Haunting Whispers (29 page)

“Are you packed?”

Audrey knew the edge in Rae’s tone was not directed at her, but she still recoiled slightly. She respected Rae’s need to assume her professional persona and hoped Rae would understand her position as well.

“This is my home, and I want to stay.” Rae and Yasi exchanged a look that said she was in for a fight from both of them. “I know you think I’ll be safer somewhere else, but I can’t keep running away.”

Rae held her at arm’s length and pinned her with a gaze so intense Audrey almost swooned. “I’m
not
playing Russian roulette with your life. You’re much too important to me.
Please
go to the hotel with Yasi. You can look after each other much better than a couple of bodyguards. It’s not safe here.”

“I don’t want to be away from you.” Audrey knew she sounded desperate, but she had a strong sense Rae was also in danger. “I don’t want to leave. I’m afraid for you.”

“I’ll be fine, and we’ll see each other as much as possible. Besides, I still need your help. Please, Audrey, I’ll be able to work faster and more efficiently if I know you’re all right.”

Yasi moved to her side. “And I’m not a hundred percent yet. I could use some assistance with these humongous bandages and a distraction from total boredom while I’m not working. It makes sense, Aud.”

Audrey looked from one to the other and her heart ached with the concern scored across their faces. “All right, but you have to promise no more secrets.”

They both nodded.

“I mean it.”

“Promise.”

They agreed in unison.

Loud voices bantering back and forth outside interrupted them. Rae motioned for her and Yasi to go into another room, and she approached the door with her hand cocked on her weapon. When Rae opened the door, Audrey recognized Trevor Collins, the department’s crime-scene analyst. She understood the necessity for Trevor’s expertise, and she trusted Rae to manage the situation as delicately as possible. But she felt like a bystander as virtual strangers stood guard over and rummaged through her life.

Rae stepped shoulder to shoulder with the hefty bodyguard, willing him to challenge her. She wanted to vent some of her frustration but was acutely aware of Yasi and Audrey’s presence. Professionalism prevailed as she said, “Let him in, Marc. He’s CSI.” Marc stepped aside, obviously not happy with having to relinquish his stand twice in the same hour.

Trevor gave him a smug grin and rolled a heavy black equipment case into the apartment. He acknowledged Audrey and Yasi with a nod and addressed Rae. “You said this was a head-to-toe job so I brought my entire kit. What have you got?”

“Ms. Everhart’s apartment has been broken into, no obvious signs of entry. Go over this place with a microscope if you have to. I want to know how he got in.”

“How do you know he was inside?”

Rae flinched as she waved the envelope at Trevor. Two people too many had already seen Audrey’s exposed body. She wouldn’t allow even one more. “He took pictures from every room.” She didn’t allow him to touch the envelope. “I’ll hang onto them.”

“It would help if I saw the angle of the photos so I can determine where he stood.”

“I’ve already done that. I’ll walk you through it.” Rae was deviating from the way business was done, and they both knew it. She didn’t care. He’d process the scene her way or she’d find another CSI who would. Audrey had suffered enough.

“You’re the boss.” Trevor’s frustration was evident.

“I’m sorry, Trev. I’m not trying to be difficult. Suffice to say the pictures are sensitive.” She glanced at Audrey, held her gaze for several seconds, and lowered her voice. “I believe it’s the Whisperer.” When she returned her attention to Trevor, he nodded.

“I understand now. Tell me what you need.”

Rae led him through the apartment, pointing out the intruder’s vantage point for each photo. As they walked, she scoured the walls and ceilings for anything out of the ordinary. She stopped in the small common hallway between the living areas and examined scratch marks along the bottom of the woodwork.

“Cannonball.” Audrey spoke from behind her. She had been so absorbed in her task she hadn’t heard her approach. “She’s been a bit skittish lately. Do you think she sensed someone had been in here?”

“It’s possible. Cats are extremely intelligent.”

