Deadly Pursuit (22 page)

“Mom!”

At Kyle's frightened summons from the other side of the bathroom door, Nicole's pulse vaulted into double time. She twisted off the shower and lurched out of the tub.

“What is it, honey?” After toweling herself dry as fast as she could, she grabbed her robe off the hook on the back of the door and shoved her arms into the sleeves.

“I think that man is in the parking lot.” His muffled voice quivered with alarm.

She didn't have to ask who “that man” was. Since Daryl had shown up last Tuesday, she'd found herself constantly looking over her shoulder. She'd also kept Kyle on a short leash. He had strict orders to stay with his group during aftercare at school and not to wander into remote corners of the playground during recess. They'd gone to the park yesterday, but again, she'd stuck close. And she'd asked him on several occasions, doing her best to keep her tone casual, whether he'd seen Daryl anywhere. The answer had always been no, but she could tell the question upset him.

Now this.

Pulse accelerating, she opened the door. Kyle's eyes were too big in his solemn face as he grabbed her hand.

“Come on, I'll show you. I heard a noise in front. That's why I looked out. I saw him right away.”

He started back toward the living room, but she tugged him to a stop. Although she kept the blinds closed at night, the lights were on in there. If she cracked them, it would be apparent from the outside.

“Let's look from your bedroom.”

Keeping a firm grip on his hand, she led him to the darkened room and shut the door behind them. Then she felt her way across the carpet. Once her toe connected with the toy chest that rested on the floor under the window, she helped him climb up. “Okay, honey, where is he?”

She cracked one of the slats in the blinds so they could peer out. Two seconds later, she felt his shoulders droop.

“He's not there anymore. I guess he left while I came to get you.”

She exhaled slowly. Now what? If Kyle had seen Daryl, she'd have no compunction about calling the police. She'd warned him away twice, and he had no business hanging around her parking lot. That was stalking, and it was against the law. But if she lodged a complaint and Kyle was mistaken, she'd be bringing more trouble down on a man who'd already had plenty and who might be trying to build a new life.

“What was the man doing, Kyle?”

“Sitting in his car. Right there.” He pointed to an empty parking spot a few doors down from the entrance to their building. “And he was looking up at our apartment.”

“Are you sure it was the same man, honey? It's really dark out there.”

“I'm pretty sure.” He scrunched up his face. “Somebody had a flashlight or something down there, and it shined into his window. He kind of ducked down when that happened, but I saw his face for a minute.”

Nicole knew her son had keen observation skills. He often surprised her by noticing things most kids would never spot. An unusual pattern of lighted windows in an office building. A tiny flower growing in the cracks of an old wall. A small scar on a passerby's forehead. She was certain he'd taken note of Daryl's features the day she'd talked to her former boyfriend.

Still . . . with the darkness and the quick glimpse he'd had, he could be wrong.

“Was he driving that same truck, Kyle?”

“No. It was a dark-colored car.”

A different vehicle. That shot a few holes in Kyle's story. She'd been surprised Daryl had access to one vehicle, let alone two.

Torn, Nicole helped her son down from the toy chest. Then she crossed to the wall switch and flipped on the light, bathing the room in a warm glow from the bedside lamp.

“So what are you gonna do, Mom?” He looked up at her, his features taut.

“I don't know, honey. I need to think about it. And we'll both keep watching for him until I decide, okay?”

“Okay.” He poked at the corner of his mattress, eyes downcast. “Could I sleep with you tonight?”

At his plaintive request, a pang echoed in her heart. She'd tried so hard to give Kyle a sense of security and safety. Now, Daryl had undermined that. Even if it hadn't been him outside tonight, his reappearance in their lives had been disruptive. She fought down a rising tide of anger, determined not to further upset her son.

“I think that would be fun.” She summoned up a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice it was strained around the edges, and pulled him into a tight hug. “We haven't done that in a long time.”

She could feel the tension ease in his body.

“I'll get my stuff.”

As he scrambled for his pajamas, Nicole was still undecided about how to handle the situation. So she did what she'd learned to do over the past three years whenever she'd been confronted by a difficult problem.

She put it in God's hands, with a plea for guidance.

That had been close. Too close.

Lifting his arm, Daryl tipped his head and wiped the film of sweat off his upper lip with the sleeve of his T-shirt as he pulled onto I-55 south. Nicole's brat had seen him. No question about it. The way his eyes had widened had been a dead giveaway.

He should have left when he'd spotted those kids playing with that flashlight.

Well, it was too late for second thoughts. If he was lucky, Nicole would tell her son he was imagining things. If he wasn't . . . no one knew where he was staying. And they couldn't prove he'd been in the lot even if they did find him. No one else had seen him. He was safe.

The good news was his visit had done the trick. As he'd sat there looking at Nicole's apartment and envisioning himself living there instead of in Chuck's hovel, his anger had returned. Hot enough to convince him he needed to put the finishing touches on his plan and then carry it out.

