Commerce Street
Wednesday, October 26, 7:00 a.m.
Bobbie pulled to the curb at Bauer’s building. She sent him a text to let him know she was there. She’d managed a couple hours’ sleep on the way back from Athens. She hadn’t meant to doze. She and Nick had gotten back to her place just after four. She’d headed for the shower. Nick made coffee and asked her about her agenda for the day as if his father weren’t out there somewhere planning God only knew what. He was way too calm under the circumstances.
At some point on her drive to Bauer’s place, she’d realized why Nick had been so damned calm. He already had a plan. Last night he’d said he couldn’t leave yet, and then this morning he’d dodged her questions about where he’d be today. At some point in the past two or three days he’d warned her that he suspected the killer was someone close to Hanover.
He knew who the killer was. She would bet every damned thing she possessed that he was out there trailing the killer right now. He would know exactly how to approach his prey without giving the first hint he was close.
“Damn it.” She hoped like hell he kept in mind that Weller could be closer than anyone suspected. This wasn’t like Nick’s other hunts. This was personal. The idea of what Weller might have in store for his son and countless others, including her, was unfathomable. She’d seen and felt Nick’s concern last night when he’d stood over his father’s latest victim.
No, not just concern. Fear. She’d seen a fleeting glimmer of fear. Or maybe it was her own fear she’d seen reflected in his eyes.
Athens was less than three hours from Montgomery. They had to be on their toes. If Weller was headed this way or already here...
Jesus Christ. Things were only going to get worse.
If they didn’t find Vanessa and Fern soon chances were the two would end up like Deana. Sage was counting on Bobbie. She had to find his sister alive.
And somehow she had to help Nick.
Bobbie checked the time on her cell. Where the hell was Bauer? With a quick tap of his name she waited through four rings. The call went to his voice mail. If he’d gone off the wagon last night she was going to kick his ass. She emerged from her car and went into the building, bypassed the elevator and took the stairs.
By the time she reached Bauer’s door she was a little irritated and her leg was aching from the climb. If she could get up every morning and face the day without wanting to kill herself, he could damn sure do it without a drink.
She pounded on his door.
No answer.
“Shit.”
She pounded again, a little harder this time.
Still no answer.
Frustrated, she grasped the knob and gave it a twist.
To her surprise the door opened.
Bobbie stilled. The anger and frustration vanished. “Bauer?”
She reached for her Glock. “Hey, man, it’s time to go to work. You up?”
Silence.
Gripping her weapon, ready to fire, she pushed the door open with her right foot.
The metallic odor of blood hit her like a punch to the face.
Heart thundering, she felt for the light switch to the left of the door. Lights came on in the main living area. No movement. She eased into the apartment. “Bauer, you up?”
It was in that next second between the words leaving her lips and her eyes surveying the room that her brain registered what lay on the floor beyond the dining table.
“Bauer!”
Bobby rushed across the room. She slipped in the blood and fell to her hands and knees. Her weapon slid across the floor.
She stared first at her hands.
Bauer’s blood.
Her gaze dropped to the floor where he lay facedown in a massive puddle of his own blood. The back of his head was a swollen, oozing pulp.
Shit! Shit! Shit! “Bauer?”
She turned him over and instinctively checked for a pulse. He was gone. Her heart broke into a million screaming pieces as she pulled him into her arms. “Nooo.”
She reached for her cell and yanked it free of her belt. Her fingers shook so badly it took three attempts to get the numbers right. Blood smeared the screen.
“Nine-one-one, what is the nature of your emergency?”
“This is Detective Bobbie Gentry.” She drew in a shuddering breath and gave the address. “Officer down.”
The phone slipped from her fingers as she read the words written in blood on the floor three maybe four feet away from where she sat holding Bauer.
This one’s just for you, Bobbie.
She screamed so long and hard her lungs ached from lack of air.
Then the fury came. She stared down at the man she loved like a brother. “I’m so sorry.” She kissed his bruised jaw and lowered him back to the floor.
Think like a detective, Bobbie.
She’d already contaminated the crime scene. Not that this fucker ever left any evidence behind. But this scene was different. It was a mess. It spoke of emotion. Of rage.
She rubbed the blood from the screen of her phone and called Devine. “Find Holt. Bring her to Bauer’s apartment.” She took a deep breath, shook all over as a fresh wave of hot tears blurred her gaze. “It’s bad.”
