Текст книги "She's Not There"
Автор книги: Marla Madison
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
25
TJ and Jeff finished their drinks, talked a bit, and left for the Mexican restaurant. They located the restaurant on a corner across from three other popular spots on the adjacent corners, in a neighborhood seedy except for the trendy shops and restaurants dotting the main streets.
Jeff drove past the restaurant, the street in front of it lined with cars. “I don’t like the looks of this neighborhood. I’ll drop you off and look for a parking place on a side street.”
“You’re such a pussy,” TJ scoffed. “I should drop you off!”
Jeff found a spot about halfway down a side street, dark, except for the low light coming from some of the houses. Glad TJ carried a gun, he thought maybe she was right—he was a pussy. At least if being cautious earned you that label. He’d never understood the popularity of restaurants located on their fringes.
The place was jammed. They put their name on a waiting list for dinner and went to the bar, filled with people drinking margaritas while waiting for their meal. Jeff squeezed up to the bar and ordered their drinks, while TJ excused herself, heading for the ladies room.
A tiny table by a window had just been vacated. He quickly took a seat, sipping the tart, icy drink. When Jamie’s car had turned up, he’d hit a new low. And the damn song repeated in his brain.
“Let me tell you ‘bout the way she looked…”
TJ wound her way through the crowded restaurant and entered a long, dark hallway leading to the back of the building. She could see two short hallways branching off about halfway to the exit, each with a sign directing patrons to one of the restrooms, Banditos on the left, Senoritas on the right.
It happened so fast TJ barely had time to react. A large figure came at her after bursting through the door to the alley. She thought she saw the glint of a knife before leaping to the side. She felt the blade meet its mark before she managed to give her assailant a sharp elbow jab to the diaphragm. In a heartbeat, she had her gun out, but he had dodged quickly, already at the exit to the alley.
Ignoring the searing pain in her side, TJ ran to the door, gun raised. She took a shot at his retreating shape as she stepped out into the alley. When she reached the side street she saw the rear lights of a car speeding away from the curb. He’d gotten away. Swearing to herself, she stumbled into a recessed doorway, where she put her hand to her side and felt the warm trickle of blood seeping from her body.
Above the sound of the salsa music and loud conversation, Jeff was certain he’d heard a scream. Panicked, he pushed his way through the crowd, looking for TJ. Across the dining room a cluster of women gathered around the entrance to a hallway. Looking into it, they talked excitedly in Spanish.
When he reached the opening into the dim hallway leading to the restrooms, he forced his way through the group of women.
One of them cried, “She shot a guy!”
Jeff’s heart lurched as he ran out the exit door leading into an alley. He didn’t see TJ, but drops of blood on the pavement led toward the street. He found her in the doorway of a defunct appliance store. She was leaning over, gun in one hand, the other clutched to her side. Was she shot?
When she saw him, she gasped, “Some fucker tried to grab me in the hallway. Got a knife in my side before I could get my gun out. Wanted to nail his ass, but he’s long gone.”
Jeff took out his phone. “I’ll call 911.”
“No fuckin’ way! Let’s get out of here before the cops come.” One arm clutching her side, she started walking toward the car.
Jeff stopped her. “You need a doctor. I’m taking you to an emergency room.”
“Not going to any ER. Ain’t as bad as it looks, I know about
these things—isn’t my first time getting stuck.” She glared at him. “And we know a doctor, don’t we?”
Supporting her as she moved, Jeff argued with her as they moved to the car. Sure she’d never agree to go to a hospital, he opened the trunk and pulled a towel out of his gym bag. He handed it to her. “If you won’t listen to reason, at least don’t bleed all over my car.”
When Eric got the call from Jeff, he was at a gourmet restaurant in Delafield with Danielle Ventura. She’d turned him down when he asked her out the first time, the day he’d brought Lisa to the showroom. The next time he’d asked she’d been coy about setting a date. With her finally, he found himself distracted.
As hard as he tried to change the subject from her divorce and all the things she did or did not receive in the settlement, she kept finding a way to pick up where she’d left off. They’d just finished their entrees when he felt his phone vibrate. He opened it and saw it was Jeff calling. He apologized to Danielle and took the call.
“Eric, TJ’s been stabbed. She won’t go to a hospital. We’re headed to Waukesha.”
“Give me a minute; I’ll call you right back.”
Eric looked over at Danielle. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to run. I have an emergency to deal with.”
Her mouth opened to protest.
“I’ll call you tomorrow and explain.” Eric tossed a few large bills on the table, another in front of her for cab fare and hurried to his car, where he called Jeff. “Jeff, TJ knows where my house is and where I keep my spare key in case you get there before I do. I should be home in about the same time it’ll take you to get there.”
