Scream For Me Read online

Dutton, Monday, January 29, 4:55 p.m.

  Mack pulled the earpiece from his ear. How the plot thickened, he thought as he watched Daniel Vartanian watch Alexandra Tremaine drive away. Oh, wait. Alex Fallon. She’d changed her name.

  It had been a surprise to hear she’d come back. That was one of the good things about a small town. No sooner had she stepped into Delia Anderson’s real estate office than the word began to spread. Alexandra Tremaine is back. The sister who lived.

  Her stepsister Bailey Crighton was missing. He had a good idea where Bailey might have been taken. And why. But that was not his business at the moment. Should it become important, he’d act. Until then, he’d watch and listen.

  Alex Tremaine was back. And Daniel Vartanian was interested. This, too, he’d watch. It could be useful later. He smiled. What a kick-off that would have been, to kill the identical twin and leave her in the same exact place. I wish I’d thought of it. But he’d kicked it off with a target of his own choosing. She’d deserved everything she got, but Alex Tremaine would have been a most excellent first victim. Now it was too late.

  For a first victim. His brows lifted as he considered it. But what about his last? It would make quite the grand finale. It would complete the circle. He’d consider it.

  For now, he had work to do. Another lovely with whom to deal. He already had her picked out. Very soon the cops would find another body in a ditch and the pillars of the community would find another skeleton dumped on their doorstep. He had it on good authority that they’d all been practically pissing themselves all day. Who would break? Who would tell? Who would tear their idyllic little world asunder?

  He chuckled, just picturing it. Pretty soon the first two he’d targeted would get their letters. He was starting to enjoy himself.

  Chapter Five

  Dutton, Monday, January 29, 5:35 p.m.

  This is really nice!” Meredith explored the bungalow with a delighted smile.

  Hope sat at the table. Alex took the red Play-Doh under her nails as a good sign.

  “It is nice,” Alex agreed. “And there’s a park not even a block away with a carousel.”

  Meredith looked impressed. “A real carousel? With horses?”

  “With horses. It’s been there since I was a kid.” Alex sat on the arm of the sofa. “This place was here then, too. I’d pass by when I was walking home from school.”

  Meredith sat next to Hope, but her eyes stayed on Alex’s face. “You sound wistful.”

  “I was, then. I always thought this was like a dollhouse and the people that lived here were so lucky. They could go on the carousel any time they chose.”

  “And you couldn’t?”

  “No. We didn’t have money for things like that after my dad died. Mama had trouble scraping enough together for us to eat.”

  “Until she moved in with Craig.”

  Alex winced and slammed the door in her mind before the first scream took hold. “I’m going to change and run out for some groceries. Then I’m going out again.”

  Meredith frowned. “Why?”

  “I’m going to search. I’ve got to try, Mer, because nobody else cares enough to.”

  Not entirely true. Daniel Vartanian had offered to help. We’ll see how helpful he is.

  “I’ve got to go back to Cincinnati tomorrow night, Alex.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m trying to get all this done now. I’ll be back later and you can show me all the wonderful games you and Hope play so I can take over tomorrow.”

  Alex went into the bedroom, closed the door, and took the gun from the satchel. It was still in its box, and willing her hands to steady, Alex took it out and looked it over again. She loaded the magazine like the store owner had shown her and set the safety with care. She’d need a bigger purse, because she intended to keep the gun with her. It would do her no good locked in its lockbox when she was elsewhere. For now, the satchel would have to do.

  “My God, Alex.” Alex whipped around in time to see a furious Meredith close the bedroom door with a hard snap. “What the fucking hell is that?” Meredith hissed.

  Alex pressed her free hand against her racing heart. “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do that?” Meredith’s hiss was shrill. “You’re telling me not to do that when you’re standing there holding a goddamn gun? What the hell are you thinking?”

  “That Bailey’s missing and another woman is dead.” Alex sat on the edge of the bed, breathing again. “And that I don’t want to end up the same way.”

  “Dammit, girl, you don’t know anything about guns.”

