Protector With A Past Page 13

  She was being watched. He was right here with her in the dark and he was watching her.

  Everything happened at once. She felt rather than heard the presence behind her and she spun instantly, but at the same moment an arm snaked around her chest and a hand clamped over her mouth so hard that her neck jerked backward. Reacting without thought, her arms pinned uselessly at her sides, she stamped down with all the force she could muster on her attacker's instep.

  His hand tightened on her mouth. She bit it and tasted the salty tang of blood and heard the almost inaudible whisper right in her ear all at the same time.

  "Dammit, Julia, it's me!"

  She twisted her head around as far as she could, her eyes wide with shock. They met Cord's, and even in the near-total darkness she could see the fury he was holding back. Slowly his hand moved from her mouth, but as she took a breath to speak he silenced her once more. He bent to her ear again. Even at that, she had to strain to hear him

  "I'm going in. You stay out here and wait for me." Before he'd finished she was shaking her head angrily, and his arm around her chest tightened. "Don't goddamn argue with me. I'm the one with the gun—and if I have to shoot you in the foot to get you to stay here don't be too sure I won't." He released her so abruptly that only the wall behind her kept her upright, and then he moved noiselessly toward the door.

  As soon as he pushed it farther open a dim glow limned the edge of the door. It seemed almost ghostly, and she remembered the eerie picture on the living-room wall with its electrified frame. She controlled the shudder that threatened and found herself holding her breath as Cord swung the door open wide. He paused, and she knew he was doing the same thing that she was—recalling the layout of the apartment and remembering the position of the two other rooms that led off the short entrance hall before it opened into the living room. There'd been an open walk-through to the Hollywood-style kitchen on the left, and almost opposite it had been a closed door that had presumably been the bathroom. Her nerves, already vibrating, tightened almost painfully as Cord slipped inside and disappeared into the shadows.

  She stood there in the dark, hugging herself in an agony of apprehension and straining her ears to catch any slight sound from the apartment, but there was nothing. Her wishful theory about Jackie waiting for Tascoe to return obviously had been blown out of the water, she thought edgily.

  But where would she be at this time of night? If she'd wanted to wait for Tascoe at the station she would have left at the same time the cruiser had arrived to collect him. Would she have gone to a friend's? Did she have any, besides Tascoe?

  She'd been upset and alone. It was just conceivable that she'd sought out the company of the nearest acquaintance at hand—her neighbor.

  Julia hesitated. There was still no sound coming from the apartment, and more from the need to be doing something—anything—to relieve the unendurable tension of waiting for Cord to give the all clear, she edged quietly down the hall until she could see the burro lady's door.

  It was completely dark. If the woman had been entertaining a distraught Jackie Redmond, there would have been a chink of light coming from under the door, at least.

  About to turn and head toward Jackie's apartment again, she suddenly felt the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck rise atavistically, but this time as she whirled around she realized almost at once that her concern was groundless. She bumped against the solidity of Cord, and he grasped her arms just above the elbows, steadying her in the total blackness.

  "Redmond's been hurt," he hissed into her ear before she could say anything. "She's in there unconscious—I'm going outside to use the car phone to call the police and an ambulance. Stay with her until I get back."

  There was a curiously flat tone to his whisper, as if he was reining in a terrible anger that he knew he couldn't afford to release. Her lips parted in shocked dismay.

  "Dear God—she's been attacked? How—"

  But even as the hushed questions poured from her he was gone. He had to have the vision of a cat, Julia thought uneasily, stumbling to the apartment he'd just left and feeling her way along the wall. Of course, part of her shakiness was due to the realization that her earlier forebodings had been proven right—Jackie had been in danger all along. She had been a threat to someone, and that someone had taken the first opportunity to silence her.

  She should have listened to her intuition, she thought. She'd known there was something badly wrong here as soon as she'd realized that the hall light had been broken. Even before that her senses had been on full alert, so why had she grasped so eagerly—almost desperately—at any other explanation for her unease?

