Killing Me Softly (6 page)

She stood there, her knees feeling weak and shaky, her stomach slowly joining in her body's rebellion, waiting for a reply. Dreading it and hoping for it at the same time. In the past, ghosts had appeared to her many times. Sometimes they were so real she'd mistaken them for the living, until some angle or change in the light showed her that they were translucent. She'd had a lot more trouble hearing them than seeing them. So she expected to see Bette and hoped she would be able to hear her, too. But no apparition floated into the room. No reply came. She sat there for a half hour, waiting. But there was nothing. And she could tell by the lack of those telltale physical signs that there wasn't going to be anything.

“This is unreal. This is…this is freaking…” Dawn lowered her head, shook it slowly and took one last look around the bedroom before finally turning and walking out again. She clambered out the same window through which she'd entered, then closed it behind her, leaving a gap she estimated was close to what it had been before. She peeled off the gloves, stuffed them into her jeans pocket, then turned to head down the driveway.

She was halfway to the road, her eyes on her feet, her mind deep in thought, when a man's voice said, “Bette?”

Hell.

She lifted her head fast and met the striking dark eyes of a good-looking guy with a shiny shaved head,
muscles bulging under his T-shirt. She didn't know him.

But he was not, she determined after only a split second, a ghost.

He looked her up and down with a hostile expression clearly meant to frighten her. “Who the hell are you?” He made it sound like an accusation.

“No one.” She kept walking, refusing to let him intimidate her with his size and the tattoos that were like ink sleeves, covering both arms as completely as the black T-shirt covered his torso. Didn't the killer always return to the scene of the crime? Just in case, she yanked her cell phone from her pocket, flipped it open and pressed the nine and then the one. Her thumb hovered over the one as she continued to the sidewalk and turned, putting her back to the stranger as she picked up her pace.

She heard his steps following and figured he wasn't giving up as easily as she'd hoped, and that maybe she ought to at least try to get his name, but first she needed to be sure he wasn't about to kill her.

Predators preyed on the weak. So she had to appear just the opposite, right?

She stopped and swung around, holding up the phone and glaring at him. “Just make me hit this button, pal, and I'll have cops crawling all over you. Who the hell do you think you are, trying to scare a woman you don't even know? Are you the one who murdered that girl?

Is that it? You gonna try for me, too, now? Huh?”

His eyes widened as she spoke, and he took a step
back, holding up his hands. “Whoa, whoa! That ain't it at all. You're way off.”

“Am I?” She patted herself on the back inwardly for the show of strength and how well it had worked—even while reminding herself not to let her guard down. “Then what the hell are you doing here?” she asked. “That house is a crime scene, you know.”

“You…you a cop?” he asked.

She didn't say yes or no, just held the phone up higher, and while she had it up there, she slid her thumb to the camera key and pressed it, taking his picture without him being any the wiser.

Damn, she was good at this, she thought with an inner smile.

“Identify yourself, or I
will
call the cops.”

“Jaycam,” he said.

She frowned. “What the
hell
is a Jaycam?”

“I am. Bettina, she was my girlfriend. They told me she was…” His eyes shifted, down and to the right. “Murdered. I heard it happened right there, in that house. The rookie cop she'd been banging did it. Bastard should have been in prison already, then my girl would'a been safe.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He shot that guy last month.”

She nodded slowly. “The way I heard it, he didn't have a choice. It was investigated, he was cleared—”

“Cops take care of their own.” He lifted his chin toward the house. “They'll let him get away with
this,
too. Cover it up some way. Pin it on someone else. He'll
walk. Shit, he'll be back on the job. While Bette's rotting in the ground. You wait and see.”

She almost felt a little sorry for him, the way his voice broke just then. And yet she didn't see a hint of moisture in his dark eyes. Maybe he was faking it. “I'm sorry for your loss,” she said. “But just so you know, I had nothing to do with it.”

“I didn't say you did. He's gonna pay, though. You mark my words, that bastard is not gonna get away with what he did to Bette.”