Eric heard TJ complaining in the background. She can’t be hurt too badly if she still has the energy to gripe.
Eric arrived first, turned on the lights, and got out his medical supplies, glad he still had the things he’d need. He put on a pot of coffee, took out a bottle of brandy and an old bathrobe.
They came in minutes later, TJ leaning on Jeff, a towel clutched to her side.
Jeff said, “I tried to get her to go to the emergency room, but she insisted on calling you instead.”
Eric helped Jeff bring her into the room. “That was stupid. You should have been treated immediately. If the wound is too deep, I’m taking you to a hospital.”
They put her down on a long leather couch in front of the fireplace. Eric brought over a bright lamp to work by.
TJ whined, “Can’t be too bad, he only got me a little. I moved pretty fast when I saw him. Hope I got one in him.”
Eric started. “You shot him?”
“Tried, but he was running too fast. Couldn’t go to the hospital. Didn’t want the cops nosin’ around yet. Wasn’t anything worth telling them, anyway. He had on dark clothes, a cap pulled low, and sunglasses. Go figure.”
Eric moved the towel and examined the wound, realizing she was right, it wasn’t very deep, the bleeding already diminishing. “Jeff, I put some coffee on. Would you go see if it’s ready? Give me a few minutes. Then bring us the coffee and that bottle of brandy.”
Jeff left the room.
Eric said, “You’re lucky as hell, you know. If this was deeper it could have punctured your liver. I’ll give you a local anesthetic, then I’m going to clean it out.”
He froze the area, then cut open TJ’s black silk camisole. She was naked underneath it.
“I knew you always wanted to see my tits.”
“Honey, I’ve seen more breasts in my lifetime than most men can even dream of. They’re just another pair. Nice, but just another pair.”
TJ laughed, then groaned in pain. Eric put a clean towel over her breasts and set up the things he’d need on the table next to the couch. He washed the wound, using antiseptic on and around it before stitching it up.
“I think you’re all right for now. But there’s always a chance of infection setting in, so I’m going to give you an antibiotic shot.”
He helped her into the old robe he’d brought out. “Take off your jeans.
“Thought they didn’t do those butt-shots anymore.”
“They don’t. I just want a peek at your ass, too.”
She clutched her midsection. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
By the time she quit complaining, he’d given her the injection.
When Jeff came back, the three of them had coffee with brandy. After he saw her nodding off, Eric picked TJ up and carried her to the guest room.
He came back and poured himself another brandy.
Jeff asked, “Do you think we should call Detective Conlin?”
“No. She’s not seriously hurt. She can tell him herself if she wants to.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to get the police involved?”
Eric had mixed feelings. “This incident could have nothing to do with our interviews.” Jeff tried to object. “Let me finish. Do I think it’s related? Of course, but proving it would be impossible. All we’ll have to show for it is TJ’s wound. Neither of you saw anything. I’m worried about everyone’s safety. And we still aren’t free of that psycho, Fischer. I’d suspect him except he never met TJ.”
Jeff said, “That policewoman who’s trying to get something on him—you said she sounded sympathetic. Maybe Lisa could have a talk with her.”
“That might be the best way to test the waters. We’ll have to talk about it.”
Later, Eric emptied the coffee pot and checked the fire before stepping out on the patio for his last cigar of the day. Afterward, he looked in on TJ, sleeping peacefully, the butt of her gun sticking out from under her pillow. He’d never seen her looking so serene.
The call from Eric, reporting what had happened to TJ, had stoked Lisa’s fears. She checked the windows and doors for the second time, glad she had Phanny close by. If anyone actually broke in, the dog would probably lick him to death, but Phanny had a huge warning bark that would deter most prowlers.
Lying in bed with her mind spinning, she worried about TJ, about all of them, and tried to focus on something pleasant. She thought about Thanksgiving, usually one of her favorite holidays. It was only two weeks away, and she hadn’t heard from her daughter.
And Tyler kept calling, trying to persuade Lisa to keep seeing him. His engagement hadn’t worked out. But Lisa knew things wouldn’t be any different. Exciting, yes. Great sex, sure. But beyond that, she’d be waiting for the next nubile young thing to lure him away from her. But tonight his warm body lying next to her would have done wonders for her troubled soul, despite her determination to move on.
26
Eddie Wysecki had no luck finding an address for Teal J. Peacock. After giving it a lot of thought, he called the number on the business card the guy had given him. He pretended to be a storeowner in need of security. Good thing he always kept a throwaway cell phone for emergencies. Like calling his bookie.
