Virtually gone, p.8
Virtually Gone, page 8
He liked Mr. Shearling already. “Thanks again. Don’t forget to give us a call if you think of anything else.”
She waved her clipboard in the air and continued into the building and Matt chuckled. “She’s a character.”
Connor frowned. “One you almost let wriggle off the hook. Did you forget the number one rule in police interrogation? It’s easier to get information out of a person of interest if you create a bond with them. That doesn’t mean intimidation.”
Matt’s humor evaporated. “Thanks, Dad. Are you going to ground me now?” He cursed and shook his head. “I screwed up, okay? I realize that, but she caught me off-guard with the kid’s name. This is better than I’d hoped for. If we can locate this Timmy character, maybe he can corroborate Micah Miller’s description of the suspect.” His breathing quickened with anticipation. “We’re closing in on him, buddy, I can feel it.”
Connor clapped him on the back. “I hope you’re right. This case has you tied up in knots. I don’t like it.”
They separated to head back to their respective vehicles and Matt mulled over his words. It was true, he was deeply involved in the outcome of this investigation, but with his family history he considered that unavoidable. As long as they brought the bastard down, he’d be able to let go of the past and finally move on.
The alternative was untenable.
Chapter
Fifteen
Matt rose at the crack of dawn the next morning and decided to take a jog along the Galloping Goose Trail—partly for enjoyment, partly for research. He wanted a look at the area of the attacks without the distraction of a police presence. He hoped to get a sense of the stalker’s habits and what drew him to that location. The more they could read his twisted mind, the better chance they had of taking him down.
He drove to Glen Lake and parked, taking a moment to sit and enjoy the quiet solitude. A light fog hovered over the water while hundreds of songbirds in towering willow and Douglas Fir trees heralded the morning. Dew clung to a lush lawn leading down to a sand beach and playground area. His gaze was drawn to the spot where a young woman had lost her life a scant week ago. Anger tightened his jaw. It was up to him to protect the innocent and he’d failed. It chafed.
He got out of his car and shivered a little. While the autumn days were still sunny and warm, the overnight temperatures held a warning of the changing season. He zipped up his sports jacket, pocketed his keys, and started jogging toward the Galloping Goose access.
At this hour, he had the trail mainly to himself, other than a few early morning runners and bike riders pedaling to work, briefcases attached to their luggage racks. Traffic noise ebbed and flowed as the path led him in and out of the forest, his breathing a foggy vapor and leaves rustling under his worn sneakers. Now and then, a rabbit would bound across the trail in front of him or he’d startle a deer and it would dart through the trees, quickly disappearing from sight. It reminded him of the quarry he chased.
The guy was good at vanishing into thin air.
A wooden foot bridge came into view. Heavy foliage tumbled onto the trail on either end giving the area a picturesque look, but Matt’s neck prickled uncomfortably. He slowed to a stop, his senses on full alert.
He eased down to one knee, ostensibly to tie his shoe. Instead, he palmed the sidearm from his ankle holster and slowly rose, his gaze scanning the surrounding forest. The birdsong that had accompanied his run had now fallen silent, further proof something was amiss. Heart rate slowing, the rest of his senses went into hyperdrive. A light breeze tumbled fallen leaves along the paved path and kissed his clammy cheeks. Water burbled nearby, telling him the footbridge wasn’t just for show, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a trap. His assailant—if there was one—could be waiting for him to take those final steps before attacking when he had nowhere to go.
Only one way to find out.
Gun in hand, Matt approached the bridge as if it were a sleeping dragon ready to explode at any second. Two feet from the point of no return, a twig snapped in the underbrush to his right and he nosedived off the trail, hitting the dust just as a rock winged past and thudded into the trunk of an unsuspecting tree. Breath whistling, Matt lifted his head and tried to locate the suspect. Another missile flew his way, but he managed to get a bead on the culprit as a dark blue jacket ducked into the thick rainforest vegetation and disappeared.
