Chapter 29

Twenty-Nine

AS FAR AS HE COULD SEE, other than the spot of blood on the sheet in the closet, there wasn't anything in Oliver's house to suggest Lindsey had been here.

Nor was there anything in the garage.

Jack fisted his hands on his hips and gave the structure one more three-sixty.

Even if there was a piece of evidence confirming Lindsey's presence, however, it wouldn't help him figure out where she was now.

Time to touch base with Sarge and—

His phone began to vibrate, and he pulled it out.

Speak of the devil.

He put it to his ear. "You find anything? Because I have zip." He didn't attempt to hide his frustration.

"Yes. I have a location for Oliver's phone. I'll text it in a minute. Here's where it gets interesting. The whereabouts of his cell coincide with a report that was called in a couple of minutes ago about suspicious activity at an empty warehouse in the county, just outside the city line a few miles north of your location."

Jack's pulse picked up.

That was the best news he'd had all night.

He took off at a jog for his car. "Tell the responding officers to hold back until I get there. If Oliver took Lindsey to a place like that, the situation could go downhill fast. We have to assume he's armed." And cornered people weren't always rational.

"I passed that along once I saw the connection. There's more. The citizen who called this in provided the license plate of the car he saw parked behind the warehouse. Get this. It belongs to Heidi Robertson."

What?

Jack's pace faltered.

Heidi Robertson was with Oliver?

What in the world was that all about?

He picked up his pace again. "I'm trying to make sense of that."

"We can sort it out later. First priority is keeping your witness alive. I'll put a hostage negotiator on standby. Keep me apprised."

"Will do."

Jack ended the call and sprinted toward his vehicle.

The connection between Heidi and Oliver was a mystery. One that would take a while to untangle.

But if Oliver had been behind all the incidents designed to undermine Lindsey's mental integrity, he was eminently suited for the job. He knew her history—and could use that to cast doubts on the credibility of any details she might remember about the killing.

It was diabolically clever.

It was also beyond sick.

A man who had chosen a profession dedicated to helping people deal with traumas had instead created one for a patient in order to save his own neck, causing untold mental anguish.

But why had he decided to end her life rather than continue his campaign of subversion?

Another question without an answer.

For now, though, the when and the how were more important than the why.

Jack waved over one of the officers assisting at Oliver's house and gave him a fast recap. Then he slid behind the wheel of his car, checked the location in the text from Sarge, and hit his flashing lights. He'd shut them off once he got close to the warehouse, but they'd allow him to maneuver through traffic faster. At this hour, flooring it, he ought to arrive in less than ten minutes.

Yet every minute counted when someone's life was in danger.

And being one minute too late could mark the difference between life and death.

THE DANK COLD in the cavernous warehouse seeped through Lindsey's sweater, and she shivered as Dr. Oliver propelled her forward, into the shadowy space lit only by the moonlight filtering through the large perimeter windows at the top of the high walls.

"This spot is as good as any." Heidi, in the lead position, spoke over her shoulder as she paused to examine the space.

Lindsey's heart stuttered.

The end was near.

Beside her, Dr. Oliver's labored breathing either indicated illness or anxiety—or perhaps both. "I'm not certain I can pull the trigger."

At least one of them still possessed the remnants of a conscience.

"I know it will be hard, but she left us no choice, Anthony."

"Shooting is dangerous. Guns can be traced."

"It has to be found first. We can toss it in the river before we go back to your place. Or we could go with the noose. That would be quieter. And there's a perfect spot for it." She motioned upward, to the metal catwalks crisscrossing the building below the rafters.

Dr. Oliver gave them a slow perusal. "No. Hanging is too painful and traumatic. But a fall from up there would be quick—and I wouldn't have to watch the impact."

Lindsey stared at the two of them, stomach churning.

They were debating murder options as if this were a discussion about which item to order from a restaurant menu.

What was wrong with these people?

"Fine with me. Why don't you give me the gun while you take her up?" Heidi crossed to Dr. Oliver, and he handed it over. "I think there's access to the catwalks over there." She motioned toward the side of the building and began walking that direction.

Stall, Lindsey! Buy yourself time to collect your thoughts and come up with a plan.

Letting her instincts guide her, she bent over and began to fake a heaving motion.

"Heidi! Wait!"

At Dr. Oliver's command, the staccato click of the woman's heels on the concrete floor stopped ... then drew closer again. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know. She may be trying to throw up. Trauma can induce nausea. If she aspirates vomit with her mouth covered, she'll choke to death."

"Problem solved."

"Heidi!" His sharp rebuke ricocheted off the walls. "That's a terrible way to die."

She shrugged. "No matter how she dies, the end result is the same."

At the woman's cavalier response, the roiling in Lindsey's stomach intensified—making the risk of throwing up very real.

Dr. Oliver didn't respond, but his grip on her arm tightened. As if he was angry. Then he ripped off her gag, taking layers of skin from her lips with it.

She moaned and sagged against him at the shocking sting.

But the burning pain was worth it to get her voice back.

"Let's do this." Dr. Oliver's tone was resigned.

Heidi started forward again, toward the metal stairs that led to the catwalk.

Though Lindsey tried to resist, Dr. Oliver dragged her along. She continued to writhe in his grasp as they approached the stairway, using the gyrations to hide her struggle to free her hands. Apparently she hadn't worked the cording quite loose enough.

