Mirrored eyes swept over each parked car, the building, and then the surrounding buildings. An itch on the back of his neck made him look around to the derelict building on the opposite side of the street. He studied it. Good vantage, and easily overlooked. People tended not to see derelict buildings; they became part of the landscape. The windows were mostly boarded, except for a couple higher up. Could be someone sleeping rough in there. If so, they had a way in past the boarded-up doorways. Check it out later.

  He pulled up next to Ashley’s car and walked to the motel room door, dialing her number as he approached. Cade was only too aware that she was armed with a semi-automatic pistol and the motel door was likely cheap and thin.

  “It’s Cade. I’m outside.”

  18

  He heard the snick of the lock and the rattle of a chain. Then the door opened wide enough for Ashley to look out. She opened it all the way when she saw him, then turned back to the room. Cade followed her in, closing the door behind him.

  “Are you okay?”

  Ashley nodded, taking her seat next to the window again. Her hair was a thick mane that showed signs of being brushed with fingers. Her dark eyes were deep-set and constantly moving across the vantage provided by the window. Cade grabbed the only other chair in the room and hauled it over to the window, positioning himself in Ashley’s line of sight. He took out the notebook.

  “I’ve spoken to Alvarado and he’s agreed to meet me at your house. We’re going to go through it together. I think you should be there.”

  Ashley shook her head. “He’ll be watching the house.”

  “He can’t hurt you with two of us there. Both armed.” Cade was speaking calmly, his deep voice dropped down a register, projecting confidence.

  Ashley’s eyes dashed to his face and away, then back, lingering longer. “Why do you want me there?” Her tone was inflectionless, as though she lacked the energy even to phrase a question properly.

  “To look for anything out of place that we would miss because we don’t know the place. Something missing, something there which shouldn’t be. Anything that could be used as evidence.”

  “He’s too smart for that.”

  “They’re never too smart. And if this is about revenge, then he’s angry. And when they get angry, they always make mistakes. Trust me.”

  Cade tried a reassuring smile. It felt like a bad fit for his face, but it seemed to loosen something in Ashley. She relaxed slightly in the chair.

  “Greg wasn’t exactly a college professor. Not dumb. But no Moriarty.”

  “I didn’t know you were a football fan,” Cade said, poker-faced.

  Ashley looked embarrassed. “No, Moriarty wasn’t a football player…” She saw a glint in Cade’s eyes, and a smile finally broke through her tension. Cade could see why Ashley had been successful as an anchor. Her smile didn’t have the practiced look of many celebrities, used to working their facial muscles into the expected shapes for red-carpet photographers. It looked natural and unrehearsed. The lines of her face softened, and her eyes shone. Even tired and scared, she looked beautiful. The smile added an extraordinary gloss.

  For a moment he was speechless.

  “Is it well-known at the station that you and Melissa are friends?” he finally asked.

  “It’s no secret. No reason for it to be.”

  “Anyone at the station friends with Greg? Back when you and he were together?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Just Victor Salas.”

  “Salas? Did some digging on him. Did you know anything about what happened to the two of them?”

  “I don’t know. Greg wouldn’t tell me anything. Wouldn’t talk about Afghanistan at all.”

  “They must have been close at one time, with everything they’ve been through together.”

  “They were. Not long after we were married, they went into business together. At one point, they seemed to spend more time together than Greg did with me. What a cliché, right?”

  Cade absently reached for a cigarette. In the absence of a pen, he marked the paper at the end with pencil.

  “Please don’t,” Ashley said with distaste.

  Cade became aware of the cigarette he had marked and put in the corner of his mouth.

  “Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna smoke it,” he told her. “So, you don’t have any idea why Greg and Salas drifted apart?”

  Ashley shook her head. “I did overhear a phone call once. Not long before… before he attacked me. Greg was whispering, it sounded like he was threatening someone. It was Salas he was on the phone to.”

  “How do you know it was him?”

  “I did a redial. Salas picked up, and before I could even say anything, he threatened me, threatened Greg if Greg didn’t leave him alone. But he doesn’t look anything like Greg, and it was Greg that I saw in my house.”

  “Did you ever find a micro SD card in Greg’s things?”

  “A micro… Probably. Greg had whole drawers full of that kind of thing. One in particular?”

  “Maybe. Salas had something which Greg wanted him to lose. I think it may be relevant.” Cade waved a hand dismissively. “Sorry, I’m thinking aloud. Airing out my thoughts to see what they look like.”

  Ashley ground her teeth, letting out a snarling yell of frustration. “I just want to know. I just want to look him in the eye and know who he is and what he wants. I’m doubting my own eyes. I’m looking back on the night he came into my house and thinking, did I actually see what I thought I saw? And what about the whistling and the clicking fingers. And the clothes… and… god! I’m doubting my own sanity. Because maybe I didn’t hear any of that. Maybe…”

  Cade leaned forward and took both of Ashley’s hands in his. He gently forced them down until they spread on her knees. His unruffled stare caught and held her troubled gaze. And for a split second, he was lost in those eyes. He regained control an instant later, slamming a door shut in his head against the feelings that were stirring.