Matt rose and gave chase, his heart jackhammering in his chest. Briefly, he considered the odds of there being more than one but cast it aside to concentrate on narrowing the gap between them. He hoped the rocks meant his prey had no gun as he hurdled a fallen moss-covered tree to find the blue coat only a few feet away.
Without slowing his momentum, he shouted, “Stop, police,” and threw himself at the guy’s knees. Arms stretched, he wrapped them around jean-clad legs and held on as the perp went down like a felled log. Coming up in a crouch, he double fisted his weapon and aimed at the guy’s center mass.
“Stay down. Don’t move. Arms behind your back.” He shot off the rapid-fire commands and waited until they were obeyed before reaching into his pocket for a zip cuff. He rose and moved quickly to capture the wrists and pat down the body, then stepped back and ordered him to rise.
As the guy rolled over, the hood from his jacket fell off and long blonde hair tumbled out, stunning Matt.
A woman.
The gun wavered and she lashed out, kicking and screaming like a banshee. A foot caught him in the thigh, barely missing his groin, and he cursed as the pain surged up his leg, blurring his vision.
Sensing a victory, she pounced up like a cat and took off through the trees, head down and hands bound behind her back. Matt shook off the agony and raced after her, dumbfounded she’d managed to get the drop on him. He put on a burst of speed and once more crashed into her, this time turning as they went down to protect her from the fall.
“Quit freaking out,” he gasped, pinning her to the ground with his legs. “I’m not going to hurt you. Why the hell did you throw rocks at me anyway?” He tried to get a look at her face, but tousled, leaf and stick-filled hair blocked his view. Maybe she was homeless?
“If you hadn’t scared me by pulling that gun, I wouldn’t have had to,” she snarled back like a rabid dog.
That voice… Matt knew that voice. Stunned for the second time in just as many minutes, he grasped her chin and shoved the messy mop from her face. “Taylor?” he said uncertainly. “What the hell…?”
Narrowed ice-blue eyes stared him down defiantly from smudged cheeks. “Detective.”
Julie unlocked the hotel room door and stepped inside with a tired sigh. The curtains were drawn, giving the room, decorated in soft pastel blues, the feel of a sanctuary; just what she needed after a long, discouraging day.
She let the bulky bag slide from her shoulder and land with a soft plop onto the nearest queen bed, then turned on a lamp before sinking onto the other mattress. She should call Taylor and give her an update, but first she had to unwind. The pregnant Mrs. Saleen had affected her more than she’d expected. Three years and her heart still ached with the loss of her baby and its daddy. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair. She prayed that wasn’t a lesson Sherry would have to learn.
Her phone jangled from the depths of her handbag and she made a dive for it, hoping to hear Connor’s reassuring voice. A glance at the screen revealed Wes Watley as the mystery caller. She hesitated before answering, unsure whether she could handle his snarky attitude anymore today.
Just before it went through to voicemail, she picked up. “Hello, Mr. Watley. I’m tired, is there something you need?”
There was some sort of music playing in the background and the chink of glasses. “Wes, please. I won’t keep you then,” he said. “I just wanted to check up on Mrs. Saleen. How’s she doing?”
“She’s stressed, of course. Her husband has vanished, and she’s scared she’ll never see him again. Never get to tell him how much she loves him. How alone she feels without him.” Julie blinked back tears and clenched her fist in her lap. “We need to find him before it’s too late.”
“We? There is no we, kid. Deal is, you connect me to your fed friends, and I do the rest. I work best alone.” Wes cleared his throat in her ear. “Look, I know what I’m doing. I’ll get Mrs. Saleen her answers—one way or the other.”
Kid? Julie would smile if this wasn’t so serious and Watley wasn’t so aggravating. But in all reality, the Saleen investigation hit too close to home. She’d finally made peace with Mike’s death, it was too hard reliving it again through poor Sherry. If she were to lose her child… well, she couldn’t, that was all.
“I’ll help you on the condition you keep me abreast of the search. Sherry is… frail. She doesn’t need any more stress.”
