Chapter 26

Twenty-Six

SOMEONE WAS COMING.

Pulse accelerating, Lindsey eased back in the closet where she'd been listening with her ear pressed against the door for who knew how long. Yet hard as she'd tried, she hadn't been able to decipher a single muffled word. It would have been helpful to have a clue about what was in store for her. But her role was the same, no matter what.

Attack with every ounce of her strength.

Muscles tensing, she lifted the shelf and prepared to charge out fighting.

"Lindsey, we're unlocking the closet." Dr. Oliver's voice came through the wood panels, grim and no-nonsense. "I have a gun pointed at the door, and you already know I won't hesitate to use it. Once I tell you to open it, come out and walk toward the living room. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." But she wasn't going to follow a single instruction. He wouldn't shoot her in his house. There would be blood everywhere. For someone who'd been meticulous every step of the way about covering his tracks, it would be out of character for him to leave proof she'd been on his property, thereby linking him to her death. He wasn't going to use a gun in his house.

But despite any precautions he might take in his home, the strands of hair she'd plucked out by the roots and tucked into every nook and cranny in the closet were waiting for the County CSU to find. So were the spots of blood she'd smeared under several of the shelves after shoving up the sleeve of her sweater and pricking her arm with a loose thumbtack she'd found on the floor in a back corner.

If she died tonight, Jack wouldn't rest until he found her killer—and all the clues she'd left should be enough to put Dr. Oliver and his accomplice away forever.

Small consolation if she lost her life, but at least justice would be done.

A key was inserted in the lock, and her heart stuttered.

This was it.

Time to charge out, swinging.

The instant the lock stopped rattling, she twisted the knob, shoved the door open, and thrust through with all her might.

A woman yelped as the edge of the door connected with a solid object.

Woman?

As she tried to digest that, a bright light pierced her eyes.

"Grab her legs!"

She raised the shelf and swung toward Dr. Oliver's voice.

But as she lunged toward him, someone tackled her ankles and she went down.

Hard.

Before she could catch her breath, a body slammed against her back, pinning her in place. Hands mashed her cheek to the floor. The shelf was wrested from her grasp.

In seconds her plan had been reduced to rubble.

The light flipped off, and she found Dr. Oliver crouched down, inches from her face. He wasn't holding a gun but a loop of rope.

"Very smart, Lindsey. You figured out I wouldn't shoot you in my own house, didn't you? I do have a gun, but that would leave too much blood. Strangulation is much cleaner." He forced the loop over her head, despite her attempt to writhe away. Cinched the knot around her neck. Gave it a tug.

Her air supply was immediately restricted.

She tried to reach for it with the hand that wasn't trapped under her body, but he pressed a knee to her arm.

"If you don't behave, we'll finish the job here and dump your body elsewhere. Keep that in mind. Put your hands behind your back." He pulled out a length of cording and passed it behind her. "Tie her hands. Cooperate, Lindsey, or this will keep getting tighter." He demonstrated by tugging again, squeezing her windpipe even more.

Gasping for air, she followed his instructions. At the moment, she wasn't in any position to launch another attack. All she could do was buy herself every possible minute to try and find another window of opportunity to get the upper hand.

Once her wrists were secured—and none-too-gently—Dr. Oliver retreated a few feet, keeping a firm grip on the tether around her neck. The pressure on her back diminished as his accomplice slid off. "Stand up."

It wasn't easy to do with a throbbing head and bound wrists, but somehow she managed to get upright, using the wall for support.

"Maybe we should scrap our plan and finish this now, then dump the body. She hurt me, Anthony."

As the familiar voice spoke behind her, cold and riddled with anger, shock rippled through Lindsey.

No.

It couldn't be.

Slowly she swiveled toward the living room, trying in vain to think of some explanation for this bizarre turn of events. Surely her ears had deceived her.

But they hadn't.

From ten feet away, Oliver's accomplice was watching her.

It was Heidi Robertson.

THE CSU TECH WASN 'T HANK, but he was thorough. Yet he'd come up with a big fat zero other than the prints he'd lifted from the Focus, which would no doubt be identified as Lindsey's.

Jack forked his fingers through his hair as hot air blasted from the vents in his car.

The partial plate the witness had seen wouldn't help him with MULES. You had to have a complete alphanumeric sequence to run a plate through the Missouri Uniform Law Enforcement System portal. A better resource was the Missouri Information Analysis Center. They could cross-reference the letters he had with a variety of databases, then try to match those results with whatever other information was provided. Like the description of a dark sedan.

Worth trying, but the twenty-four to seventy-two hour turnaround wasn't going to help him tonight.

And his gut said tomorrow would be too late.

He slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel and muttered a word he rarely used.

If there was even one tiny clue to follow up on, he'd be all over it. But there wasn't.

This was as difficult to unravel as the Robertson case.

No surprise, since the two were related and had likely been masterminded by the same person.

Whoever that was, they were smart and meticulous and careful. The only lapse had been the blood on Lindsey's car. But without a match in the database, that hadn't helped anyway.

He turned the heat down and scanned the street again.

Was it possible someone else had seen a helpful detail but hadn't answered the door earlier? Should he make another circuit of the neighborhood, call in reinforcements? Sarge would assign more people if he asked.

Trouble was, there wasn't much for anyone to do except knock on doors, and he'd done that once.

Couldn't hurt to do it again, though. See if any of the people who hadn't responded to his knock before were willing to talk to him now. What else was there to do on this Friday evening he'd planned to spend with Lindsey?

He reached for the door handle as his cell began to vibrate. Paused to pull it out.