At the foot of the steps, Heidi turned and waved them up. "I'll follow you as far as the first landing after you're up." She leaned in close, her face inches away as she lifted the pistol, her eyes hard and cold. "Don't try anything foolish, Lindsey. Anthony may not want to use this gun, but I will if I have to."

She moved aside, and Dr. Oliver spoke. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be, Lindsey." He kept his voice low and close to her ear while he forced her up the steps, as if he didn't want Heidi to hear. "I'm sorry it came to this. It was all supposed to be so easy. We were going to build a circumstantial case against the carpenter. Enough to put the spotlight of suspicion and law enforcement attention on him, but insufficient for a conviction. You weren't supposed to be in the kitchen that day."

Was he seriously trying to apologize as he led her to her death?

This was surreal.

"I don't understand how you can do this to me. I trusted you." She continued to tug at the cording.

"I know. And I'm sorry to betray that trust. But when push comes to shove, life is all about number one."

"Not for everyone."

"With few exceptions, that describes the vast majority of people." He stopped at the landing, chest heaving.

"Everything all right, Anthony?" Heidi's question floated up from below.

"Yes. Catching my breath."

Lindsey worked harder on the cording. If she could keep him talking, maybe she could buy herself an extra minute or two.

"It was your aftershave, you know."

"What?" He squinted at her.

"That's how I knew it was you. I smelled it in the kitchen the day I found the body. I smelled it again at your house tonight."

"It wasn't the tattoo?"

"That clinched it, but the aftershave was my first clue."

He gave a soft, mirthless laugh. "Proof that the devil truly is in the details. I never wore it to the office. Some clients have an aversion to certain scents. But I used it that day for the conference I attended—my alibi, if ever one was necessary. Who knew it would come back to haunt me?" He propelled her upward again. "Keep walking."

Below them, the tap of Heidi's shoes against metal indicated she was climbing up to the landing.

"I, uh, didn't know you were a scuba diver." The cording was getting looser. In another minute or two, she should be able to free her hands.

If she had that long.

"Years ago, but I still had all the gear. It's gone now."

Naturally.

He wouldn't leave anything lying around that could connect him to a crime.

They were approaching the top of the catwalk.

She had to make her play soon.

"And you staged the mugging."

"Yes. With Heidi. My planning was meticulous until she blew everything by moving your car again and leaving her DNA as evidence." Anger scored his words.

One more piece fell into place.

The biggest remaining question was why he'd launched this scheme to begin with.

"If you love her, why didn't she just divorce her husband so you two could be together? Why did you have to kill him?"

He snorted. "Love didn't have anything to do with it. It was all about the money. And killing him was the only way to get it." He forced her onto the catwalk at the top of the steps.

Dragging her feet as much as possible, she continued to work on the cording as he pushed her forward over the narrow grating. "Please, Dr. Oliver. You don't have to do this."

Finally! She had the wiggle room to pull her hands free.

"Sadly, I do." He tightened his grip, halting their progress. "May as well stop here."

Heart thumping, she peered down into the cavernous warehouse.

Heidi was about fifty feet away and down a level, no more than a dim outline in the murky interior.

Perfect.

If she could elude Dr. Oliver, get off the catwalk, and hide in a dark corner, they'd have a hard time finding her. They wouldn't risk using their phone lights to search. Not after Dr. Oliver had gone ballistic when Heidi flicked hers on for a brief minute while they got the lay of the land. As he'd told her, a light inside a deserted warehouse could arouse suspicion and perhaps prompt a call to the police. They couldn't take that chance.

As he began loosening the noose around her neck to remove it, her pulse vaulted into the stratosphere.

As soon as the rope was off, that would be her window.

And as she prepared to rip her hands free, she prayed for the strength to overcome her adversaries and survive this night.

JACK KILLED HIS LIGHTS and pulled up beside the three cruisers that were parked in the shadows on the warehouse property. A fourth one swung in as he braked.

Sarge had called in plenty of reinforcements.

Good man.

As Jack got out of his car, the officers joined him.

After giving them a rapid briefing, he encompassed all of them with his question. "Any of you know this property?"

"I've driven through here on patrols."

Jack turned to the fortysomething officer who'd spoken. "Do you remember how many access points there are?"

"I think there are two loading docks on the left side and two in the back. I know there's a door in the front, and as best I can recall there's another one next to the loading docks in the back. But I can't swear to any of that. I wasn't here to take inventory."

"Understood." The man had recalled far more than he would have from a routine patrol circuit. "According to our tipster, the car is in the back. I'm going to assume that door is the one most likely to be open."

"Are the subjects armed?" This from a young cop. Perhaps fresh from the academy, based on the adrenaline pinging off him.

"That would be my expectation. Have weapons in hand and flashlights ready. Be prepared to use the flashlights to startle or illuminate on command. Keep them off unless I tell you to use them. I want one person at the loading docks on the left and one by the door here in front in case anyone tries to escape through those exits." He tapped two of the officers as he spoke, then turned to the remaining men. "You two come with me. We're going in slow and silent while I assess the situation. Any questions?"

Head shakes all around.

"Let's do this."

He took off at a trot for the back of the building, pistol at the ready, nerve endings tingling.

If fate was kind, he wouldn't have to use his weapon.

But if that's what it took to save Lindsey's life, he'd pull the trigger in a heartbeat.

And he'd do it without a single regret.