She swallowed hard, or tried to. Her throat was suddenly very dry. And there was no point in trying to talk him down. He was either grieving and furious, or covering up for the fact that he was the killer. Either way, he was dangerous. “I have to go now,” she said. Then, stiffening her spine, she turned her back to him again and hoped he wasn't going to bash her over the head or grab her by the throat.

“You look like her,” he said as she walked away. “You'd best stay away from that bastard, or he'll freaking kill you next.”

“Thanks for the warning.” She still had her phone in one hand, but she patted her jeans pocket in search of her keys with the other, and then realized she'd left them in the car, which meant she hadn't locked it, which meant she would be lucky if it was still there.

But it was. She saw Beth's Audi up ahead, right where she'd left it. If her luck held, her purse would still be inside it. She didn't hear Bette's pissed-off boy
friend following her, and she didn't turn around to see if he was still watching her.

At least not until she saw Bryan's Mustang pull over behind her borrowed vehicle. That made her look back over her shoulder in a hurry.

Jaycam was still back there, watching her, and looking intently now at the Mustang.

Dawn broke into a run, heading right to the driver's door, jumping behind the wheel and starting it up almost in one motion. Then she was peeling away from the curb, knowing full well that Bryan would follow.

She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him pulling out behind her. Then she looked the other way. The idiot with the ridiculous name was walking toward the street as they flew by, but they were leaving him behind.

She sighed in relief, not seeing a third vehicle parked anywhere nearby. Maybe he'd arrived at Bryan's on foot. Which might mean he lived close by. They would have to find out.

Glancing sideways, almost as an afterthought, she saw her purse lying tipped over on the passenger seat, its contents spilled all around it. She must have pulled away too fast and knocked it over. At least it was still there. She tugged the book from the back of her jeans as she drove and tucked it into the purse, then scooped up the other items one-handed and crammed them in, as well.

She drove until she'd put a couple of miles between herself and the hulking, sulking alleged boyfriend, and
then started looking for a place to stop. She was still shaking like a leaf, and she needed a break, wise or not. There was a diner just at the edge of the village she had yet to explore.

She pulled into the parking lot alongside the Cascade Diner, and Bryan pulled into the spot right beside her. Sighing in relief, she laid her head down on the steering wheel and tried to get her still-tensed-up muscles to relax.

And then Bryan was there, opening her door. He laid a hand on the back of her neck. It felt cool on her skin, and she felt the breath sigh from her lungs all at once. One touch from his hand and the tension just rushed out of her. She hadn't expected that.

“What the hell was that all about?” he asked softly.

She drew a fresh breath, lifted her head and regretted it instantly, because his hand fell away. “You said you and Bette were…friends. The sex was casual. You weren't…in love or…?”

“We weren't in love.”

She nodded. “Well, she was cheating on you. Or with you. Or something.” She watched the frown that bent his brows, and then she pulled out her cell phone, pulled up the photo and turned it to show him. “With this guy. He says his name's Jay something. Jaycam, I think.”

Bryan looked at the photo and nodded. “His name's Jeremy Cameron. I suppose he thinks Jaycam sounds tougher. He's a punk. Bette dated him for six months,
then ditched him back in March, and he hasn't gotten over it yet.”

She blinked slowly and held his gaze. “He have a record?”

Bryan nodded. “Possession, assault and a burglary conviction. He did five years for the burglary.”

“What are the details on the assault?” she asked.

Bryan looked impressed by her question. “It wasn't a girlfriend. Wasn't even a woman. It was another tattooed, much-arrested jackass who pissed him off in a bar one night.”

She nodded. “Still, he's got a temper and is capable of violence. I think he makes an awfully good suspect in Bette's murder, Bryan. Don't you?”

“He would, if he had enough brains to pull it off. The guy who killed her got in and out of my place without me even knowing it. He killed her without leaving any trace evidence, and he managed to copy a sixteen-years-ago serial killer's M.O. to a T, including details that were never released to the public. Which he must have been pretty damn smart to get hold of. He look that bright to you?”