  You didn't trust yourself to read the situation, she told herself sharply. You've spent the last two years convinced that your gut feelings couldn't be relied on, because of the way you thought you'd mishandled Hall on that ledge—but you were wrong. Tascoe was responsible for the man's reaction, not you.

  It was true, she thought slowly. She'd forced herself to ignore the alarm bells going off in her mind. She would have to relearn what had once been second nature to her—to listen to them unquestioningly and react accordingly.

  And they were still going off.

  She didn't even think. The danger was behind her—it was behind her!—and she spun around in the dark to meet it, knowing that he was there, but even as she turned her foot came down on something and she felt herself overbalancing. And then she was falling, unable to save herself, unable to defend herself against the danger she was facing, the threat that was coming from the hallway—

  The empty hallway? Even as the realization flashed through her mind Julia fell heavily onto the object that she'd stumbled over. Her hands flew out to break her fall, and her fingers came in contact with something that felt like fabric—soft, thick fabric, she thought in confusion. Soft, thick, quilted fabric.

  She heard a low moan and realized it was coming from her own throat. For a moment her limbs refused to work, and then she was frantically scrambling to her knees. She put her weight down on something and immediately moved, her stomach doing a slow roll as she fought down a sudden nausea.

  It was Jackie. She'd fallen over the woman's body in the dark—why hadn't Cord warned her—

  Her head jerked up a split second before the man came out of the apartment, his huge silhouette blotting out the faint glow rimming the doorway, and even as she rose to her feet and went for him she saw his hand move upward and she knew that the next thing she would feel would be the bullet tearing through her, the same way one had torn through Sheila. Cord's face flashed into her mind's eye—not the way she'd seen it an hour ago, but the way she wanted to remember him, the way she would remember him in these last few seconds of life and beyond.

  The apartment light snapped on, and for one moment she thought her need and love for him had conjured his image in front of her. She closed her eyes against the sudden brightness.

  "What the hell—"

  Her eyes flew open. The last of the blood drained from her face. It was Cord—but that was crazy.

  "My God—did he hurt you? Are you all right?" He was grasping her shoulders, gently drawing her away from Jackie's still body. His glance flicked comprehensively over her frozen features, and she managed a nod.

  "I—I'm okay, Cord. But Jackie—Jackie's—"

  The woman's face was mercifully turned away from them but above the lace-trimmed collar of the quilted robe her neck was canted at an unnatural angle. Cord bent swiftly to the body and Julia looked away.

  "She's dead. Her neck's been broken." He straightened. "I should have kept you with me, dammit. It could have been you lying there right now."

  His voice was uneven, and as if he couldn't help himself he reached out for her, pulling her close. Julia didn't resist, but her body was rigid against his.

  "You don't have a car phone in the Bronco, do you?" Her query came out on a high-pitched and wavery note, and Cord frowned in confusion.

  "We can use the phone in th
e living room. I left my cell phone back at the motel."

  "But there isn't one in the Bronco, is there?"

  His arms around her, she stared over his shoulder down the shadowy hall. It felt like a thin skin of ice had formed around her, she thought hazily. But any minute now this blessed detachment would shatter and she would have to face the nightmarish truth.

  "No, but that doesn't—"

  "Then why did you tell me you were going to call the police from the car, Cord?" Her voice reached a new and higher level. "Why did you leave me to find Jackie's body—and how did you get back here without passing me in the hall?"

  She felt cold—so cold. Even the warmth of his chest against hers and the reassuring strength of his embrace didn't seem to be enough to ward off the shivers that she could feel starting somewhere deep inside her. With an immense effort, she pulled her gaze from the empty hallway and met his suddenly comprehending features.

  "It wasn't you, was it?"

  * * *

  "I guess it wasn't your day to die, Stewart." Cindy Lopez, wan and exhausted-looking, raked a weary hand through her hair. She looked over her shoulder at the open door to the Redmond apartment and shrugged tiredly. "Just Jackie's. At least she didn't suffer. It happened quickly enough."

