CHAPTER 27
Lizzy sat in her office on J Street. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get Shelby Geitner out of her mind.
Lizzy had thought she could stay out of it, let Detective Chase do his job, but there was no way she could sit on the sidelines and do nothing. She pulled out her notebook and scribbled down the names of the girls Shelby seemed to hang around with in class. She’d pay each and every one of them a visit. She grabbed her address book and flipped through her contacts, writing down more names as she went, then used her resources, which included everything from the phone book to one of many free and paid public access sites on the Internet. It wasn’t long before she had a dozen people she wanted to talk to. Before she could grab her purse and take off, the office phone rang. It was her real estate agent, Pat.
“Lizzy. I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“I was just heading out. What’s going on?”
“I was at your house today and—”
“I don’t want anyone going inside that house.”
“But I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” Lizzy said, cutting her off. “I don’t want anyone in the house.”
“But his sister said—”
Lizzy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Lynn? Jared’s sister called you?”
“Yes. She made it sound like she was in charge.”
“She’s not. The house is in mine and Jared’s name.”
“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but there are practical considerations that I know you’re in no condition to—that you’re far too busy to deal with right now. I want to help. There’s a wonderful couple I know who clean out houses for busy people like you. They’ll pack everything up nice and neat, label all of the boxes and—”
“I don’t want anyone in my house. Do you hear me?”
Silence.
Lizzy swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ll call you if there’s any change.”
“Are you OK, Lizzy?”
Lizzy’s shoulders dropped. She was tired of people asking her the same question every five minutes. No, she was not OK. She was a fucking zombie, and that was on her best days. If someone didn’t like it, they could go to hell. She was doing her best.
“Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” Lizzy said. “I’ll call you if there’s any change,” she repeated, holding back from calling the woman a scavenger.
“OK. Sorry to bother you.”
Lizzy hung up the phone, more than annoyed when it rang again. “Hello,” she snapped.
“Is this Lizzy Gardner?”
“This is her.”
“Wonderful. I’ve been watching you.”
“What a surprise,” Lizzy said. She considered hanging up, figuring it was just another prank caller, but something in the woman’s voice made her hang on another moment and see what the woman wanted.
“I was hoping we could chat.”
“Mind telling me who I’m talking to?”
“I’m the one you’re looking for.”
“That’s great, because it’s so much easier if the people I’m looking for just call me up and tell me where they are. I’m listening.”
“I can’t give you my name, of course, but overall I believe the two of us are a lot alike.”
“Well, lucky you,” Lizzy said. Why does every asshole in the world think they know me? And why the hell am I still listening to this crackpot?
“Like you, I had some rough spots when I was younger. Recently, though, I realized things had to change, and it was time to punish some people for the things they did to me.”
Hmm. “You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“I’ve done some research on you, and I think you’re trying to rid the world of one bad guy at a time.”
“Interesting, but I have to disagree. I’m not trying to rid the world of anything. I try to help kids learn to defend themselves and I also help people with whatever it is they need.”
“Fine. You’re helping people,” the caller said, clearly annoyed. “I’m calling you because I have a proposition to make.”
“I’m still listening.” Barely.
“Since we’re on the same side,” the woman began, “I thought I would call you and ask you to lay off. No talking to the police. Just keep this between you and me.”
Lizzy rubbed her forehead, again thinking about hanging up. She didn’t have time for bullshit. “Keep what between you and me?”
“I know you talked to Melony Reed and Dean Newman’s girlfriend. Did Melony hire you to investigate something?”
Lizzy straightened in her chair. Now they were getting somewhere. “That’s privileged information.”
“Melony’s dead. I don’t think she would care if you told me.”
“Do you know Melony Reed and Dean Newman?” Lizzy asked.
“Perhaps.”
“Do you know where Dean Newman is?”
“If I did, why would I tell you?”
“Because you just said we were on the same side.”
“First I have to be sure I can trust you.”
“You can trust me, but how do I know if I can believe anything you’re telling me? How do I know you’re not just another crazy who likes to call the police or investigators like me for attention?”
“I’ll tell you this much . . . you’re never going to catch me.”
For a moment, Lizzy said nothing as she stared out the window. But then she took the bait and asked, “Work together how?”
“You need to stay out of my business. Let me do my thing, and trust me when I say certain people deserve whatever punishment I dish out.”
Across the street, standing near the coffee shop, was a man. Tall and broad-shouldered, and he wasn’t drinking coffee. He wasn’t doing much of anything, for that matter. Just looking toward Lizzy’s office, staring, watching.
The hairs at the back of Lizzy’s neck stood on end. The woman was talking again, but Lizzy wasn’t paying any attention. “Could you hold on just for one moment?”
