Nancy Bush's Nowhere Bundle: Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide & Nowhere Safe. Nancy Bush

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      “Don’t know. Got the impression someone asked him for it.”

      “Who?”

      “Maybe Crazy Eight?”

      “If you mean Auggie, I wouldn’t be calling him that. What would he want with that information?” September mused, thinking hard. Then, “Please don’t tell me it has something to do with Olivia Dugan. I’ve got this wild idea that he’s falling for her, losing perspective.”

      “Nah,” Weasel said, but something in his careful expression made her realize he was just placating her. She sensed he might have already had these thoughts himself.

      Peachy.

      She picked up the picture of Sheila Dempsey. “You knew her? Or, met her, somewhere?”

      “She was a semi-regular at The Barn Door on Highway 26, on the outskirts of Laurelton, headin’ toward Quarry.”

      “I know it,” September said, recalling the red barn-shaped building with the white trim and the sliding door that entered into a shit-kicker bar complete with mechanical bull and wood shavings on the floor.

      “They have that seventy-two-ounce steak. You eat it all, it’s free. Course you have to eat the potatoes and green beans that come with it, too.”

      “Don’t tell me you tried that.”

      “Sure did. Ate it all, too. Threw up right afterwards in the alley behind the place and woowee, did it ever piss off my old lady. I was apologizin’ for a month. But Sheila was right there, cheerin’ me on with some of the other regulars. Afterwards, she clapped me on the back and said I was a man, regardless of the spewin’. I got an earful about her from Kayleen all the way home that night. Two weeks later, Sheila’s body turns up in that field.”

      September glanced at the crime photos from this morning and suppressed a shudder. “Are you going to take over this case, then?”

      “I don’t want to step on any toes, but I’d like to. I want to find the bastard who killed her and this new one.” He glanced at the crime photos and pressed his lips tight. “I talked to Sheila’s husband after they found her. It’s county’s case, but I felt connected.”

      “I get it.”

      “He was . . . they were estranged and he wasn’t all that helpful. I kinda wanted it to be him, but maybe that was because he was such a bastard. Fuckin’ narcissist. Once they narrow down the time of death on this new vic, I’m sure as hell gonna check his whereabouts for the time of the killin’.”

      “They were both strangled. . . .” September slid a glance toward his file. “You think there’s some kind of connection with the Rock Springs strangler?”

      “Mebbe. But I was asked to pull this file on Saturday, before you found that body. I thought it had something to do with the Zuma case, but D’Annibal just said get the information. I took a trip out to Rock Springs this mornin’. Talked to some retired cops who were on the case at the time. Got this file.” He tapped it with a finger.

      “Find out anything?”

      “The Rock Springs strangler killed a bunch of women, mostly prostitutes. Left their bodies in fields. Strangled ’em by hand, but didn’t mark ’em up. Then he stopped. Cops on the case think he was killed or incarcerated for some other crime or just went to ground. Hard to know.”

      “Doesn’t really fit the m.o. for Sheila Dempsey or Emmy Decatur,” September said.

      Weasel sighed. “That’s what I thought, too. I’ll ask D’Annibal what it’s all about when I give him the file.”

      His desk phone rang and he frowned at it. “Now, who’d be callin’ my direct line?”

      He snatched up the receiver, said, “Detective Pelligree,” listened for a moment, then said in a surly voice, “No comment,” and slammed down the phone. “Jackals,” he muttered. “Don’t ever let ’em get you on camera.”

      “I take it that was the press.”

      “Bastards,” he muttered harshly.

      Gretchen came into the squad room at that moment, looking pissed herself. “The girlfriend of Martin’s at the front. For once Urlacher’s fuckin’ protocol is working. She’s asking for you.”

      “Me?” September asked.

      “Yeah. Jesus. Will this day never end? I see George isn’t here.” She threw a dark glance toward his desk.

      “I’ll go see what Jo wants,” September said. She realized Gretchen’s surliness was a cover-up for her own emotions. Meeting Emmy Decatur’s parents at the morgue and having them definitely identify the victim as their daughter had been a low point. Mrs. Decatur just wept into her hands and Emmy’s father kept saying, “Emmy was such a beautiful girl. Such a beautiful girl. So, beautiful . . .”

      Gretchen wandered over to Wes’s desk as September started out and asked him, “What do you think of the Dempsey and Decatur killings? Different than Zuma. More intimate.”

      “They’re just different flavors of the same sickness,” Weasel said. “They feel like revenge. Payback.”

      “Y’think?” Gretchen asked, interested.

      “The Zuma guy goes in all balls out. Blows ’em all away. He’s rampant nuts. Somethin’ set him off and maybe he’s coverin’ his ass or maybe he’s just all-out crazy and pissed off. But this one . . .” September looked back to see him frown down at the photos on his desk. “This one’s smaller, more intimate. He’s cagey about it. At least so far. He’s sendin’ a message but it’s obscure and personal and he’s not sure yet how far he’ll go. He’s testin’ the waters.”

      September walked to the front where Jo Cardwick was pacing the floor of the reception area. Upon seeing her, the girl just collapsed into September’s arms and bawled like a baby. Under Guy Urlacher’s worried eye, she led her to a chair and simply let her cry, remembering as she did that Jo said Trask had seen some old pictures of people at Olivia Dugan’s apartment just before the whole Zuma massacre, and that Olivia had been sorta crazy about them.

      What did that mean? Who was in the photos?

      I can’t think. My head hurts. I had to kill her. I couldn’t wait. I had to take her out to the fields and dispose of the body. My fingers tremble from the feel of those soft bones at the base of her throat and I harden just remembering. But she knew too much. She knew my plans for Olivia.

      I’ve lost Olivia . . . lost her . . .

      But I can find her again.

      Olivia . . . Olivia . . . Lllliiiivvvv . . .

      I close my eyes and stroke myself, feeling the heat.

      I imagine her cool, white throat in my hands.

      I scream her name as I climax. “Lllliiivvvv!”

      You are mine.

      You can’t realize СКАЧАТЬ