The Dying Game (15 page)

“Good point.” Griff picked up another file folder, opened it, and reviewed the contents. “For now, let’s continue to assume the BQ Killer is acting alone, that he’s playing this ‘Dying Game’ where he racks up points with each murder. So is there a final score goal, a certain number he plans to reach before he stops?”

“I didn’t think serial killers
could
stop,” Lindsay said. “I thought the compulsion to kill never goes away, that the desire to murder has to be satisfied over and over again.”

“Who’s to say this is the first game he’s played or, if it is, that it will be the last.” Griff waited for a reaction from the others.

“We hadn’t—” Lindsay paused. “Well, at least
I
hadn’t thought of that possibility. If that’s the case, then he would end this game when he reaches a specific score and simply start a new game.”

“Are we trying to figure out what his perfect score would be?” Judd asked. “If we could narrow it down to say five-hundred points, what would that prove? How would that get us any closer to him?” Judd scooted back his chair, stood, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his tattered jeans. “Got any coffee in here? I could use a stiff drink, but I’ll settle for a shot of caffeine.”

Hitching his thumb in the direction, Griff said, “Sanders keeps a fresh pot ready when he knows anyone will be using the office.”

Spotting the stainless steel coffeemaker, Judd left the others, using the excuse of needing caffeine to get away from just one more fruitless discussion. He’d been directly involved in this investigation from the day he hired the Powell Agency to conduct a private inquiry into Jennifer’s murder. For nearly three years, he had lived and breathed the investigation, believing that each new tidbit of information brought them one step closer to finding his wife’s killer. Then midyear last year, he’d given up shortly after another senseless murder. He couldn’t remember her name or the details, only the fact that after she’d been killed, he had shut down, gotten drunk, and stayed drunk for days. Then he had attacked the one person who had never given up on him.

Two months after Jennifer’s murder and Judd being hauled down to the police station for questioning, Judd had hired his old friend Griffin Powell. He had asked Griff to head up a long-term investigation, to use all of Judd’s wealth, and both his and Griff’s power and connections to keep track of what the FBI was doing. And to move heaven and earth to find the man who had killed Jenny.

It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out that Sergeant Lindsay McAllister believed Judd was an innocent man, a bereaved widower who had loved his wife and wanted to see the real killer brought to justice. But it had taken Griff’s intuitive observations to figure out that Lindsay had fallen in love with Judd. Even after she’d quit her job on the Chattanooga PD and gone to work for the Powell Agency, Judd hadn’t suspected the career change had been solely because of him.

He remembered the day, a couple of years ago, when Griff had shared his insight into Lindsay’s motivation for joining Griff’s staff.

“She’s in love with you,” Griff said.

“What?”

“The reason Lindsay wants to work for me is so that she can participate in the Beauty Queen Killer case.”

“Yeah, sure, I figured as much. It was her first case as a detective and when the police and the FBI botched the job of finding Jenny’s killer, Lindsay decided to join us and help solve the crime.”

Griff shook his head. “That’s only the half of it. Why do you think it matters so damn much to her? It’s because she’s done the unthinkable and fallen in love with a man who is still in love with his dead wife.”

“You’re nuts. Lindsay isn’t—”

“She is. And sooner or later, both of you will have to face that fact and deal with it.”

“There’s nothing to deal with,” Judd said. “I like Lindsay. She’s been in my corner all along, and I appreciate it, but as for anything else … Not now. Not ever. All I want is to find Jenny’s killer and make him pay for what he did to her. Nothing and no one else matters.”

“You know that and I know that, but a woman in love sees and believes what she wants to. You might not realize it, but in the past year, you’ve been leaning pretty heavily on Lindsay, counting on her to rescue you when you dive off the deep end. She probably thinks that once Jennifer’s killer is caught and punished, you’ll be able to start fresh, maybe with her.”

“I don’t think Lindsay’s that big a fool,” Judd said. “She knows that my life ended the day Jenny died.”