Trevor would take three to four hours to complete his work in the apartment and get back to Rae with the results. She could relocate Audrey and Yasi in the meantime before dark. Rae made a quick call to have the incredible hulk removed from guard duty and another to ensure the necessary arrangements were in place at the hotel. As she loaded Yasi and Audrey’s luggage in her car and secured CB in the backseat, she looked forward to dismissing the slightly overbearing yet highly efficient bodyguard.

“Marc, could you stay with Trevor until he finishes and secures the apartment? After that, you’re free to go. I’m taking over Ms. Everhart’s protection detail.”

“My supervisor hasn’t dismissed me.” His dedication was admirable, but sometimes that very dedication made rent-a-cops almost comical. He stood his post even though he knew Rae had the authority to excuse him.

“For the purpose of this assignment, I am your supervisor. Consider yourself dismissed.”

Marc’s nostrils flared and his gray eyes drilled into Rae. “No disrespect, Detective, I’ll have to check in.” As he reached for his phone, it rang. He turned back to Rae a few seconds later. “Would you mind telling me where you’re going—in case I’m needed later?”

“Sorry, Marc, need to know.”

He gave her a mock salute. “I understand.” As Yasi and Audrey passed on the way to the car, he said, “Take care, Ms. Everhart.”

A few minutes later Audrey’s cirque family surrounded their two friends like a protective shield and escorted them into the hotel. Rae conducted a security sweep of the accommodation, satisfied with the penthouse suite. The room was secluded if not a bit too isolated from the rest of the facility by a gym and restaurant level. She gave Sam and the others specific instructions and felt relatively comfortable that Audrey would be safe for the time being.

It took all her considerable logic to convince herself to leave Audrey in the care of a group of circus performers untrained in protection procedures. She still wondered if one of them might be responsible for the attacks. A fellow detective had conducted preliminary backgrounds on the male members of the group but had difficulty obtaining complete information from certain foreign countries. She didn’t know if any of them had military training, but they all certainly had accents. Even a suspect as brazen as the Whisperer wouldn’t risk an attack in front of so many other people. Rae prayed her logic was sound because she had to continue her investigation or the nightmare would never end.

As she drove back toward downtown, she called the records division to check on the business-license search she’d requested earlier. The clerk rattled off a partial list of dry-cleaning businesses no longer in operation around the dump sites. Even the incomplete list was daunting. Rae would have time to check only a few tonight. She told the clerk she’d pick up the results the following day, along with the motor-vehicle listings.

Rae pulled up to the first address and her heart sank. The building had been converted into a condo tower. Only the façade remained as evidence of the early architectural splendor of the structure. What a shame that progress often destroyed the beauty of the past to accommodate conveniences of the present. Marking the address off her list, she drove on.

A crumbling concrete wall and a patch of debris-laden ground welcomed her at the next location. The lot was bordered by dimly lit buildings and looked like a dingy snaggletooth smile. Rae parked and walked in the cool night air. She needed to think, to refocus her efforts. Running from place to demolished place felt too much like chasing her tail. The rubble of long-closed businesses and desolate lots couldn’t possibly contain anything of value. As she started back to her vehicle, she heard a faint noise across the street and moved toward the sound.

A man sang slurred words with no hint of a tune. “Turned the water to blood…no, the water to wine. Water to blood, turned to a flood, moved out of the hood.” The man laughed and repeated the chant over and over.

Rae followed his voice and found him lying on a soiled mattress behind a Dumpster. The elderly white male wore several layers of tattered clothing and a stocking cap. He was obviously one of the homeless people who populated the hideaways and underpasses of the city.

When she stepped out of the shadows, he sat up, wobbling from side to side. “Hey, what you doing in my house? Get out.”

“I’m a police officer.”

“Ain’t done nothing wrong.” His response, loud and angry, reflected years of living a drifter’s life and countless confrontations with police.