  “I don’t know anything about searching for missing people, either. Or caring for traumatized little girls. I’m kind of learning as I go here, Mer. And don’t scream at me.”

  “I’m not screaming.” Meredith sucked in a breath. “I’m whispering loudly, which is different.” She sagged against the closed door. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted that way, but seeing you with that thing was a shock. Tell me why you bought the gun.”

  “I went to see the dead woman today in the morgue.”

  “I know that. Agent Vartanian was with you.”

  He hadn’t told her the whole truth, of that Alex was certain. But there was a kindness in his eyes and a comfort in his touch that she couldn’t ignore. “He doesn’t think Bailey’s disappearance is a coincidence. If whoever killed that woman is copying Alicia’s murder, I’m the other original player who’s returned to the stage.”

  Meredith paled. “Where are you going tonight, Alex?”

  “The Dutton sheriff told me to check out the homeless shelter in Atlanta if I wanted to find Bailey. Vartanian said it wasn’t safe to go alone, that he’d go with me.”

  Meredith narrowed her eyes. “Why? What’s in it for Vartanian to go with you?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

  “Will you tell him about what Wade said to the army chaplain?”

  I’ll see you in hell, Simon. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m playing it by ear.”

  “You call me while you’re out,” Meredith said fiercely. “Every half hour.”

  Alex slid the gun into the satchel. “I saw the Play-Doh under Hope’s fingernails.”

  Meredith’s brows winged up and down again in a facial shrug. “I stuck her fingers in a ball of it, hoping to engage her, but no deal. You might want to pick up some more red crayons when you go to the grocery store.”

  Alex sighed. “What happened to that baby, Meredith?”

  “I don’t know. But somebody needs to check out Bailey’s house. If you can’t make the local cops do it, maybe Vartanian can.”

  “Don’t think so. He said he couldn’t get involved unless he was invited by the sheriff, and so far, Sheriff Frank Loomis hasn’t been too helpful.”

  “Maybe this girl’s death will change that.”

  Alex shrugged out of her suit coat. “Maybe. But I won’t hold my breath.”

  Atlanta , Monday, January 29, 6:15 p.m.

  Daniel was still frowning as he exited the elevator and headed toward the team room. Frank Loomis had been too busy to see him and finally Daniel had to leave.

  He sat down at the team table where Chase and Ed were waiting. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Why were you?” Chase asked.

  “I tried to call you from the road, Chase, but Leigh said you were in a meeting. I’ll explain. I promise.” He pulled out his notebook. “But first, let’s debrief. Ed?”

  Ed held up a plastic evidence bag triumphantly. “A key.”

  Daniel squinted at it. It was about an inch tall and silver and had a muddy string threaded through the ring hole. “Where did you find it?”

  “In the mud we took from around the storm sewer. It’s a brand new key. It still has the marks from the key cutter. I don’t think it’s ever been used.”

  “Fingerprints?” Chase asked.

  Ed scoffed. “We should be so lucky. No fingerprints.”

  “It could have bee
n dropped by anyone before the body was left there,” Chase said.

  Ed was undaunted. “Or he could have dropped it.”

  “What about the blanket?” Daniel asked. “Do you know where it came from?”

  “Not yet. It’s a camping blanket sold in sporting goods stores. The wool is water resistant. It kept the victim fairly dry given the rain we had on Saturday.”

  “So this murder thirteen years ago, the girl in Dutton,” Chase said. “Was that also a wool camping blanket?”

  Daniel rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to get the old police report yet. I’m running into a brick wall I don’t understand.” And it was disturbing. “But we do have a lead on the victim, maybe even her face.” Daniel told Chase about his work with the Fun-N-Sun security team. “The security guy e-mailed me this still photo. It’s grainy, but you can see her face. She’s the right height and body type.”

  “Slick,” Chase murmured. “This came off the park’s security tape?”

  “Yep. The cellist slogan on her sweatshirt caught my eye. Park Security called me while I was driving back. They couldn’t find a credit card receipt, so they think she paid cash for her meal. They’re going to review the tapes from the front gate and FedEx copies of the tapes to us, too. She may have paid her park admission with a credit card. If we haven’t tracked her by morning I’ll release this photo to the news services.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Chase said. “So your trip to Dutton was a bust?”