With no intention of showing up, he arranged a fake meeting so he could check out her car and license plate. He’d follow her when she gave up on the new ”client.” With a little luck he’d get her address. He hadn’t thought any further ahead. Eddie wasn’t sure she posed a threat to him, but he wanted to find out as much as he could about her. Just in case. He couldn’t afford to have anyone snooping around the bar.
The ruse worked, and she agreed to meet him at a restaurant on the outskirts of West Allis. He only had the guy’s description of her as a mixed-breed babe who dressed like a slut. When he saw a woman getting out of a small red car, one of those weird, fast little things, a mini-something, he wasn’t sure it was her. As she walked to the door, he noticed her security guard’s uniform, and knew he’d spotted the right woman. Parked in the back of the lot between cars, Eddie waited.
A mere twenty minutes later, she gave up on the fictitious client, left the restaurant, and drove out of the parking lot. Eddie followed at a discreet distance to a bank across from the shopping center in Brookfield. She parked in the back, entering the bank by a rear door after waiting a few seconds. Someone inside must have let her in. Now that he knew where she worked, it’d be easy to follow her home.
When Peacock left at five, heavy traffic made it easy for him to follow unnoticed. In downtown Milwaukee, he watched as she pulled into underground parking beneath a high-rise apartment building. She might just be visiting someone, so he hung around for a while.
He got lucky at six when she left the building on foot. She’d changed clothes, so he knew he had her address. Eddie left his car and followed her. There was a lot of activity in the area so he wasn’t concerned about standing out. But suddenly she stopped and looked around, as if she sensed him following her. Crap. All he could do was keep walking and act normal; being five-ten, brown hair, gray eyes, medium build—maybe a bit overweight—conservatively dressed, wearing glasses, and, as they said on the cop shows, no distinguishing scars or characteristics, all allowed him to blend in on the busy street.
Peacock’s movements made no sense. After she went into Vinnie’s, he got in his car and parked nearby. He tailed her when she left the area in an SUV driven by a skinny young guy wearing a brown leather jacket. He followed them across town to a Mexican joint on the south side, then followed them into the restaurant. After a minute or two, he saw her walk through the restaurant, heading toward the restrooms.
When he heard the screams, he rushed over to the hallway, and saw her running out the back door into an alley. Eddie nearly dumped in his drawers when he heard a gunshot. Ears ringing and heart pounding, he slithered out, trying to look casual. The last thing he needed was attention drawn to him anywhere near violence.
He couldn’t believe his luck when he entered the side street where he’d parked and saw her moving down the sidewalk, leaning on the guy he’d seen her with. When they got to their car, the guy opened the trunk and handed her something, then they got into the car and drove off.
Was she hurt? They’d be heading to the nearest hospital, but why hadn’t they waited for the cops to show? Odd, he thought, odd enough to keep following them.
Mystified, he followed them all the way out to Waukesha, then outside of town, where they pulled into a huge estate. The house sat far back on a wooded lot, barely visible from the street. Shit. Who are these people?
The best course of action would be to forget about them. Unless something else happened close to home, he was probably off the hook. This chick has bigger problems than me.
27
After they finished their interviews on Saturday, Eric and Lisa drove out to Eric’s to check on TJ. Lisa approached TJ, relieved to see her sitting by the fire wearing a headset and weaving to music only she could hear.
She pulled off the headphones. “How’d it go?”
Lisa, knowing TJ wouldn’t want a fuss made over her, didn’t inquire about her health. “Good. I think we’re almost at the halfway mark.”
Wearing a pair of black jeans and a sweatshirt hanging nearly to her knees—no doubt belonging to Eric—TJ got up off the floor with a grimace. “Got skewered like a frickin’ pig at a luau.”
“I think we should report it.”
“Nothin’ to report. Didn’t see nothin’. No way to tell if it’s connected to all this.”
The ensuing argument ended when Jeff came in and asked how she was doing. TJ replied, “I’m good. Eric’s taking me back to my place tomorrow as long as I’m not infected.” She wrinkled her face, looking over at Eric.
Jeff asked, “Do you think you’ll be safe by yourself?”
TJ gave him a glowering look.
Lisa said, “TJ, on Monday, Maggie’s coming in to give me an update on Steven Fischer, so I’m thinking I’ll broach the topic of what we’re really working on here. If she seems sympathetic, we can try to enlist her help.”
They continued to discuss whether to get the police involved until pizzas arrived. When only a few corner pieces sat untouched, Lisa said, “What about Thanksgiving week? I think we should skip the Saturday after the holiday. I’ll have time to set up some appointments for the following week.”
Jeff groaned. “My folks are in Florida, and Jamie’ parents invited me to have dinner with them. I’m not sure I can handle that.”
