SAFE BY HIS SIDE (MANHUNT) (6 page)

Not that it would do any good, Micah thought. He’d heard stories about women who fell for inmates. They thought they could save them or some bullshit like that.

But he was determined to make this as easy on Lenora as possible. If confronting Simpleton or his accomplice would help her in any way, he’d do it.

He squeezed her hand. “Just stay behind me and take my lead. Simpleton might be armed.”

She nodded, opened her car door and slid out. He did the same, one hand stroking the gun at his hip as they neared the door. Weeds choked the few feet of grass, the front stoop was streaked with stains. The door looked like pressed wood and was starting to rot.

He knocked on the door, stepping forward so that Lenora stood behind him. They waited several seconds, but no one answered. He knocked again, then leaned his ear against the door, listening for sounds someone was inside.

“She’s not here,” Lenora said.  Disappointment tinged her voice.

He held up a finger to quiet her, then turned the doorknob. The door screeched open. Micah pulled his gun and aimed it at the ready as he slowly inched inside.

“Texas Ranger, Miss Cornwell. If you’re in here, please answer.”

His voice echoed back as if the place was empty. Ratty, outdated furniture was cluttered with laundry, beauty magazines and fast food wrappers.

“Miss Cornwell?”

He felt Lenora close on his heels and pressed a hand to hers to urge her to stay behind him as he inched deeper inside the room. A faint beam of moonlight glimmered through the sheer, worn curtains giving him enough light to see a room to the right.

He slowly approached it and peered inside. An unmade bed, the sheets tousled. A chair holding a pile of women’s clothes. Makeup bottles and brushes scattered across an ancient dresser.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as an acrid odor hit him. Blood…death.

“Wait,” he whispered to Lenora.

He moved forward, hand gripping his gun, then pushed open the bathroom door. His stomach knotted at the sight in front of him.

Cissy Cornwell was lying on the bathroom floor, her eyes gaping in the shock of death, blood soaking her neck and chest.

Lenora gasped, a deep trembling starting inside her that made her cold all over. Cissy Cornwell lay in a pool of her own blood, her lips parted, one bloody hand reaching out as if to plead for her lover to save her.

Simpleton had probably enjoyed watching her beg for her life, seeing the shock on her face, the realization that she’d risked everything to help him. Yet in the end, he’d made her suffer just as he had his other victims.

“Son of a bitch,” Micah muttered.

“He used her, then killed her,” she said, her voice thick.

“Yeah, and now she can’t tell us anything.” Micah knelt to examine her body, although it was obvious she was dead. She’d lost a lot of blood, her complexion was pasty, her eyes glazed.

“Body’s just starting to go into rigor,” Micah said. “That means Simpleton can’t be too far away.”

Lenora glanced around the bathroom in search of signs of Simpleton. Women’s toiletries. Cheap perfume. Fake eyelashes. Peroxide for her hair.

Or was it for Simpleton’s? He could have dyed it white.

Another scan of the small bathroom and she noticed wrappers from a kit, moustache and sideburns. He’d obviously donned a disguise.

What did he look like now?

Micah pulled his phone from his pocket and made a call. “Yes, Lieutenant, this is Hardin. I’m at Cissy Cornwell’s apartment. She’s dead.” A hesitation. “Yes, it was him. He slashed her throat.”

Although he’d stabbed his other victims in the heart. Why hadn’t he done so with Cissy?

Lenora’s eyes were drawn to the bloody X on the woman’s chest, and she started to shake uncontrollably. The bloody X was just like the one he’d carved on all his victims, including her.

After the crime scene photographs had been taken at the hole where she’d been kept and then again at the hospital, the nurse had washed away the bloody X. Except Simpleton had carved it deep enough to leave a scar. A plastic surgeon had taken care of it soon afterwards.

But in her mind, it would always be there.

A permanent reminder of what he’d done to her.

In the early stages after her release, when she’d suffered severe panic attacks and nightmares, she’d wake up screaming that she had to get rid of that damned X. She’d scrubbed her skin raw trying to erase it. The doctor assured her it wasn’t visible.

But she saw it every time she looked in the mirror.

“Send a crime unit,” Micah said. “And see if you can find out what kind of car she drove. Maybe Simpleton’s in it now.”

Lenora’s heart raced. Could it be that simple? They’d locate the make and model, issue an APB and the police would catch him.

A shiver tore through her. No. Robert Simpleton was a cunning planner. He hadn’t escaped on a whim. He’d carefully orchestrated his escape just as he had his abductions.

Which meant he probably already had a list of his next victims. She was top on that list. But who else would he take?

A random woman or someone connected to her?

Micah wished to hell that Lenora wasn’t with him. He hated that she’d seen Cissy’s dead body and knew that the bloody X on the woman’s chest triggered painful memories.

“Lenora, once the crime unit arrives, I’ll take you home.”

Her eyes flared with determination. “No, do what you need to do to find him.” She pointed to the trash and the wrappers. “It looks like he may have altered his appearance.”