Dick Lewis.

Had he thought of another fact or two he wanted to pass on?

Jack put the phone to his ear and greeted the man.

"Sorry to bother you, Detective, but I was just telling my wife about what's going on over on the next block, and she said we had a little excitement on our street earlier too. While she was getting ready to run over to our daughter's, she glanced out the window to see if Missy and I were coming back yet from our walk, and she saw a car sideswipe an SUV parked across the street from our apartment. She said it was about seven fifteen. I think it was the car I saw."

That seemed like a stretch.

Jack stifled a sigh and shut off the engine. "Why do you think that, Mr. Lewis?"

"It was a dark sedan, and the timing fits. My wife knows cars, and she said it was a BMW. The owner of the SUV came out of the building across the street as it happened, and he tried to chase after the car. It took off, but he called the police. I don't know if our neighbor got a license plate, but you may want to check."

That would be a huge break if it was the same car.

A big if, though the timing was promising.

"Why didn't your wife tell you any of this earlier, Mr. Lewis?"

"She was already gone when I got home with Missy. She didn't get back from our daughter's until five minutes ago."

It was a long shot, yes—but if that's all you had, you went with it.

"I appreciate the tip. I'll follow up."

"Always happy to help keep our streets safe."

"What's the name and address of the SUV owner?" It could be faster to talk to the man directly rather than try to track down the patrol officer who'd taken the report.

"We don't know him. He hasn't lived here long. But I know which apartment is his."

Jack jotted the information down as Dick recited it.

"Thanks. I'm on my way."

After running a quick search to get a name to go with the address, Jack slid from behind the wheel and rejoined the CSU tech, who was about ready to leave. "I have one more small job for you. Around the corner." He explained what had happened. "I'm hoping there's paint from the other vehicle on the damaged car."

"City may already have a sample."

Jack gave him a get-real look.

The tech lifted his hands, palms up. "Fine. I get it. With all the other crime downtown, a sideswipe is small potatoes. I'll follow you over."

Jack returned to his car, put it in gear, and drove around the block.

He parked in front of the long row of flats that lined the street, wedging in behind an older-model SUV sporting a long scrape along the side. The CSU van claimed a spot farther down the street.

"I'll alert the owner to what's going on." Jack motioned toward the apartment as the tech joined him. "No need to wait around after you're done here. I could be a few minutes. And it's getting colder."

"Tell me something I don't know."

Leaving him to his task, Jack walked up the steps to the porch of the flat and rang the bell.

A mid-twentyish man answered, and Jack did yet another introduction and explanation.

"So you think this car was also involved in another crime?" The man peered toward his vehicle, where the tech was working.

"It's possible." The wind whistled past.

"You want to come in? It's a cold night."

"Thanks." He crossed the threshold, into a space that smelled of pizza, beer, and bachelor pad. "I'm hoping you were able to see some of the license plate."

"I did better than that. Like I told the other cop, they hit my car just as I came outside. They braked for a minute, and I ran down the steps. I waved at them, but they either didn't see me or didn't choose to stop. I pulled out my cell and got a picture as they drove off. It's grainy, but you guys may have tools to clean it up. I sent it to the other cop, but I could give it to you too."

"That would be helpful." Jack recited his cell number while the guy worked his phone, and a few seconds later a ping announced its arrival.

"You think I can get them or their insurance company to pay for my repairs?"

"A photo is gold." Jack clicked on the image. Enlarged it. The picture was grainy and difficult to read without any enhancements, but the first two letters did appear to be N and L.

Yes!

The long shot had become a sure bet.

"That's what the other cop said. But he wasn't certain about the cleanup or how long it would take."

A hit-and-run sideswipe without injuries wouldn't necessarily be a priority, but when it had a connection to someone whose life was in danger, it got bumped to the top of the list.

"Because this is related to another case, I'll have someone on it ASAP."

"Wow. Thanks a lot."

"We'll be in touch." He headed for the door.

"I hope you solve the other case too."

"We'll do our best."

He let himself out. The CSU tech was already gone, sample in hand. Less important now that they had a license plate, but it wouldn't hurt to rack up supporting evidence.

At the moment, he was more interested in having the County computer folks work their magic on the photo.

Thankfully, he'd stored the number of a primo one in his phone after she'd cleaned up security camera photos for one of his cases six weeks ago. If she was home, she ought to have access to a few tools that would be helpful.

He scrolled through to her number and placed the call.

Two rings later, she answered.

"Emma, Jack Tucker. You helped me with a case a few—"

"Hey, Jack. I remember. What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you on a Friday night, but I've got a rush job." He explained what he had.

"I'll be happy to take a look at the photo. Send it over."

"Do you have access to what you need at home?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm at the office. Yours isn't the only hot case."

Did anyone in law enforcement work regular hours?

"I need this as fast as you can do it. A life may be at stake."

"Understood. Send it over and I'll get right on it."

"Thanks. It's coming as we speak." Jack ended the call and sent her the image.

Then he pointed his car west, toward headquarters.

Not that he didn't trust her to ratchet this up on her to-do list, but everyone thought their case was urgent. It would be harder to put his aside if he was breathing down her neck.

Literally.

Besides, without any other leads to follow up on, he may as well be at the office. What would he do at home except pace and worry?

Because unless his instincts were way off, Lindsey's life was hanging in the balance.

And so was his future.

For as Lindsey had told him early on, it doesn't always take long to know when you meet the right person.

While their acquaintance was short, deep inside he knew she was that person. The one who was destined to play a major role in his future.

If she survived the night.