“I understand,” Wes said. “Look, I can tell you this is part of a larger case I’m working on and there are several leads to follow. I promise to do my best to bring Mr. Saleen back to his wife.”
Julie couldn’t ask for more than that. Much as she wanted to stay and give support wherever she could, her kids were coming home, she missed Connor, and the Galloping Goose predator was still on the loose. “I’ll meet you at VPD headquarters tomorrow morning, eight sharp. Can you make it?”
“See you there. Have a good night, Ms. Crenshaw.” Wes said before hanging up and leaving Julie staring at the wall. She loved her job, but sometimes, like tonight, she wished there was no need for broadcast journalists. That the world was peaceful, and danger didn’t lurk behind every corner. A fanciful notion from a factual mind. Maybe she was turning a new leaf.
The phone rang again and this time it brought a smile to her lips. “Hello, handsome. I was just thinking about you.”
Connor chuckled. “I’d call more often with greetings like that.”
Warmth suffused her chest. He had a way of making her feel like a young girl with her first crush. “It’s true. I wish you were here with me. This city is meant to be shared.”
“A lover’s paradise,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a seductive level. “Believe me, I would have liked nothing more. Maybe we could book a weekend for our anniversary.”
Julie’s breath backed up in her lungs. Was he…?
“You do remember our first date, don’t you?” he teased.
Oh. Of course he wasn’t proposing over the phone. Or at all, really. It was too soon anyway. They’d only been together a matter of months. Then why was she so disappointed?
Forcing a light laugh, she rose, paced to the window, and pulled the curtain aside. The Vancouver skyline lit up the early evening horizon, compounding her loneliness. “How could I forget? You interrogated me at the police station and we had a moment.” More than a moment. He’d been kind and considerate and she’d… kissed him. His palm sure, but still. Not exactly the reaction of a grieving widow.
“That was when I knew you were going to change my life.”
“You mean complicate it,” she said, thinking of the fright they’d been through when her son ran away from home.
“Hey, I’m a detective, remember? We thrive on complications. Speaking of which, how did your appointment go?”
“Other than butting heads with an arrogant investigator? It was fine. Taylor’s friend is worried sick about her husband, but there’s still hope, so she’s hanging on. I wish there was more I could do.”
“I could look into it from my end, if you want?”
He was offering to step out on a limb for her; no wonder she’d fallen so hard for him. “No, but I appreciate the offer. I’m connecting him to some good cops in the morning, they’ll find Mr. Saleen.” Please let him be alive.
He hesitated. “I miss you.”
She let the curtain fall and leaned against the wall. “Me, too. See you tomorrow?”
“Count on it,” he said. “Sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams,” she answered and ended the call. Suddenly, an early night seemed like a good idea.
Chapter
Sixteen
Matt stared at the woodland waif who’d almost unmanned him and tried to wrap his head around the fact that it was Taylor Monroe. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been wearing a form-fitting black dress and swanky heels—oh yeah, and she hadn’t been trying to kill him.
Out of breath, and still annoyed she’d gotten the drop on him, he leaned against the trunk of a cedar and eyed his adversary. She stared back, defiance in the sensual lines of her body.
“So… are you going to tell me why you were hiding in the bushes like a stalker?” he asked, drawing out his knife but making no move to untie her hands. She could stew for a while.
Her eyes flashed blue fire. “I am not a stalker and you darn well know it, Detective Roy.” She blew at a straggly chunk of hair hanging in her face. “Are you going to let me go, or clean your nails with that thing?”
Matt chuckled. “Feisty, aren’t you? You’ll be lucky if I don’t lock you up for assaulting a police officer. You could have knocked me out with one of those rocks.”
“I wasn’t that lucky,” she mumbled, turning awkwardly so he could cut the tie around her wrists. The moment it snapped loose, she skittered a few feet away and rubbed the red skin. “How am I supposed to explain this at work?”
Matt shrugged, though he did feel guilty for hurting her. “Crazy sex games?”
“Ha, as if.” She snorted. “I’d need to have sex first.”