“If you need an excuse to get out of it, you’re welcome to come to my house,” Lisa offered. “All of you are welcome. I don’t think Paige is going to make it. I’m cooking even if it ends up being just Phanny and me.”
TJ looked up from the last corner of pizza she was nibbling on. “Usually spend the day with my sister and her kids.”
“Bring them too,” Lisa suggested. “It’ll be great to have kids around.”
Later, TJ, Lisa and Eric lingered in front of the fire, sipping coffee. TJ sat tilted back in a big leather recliner, feet up and eyes at half-mast, a mug of coffee balanced on her chest.
“TJ,” Lisa began, her voice soft, “I know you didn’t see your attacker’s face, but did you see anything noticeable about him?”
“When I went out that night, I had a feelin’ like I was being watched. Didn’t see anybody suspicious, but I have sort of a radar for that kinda thing.”
“And you think whoever was watching you could be your attacker. Could it have been the person you were supposed to meet at the restaurant? Or maybe the guy you’d just talked to?”
“Nah, I had the feeling before I talked to the first guy, the one in my neighborhood. And I called the other one this morning. He was pissed ‘cause we didn’t show up at the restaurant. He claims his wife’s friends have heard from her. It checked out, so no, not him. And he’s too short.”
Eric leaned forward. “So this guy was tall?”
“Yeah, and something about him is buggin’ me. Can’t tell you what, though. Somethin’ . . .”
Lisa perked up. “If you didn’t see his face, it had to be his posture—or his gait.”
“Oh yeah, right, I can call the cops now. Tell them his ‘gait’ was familiar.” She sat up in the chair, setting her empty mug on an end table.
“Sorry, just frustrated. Pissed me off I didn’t put a bullet in his ass.”
Lisa realized TJ had no way of knowing for sure she hadn’t hit her assailant, but let it drop.
TJ stood. “Gonna go back to my cell and hit the sheets. Night all.”
When she’d left the room, Lisa turned to Eric. “Her cell? Is she that angry with you for keeping her here?”
“No. That’s just TJ being TJ. Someone had to convince her to take time to heal, even if she won’t admit she needs it. She’ll be fine; the wound isn’t serious.”
Lisa stood. “I’m kind of tired, too. Do you mind taking me back to my car now?”
“Sure, but I’m either going to take you to your car and follow you home, or drive you home and get you to your car tomorrow.”
“I suppose I’ll sound like TJ if I object. Will she be all right here alone?”
Eric chuckled. “She sleeps with her gun under the pillow. And I have a state-of-the-art security system, approved by Ms. Peacock herself. She’ll be fine.”
After dropping Lisa at her car, Eric followed Lisa home. When she pulled into the garage and got out of her car, she saw him walking toward her.
“I’d like to meet Phanny.”
Phanny wiggled with delight. She greeted him with a wet, lightning-fast kiss.
“I forgot to warn you about the tongue,” Lisa laughed.
“That’s okay, I love dogs. I’m thinking about getting one.”
“I’d recommend adoption. Someday I’ll have to tell you the story about getting Phanny. There are so many dogs that have been abandoned and need homes.” He followed Lisa into the house, where he insisted on going through all the rooms.
Grateful for his protectiveness, she realized he hadn’t annoyed today. She had a feeling his negative attitude toward her had more to do with her profession than herself, but he’d yet to tell her why. She’d noticed the only calls he took during the day were business calls and suspected the others had been from a woman. Either he was avoiding the woman’s calls or didn’t want to have a personal conversation in front of Lisa.
Eric looked in on TJ when he got home. She was asleep, lying on her side. He bent over, slid the gun out from under the pillow and set it on the nightstand.
28
Two years earlier
There wasn’t a book on serial killers that described him. They were all a crock. He fit none of their DMS-III groups, or popular stereotypes. Supposedly, they tortured their victims, wrote puzzling letters to the police and/or press, left their victims intriguingly postured, and ultimately, escalated and went wildly out of control—this last factor making them easy to track down.
He’d done none of those things. His ladies rested comfortably on his property up north. Respectfully buried—no shallow graves for the wildlife to dig up.
For him, killing had become a hobby, not an obsession. After they arrested Allyson’s abusive boyfriend for her murder, he’d been successfully ferreting out abused women. It offered the perfect way to commit murder—the police always had a prime suspect.
Abused women were vulnerable, easily manipulated into keeping their meetings with him hidden. Some he dated once or twice then never saw again. They were the ones he determined didn’t need to be eliminated, kind souls with low self-esteem who gravitated toward men who abused them. He pitied them, leaving them to their miseries. He sought women who deserved to be treated badly—beautiful on the outside, but ugly on the inside–where it mattered.
