched across her face. “If you married him, maybe he’d go with me to the Daddy Daughter Derby at LeAnn’s house this spring.”

Sobering, Jane took her child’s hands and pulled her close. The Daddy Daughter Derby was a day of waterskiing and barbecuing sponsored by one of her friends, who was being raised by a single dad. “Hey, don’t get your hopes up, okay? He lives in New York. He’ll be going back there once this case is over.”

The sparkle in Kate’s eyes winked out, but she lifted her chin. “I figured it’d be something like that. I was just sayin’.”

Jane smoothed her hair. “Your grandpa will take you.”

“Yeah. That’ll be fun,” she said, but there wasn’t any enthusiasm in her voice, and her shoulders slumped as she headed down the hall to finish her homework.

Dropping the remote, Jane sank onto the couch. All this time, she’d believed she was protecting her daughter by barring any potential love interest from entering her life. But maybe she wasn’t protecting Kate so much as she was denying her the chance to have a complete family.

No matter what happened with Sebastian, maybe it was time to start dating. Even if she didn’t deserve the happiness that could come from meeting a good man, Kate certainly did.

Something had changed. Latisha wasn’t sure what it was, but she woke up feeling lost, disoriented. She didn’t even know where she was…

Wait-she did know. She was in Wesley’s bed, which wasn’t so unusual. They’d spent a lot of time here in the past couple of days. He couldn’t get enough of her. He was always telling her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted to be with her. It was flattering to think she’d made such an impact on an older man-a cop, no less.

So where was he? He’d been with her earlier, but now he was gone.

She tried to remember what had happened but couldn’t. He’d turned off the movie, put on some music and brought out a pack of cards. Whenever she lost a hand, he made her have a shot. And she’d lost practically every one. But then what?

Had she gone to sleep or passed out? Maybe she’d passed out and he’d carried her to bed. She felt woozy.

Squinting, she shoved herself into a sitting position and tried to bring the window into focus. It was dark outside-nighttime. That felt strange in itself, as if part of life had passed her by. Last she knew, it’d been the middle of the afternoon.

“Wes?” she called.

The house remained completely silent.

Dizziness overwhelmed her, and she dropped onto the pillows. They’d drunk too much. Her head was still buzzing. Tempted to finish sleeping it off, she rolled onto her side, but a sense of unease kept her from drifting off again. That unease had to do with Marcie, with the fire in the barrel outside, with the blood spatter on Wesley’s shoes…

But Latisha didn’t want to think about those things. Wes had explained them-or most of them, anyway. She hadn’t asked him about the barrel or the shoes, but if he said he let Marcie go, he did.

The alternative was too terrible to contemplate. She preferred to believe him. Then she could like Wes-the Wes she’d come to know in the past few days, anyway. He’d told her about the man who’d murdered his wife and kid. No wonder he acted out. Latisha knew all about people who acted out. Her father was one of them. Her mother hadn’t been any better. The best person Latisha knew was Gloria, but that didn’t make Gloria easy to live with. Stubborn and demanding, she gave Latisha little freedom. All she cared about was seeing Latisha graduate from college so she could “be somebody.”

Gloria wouldn’t be happy to learn that Latisha was now planning to skip college and get married. But even Gloria would be jealous of her ring. No one in their family had ever received one like it. Wes had also promised her a nice house and a family. She’d be a stay-at-home mom, giving her children the kind of care she’d always longed for. And she’d never suffer the poverty she’d known growing up. She’d be middle class. College couldn’t bring her much more than that, could it?

She allowed her eyes to close, but opened them a moment later. If Wesley was gone, she could use his computer to see if Gloria had responded to her e-mail. He was so protective of his laptop, and of her, that he hadn’t let her check her e-mail today. He kept saying, “Later.” She got the impression he was threatened by Gloria’s hold on her, that he might refuse until she’d given him the two weeks she’d promised, which meant this could be her only chance.

Dragging herself out of bed, she stumbled down the hall. “Wes?” she called, but she knew he wasn’t home. He would’ve responded to her when she called out the first time. Since he’d quit chaining her to the floor, he was at her side every second. She just hoped that, wherever he’d gone, he hadn’t taken his computer with him.

