Ruthless Game (A Captivating Suspense Novel) (37 page)

A gray-haired black man sat in the front seat, casting a quick glance at her. "Picked up at Kentucky Fried to go get a bagel, eh?"

She gave him a quick smile. "My car broke down about three blocks up."

He looked in the mirror again and then dismissed it, though she didn't think he believed her. Thankfully, the address she had given him was three blocks from where she was actually going. Even if he told someone, it would take them a while to find her. That was the best she could hope for now—a little extra time.

When he stopped at Noah's, she paid him and paused, taking a moment to scan the area carefully for signs of local police or James before getting out. She entered Noah's, bought three plain bagels, a small container of plain cream cheese, a cranberry juice, and a large coffee, and then left again. She found a bench on the side of the block, away from traffic, and ate one bagel with cream cheese and drank the coffee.

When she was done, she circled the block and watched her back before heading to Nader's. Cutting down a side street, she walked the three blocks until she could see his house. Even from the end of the block, the yellow crime scene tape was brightly visible, swaying like a flag of surrender in the morning wind.

Except for the crime scene tape, though, Nader's house looked the same as it had the first time she arrived. No one appeared to be keeping watch, but she didn't dare chance it.

Instead of heading down Ramona, Alex walked to the next block and counted houses until she was at the one directly behind Nader's. The streets were clear. After surveying her surroundings, she cut between the houses to Nader's. A quick glance confirmed nothing was happening at his house. She pushed off the momentary urge she felt to go back inside and search for other clues.

Turning, she approached his neighbor's door and knocked. She prayed the woman she had seen in the window yesterday would be home.

The sound of a bolt latch came from the inside. The slide of metal against metal and the clink of a chain followed.

"Hello?" Alex called when the door didn't open.

"Who is it?" a shaky, shrill voice called.

Alex realized the woman had not unlocked the door but locked it. "It's Alexandra Michaels."

"Who?"

"I'm a detective, ma'am," she lied. "Here to ask you a few more questions about your neighbor." She was certain the police had already questioned her.

The door remained closed. "I've already answered all your questions. What else do you need to know?"

"I apologize, ma'am. I know this is an inconvenience. Do you have just another quick minute?"

"No such thing as a quick minute," she snapped.

Alex continued to press. "It's very important. I wouldn't be bothering you otherwise."

"The officer that was here told me the police would call if they had more questions."

"Yes, that's usually the case. I came back by to take some track prints on Mr. Nader's car." She was getting pretty decent at the lies. "I just thought of a few other things I'd like to ask."

"Oh, good Lord."

"I promise it won't take more than a few minutes."

Silence followed. Alex strained to listen for motion. Was the woman leaving? Going to the phone?

At the click of the bolt releasing, Alex exhaled.

A thin woman with wisps of blue-gray hair and high cheekbones opened the door, wearing a housedress with small blue and pink flowers over a pair of light blue polyester pants and white slippers. She furrowed a wiry brow and stared.

Alex made no move to get closer, and the woman made no move to let her inside.

The exposure to the street made fear twist in Alex's gut, but she held her composure.

"You were here that day—with the boy."

She nodded. "The boy brought me here."

The woman scowled and mumbled something Alex couldn't hear. Her eyes appraised each inch of Alex as though the woman had X-ray vision that would warn her if Alex was good or evil. At any moment, the alarms might sound in her head. The door shut again, and metal squeaked as the chain was released. The door then opened slightly wider. "You can come in," the woman said, "but make it fast."

"Yes, ma'am." Alex surveyed the room carefully as she stepped inside.

The woman made a beeline for the closest chair in the small den and sat.

Something cracked as she did, but Alex wasn't sure if it was the woman or the chair. They appeared to be about the same age.

"What could you possibly ask me that they didn't already ask?"

It was a good question. And since Alex didn't know what had already been asked, she avoided it. "I was wondering if you know about a security company your neighbor might have hired."

For a split second, the woman's eyes darted across the tabletops. They snapped back to Alex's as she shook her head. "I didn't talk much to him. He wasn't around much. I think he worked a ways from here. And weird hours."

As the woman answered, Alex took inventory of the tables. A plastic container surrounded by different sized jars of medication seemed to be the only thing out. Alex read the name "Louisa Carter" from the closest one.

"So I wouldn't know who he had working for him," she added.

Alex looked back at the woman, who was watching her suspiciously. "You seem to keep a good eye out the window. I noticed when I was here the other day. May I ask why?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "I'm an old lady. I don't have any children, my husband's dead, my friends are all in Florida or dead. There's not much to do, Officer. Is there something wrong with watching out the window?"

Alex smiled her biggest smile. "Absolutely not. In fact, it's a huge help to the police. I only wish we had more people like you to keep a lookout for us."

The woman straightened and smiled, proud. The narrow, suspicious glare transformed into a soft cheery gaze.

Alex was laying it on thick, but it seemed to be working. "I think it's a wonderful service that you do for us."

The woman sighed. "Well, I don't know about all that. I guess it was just plain luck more than anything else." She was blushing.

"Oh, no," Alex argued, knowing a flattered witness would spill a lot more than an angry one. "It takes a very keen sense of duty to keep that sort of watch."