  “Not entirely.” Daniel put the memory card from Jim Woolf’s camera on the table. “The reporter got an ‘anonymous’ call telling him where to go and when to get there.”

  “You don’t believe him?” Chase asked.

  “Not entirely. He lied about a few things and left a few things out altogether. Woolf said he got the call at noon, got to the tree at one, and the bikers passed by at two.”

  “It’s only a thirty-minute drive from Dutton to Arcadia,” Ed said. “He had time.”

  “It’s normally a thirty-minute drive,” Daniel said. “But they had a five-mile section of that road blocked off before nine yesterday morning. It was local traffic only and they checked IDs and wrote down tag numbers. Woolf told me his wife dropped him off, but I called Sheriff Corchran on my way back and she’s not on his list of cars that passed through their checkpoint.”

  Chase nodded. “So either Woolf got there before nine yesterday morning, or his wife dropped him off a couple miles from the crime scene and he had a two- or three-mile hike. He still would have had time to climb the tree by two, but just barely and only if he ran the whole way.”

  “Jim doesn’t seem like the running type. Hell, I was kind of surprised he even managed to get up in the tree at all. Add to that, that the call came into 911 at two-oh-three,” Daniel said. “The biker who called it in came in sixty-third, so he was in the back of the pack. I checked with the race officials. The biker who came in first passed by there at quarter to two.”

  Ed frowned. “Why would the reporter lie about something you could check?”

  “I don’t think he wanted to admit he’d been at the ditch a lot longer than a few minutes. It gives him time to contaminate the scene. And maybe if he told me what I wanted to know, I’d go away. I called Chloe Hathaway in the SA’s office on my way in. She’s going to try to get a warrant for his phone records at the Review office and at home as well as his cell. I’m betting he got a call early Sunday morning.” Daniel sighed. “Then when I got done with Jim Woolf, I went across the street to the police station. Alex Fallon was on her way in.”

  Chase’s brows went up. “Interesting.”

  “She said she was trying to get her stepsister’s missing person paperwork filed. She’d called repeatedly over the weekend, but was told her stepsister had probably just taken off somewhere. She’s convinced her stepsister’s disappearance and the Arcadia murder are no coincidence. I’m inclined to agree.”

  “I’m not inclined to disagree,” Chase said. “So?”

  “So I told her I was going to see the sheriff and I’d check it for her.” Daniel fought the urge to squirm when Chase’s brows went higher. “I was going in there anyway, Chase. I thought I could talk to Frank Loomis, maybe find out if there was something they weren’t telling Alex, some reason why they were so sure Bailey had just run away.”

  “But?” Chase asked.

  “But his clerk kept telling me it would be just a few minutes more. Finally, I left. Either Frank wasn’t there at all, or he was refusing to see me and the clerk didn’t want to be upfront about it. Either way, I was being stonewalled and I don’t like it.”

  “Did you request the Tremaine police report?” Ed asked.

  “Finally, yes. Wanda, she’s Frank’s clerk, said it was in ‘storage’ and would take some time to find. She said she’d get back to me in a few days.”

  “It is thirteen years old,” Chase noted, but Daniel shook his head.

  “This is Dutton we’re talking about. It’s not like they have warehouses full of records. All Wanda had to do was go to the basement and get a box. She was putting me off.”

  “So what are you gonna do, Daniel?” Chase asked.

  “When I talked to Chloe about the warrant for Jim Woolf, I asked her about getting this report quickly. She said if I didn’t get a response by Wednesday morning to get her involved. I know Frank Loomis doesn’t like outsiders, but it’s not like him to just blow me off like this. I’m starting to get really worried, like maybe he’s a missing person.”

  “What about the Fallon woman’s stepsister?” Ed asked. “Did they file her?”

  “Yes, but Wanda said they’re not pursuing it with any resources. She said Bailey Crighton had a record for possession and public intoxication. She’d been in and out of rehab. She was a junkie.”