  "We're all through in there, Detective." An older man, stocky and gray-haired, whom Julia vaguely recognized as one of the department's crime scene technicians, came out, carrying a metal case under one arm and stripping a pair of thin latex gloves from his hands. "Everything that place could tell us we got. But don't expect a miracle—our boy was no amateur." He nodded briefly at Julia and grimaced at Cord. "Just like old times, Hunter. The technology keeps getting better, but the criminals keep getting smarter."

  "You got that right," Cord said tightly. "But she was definitely killed on the sofa, Greg?"

  "Killed on the sofa, by someone she probably knew—no signs of prior agitation or struggle," the older man said briefly. "Then for some twisted reason he dragged her out of the apartment and stashed her in that utility cupboard there."

  "Because he saw me arrive—the living room window looks down onto the street. It was quiet enough that he would have heard me driving up and parking just outside." Julia forced a steadiness she didn't feel into her voice. "Which means whoever he was, he knows me, because he knew I would only be there to see Jackie."

  "That makes sense." Lopez fished in her pockets distractedly, took out a stick of gum and popped it into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully. "He sees you arrive and he has to assume that if you don't get an answer at Redmond's door you might get suspicious. He can't simply leave because he'll almost certainly run into you as you're coming in, and you either know him or would remember what he looks like."

  "Why the hell didn't I see that utility closet earlier this evening?" Cord's eyes were dark with anger, but it was directed at himself. "How could I have missed it?"

  "The first time we came to see Jackie, she already had the door open when we were only halfway down the hall, and it was blocking our view." Julia let out a breath. "I didn't realize there was anything there, either."

  "He puts Redmond's body in the cupboard and he runs down the hall, takes the light out of the wall fixture and smashes it," Lopez said. "By then you're probably on your way up the first flight of stairs so he runs back and hides with the body. But he leaves the apartment door open—why? He had to know that would alert you."

  "I was the rabbit. He was the fox," Julia said flatly. Lopez and Greg looked at her uncomprehendingly, but Cord's eyes met hers.

  "It was an ambush," he said softly. "He wanted you in that apartment where there was less chance of being interrupted."

  "What the hell's this fox and rabbit business?" Lopez asked with a touch of annoyance.

  "It's a Seneca thing," Cord and Julia said at the same time. They looked at each other, and at his quick grin she was startled into an answering smile.

  "You two rehearse that or what?" Lopez said sourly. "Just what I need, a comedy routine when I'm trying to quit smoking, solve a triple homicide and get home sometime tonight to get a couple of hours sleep before heading back to work." She glared at them, and then her features softened. "I guess this time the rabbit got away."

  "He had to have been there the whole time." Julia's brief good humor ebbed as she remembered her cautious approach along the darkened hallway. "I sensed someone watching me, but when Cord appeared I assumed it was his presence I'd somehow been aware of. I should have realized," she said suddenly, her eyes darkening.

  "Realized what?" Cord took in her even more pronounced pallor and moved unobtrusively closer to her side. "Did you pick up on something?"

  "Nothing that would help us in tracking him down." She shook her head, her brows knitted as if she had a headache. "No, it's stupid. It's probably just hindsight, anyway."

  "You got an impression of evil, didn't you?" It was Greg who spoke, his mouth a grim line. "I got it, too, the whole time I was in that apartment. My great-grandmother had second sight, and all I get is a feeling that I want to toss my cookies once in a while, but it adds up to the same thing. I've only felt it a few times in my career, but it always turns out to be right. They used to call you the Guardian Angel, I know—but tonight you had one watching over you."

  "Evil? Try supremely arrogant," Lopez said shortly. "He was playing a damn game in the dark, for God's sake. He could have just pushed you aside, he could have broken your neck like he'd broken Redmond's." She caught Cord's angry glance and shrugged defensively. "Hey, I'm only putting myself in his shoes, Hunter. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead he deliberately—"

  "He posed as me." Cord's voice held cold fury. "While you were away from the door for those few seconds and I was inside he put Jackie's body on her own doorstep, and then he told you to go back, knowing that you'd discover it in the most grisly way possible." A muscle jumped in his jaw. "But he posed as me—well enough to fool you for the few seconds he needed. That's important."