Alison Taylor deserved to suffer for sticking her neck in where it didn't belong and ruining his life.

Tonight, after he got back, he'd do one more line of meth to clear up his thinking so he could nail down all the details. He wanted to be ready to move by Tuesday.

In the meantime, he'd enjoy thinking about how he'd been making her life miserable. If she hadn't gotten his love letter today, it would be waiting in her mailbox when she got home from work on Monday. While she spent a sleepless night worrying, he'd be going over his plans. Everything had to be in place before he made his move. There couldn't be any slipups.

And if he was lucky, if he did this right, for once in his life he'd prove his old man wrong and not mess up.

“Good night, Rog.”

“'Night, Alison. I'll watch from the window until you get to your car.”

Alison gave the uniformed, middle-aged security guard in the lobby of her building a resigned look. “My brother called you, didn't he?”

He grinned back at her. “Can't blame a guy for wanting to take care of his sister.”

She sighed. “I guess not. See you tomorrow.”

With a wave, Alison exited the South County strip mall office space that was shared by multiple state agencies, then set off across the parking lot. It had been a busy Monday—but not as productive as she'd hoped. Her thoughts had kept wandering to the dinner she'd shared with Mitch on Saturday . . . and the Sunday service she'd attended with him and his father yesterday.

Mitch had suggested the latter when he'd dropped her off at Cole's, after he'd asked about her plans for the next day and she'd mentioned church. Although Cole had already offered to take her and pick her up, he hadn't been in the least disappointed to hear she'd made other arrangements.

One of these days, she'd get to the bottom of his faith crisis.

But at the moment, she had too many other issues to deal with.

Once in her car, she locked the doors, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed her brother's number. He answered on the first ring.

“Hi, Alison. What's up?”

“When did you talk to Rog?”

“Who?”

“The security guard at my building.”

She heard him expel a frustrated breath. “Don't make an issue of it, okay?”

“I'm not making an issue of it. I just asked a simple question.”

“I called him last Friday.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

There was a brief hesitation, as if he was debating whether her expression of gratitude was sincere. “You're welcome.”

She put her key in the ignition and smiled at his cautious inflection. “I need to stop by my house and pick up three days' worth of mail. It's probably falling out of the box.”

“Could you ask a neighbor to get it?”

“Yes, but I'm sure there are a couple of bills in there that need attention. I can reach it without getting out of my car. I've done that in rainy weather. Then I'll come straight to your place.”

“I guess that will work. Promise to stay in the car, though. No matter what.”

“You have my word.” She pulled her seat belt across her lap and clicked it into place.

“Are you planning to cook tonight?”

She smiled at his hopeful tone. “Yes. Baked chicken, mashed potatoes, broccoli au gratin. I might even whip up some chocolate chip cookies.”

“Wow.” His response came out hushed. Reverent. “Look, I'll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“I had a feeling that menu might light a fire under you.”

“Hey, you can't blame a guy for looking forward to a home-cooked meal. Since Mom moved to Chicago, I've been relying on takeout and nuking.”

“You could learn to cook.”

“Not likely. See you later.”

As Alison tucked the phone back in her purse and started toward her house, her thoughts shifted to the encouraging conversation she'd had with Ellen Callahan today. The woman had seemed receptive to all the ideas Alison had suggested, and she'd already reviewed the GED information Alison had dropped off at her apartment on Thursday.

With each day that passed, Alison was more confident her assessment of the woman was accurate. Like Nicole Larson four years ago, Ellen was determined to get her children back and build a better life for herself. Now she just had to demonstrate that commitment to the judge.

Twenty minutes later, when she turned onto her street, she remembered her promise to Cole and pulled close to the mailbox. As she'd feared, it was packed. She had to twist in her seat and tug at the envelopes and circulars with both hands to dislodge them. Mostly ads and junk mail, she confirmed with a quick glance.

After dumping the first batch on the seat beside her, she pulled out the rest and tossed it on top of the pile, eyeing the mess in disgust. Sorting through it would be a welcome, mindless task for after dinner. Followed by some nice, relaxing knitting.

And if Mitch happened to call, maybe she could round out her evening with a trip to Ted Drewes.

Smiling at that thought, she closed the mailbox and headed for her brother's.

She wasn't staying at her house.

Slowly making a second run past Alison's street, Daryl watched her pull away from her mailbox. He'd followed her here from her office, which had been a breeze to track down. There were only four locations for the Children's Division of Social Services, and he'd guessed right on the second call. He'd simply asked for her, then hung up while the call was being transferred. It hadn't been hard to blend in at the strip mall parking lot while he'd waited for her to get off work either.

It was tougher to be inconspicuous here, but he doubted a moving car would attract much notice. After she exited her street, he'd follow her to wherever she was staying. He didn't think that information would be important to his plan, but you never knew when some nugget might be useful.