Matt jerked, certain he’d misheard, or she was exerting that sarcastic tongue of hers, but no, she wasn’t even looking at him. Her attention was focused on removing the bits and pieces of forest debris embedded in her long gold hair like a crown of thorns—fitting, if the comment about her sex life was true. And now he couldn’t get images of her in the throes of passion out of his head.
He shifted uncomfortably and tried to redirect his thoughts. “You haven’t answered me yet. Why were you off the beaten path? And don’t tell me it was a nature hike, either.”
She glanced at him through narrowed eyes and went back to dusting herself off. “Who made you the trail police? Oh wait, maybe you are now. I heard you like to ruffle feathers. Could be your boss had enough and put you where you couldn’t get into trouble—or so he thought.”
“You must be a real riot at parties,” Matt said, amused. “Are you always this defensive?” He pulled up his knees and got ready to enjoy the show.
He didn’t have long to wait.
Taylor slowly bent at the waist, giving him an eyeful of soft, white skin peeking out the top of her shirt before a cascade of musty, damp leaves splatted his chest.
“Hey,” he sputtered, jumping to his feet to swipe at the mess. “This is my good suit.”
She smirked. “You’re a real comedian. How does it feel to kiss the dirt?”
He wanted to kiss something, but it wasn’t dirt. She was the most aggravating woman he’d ever met. “You do remember I’m a cop, right?”
“Ewww,” she said, waving jazzy hands on either side of her head. “Is the big, bad policeman going to arrest me?”
Tempting, oh so tempting.
“Can we get back to what you are doing here? Because if it’s to investigate the Galloping Goose Killer, I just might arrest you for your own good.” She was a news producer, she should know better than to take such a foolish risk. A couple of bikers rode by on the path above them with no sign of noticing anyone in the ditch line. It only emphasized how dangerous it was for a woman to be out here on her own.
“I see you’ve adopted our label for this guy,” she said, admitting to nothing. “So we are dealing with a serial killer then?”
He could practically hear the Breaking News report already. “I never said any such thing. While it’s true two women have recently died on or near the Galloping Goose network, it has yet to be proven the crimes were committed by the same perpetrator, never mind a repeat offender. As I told your ace reporter last week, this is an ongoing investigation. Where is she, anyway? I’d expect her out here snooping long before you.”
She raised a sandy brow. “Are you trying to tell me I don’t have what it takes, Detective? Because I could teach you a thing or two.”
His turn to raise a bemused brow. “Be careful, I might just take you up on that one day.” He wouldn’t mind receiving lessons from Taylor Monroe. On anything.
She frowned, but a delicate blush painted her cheeks a pearly pink. “You’re insufferable. Julie’s in Vancouver for a couple of days on a different matter. I was hoping I could find a missed piece of evidence—which I would have turned over to your team—to help with her story. She’s doing me a big favor.”
Connor hadn’t mentioned his girlfriend was on the lam. No wonder she wasn’t driving them crazy over the latest victim. Her reporter’s nose was legendary, normally she would have been pestering them nonstop.
“And did you?” he asked, crossing his arms and waiting for her to lie.
Her forehead furrowed and she gazed around them impatiently. “Did I what, find anything? Don’t you think I would have told you if I had?”
Not on your life. “Withholding evidence is a felony, Taylor. You may want to rethink your answer.” She’d given herself away by not looking at him while fibbing, now the question was whether or not she’d come clean.
At first, it seemed as though she was going to bluff her way out, but then she huffed out a frustrated breath and shook her head. “You’re aggravating, do you know that?”
He watched as she strode toward the rocky outcropping where he’d first seen her and reached down between the stones to pull out a battered looking book. Disappointment rolled through him. He wasn’t sure what he’d anticipated, a piece of clothing, maybe? But a discarded hardcover with weather-beaten pages wasn’t it.
She carried it back, holding it gingerly between her fingertips, her face expectant. When he didn’t immediately reach for it, she frowned. “Well?” she said. “Aren’t you even going to look at it?”