  “Then maybe she did run off,” Chase said gently. “For now focus on our victim.”

  “I know.” But Daniel wasn’t going to mention his planned trip to Peachtree and Pine with Alex Fallon. “Felicity said the bruising around her mouth was put there after the fact, so I think we were meant to see it. Rape kit found evidence of assault, but no fluids. She died sometime between ten p.m. Thursday and two a.m. Friday, and she had just enough Rohypnol in her system to show up on the test. The old newspaper articles on Alicia Tremaine’s murder said they found GHB in her system. So both victims were given date-rape drugs.”

  Chase blew out a breath. “Damn. He’s copying it all.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Daniel checked his watch. Alex would be getting here soon. He couldn’t get rid of the worry that she’d been brought back here for a reason. At least he could keep her safe while she searched for Bailey in the hellhole of Peachtree and Pine. “That’s all I have for now. Let’s meet tomorrow, same time.”

  Atlanta , Monday, January 29, 7:25 p.m.

  Alex had no sooner parked her car at the curb in front of a small two-story house in a quiet Atlanta suburb than Daniel Vartanian appeared at her window. She rolled it down and he crouched, his face level with hers. “I won’t be long,” he said. “Thanks for following me home. You can leave your car here and not have to drive so far later.”

  His eyes were bright blue and completely focused on her face, and Alex found herself staring too closely. His nose was sharp and his lips firm, but all in all, his features worked together to make him a very ruggedly handsome man. She remembered him holding her hand, then remembered he most likely knew more than he’d let on. “I appreciate you being willing to come with me.”

  One side of his mouth lifted, softening the harshness of his features. “I have to change and walk my dog. You can come in or sit out here, but it’s getting cooler.”

  It was, actually. Now that the sun had gone down, there was a hard chill in the air. Still, prudence prevailed. “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”

  He lifted one blond brow. “Alex, you’re trusting me to take you to Peachtree and Pine. My living room is a good bit safer, that I can a
ssure you. But it’s up to you.”

  “Put that way…” She rolled up her window, grabbed her satchel, and locked up her car. She looked up to find Vartanian eyeing the satchel dubiously.

  “I don’t want to know if you’re carrying anything nasty in there, because unless you have a permit to carry a concealed, you’d be breaking the law.”

  “That would bad of me,” Alex said, blinking her eyes, and his lips twitched.

  “Now if you were to leave the satchel in my private residence… that would be okay.”

  “No kids in your house?”

  He took her elbow and led her up the sidewalk. “Just Riley, but he doesn’t have opposable thumbs, so he’s safe.” He unlocked his front door and disengaged his alarm. “That’s him.”

  Alex laughed as a droopy-looking basset hound sat up and yawned. “Oh, he’s cute!”

  “Yeah, well, he has his moments. Just don’t feed him anything.” And with that cryptic advice, Vartanian jogged up the stairs, leaving Alex alone in his living room. It was a nice enough living room, more comfortable than the one she’d left behind in Cincinnati, which wasn’t hard to accomplish. The super-size flat-screen TV was the centerpiece of the room. A pool table dominated his dining room and in the corner was a shiny mahogany bar, complete with stools and a Dogs Playing Poker painting.

  She chuckled again, then started when something poked her calf. She hadn’t heard his dog approach, but there Riley stood, gazing up soulfully. She’d crouched to scratch behind the hound’s ears when Vartanian reappeared, looking completely different in faded jeans and an Atlanta Braves sweatshirt, carrying a leash.

  “He likes you,” Vartanian said. “He won’t walk across the room for just anyone.”

  Alex stood up when Vartanian leaned down to snap the leash on the dog’s collar. “I’m going to get a dog,” she said. “It’s on my list of things to do tomorrow.”

  “That makes me feel a whole lot better than the thought of you depending on a gun.”

  Her chin went up. “I’m not stupid, Agent Vartanian. I know a barking dog is a greater deterrent to intruders than a poorly handled handgun. But I’d rather hedge my bets.”