Griff snorted. “You’re the fool. You didn’t die the day Jennifer did. Your life didn’t end. It just changed. For the worse. I understand all about seeking revenge, believe me. But sooner or later, you have to move on, build a new life and—”

“Don’t preach to me! Don’t tell me what I should think and how I should feel.” He grabbed the lapels of Griffin’s sports coat and glared right into his eyes. “Don’t you get it— except for anger, I’m as good as dead inside.”

“Then I feel sorry for you, my friend. I know only too well that anger, hatred, and a thirst for revenge can sustain you for only so long—and then you have to reach out for life again. If you don’t …”

Judd released his tenacious hold on Griff’s jacket and smoothed the lapels. “Talk to her, will you? Make her understand that she shouldn’t waste herself waiting for me to care about her.”

The tender touch of Lindsay’s hand on his shoulder jerked Judd out of the past and back to the present, away from an old conversation to face the here and now.

She possessed a gentle yet firm grip.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Keeping his back to her, he shrugged off her hand, reached out and removed the glass pot from the warmer. “Want some coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

Judd poured the black java into one of several orange and white mugs on the table, then lifted the bright orange UT cup to his lips, and sipped the strong brew.

“If you’d rather not sit in on this initial session, I can fill you in later,” Lindsay told him. “We’ll go over all the old info and the new to see if anything sparks an idea.”

Judd gazed past Lindsay to the rectangular table where Griff and Rick sat, deep in conversation. “What’s the point? I don’t even know why I’m here. I should have stayed at the lodge.”

“Don’t go back there.” Her sincere look implored him. “Stay here. Help us. Help yourself.”

“Stop caring so damn much,” Judd spoke quietly through clenched teeth.

“You stop being such a jackass.”

Judd grinned. “You’re a lot tougher than you used to be. Is that my doing?”

“Feel free to take credit for it.”

He inclined his head toward the conference table. “Why don’t we leave the hashing over old facts and blending them with new ones to those two? I’m going to put on my coat and take a long walk. Want to go with me?”

She studied him intently, as if trying to decide whether or not to trust him.

“Forget I asked,” he told her. “I guess it was a bad idea.”

“No, it’s just that you surprised me. Do you need somebody to talk to or do you just need some silent company?”

“Talking is overrated. And in this situation, it certainly hasn’t solved anything.”

“You go on,” she said. “I need to let Griff know I’m leaving, then I’ll catch up with you after I grab my coat.”

Judd headed for the door, then paused and called to Griff, “See you at supper.”

Griff looked up, stared at him for half a second, and returned to his conversation with Rick. Judd closed the office door behind him, then went through the kitchen to the backstairs. He really didn’t understand why he’d invited Lindsay to take a walk with him. The words were out of his mouth before he realized he really did want her company.

He had gone to his motel room, changed into a nondescript gray jogging suit, gray wool cap, and white athletic shoes, then driven back to Pine Crest Estates. He parked his car several blocks from Sunrise Avenue and jogged up the side of the street, nodding and speaking to those who acknowledged him. He figured that in a housing development as large as this one, most people probably thought he was just a new neighbor that they hadn’t met. Most wouldn’t even remember him. He didn’t slow down as he passed 322, but he noted that Sonya Todd’s boyfriend was back. If that big oaf wound up staying the night, he’d have no choice but to alter his plans. He hated when things didn’t go to suit him. But he was not going to leave Tupelo without earning those fifteen points he so desperately needed.

If not tonight, then tomorrow night.

After dark, he’d come back, take a good look around her house and figure out a plan of action.

Sweaty and slightly winded, he got back in his car, wiped the perspiration off his face with a towel he’d borrowed from the motel and revved the Taurus’s motor. Just as he reached for the gearshift, his cell phone rang out a familiar tune.

Who the hell?

Only one person had this cell phone number.

He lifted the phone from the cup holder where he’d stashed it.

Why is he calling me?

Don’t answer it
.

