Dexter Avenue
11:30 a.m.
Nick had done everything short of picking Bobbie up and hauling her away from Hanover’s office. He couldn’t make her see that nothing she did was going to stop what was coming.
This was between him and Weller.
He shouldn’t have come back to Montgomery. He’d fallen right into the bastard’s trap. Now he had to keep Bobbie clear of the fallout. He had allowed her to become an increasingly dangerous weakness and now Weller was using that weakness against him.
How would he ever protect her?
“I’m sorry, Detective,” the assistant said. “Mr. Hanover isn’t here. He didn’t come in this morning. I haven’t seen him since day before yesterday.”
“If you know where he is,” Bobbie warned, flashing her badge just in case the woman had forgotten who she was, “you’d better talk now or you’ll end up a potential accessory to murder.”
The assistant continued to plead her case. She had not seen or heard from her boss. Nick watched Bobbie put her badge away. While she had showered, Nick had cleaned the blood off her phone, badge and gun. He didn’t want her to have to do it. He’d put her bloody clothes in a bag and tossed them into the trash can outside her house. She never needed to see those clothes again. Then he’d cleaned her car as best he could.
Owens had called and told Bobbie the wife beater who lived down the street from Holt had an airtight alibi. The guy had taken a large wrench to Bauer’s Mustang the day before. Though a lawyer had quickly gotten him released after assaulting Bauer yesterday, Shelton had gone straight home, knocked his wife around and then gone out and gotten shitfaced. Prattville PD had picked him up on a driving under the influence charge and he’d spent the night in jail. Was still there. The only good news was that the wife had obtained a restraining order and filed charges. She and her daughter had moved to a shelter for the time being.
Shelton was facing serious prison time for assaulting a police officer in addition to the charges his wife had filed. Though a similar wrench had been used to bash in the back of Bauer’s head, it was nothing but a diversion. The message to Bobbie showed the killer was deteriorating. Why leave a distraction to throw the police off and then leave the message that conclusively tied the murder to previous scenes? The killer had murdered five people, up close and personal, and abducted three in a mere six days. He had to be running on empty, starting to screw up. The end was near.
Nick was ready. The evidence in Bauer’s apartment—the lack of a struggle or forced entry—confirmed his latest assessment about the identity of the killer.
The chief of police had called Bobbie twice. For a change he seemed grateful she was with Nick. A turn Nick hadn’t expected.
“I swear I have no idea where he is,” the assistant said again. “Have you spoken to his attorney, Sawyer Eddington? He will probably know where he is.”
Bobbie took the attorney’s number and wheeled around to exit the office. Nick followed.
“He could be on his way out of the country by now,” Nick warned. If Hanover was even remotely involved, he no doubt had realized that he was in way over his head.
Bobbie said, “We’ll check his house.”
Nick didn’t argue. While he drove to Greystone Place, Bobbie called Eddington who, like the assistant, swore he had not seen or spoken to Hanover. Bobbie sent a text to Owens requesting a warrant for Hanover’s and Eddington’s phone records.
At Hanover’s house Bobbie rang the doorbell four times before she gave up and walked around to the side yard. Nick’s senses shifted, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. They checked the side door. Locked. No sound came from the house.
“We should proceed with caution,” he advised.
Bobbie removed her weapon from its holster and made an agreeable sound.
When they reached the rear courtyard, the French doors stood open. Nick stepped in front of Bobbie. Before she could stop him he crossed the threshold into a den or keeping room near the kitchen. They moved soundlessly through the house.
Nick spotted the blood on the marble entry floor first. He held up a hand and pointed in that direction. They moved along the center hall and the bloody mess near the staircase came fully into view. Organs lay in a pile in the circle of thickening blood with the heart crowning the mound.
Naked and sprawled on his side on the cold marble floor was Mark Hanover. He’d been gutted in a similar manner as the Parkers without the suturing and cleanup. On top of that, he’d been castrated the same way as Manning. From where Nick stood he could see that a pink dildo had been crammed into his anal canal. The severed penis had been tucked into his mouth.