Micah nodded. “In prison, they cut his hair. Our computer team can run his picture through our program to show how he might look in different disguises, with different hair and facial hair. Then we’ll show it on the news.”

Lenora wiped perspiration from her forehead. “Did he leave the knife he used to kill her?”

Micah scanned the small bathroom. “I don’t see it anywhere. He probably took it with him.”

“To use again,” Lenora said through clenched teeth.

Micah couldn’t argue with that point. He used his phone to capture several photographs of Cissy’s body, focusing on details of the way she was lying, the blood pools, and her clothing which was strewn across the bathroom.

He looked in the trash and saw Simpleton’s prison jumpsuit and photographed it as well. “He didn’t even try to cover his tracks.”

Lenora grimaced. “He wants me to know he’s coming.”

Micah gripped her arms. “Look at me, Lenora. He may come after you, but I won’t let him hurt you again. I promise.”

Lenora’s lower lip quivered. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Micah.”

She was right. But he had to make her feel safe.

“I will keep this one,” he said softly.

Her gaze met his, emotions darkening her eyes. She wanted to trust him; that was obvious. But she also understood the kind of monster they were dealing with, and if Simpleton found a way to get Micah out of the way, he might trap Lenora again.

He couldn’t let that happen. He had to stay focused.

He dropped his hands and took a step away, needing the distance. Becoming personally entangled with Lenora would only cloud his judgment.

“I’m going to look around, see if I can find any sign where Simpleton was headed.”

“Probably to find another victim. You know he always takes three women.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure Cissy counts. The MO is different.”

“Because he knew her,” Lenora said.

“Maybe. She might be different to him because she actually did love him.”

Lenora’s stomach rolled. “You’re right. He tried to force us to say that we loved him. But when the other women did, he grew enraged, called them liars and killed them.”

“Cissy was a means to an end, not part of his sick demented MO. He wanted to get rid of her quick and fast.”

Lenora inhaled a deep breath. “Tell me what to do and I’ll help.”

He removed two pairs of latex gloves from his pocket, tossed one to her, then yanked on the other pair. “Look for her purse while I search the desk and kitchen. If you find something let me know and we’ll bag and tag it to send to the lab. But be sure to put everything else back where you find it.”

Lenora nodded, pulled on the gloves then ducked into the closet in search of the purse. Seconds later, she came out empty handed. “Judging from the unopened boxes in the closet, Cissy had an addiction to the shopping channel. But her purse isn’t in there.”

“Check the den and kitchen.”

She disappeared into the other room while he strode over to the small desk in the bedroom corner. No computer or cell phone. A quick scan through the drawers turned up nothing but unpaid bills and a dry cleaning stub.

 “I found her purse,” she called.

“Is there a cell phone in it?”

“No.”

Dammit, Simpleton probably took it. Although he’d be too smart to use it. Because he knew they’d check Cissy’s caller ID log and text history. Was there something on there he didn’t want them to see?

He’d ask forensics to pull her phone records and examine them.

“Go through her purse,” Micah said as he stepped into the den. “Look for an address book, notes, anything that might give us a clue where he’s going. The name of a motel, another friend who might be helping.”

“I’m looking.”

Micah opened the refrigerator and found a cheap bottle of wine and two steaks. Cissy had obviously planned a celebratory romantic dinner, but Simpleton had had other plans. He spotted a grocery receipt on the counter and skimmed it. Ahh, she’d also bought beer which Simpleton obviously had taken.

He closed the refrigerator, then looked inside the cabinets and found tacky orange flowered dishes that looked like they’d come from a yard sale along with mismatched chipped coffee mugs.

A basket on the counter held junk mail and unpaid bills. He thumbed through them, deciding Cissy must have been a hairbreadth away from being evicted. A convenience store receipt confirmed that she’d bought two burner phones, so she’d probably given one to Simpleton to take with him.

Then he hit pay dirt. He found a receipt for a pickup truck and a tag, both paid for in cash.

A siren wailed, and he realized it was probably the crime unit so he told Lenora he’d be back, then stepped outside the apartment to meet them. His phone was ringing, so he swiped to answer it.

“Hardin, it’s Lt. Roper. We found out what kind of car Cissy Cornwell owned. A white Toyota sedan.”

“It’s in the parking lot,” Micah said. “But I found a receipt for a black pickup truck. My guess is that’s what Simpleton’s driving.”

“Give me the details and I’ll issue an APB.”

Micah recited the license number, well aware that Simpleton might remove or disguise the tag, but hoping that the make and model would be enough to catch the police’s attention on the road.

It would be a miracle if they caught the asshole before he killed again.

He just wished he believed in miracles.

Lenora felt as if she was violating Cissy’s privacy by searching through her purse, a cheap vinyl, oversized orange bag that was packed with junk. Yet the woman had helped a cruel madman escape prison so he could wreak havoc again on innocent women’s lives.