  “That’s just what he wants, Ash. That’s why he’s doing this. He wants to drive you crazy, make you question everything. I’m gonna find him.”

  He felt the tension drain from her wrists, felt muscles relax under soft skin.

  “Thanks,” she said around unshed tears and a fledgling smile. “You’re good at this. Ever thought about counseling?”

  Cade sat back, reluctantly letting go of Ashley’s hands and disguising it. “Don’t mistake West Texas stone for sensitivity. I’m just too much the stereo-whatsit cowboy to shed a tear. Last time I cried was when Yeller died.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Ashley said. Then, before her last remark could land, “Okay, I’m starving, and I could use a shower and a coffee. Do you think you could get me something while I take a shower?”

  Cade chose to ignore the first remark. He stood. “Sure. I’ll find a diner someplace nearby. I told Alvarado we would meet him later.”

  As he stepped out of the motel and began walking toward his truck, he noticed something. A white object had been stuffed into the well of the door handle on the driver’s side of her car. He froze, scanning the parking lot, then began to approach slowly. A white plastic bag; he could just make out the logo of a local chain store. He hadn’t noticed it when he had arrived, the white of the bag blending with the car’s paintwork. Ashley couldn’t have put it there. And it was too firmly wedged to be there by some fluke of wind. Someone had put it there, after she parked, late last night.

  He looked toward the motel window, now obscured by the curtain he had drawn. Someone had waited for Ashley to park and go inside. Then they had approached the car while remaining out of sight of the window through which Ashley was watching. Difficult. It would have taken a great deal of patience, which didn’t seem to fit the image Ashley had created of her volatile ex-husband. Cade took a pencil from his pocket and cautiously approached the car. He carefully hooked the bag through one of its handles and pulled it up, depositing it on the roof. Something solid and rectangular in shape was inside.

  Peering into the bag, he made out a yellow M. Fast-food container. Maybe a litterbug passing by saw a nice car and decided to leave a piece of trash. People in neighborhoods like this could do shit like that. He had seen worse left behind. But his gut told him this wasn’t someone with a chip on their shoulder about foreign cars. Hardly daring to breathe, he lifted the lid of the box with the tip of the pencil. He could feel sweat dampening his back and trickling down his nose.

  At first, he thought he was looking at leftover food. Red, wet, were the first impressions to register. As he pushed the lid farther, the daylight revealed two disembodied eyes. Cade stared. The eyes stared back. They were blue. The white of one eye was completely flooded with blood. A cold part of his mind registered these facts in the split second before a more primitive reaction caused him to jerk back from the sight. He stepped away from the car, one hand going for his gun, eyes twitching across the parking lot.

  He could hear Mario Williams’s voice in his head. “Fingers cut off, eyes gouged out. Bad stuff.” Information went crashing through his mind like arctic icebergs, colliding, calving off new theories that went floating off through his cerebellum. Salas. Fucking Salas. Greg took the SD card from him and he thinks Ashley has it. And the guy is completely crazy. Or else… another theory hove into view, only the tip showing above the waterline. No, that was too crazy. Too much like a bad Chuck Norris thriller. He forced his mind to the present, to the moment.

  Cars passed by the lot on the road and on the freeway above. No one moved in any of the parked vehicles in the lot. This was meant to shock. And whoever did it would want to watch the reaction when it was found. There would be far less satisfaction to have to imagine the fear and horror that would cross Ashley’s face when she saw the package left for her. But he could see nowhere to observe from. Except the derelict building opposite.

  Cade moved fast. Gun out of holster, he gathered up the bag in the crook of one arm, weapon pointed toward the two unboarded windows of the building across the street. Four lanes of road and a parking lot lay between him and the building, but the distance would be nothing to someone with a sniper scope. He backed fast from the car to the motel room door, kicking it with his heel.

  “Ash. It’s Cade. Open the door.”

  Ashley was wearing a thick white towel, her hair wrapped in another. Cade backed past her, kicking the door shut and putting the bag down on a side table next to the bed.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Ashley demanded.

  “Someone left a package for you in the handle of your car. Don’t look at it.”

  He took out his phone and dialed a number.

  Ashley was staring at the bag. “What is it?”

  “You don’t want to know. This guy has just escalated. Alvarado, thanks for takin’ the call. I’m with Ashley Fisher at the Traveler’s Rest motel, ramp twenty-two off the Gulf Freeway. You’re gonna wanna get down here with a CSI team.” Cade spared a look for Ashley, who had backed as far from the bag as the room allowed. “Our stalker case may just have become a homicide.”

  At those words, Ashley shook her head vehemently. She grabbed her clothes from the bed and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Barely a minute later, she emerged, hair tied back, still slick with water. Cade had told Alvarado what he had found, and the HPD were on their way. As he slipped his phone back into his chinos pocket, he saw Ashley going straight for the bag.

  He put out an arm to bar her way. She shoved at it to no avail.

  “I want to see what that creeping bastard has done.”

  “No, you don’t,” Cade said quietly. “Trust me.”

  “I’m paying you. You’re not a cop. You’re a fucking employee. Let me see,” Ashley shot back, shoving him hard in the chest. Or tried to—it produced no more effect than shoving the wall. Cade set his feet and refused to move.