“Stay back,” Bobbie cautioned.
No matter that he didn’t want to, he deferred to her request. He understood he shouldn’t contaminate the crime scene.
Bobbie held her left forearm in front of her nose. The smell of coagulating blood and feces was heavy in the air. “I need to call this in and ensure the house is clear.” She reached down and retrieved her backup piece and handed it to Nick. “Stay put.”
He took the weapon and walked around the pool of blood. “Call it in. I’ll make sure the house is clear.”
She wasn’t happy about it but she let him go.
He bounded up the stairs and moved from room to room. As long as he could hear Bobbie’s voice as she spoke on the phone he was okay with her being out of his sight. Once she stopped talking he couldn’t get back to her fast enough.
“Upstairs is clear.” He moved toward the dining room to help her check the rest of the downstairs rooms.
The killer had obviously deviated from Weller’s agenda into his own. He’d grown desperate and sloppy. He was unraveling.
“Evidence techs and the coroner are on the way,” Bobbie told him when they returned to the entry hall.
She stared at Hanover’s body as if she hoped he would give her the answers she sought. Even in death the bastard was still playing with her head.
“He’s either tying up the loose ends,” Nick said, “or he’s gone completely off the rails. This is an emotional kill.” The killer had wanted Hanover to suffer. Nick would wager there hadn’t been any drugs used in this kill.
Bobbie rubbed a hand over her mouth. “Jesus Christ I don’t want Fern and Vanessa to die.”
Nick wished he could give her some hope but chances were the women were dead already. “I’ll check the exterior perimeter.”
She nodded, her gaze still on the dead man. Her cell rang as Nick moved into the kitchen. He heard her answer.
“Where the hell are you?”
At the sound of her demand Nick turned around to find Bobbie had followed him into the kitchen.
Her eyes were wide with disbelief. She tapped the screen, putting her cell on Speaker.
“Before we get to the reason I called, there’s something I’d like to say to you, Bobbie.”
Weller. Son of a bitch!
Nick’s body hardened with fury. He battled the need to snatch the phone from her and to tell the bastard he was coming for him. As if Bobbie had read the need on his face she pressed a finger to her lips.
“I’m startled by how much I respect you,” Weller said. “I admire such determination and dedication to the job, especially after all you’ve been through.”
“I’m sure you didn’t call to compliment me on my work ethic. What do you want?” Bobbie’s own fury was written all over her face.
“Right now you may feel as if things can’t possibly get worse, but you have my word that I’ve only begun. What you’ve seen so far is merely a prelude. Every ounce of courage and tenacity you possess will be required to survive what’s coming, Bobbie. Remember those words if you remember nothing else.”
“Where the hell are you?” she demanded. “If you give yourself up now maybe you won’t end up dead.”
“You needn’t worry about me, Bobbie. I’m quite adept at taking care of myself.”
When she said nothing in return, he continued, “My son is there with you, isn’t he? I don’t need your confirmation. I can sense his presence in the sound of your voice.”
“I will find you,” Nick warned. “This time I will kill you.”
Weller laughed, the piece of shit. “I look forward to that day, son. Remember what I said, Bobbie.”
The call dropped off. She and Nick stood there staring at each other until the wail of sirens shattered the silence.
“He wants you to come after him,” she said, her voice soft and filled with the worry he saw in her eyes.
Nick had no choice in the matter. Weller had made the first move. He was waiting for Nick to make the next one. But he couldn’t leave until this—he looked at the dead man on the floor—was done.
The bigger picture cleared for Nick.
Weller had planned his escape carefully. He had known he would need a head start. If there had been any lingering doubts about his involvement in all this, there were none now. The killer he’d sent to Montgomery had nothing to do with stopping Nick or hurting Bobbie. Not really.
Six people were dead and two were still missing—all to distract Nick long enough for the bastard to escape and to gain a head start on this cat-and-mouse game.