  "He knows you both," Lopez said slowly. "If Tascoe wasn't still at the station I'd—"

  "Dean Tascoe?" Greg gave her a sharp glance, and Lopez frowned.

  "Yeah. Chuck Hendrix and Tommy Dow are grilling him for me on his connection to Vince DiMarco. We thought he might know something about Paul and Sheila's murders—though it looks like that theory's a washout now, with Jackie's death."

  "Did Chuck and Tommy offer to take over the interrogation?" Looking up, Julia saw Cord exchange a look with Greg, and in both men's faces there was tight frustration.

  "Hendrix said since Paul was my partner I probably wouldn't be able to keep an objective distance while I was questioning Tascoe," Lopez said. "He was right—the guy rubs me the wrong way in the first place, and thinking he had anything to do with—"

  "Dow used to be Tascoe's partner. Hendrix and Tascoe used to go drinking together," Greg cut in. "If I was a betting man I'd give you ten-to-one odds that Tascoe's interrogation didn't last any longer than it took for you to walk out of the room. He'd have had plenty of time to come back here and kill his girlfriend before Julia showed up."

  Lopez stared at him almost accusingly. Then she grabbed her cell phone out of her coat pocket and started punching in a number. "Dammit," she muttered, putting the receiver to her ear. "Dammit! This freakin' old boys' network is the goddamn limit!" She cradled the phone on her shoulder and pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her pocket. Then she looked at Julia and put them back. "If you can break free, Stewart, I guess I can," she growled. Her attention switched to the phone, and she spoke rapidly into it.

  It looked like she'd become a role model, Julia thought resignedly as Lopez barked questions at the hapless desk sergeant on the other end of the line, and Cord and Greg, a few feet away, talked together for a moment, their voices low and their expressions serious. Some role model—right now she felt the craving stronger than she had in over a year. Greg was right—it had been evil she'd sensed tonight, and as soon as sh
e got back to the motel she knew she would turn the shower on as hot as she could stand it and scrub at her arms where the shadow in the hallway had gripped her.

  But it wouldn't be enough. There was something powerfully seductive in the thought of dulling the horrors of tonight completely, in seeking out, even if only for a few hours, total oblivion.

  "You look bushed. We'll pick up your car tomorrow." Cord's hand was on her shoulder, his fingers nearly brushing her hair, and she looked up blankly.

  "That's right, an APB for Dean Tascoe. Yeah, that Dean Tascoe, Jerry," Lopez snarled into the cell phone. "And if anything gets fouled up, don't think I don't have the cojones to come down there and personally hang you out to dry." She raised a distracted hand at them as Cord gently propelled Julia down the hall. Beside her Greg resignedly set down his case and leaned wearily against the wall.

  "Hunter—good seeing you again," he called after them. "But we gotta stop meeting like this." He gave them a tired grin and a thumbs-down sign, and beside her Julia saw the ghost of a smile cross Cord's features.

  "He's a good guy," he said as they passed the burro lady's door, which was firmly closed. Sometime in the last hour she'd seen the woman's daughter come to take her away for the night, Julia remembered. The shoes that had stood on the mat outside were gone. "He's right—we always seem to run into each other on the bad ones. He worked the Bradley farmhouse, and he was there when Donner's group got killed."

  "He's one of the few who actually met with Donner in prison, isn't he?" There was no real interest in Julia's question, but she knew she needed to keep her mind occupied. As Cord held the front door of the building open for her and they stepped into the rain-fresh night air, he nodded curtly.

  "We both did, but that was afterward. I didn't get anything from him, of course. He claimed he'd had no knowledge of the killings his people had carried out, and since he'd been in prison the whole time we couldn't prove anything against him."

  He passed a tired hand over his face and took a deep breath. "Okay. Now that we're alone I want to hear what the hell you were thinking of, coming here by yourself tonight."