“People can be smarter than they look. Where does he live, Bryan? Near you?”

“Ten miles from me, at least. Shitty apartment above a bar in a dirt-poor neighborhood.”

“I didn't know there were bad neighborhoods in Vermont,” she muttered.

He smiled. “Very few.”

“And what does he drive?” she asked.

Bryan frowned at her. “You know, I don't know. But I'll find out.”

“Ten to one it's a black Olds 88 with a broken taillight.”

“I think that's a pretty good bet.” He turned and glanced at the diner, then back at her. “You have breakfast?”

“No, I wanted to leave before you got up and stopped me. You?”

“Not really. I was just about to when I found out what you were up to. You wanna get something here?”

She met his eyes, smiled at him and nodded. “Yeah. We can get to work solving this thing.”

Bryan rolled his eyes, but she knew he wasn't going to be able to keep turning her down. He reached past her, snatched a baseball cap off the passenger seat and handed it to her. “Tuck your hair up underneath that, put on a pair of sunglasses and stop walking around Shadow Falls wearing a Victim Here sign, would you?”

“If you insist.” As she did what he asked, she felt something she hadn't felt in five long years.

She felt taken care of. Watched over.

She'd been taking care of herself for so long, she'd kind of forgotten how nice that sort of thing could be every now and then.

 

It was early enough that there were a lot of patrons still enjoying their breakfast. Most looked at Bryan as he passed, then looked quickly away, making him feel like a leper.

Only one met his eyes and said, “Mornin', Officer Kendall.”

“Mornin', Nate,” Bryan replied to the older man. “You enjoying your summer break?”

“I prefer working. Can't wait to open the lodge when the snow flies.”

“I'll bet. Hope it's a good winter for you and Sugar Tree.”

“You and me both, son. And I hope your…problems…work out the way they ought.”

“Thanks.” It hurt a little that the confirmed town grouch, Nate Kelly, was the only one to wish him well this morning. But it touched him, too. He and Dawn made their way to a vacant table and sat down.

And then she leaned close to him and whispered, “I got the files from the garage.”

It shook him, her leaning close like that. Even with a table between them, it seemed intimate and made him wish it really was. “You shouldn't have done that,” he whispered back. “Taken that risk, I mean. I don't want you to end up being charged as an accessory, Dawn.”

“That can only happen if you're charged with murder. And you're not going to be.”

He lowered his eyes. “I think it's actually pretty close to happening already.” When he glanced up at her again, she looked stricken. At least, he thought she did, behind those oversize California sunglasses. Sparkles glittered from the sides of them.
Sparkles,
for crying out loud.

The waitress came and took their orders, filled their
cups—his with coffee, hers with tea—and hurried away again.

“We'll go over those files together. Tonight,” Dawn said, when they were alone again. “I say this Jaycam is a great suspect. And there have to be others. Maybe someone with nothing against Bette at all. Maybe their issue is with you.”

“I've been thinking about that.”

“And?”

He licked his lips, glancing around the diner, narrowing his eyes on one man who'd taken a seat at the counter just after he and Dawn had come in. The guy was hunched over a newspaper that was open to the same page it had been since he first sat down.

“And?” Dawn asked again.

Bryan shifted his attention back to her. “And I haven't been on the job all that long. Most of my work has been pretty mundane. I mean, until that hostage standoff two months ago, I never even had to draw my weapon, much less fire it.”

She nodded slowly, took a sip of her tea and then waited silently as the waitress brought their food.

She didn't even look at her omelet, just waited for enough privacy to continue the conversation. “What about that?” she asked.

“Take a bite and I'll tell you.”

She stared at him, blinked behind the dark lenses. “Huh?”

“Take a bite of your omelet and I'll tell you.” He nodded at the food. “You don't look good—wait, scratch
that. You do look good. You
always
look good—you just don't look
well.
As in healthy. So take a bite.”