Her next call was to Andy. She wanted the best they had here. Andy was the best.
She clipped her phone back on her belt and surveyed the room. “No indication of a struggle,” she said aloud, her voice wobbling. “No forced entry.” Adrenaline exploded in her chest. He knew his killer?
Legs feeling rubbery, she started to move and realized her shoes were covered in blood. She removed them, scrubbed her hands on her slacks. Her blouse and jacket were saturated with blood. God damn it!
Forcing her mind to work, she walked around the blood, picked up her Glock. Didn’t care that it had Bauer’s blood all over it, too. She checked the bedroom and bathroom. She should have checked the rest of the apartment when she first came in.
Clear.
The sirens were wailing outside now. She came back into the main room. Inventory the details, Bobbie. Blood was thick and pasty. His arms had felt slightly stiff. He’d been dead several hours. Carroll. She should call the coroner. On the floor partially hidden by the sofa was a large metal object. She could only see part of it. Looked like a wrench. The murder weapon, she presumed. The idea that the wife beater—what was his name?—could have hurt Bauer flittered through her head. No way. He wouldn’t know to leave the message.
Think, Bobbie. She needed Carroll and those techs here now.
“Bobbie.”
Her head shot up. Nick was at the door.
She held up a hand. “Don’t come in.” She wiped her face with the back of her forearm. “Bauer’s dead.” Her voice shook so hard she wasn’t sure he would understand what she said.
Nick stepped back for the uniformed officers who rushed up behind him.
“Talk to the neighbors,” she said in a relatively steady voice. “See if anyone heard or saw anything. Call the building manager and get access to any video surveillance they have.” She took a moment to compose herself. “This is one of our own.”
Holt appeared at the door next. “Is he...?”
Bobbie nodded. More of those damned tears slid down her cheeks. “Whoever did this... Bauer must have known him.”
The sergeant crossed the room, Devine right behind her. She knelt next to Bauer. Her body shook with her quiet sobs. Bobbie dropped to her knees next to her.
Holt gasped.
Bobbie followed her gaze to the message written in Bauer’s blood. She turned to Bobbie. Fury tightened her lips. She shot to her feet and strode out of the apartment. Bobbie dragged herself up and went after her.
Her partner’s blood smeared on her clothes, Holt drew her weapon on Nick. “This is about you.”
Bobbie put her hand on her arm. “This is not about any of us. It’s about a fucking sadistic killer who doesn’t give one shit about anyone.”
Nick didn’t flinch. Despite the profound sadness she felt, Bobbie abruptly wondered if he cared whether or not he lived beyond this point. Two months ago she wouldn’t have cared if she died as long as the Storyteller died first. Was Nick doing what he could do until his heart stopped beating? His existence couldn’t be considered living.
Holt lowered her weapon. “Get out of here. I can’t look at you right now.” She turned to Bobbie. “Go home.” Her voice faltered. “Wash off Bauer’s blood and then find the son of a bitch who did this.”
Bobbie held her ground. “As long as Devine stays with you.”
“What the fuck ever,” Holt growled.
Bobbie pulled Devine aside. “Do not leave her no matter what she says.”
He nodded his understanding. “I called the LT. She’s notifying the chief and then coming straight here.” He glanced at Nick before asking Bobbie, “You’ll be okay?”
“Yeah.” Bobbie dragged in a breath. “Thank you.”
She looked back once more before heading for the stairs. She could feel Nick behind her but she couldn’t look at him or speak to him.
Not because she believed this was his fault.
This was her fault.
She had let the Storyteller into her life last year and that one mistake had stolen every single thing she cared about.
She’d had enough. If Weller and whoever he’d commissioned to do his dirty work wanted her, all they had to do was come and get her.
She sat down in her car, blood smearing on the black leather seats, and suddenly realized she had left her shoes in Bauer’s apartment. Her socks were soaked in his blood.
Bauer was dead.
He was dead because of her. She laid her head against the steering wheel and cried.
“Maybe I should drive.”
She looked at Nick standing in the vee made by the open door. She hadn’t even closed the door. Without a word, she crawled over the console, leaving a trail of blood, and drew herself into a ball. She buried her face in her knees and wept like a child.
She wanted all the emotion to drain from her body. All the hurt and agony. All the sadness. The loss. She wanted it all to go.
And then she was going to beat the truth out of Mark Hanover.