  “Anyway, you’ll contaminate the evidence,” Cade said pointedly. He admired her reaction, refusing to give in to the fear she must be feeling. But her angry comments felt personal. He tried to ignore it.

  Ashley stepped back. “Okay, okay. I understand. I won’t touch anything. No fingerprints. No DNA. I want him found and put away. I won’t do anything to jeopardize that. I swear.”

  Cade conceded, allowing her closer and using the pencil to open the box. Ashley leaned in, hands clasped behind her back, like a child on a museum trip with orders not to touch. She stared for longer than Cade had, then finally looked away. She went to the window, breathing hard.

  “Throw up,” Cade suggested. “It’ll kick in the endorphins and make you feel better.”

  He was moving back to the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To check something out. I’ll be back in five.”

  With that, he let the door close behind him, cutting off her questions. He jogged across the parking lot and then negotiated his way through traffic to cross the road. Ignoring blaring horns, he leapt the central barrier of concrete blocks and dashed across the two lanes on the far side. He kept his gun held down low as he ran in a half-crouch. A tall chain-link fence separated the dilapidated building from the road. He followed it until it turned a corner along the side of the building. Toward the back, he found a place where the fence had been ripped away from the concrete posts that secured it.

  Pushing aside the links, he squeezed through before jogging across a weed-choked expanse of broken asphalt to press himself against the wall of the building. He had to assume he was being watched. That whoever it was had a weapon and was prepared to kill him, given the chance. Cade followed the wall until he reached a brick porch and a doorway sealed by rusted sheets of metal. He noticed one panel had been prized away, leaving enough space for an adult to crawl through. He used the flashlight feature on his phone to peer into the gloom. Walls streaked with black mold. Trash spread across the floor, mixed with broken drywall and stonework.

  The room was still. It was long, seeming to run partway along the width of the building. To his left, it seemed to turn a corner. Cade crouched low enough to get through and made for the far wall. Trying to forget the damp, he pressed himself against the wall, holding the light from the phone above the barrel of the gun so it shone where he aimed. He edged along to the corner before crouching again and then taking a fast look. The light revealed the bare boards of a staircase ascending over his head. And something else. He had only glimpsed it for a moment, but was sure it had been a figure, curled up in a nest of paper and boxes directly behind the staircase.

  “This is…” Cade almost called out HPD, but bit back the words with a silent curse. “I’m a private investigator and licensed to carry a firearm. I’m investigating a serious crime. If there is anyone in here who can hear me, come out with your hands in the air.”

  Cade knew he had no legal right to order any such thing. But he had a gun and a license to use it. The building was mocking in its silence. There were no sounds of life that he could make out from the figure, and no answering noises from elsewhere in the building. Decision made, he moved quickly around the corner, gun leading the way, to crouch beside the figure. The stench of sweat, vomit, and feces almost drove him away. The light of the flashlight revealed filthy clothes. Vagrant, then. Probably living here for a while, judging by the trash accumulation.

  Suppressing distaste, he reached for the figure’s shoulder, shaking gently. Nothing. He gingerly touched two fingers to the side of the neck, having to move aside long, matted gray hair. Dead. At that moment, a rat that had burrowed itself into the pile of trash the vagrant was lying in made its escape bid. It exploded from a KFC carton next to Cade and threw itself over Cade’s outstretched arm and off into the darkness. He had a momentary sensation of sharp claws digging into the sleeve of his sports jacket, then the creature’s weight fully on him, before it launched itself away.

  Cade had never been fazed by death or any of its accompanying sights, sounds, or smells. But he had always hated rats, ever since he’d chased one into a storm drain outside of the town of Liberty, west Texas, where he had grown up. He had thought it would make a good pet and would scare his younger sister, Beth. Instead, the animal had found itself cornered and turned on him. In haste to get away from the pursuing rat, he had slipped and fallen onto his back. The rat had scampered up his body and over his face to get away.

  “For fuck’s sake!” he yelled as fear turned his insides to water.

  He jumped back, slamming his head into the underside of the staircase and then losing his footing. He landed with a thud on his side, phone and gun pointed at the dead body. Except now the body had been jerked over to lie on its back, head lolling in his direction. Cade stared into two empty, bloody eye sockets.

  19

  Luis Alvarado was tall and broad-shouldered. He had the features of a Mexican matinee idol, square-jawed and chisel-featured, hair immaculately sculpted, oiled back from his temples. He wore a dark business suit and looked out at the world through cold, calculating eyes. By the time he arrived, a CSI van and a patrol car in tow, Cade had completed his recon of the derelict building, including taking several pictures of the building and the body. Now he sat next to Ashley in the window of her motel room. In the distance, they could see the police tape cordoning off the building and its grisly contents. Officers stood stoically outside, ready to ward off any rubberneckers or the press, if they got wind of it.

  “Tell me again,” Alvarado demanded. He turned his stare on Ashley, encouraging her to start.

  Ashley looked like she wanted to kill him. Cade was expecting it. He swallowed his impatience, recognizing how much he needed the cop’s cooperation to resolve this case.

 

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