When she rounded the corner, she found it in its usual place and breathed out in relief. “Still here!” she said with a giggle and began to sing, “Here comes the bride…here comes the bride…”

She sat down and logged on, but it was difficult to see the screen clearly in her current condition. After blinking several times, she made out the list of messages in her in-box and was rewarded when she spotted what she’d been looking for.

“Ta da!” She clicked to open it.

I’m so glad you’re okay, she read. Where are you? Can you tell me? E-mail me, call me, do anything you can. The police are looking everywhere for you. So is a woman I contacted from a victims’ charity. I’m getting anyone I can to help.

It sounded as if she was going to a lot of trouble. “I told her I’d see her in two weeks,” Latisha mumbled and hit the instant-message button.

Gloria? You there?

An answer came almost immediately. Latisha? Is it u?

Hey, her sister was online. What timing. Yeah.

I’ve been on this thing just about every minute since you wrote me. I’ve barely let myself sleep. Where are u?

Dont no.

Where is the man who kidnapped u?

Gone.

Can u get away?

Latisha frowned. Here was the tough part. How did she explain that what she’d thought about Wesley in the beginning was no longer true? How did she make Gloria understand that he wasn’t as bad as he’d seemed? They’d been having so much fun lately…

I dont want to get way. He goin to marry me, G. He goin to buy me a big house and we’re gonna have kids. He treat me god. She was struggling to hit the right keys and was making mistakes, but communicating was more important than fixing everything so it read perfectly.

What r u talkin bout?

U shod see my ring.

He bought u a ring?

He luvs m. Tel Maecie we wrre wrong bout hum.

Her mistakes were getting worse. She was normally a good typist and a great speller, much better than Marcie or Gloria, but her fingers seemed to fumble all over the keyboard. He ben thru a lt. He feel bad he wasnt nic to us at feirst. At lest he lt Marcie go, rit?

What r u talkin bout?

She made more of an effort to type correctly. At least he let Marcie go.

That don’t make sense, Latisha. He didn’t let Marcie go.

Latisha straightened in her seat. She was beginning to sober up. Sure he did. She’s not here anymore.

Marcie’s dead. And that man killed her. U gotta get help before he do the same to u. U gotta get away!

The smell of smoke seemed to penetrate the house as if Wesley was out back doing the burning all over again. But Latisha knew that wasn’t the case. She was still alone.

U lyin’, she typed. Gloria just wanted to make sure she came home and finished school. Gloria wanted to keep them all together.

I’m not. He killed her, Latisha. Stabbed her to death. And dead is dead. Get out! Now!!! I can’t lose both of u.

“‘I can’t lose both of you,’” she read aloud. It was those words, more than any of Gloria’s accusations or exclamation points that finally convinced her. Gloria was tough. She didn’t say anything sentimental. Not unless she’d been stripped of the pride that kept her going from day to day.

Jumping to her feet, Latisha tripped and almost fell into the table. The empty rum bottle was still on the counter. A package of sleeping pills lay next to it.

Had Wesley put them in her drink? If so, why?

Because he’d wanted to leave. That much was obvious. And he’d wanted her to be here when he returned. But where had he gone? And why had he lied? He’d said he wanted to marry her!

Images of the time they’d spent together in the bedroom came back to her, and she understood. He’d been using her. She made life more comfortable for him out here in this lonely house. He wouldn’t let her go. He was lying about that as well as the future he’d promised her.

Her heart raced as she clutched at her aching chest. She’d believed him. She’d ignored the blood on his shoes and the burning he’d done out back because she didn’t want to acknowledge that her sister was dead. It was so much better to think of her at home with Gloria, where she belonged. Gloria would take care of her. It was Gloria who’d always taken care of them both.

But now…Gloria wasn’t here.

He’d kill her eventually, Latisha realized. Maybe not today or tomorrow. She was still of some use to him. She wasn’t like Marcie. She’d let him control her, let him take what he wanted. But what if she ever defied him? What would happen then?

The answer was all too clear. Gloria was right. She had to get away.

How? Where could she go for help? They were in the middle of nowhere. It was pitch-black outside, which meant she could easily stumble into a ravine or a ditch. She couldn’t think as clearly as she needed to, because of whatever he’d given her. And, more frightening than anything else, she had no idea when he’d be back.

Remembering the way he’d kicked Marcie in the face, she cringed. He wouldn’t like it if he caught her trying to leave him…

Come morning, would he be burning clothes with her blood on them in that barrel outside?