As the Miss America Pageant theme tune kept playing, he stared at the phone in his hand. His mind recited the words, “There she is, Miss America.” When the game had begun nearly five years ago, he had chosen this particular music for his cell phone ring after his first kill. Such an appropriate tune. In a couple of months, when the game ended, he would choose a different ring, perhaps something to celebrate his victory.

Lindsay walked alongside Judd down the gravel road that went through the woods and ended at an old boathouse on the lake. Griff didn’t use that dilapidated boathouse, but hadn’t bothered with tearing it down. He’d also left an old, shabby, weathered barn on the property. Except for the new road that led from the highway to his house and the house itself, little had been altered since he’d purchased the acreage.

The crisp winter breeze shimmied through the treetops, swaying them gently, as it assaulted Lindsay’s pale cheeks and nose. They were probably pink from the cold, a curse for anyone such as she with an extremely fair complexion. Her guess was that the temperature hovered somewhere around forty, but once the sun went down, it would quickly fall into the thirties, probably to freezing before daylight tomorrow.

She’d been an outdoor girl all her life and had spent many happy tomboy hours fishing and camping out with her dad. She could remember several times when it had snowed enough in Chattanooga so that they could build a snowman. And there was enough snow or ice at least every other year, for them to take her dad’s childhood sled out of attic storage and sail down a steep hill near their house.

Happy memories.

Even though she had lost both of her parents before their time, at least she had grown up in a home filled with love and laughter. Someday, she would like to have children of her own and give them the kind of happy and secure childhood she had known.

But before she could think about marriage and children, she had to stop loving Judd Walker.

Neither of them had said a word for the past fifteen minutes. She had kept in step with his long strides and had occasionally stolen sidelong glimpses of him. Why was it that no other man affected her the way Judd did? Although no great beauty like Jennifer Mobley Walker, Lindsay had always been popular and well liked. And she’d had boyfriends ever since kindergarten. But she’d never been madly, passionately, insanely in love until Judd entered her life.

Strong emphasis on the word insanely
.

Her love for Judd bordered on the insane, didn’t it?

If any other man had done to her what he had, she not only would have hated him forever, she probably would have stuck his butt in jail. But loving Judd the way she did, she had forgiven him for being such an ass. And in a way. she understood why he’d treated her so badly. He had wanted to scare her off; and he’d accomplished just that, at least temporarily.

During the past six months, she had tried to put the incident out of her mind, tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. By staying away from Judd, she’d been able to deal with the situation and even started dating Dr. Nathan Klyce. She really needed to end things with Nathan before it became serious. It wasn’t fair to lead him on, not while she was still in love with another man.

Fool!

Any woman in her right mind would run like hell from a renegade like Judd, a man teetering precariously between sanity and madness. And that same smart, sensible woman would pursue a relationship with a great guy like Nathan, a stable, dependable, sweet man.

She supposed that made her neither smart nor sensible. And probably emotionally unstable.

But what can you do when you can’t stop loving a man
who is bad for you?

If what happened six months ago couldn’t bring her to her senses, apparently nothing could. Late last summer, after he’d spent two weeks here at Griffin’s Rest during the heat of the investigation into the most recent beauty queen murder, Judd had asked her to drive him home to the hunting lodge, as she’d done numerous times in the past. And like in the past, she had spent the night. But that night turned out to be different in ways that haunted her, in ways that disturbed her, in ways that broke her heart.

Don’t think about it
.

It hadn’t really changed anything between Judd and her, at least not on a permanent basis.

“Is it safe to go inside?” Judd asked as he paused in front of the boathouse.

“What?” The fact that he’d spoken after such a long silence startled her.

“I’ve walked out this way a couple of times before, but I’ve never gone inside the boathouse. If we go inside, it won’t fall in on us, will it?” He inclined his head toward the rickety building.

“I don’t think so,” she told him. “But why do you want to go inside?”

He shrugged, lifting and dropping his broad shoulders clad in his battered brown leather jacket. “Just something to do.”

When he jangled the hinge and lifted the heavy wooden latch, she watched him. And when he opened the door and went into the dark interior, she hesitated. The last time they had been alone in the dark …