"Well, after my friend Anna Mae witnessed her neighbor's house burglarized not even a mile from here, I started to pay close attention."

Alex nodded, ready to pop the question she'd come to ask. "Did you notice anyone going to Mr. Nader's house several days ago?"

"Only the kid."

Alex nodded. "But that was yesterday."

Mrs. Carter pointed a finger. "I saw him yesterday, too. But he was here before that."

Alex frowned. "He was here before yesterday?"

Mrs. Carter folded her hands together and closed her eyes.

Alex watched her, praying she didn't stop breathing or something. "Mrs. Carter?"

Her eyes sprang open and Alex sat back in the chair. "He was here late in the evening—three nights ago. I saw him cross the yard between the two houses, just like you did yesterday."

"Did he go inside?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure."

Alex shook her head. Why hadn't James or Lombardi mentioned that small fact? And why would Tim tell her he'd broken into the house earlier that morning without confessing that he'd been there before that? He had told her he'd just come down to Palo Alto that morning. Had he been there earlier and gone back up and come down again? It didn't make sense. "Did you tell the other police this?"

Louisa cupped her hand over her mouth. "You know, I don't think I did. It didn't even occur to me until you asked. They asked if I'd seen anyone suspicious around Nader's house, but the kid hadn't seemed suspicious." She paused and her gaze fluttered around the room as she shook her head. "Isn't that funny? He was wearing a baseball cap and he just looked like a regular kid. I never thought to mention him. He looked more scraggly yesterday without the hat on."

Alex frowned. She hadn't seen Tim in a hat, but maybe it had been in his bag. "Do you remember what the hat said?"

The woman shook her head. "It was red, I think." She waved her hand. "It was a whole mishmash of an outfit, to be honest. Big clunky shoes. They were red, too. And that yellow jacket, no missing that either. That's how I remembered him from the other night." She frowned. "I'm glad you came back. I never would have thought to tell the police about the boy and now you can tell them."

"You're sure it was the same kid?"

"My night vision's not good anymore," Louisa Carter confessed. "To be honest, he looked more like a kid that night. Smaller or younger." She waved her hand as though she couldn't find the perfect word to describe what she meant. "That's why I didn't think to mention it to the police."

Alex still couldn't imagine that Tim had come to kill Nader. Her gut told her he wasn't capable of murder, and her gut was usually right on. What was going on? "But you're sure it was the same kid?"

"Yes, siree. I'm sure."

Alex was frustrated and dissatisfied with the answers she'd gotten, but she couldn't think of anything else to ask to clarify. "You've been so helpful, Mrs. Carter. You should be very proud. Anything you might remember would be so much help to us."

The woman didn't look at Alex. "Honest, I—I don't know." She paused and her lips formed a meek smile. "The brain goes first in my family."

Something about Mrs. Carter's nervousness made Alex think she was holding back. But why? Did she suspect Alex wasn't who she said she was? Or was there something about Nader she just didn't want to share? She shrugged it off. She'd have to ask Greg to tell Chris about Tim's presence at the house the other night. The real police would want to talk to Mrs. Carter again. As much as Alex would have liked to follow up on it herself, she knew she wouldn't be able to get near Tim now.

"Well, as I said, it certainly was a huge help that you were watching." Alex started to turn for the door and then turned back. She pulled out a piece of paper with her home phone number and gave it to Mrs. Carter. "If you think of anything else, please call me."

Mrs. Carter squinted at the paper. "Where's the 510 area code?"

"It's a new one down south," she lied, hoping Mrs. Carter wouldn't check it. New area codes were springing up like weeds in California. "It shouldn't cost more than a local call." Not much more anyway. Certainly not compared to life imprisonment.

Mrs. Carter folded the paper and nodded. "I hope you catch him. I'm not sleeping well these days." Alex nodded. Neither was she.

Chapter 28

Alex checked her home answering machine again before she turned off the light. It was after midnight. If anyone was going to call, surely they would have done it by now. She had expected—no, hoped—that Mrs. Carter would have called with more information about Nader. The way she'd scanned the room at the mention of Nader's name made Alex think she had been hiding something.

Alex had also hoped to hear from Greg with some miraculous discovery—like the identity of the killer. Or news about Ben Androus. Word of the story behind Walter Androus's brother and confirmation of his death might have cleared some of the seemingly impenetrable haze. Alex was sure James was watching Greg like a hawk. There was little else that would keep him from calling. She hoped he still had a job.

Nothing short of a miracle would help her unravel this mess before it exploded in her face. She couldn't stay in any one place for too long. Tomorrow, she'd probably need to look for yet another hiding place. Exhaling, she kneaded her temples to ease the deafening pain that resonated through her skull. Even a message from Brenda, a word of concern or possibly encouragement, would have made her feel better, less alone.

The light off, Alex sank into the bed and pulled the covers to her chin. The cool metallic feel against her thigh reassured her of the proximity of her gun.

Shivering, she rocked against the cold ground. It was so cold. When had she lost her coat? She had it this morning. Her mother always held it out as she walked out the door. The green parka with a bright yellow stripe flashed into her head.