Once she was en route to the main road, Daryl fell in behind her, maintaining a safe distance. Feeling smart. And in control. Maybe he shouldn't have caved over the weekend and done two more lines, but they'd bolstered his courage—and confidence. Plus, they'd helped clarify his thinking.

As Alison pulled into the eastbound entrance ramp for I-44, he edged over a lane to do the same, going over his final plan in his mind. After a lot of thought, he'd decided not to blindfold her, as Chuck had suggested. Why go to all that effort if he couldn't see the fear in her eyes? That was the payoff.

That change had also given him a great idea for the abduction. A lot of women these days knew better than to get in a car with a kidnapper—even an armed one. They just stood their ground and screamed bloody murder. Took their chances. But Alison Taylor was a do-gooder. A woman who cared about others. No way would she put her own interests above those of someone else. She would do whatever it took to protect another life.

Even if it meant putting her own on the line.

His idea was pure genius.

Unfortunately, dispensing with the blindfold did create a problem. She'd be able to identify him. So if he let her go after he was through with her, she'd lead the cops straight to him—and he'd end up back in Potosi. Forever, this time.

He couldn't allow that to happen.

And that left him only one option.

Alison Taylor had to die.

He knew just how he was going to do it too. It had come to him after he'd snorted the second line, and the sweet irony of it had appealed to him. Not only would his chosen method get rid of her, it would also allow him to triumph over—and vanquish—the old fears that had haunted him since childhood.

It was perfect.

And once this was over, once he was avenged and feeling upbeat about finally pulling something off without making a mess of it, he'd be ready to move on and start a new life. One that didn't include Chuck and his fleabag trailer.

The blink of Alison's turn signal pulled him back to reality, and he exited at Elm, keeping her in sight. In less than five minutes, she swung into the parking lot of an older, tree-shaded apartment building. She must be staying with a friend. For safety's sake.

A smirk twisted his lips.

Good luck on that, sweetie.

He watched her exit the car, her arms bulging with mail. His love letter had to be in that pile. Too bad he couldn't watch her reaction.

But he'd soon see plenty of reaction firsthand.

Starting tomorrow night.

Smiling, Daryl stepped on the gas. Operation Alison was about to hit bingo.

“Can I have a drink of water, Mom?”

Nicole paused at the door of Kyle's bedroom, her hand on the light switch. The water-delay ploy must be a universal bedtime trick among children. But at least his fears had diminished to the point he felt comfortable in his own room again.

“Sure, honey. I'll be right back.”

Leaving the light on, she walked down the short hall to the kitchen. As she filled a plastic cup with tap water, the tattered slip of paper with Alison's home number caught her eye. She'd set it on the counter earlier, and she'd been debating all evening about whether to bother the Children's Service worker with her dilemma. So far, she hadn't made a decision.

Nicole fingered the slip of paper and thought back to the time four years ago when her problems had been on the verge of crushing her. They would have too, if Alison hadn't thrown her a lifeline by offering her home number and assuring her it was okay to call anytime. That had been her salvation. Just knowing she had someone in her corner had given her the strength to tackle her problems. She'd only felt desperate enough to call the number twice, and she hated to intrude now on Alison's personal time. The woman had already done far more for her than her job required.

Yet she was stymied about how to address the situation with Daryl. Or even if she should.

“Mom? Are you coming?”

She hesitated, then set the piece of paper back on the counter and returned to Kyle's room.

“You must be really thirsty.”

“Yeah.” He took the glass, but after a few small sips he handed it back.

She wasn't surprised.

“Feel better now?”

“Uh-huh. Thanks.”

He wiggled down into the bed, and Nicole used her free hand to settle the light blanket over his shoulders. Then she bent low and kissed his cheek.

“'Night, honey.”

“Good night, Mom. I love you.”

Her throat constricted at his innocent, heartfelt declaration, and she had to swallow before she could respond. “Love you too.”

At the door, she stopped on the threshold and looked back at the little boy who meant more to her than life itself. A little boy she'd do anything to protect. No matter the cost.

And as that affirmation echoed deep in her soul, she suddenly knew what she had to do.

After flipping off the light, she returned to the kitchen, picked up the slip of paper, and dialed the phone.

“What is all this stuff?”

Alison turned from the oven, a tray of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies in hand. Cole was sifting through the pile of mail she'd dumped on his coffee table, sipping the strong brew he favored from a mug. Though he'd wandered out of the kitchen once the cookie-making began, he did get points for clearing the table and stacking the dishwasher.

“The contents of my mailbox.” She slid the tray onto a cooling rack. “I'll go through it as soon as we have our dessert.”

“You get this much mail in three days?” He continued to riffle through the stack.

“Not always. And most of it is junk.”

As he straightened up, the pile began to slide toward the floor. He grabbed for it, but several pieces got past him—including a kraft-colored envelope.