“I’m sure you haven’t. My name is Rae.” Underneath the gruff exterior, she sensed a harmless and very lonely man. “Quite a song.”

“I’m Larry.” He looked her over, probably sizing her up with his streetwise instincts. “You’ve seen it then?” He struggled to stand, and she offered her hand to help. “The blood?”

She answered honestly. “I’ve seen enough of it.”

“I had to move it was so bad.”

“Where did you move from, Larry?” The conversation seemed pointless, but Rae felt compelled to spend a few minutes with him. Sometimes listening made all the difference in a person’s life. She doubted anyone had listened to Larry in a very long time.

“Lived on Central Avenue for years, nice place in the back shed.” He slapped his hand over his mouth as if he’d said too much. “The owners didn’t mind.”

“It’s all right, Larry. Go on.”

“Had a runoff for rainwater behind, like my own personal spring…till it turned to blood.”

The man talked in nonsensical circles and each word carried the stench of stale booze. Rae started to leave but asked one final question. “What was in front of your shed?”

“A dry cleaners.”

The twinge of excitement ran up Rae’s spine like a rat up a drainpipe. “Do you remember the people who owned the place? What were their names?”

“Nice man, bitchy woman—Blake, that’s not right. Blanket-burg, Blimp-ton, no Blanken-ship, I think. That’s it, Blankenship. When the water went bad, I had to leave.”

“How long ago?”

“’Bout a year, I’d say? Sure hated to move. All this stuff gets heavy.” He grabbed the side of the Dumpster and waved his arm as if proudly displaying all his worldly possessions.

“Where on Central?”

“Corner of Central and Second. You gonna move in my old place?”

“No, I might ride by.” Rae calculated the timeframe and location with the other dump sites. Blankenship’s was quite a distance from her search area. If the site proved to be relevant, the suspect had deviated from “normal” criminal behavior and used his home turf as a dumping ground. Maybe she was grasping at straws.

Larry looked at her like she was the drunk one. “Been closed for years.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Larry, and be careful out here.” As she rounded the corner en route to her vehicle, she saw Larry settle back on the mattress and take another pull from his booze bottle. She prayed the poison hadn’t completely liquefied his brain.

Arya quietly opened the apartment door and slid inside. Butler had just left with his beloved and he had no idea where they were going. He’d been tempted to follow them, but he had more urgent business. A crime-scene analyst was going through her apartment looking for evidence of him. Arya needed to make sure he didn’t uncover anything. Finding out where Butler had taken her would be easy later.

He had planned to wait until the analyst left to remove his equipment, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to test his abilities. He had so few chances in the ordered environment of a
civilized
society. So far the police had proved a pitiful opponent. He’d eluded Whitt for a year, and Butler was no closer to his real identity though he hid in plain sight. Perhaps the crime tech would be a more worthy adversary.

The methodical analyst went through each room with skilled precision as the hours passed. Arya was impressed with his attention to detail. He was so focused he hadn’t noticed Arya shadowing him through the small apartment like a predator. Perhaps he’d underestimated this man. He might actually locate Arya’s carefully concealed devices and eventually his nest. The mechanisms he’d used could never be traced to him, but they might put his source on a law-enforcement short list.

As the analyst rifled through
her
belongings, Arya became more agitated. He had no right to handle her things, to invade her privacy. He was not worthy. In the bedroom, he pulled her delicate lingerie from the drawer and held it up to the light, leering and imagining like all of his undeserving class. A bulge grew in the front of his pants as he raised the item to his nose and inhaled. Arya’s blood surged and his contained fury exploded. He lunged, pummeling the offending agent with his fist and a lead-weighted slapstick.

Arya had no idea how long he pounded the analyst before he regained control. His lapses into rage were becoming more frequent and his ability to control them less predictable. Such disciplinary failures would result in mistakes and eventual capture. He couldn’t afford such carelessness. His mission was coming to a close, and he needed to remain on target until he was finally and forever reunited with her.