Lizzy didn’t wait for an answer. She set the phone on her desk, grabbed her cell phone, and began to take pictures of the man. She was able to zoom in, but the glass window and cloudy day didn’t make for a perfect shot. On her feet now, she pretended to sort through a few papers as she slowly rounded her desk; then she grabbed the door, opened it, and sprinted for the coffee shop.
The man took off.
Lizzy took chase. Already up to speed, she might be able to catch up to him. He wore jeans and a bluish-brown plaid shirt. She hadn’t been able to see his face since he also wore dark shades and a baseball hat. He was a big guy, though. Same large build as Detective Chase. He knocked a woman to the side and took off down an alleyway between two buildings. Lizzy cut into the alleyway just as he made a sharp right out of view at midblock.
Her breathing was growing labored. She hadn’t taken her morning run in a while. OK, quite a while. She was out of shape. By the time she cut down the crossing alleyway, he was gone.
She stood there panting, hands on hips. After she caught her breath, she walked along the alley to the parking lot at its end.
Nothing but a few delivery trucks. Behind the solid wood fencing to her right were houses. She listened for any sign that might tell her he’d gone that way: barking dogs, people talking, footsteps. Nothing. It was cold out, and her breath came out in frosty puffs as she walked toward the delivery trucks. The back doors of the first two were thrown wide-open. Boxes were stacked high. She rubbed warmth into her arms as she walked along to the next truck. Its doors were more than three-quarters closed. She peered inside, couldn’t see a thing. She grabbed the handle and was about to pull the metal door open.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Damn. She stepped back and faced the uniformed driver approaching her with a box in his hands. Watching them both was another man, standing in the back doorway of the business the driver had apparently just left. Great: an audience. She didn’t have time for a scene.
“Just looking for someone.”
“Inside the back of my truck?”
“Well, yeah.”
Shaking his head, the driver grabbed hold of the handle and yanked it open.
A kick in the face was what he got for his efforts. He was on the ground, flat on his back, his nose a bloody mess, and then the man Lizzy had been chasing was vaulting over him and charging off across the parking lot.
“Call for help!” Lizzy shouted to the business owner looking out the back door before she was on the run again. She sprinted across the parking area, made a right back toward her office.
She darted across the street. Tires screeched. Somebody shouted at her.
He was gone.
After losing her guy, Lizzy went back to check on the driver. It wasn’t long before two police cars pulled up, and then another dark sedan driven by none other than Detective Chase. Just what she needed. She watched him climb out of his car, not an easy feat considering his size.
“Gardner, why am I not surprised to see you here?”
“I don’t know, Detective. You tell me. And why are you here? The guy has a broken nose for God’s sake.”
“I was in the area when the call came in.” He sighed as he rubbed bloodshot eyes. His hair was a mess. For the next ten minutes, he questioned the driver. Then he made his way to Lizzy where she’d taken a seat on the pavement, her back resting against the side of a building.
“The guy with the broken nose said he was kicked in the face by a seven-foot-tall Caucasian NFL linebacker.”
Not interested in talking to the detective’s knees, Lizzy pushed herself to her feet. “Not seven feet. In fact, he’s not as tall as you,” she said, “but he’s Caucasian and definitely as big as a linebacker.”
He stifled a yawn as he made notes.
“Didn’t get enough sleep last night?”
“I can’t remember the last time I got enough sleep.”
“Do you need anything else, Detective, or am I free to go?”
“What’s going on, Gardner?”
“What do you mean?”
He gave her a stern look that was meant to intimidate. “Who was this guy? Why were you chasing him?”
“If you didn’t already know, I tend to attract weirdos like honey attracts bees.”
“So you’ve seen him before today?”
She nodded. “He’s been following me around for a while.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She cocked a brow. “Tell you? Why would I tell you?”
“Fine,” he said, “maybe I deserve that, but believe it or not, I care about keeping the citizens of Sacramento safe.”
“Good to know.”
“Has he broken into your home?”
“Not that I’m aware of. So far he seems to be a lurker. Today was the first time I saw him in the middle of the day. Usually it’s after the sun goes down.”
“The delivery man over there said the guy had on dark glasses and a cap.”
She nodded. “White cap. Dirty.”
Awkward silence filled the space between them. It took her a second to get it. Detective Chase thought she knew more than she was telling him. She plunked a hand on her hip. “If I had any idea who this guy was, I’d tell you.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Rumor has it that you’re losing it, maybe even have some sort of death wish.”
“Listen, Detective, I don’t know who your informants are, but nothing has changed. I want to keep the people of Sacramento safe, too. And before you go around accusing people of such things as losing it, you might want to get a couple of hours of sleep. You look like shit.”
Five minutes later, tired and clearly off her game, Lizzy walked back into her office. She lifted the phone to her ear, then set it back in its cradle. Until that moment, she’d forgotten all about the caller, the woman who could very well be responsible for at least five deaths, maybe more.
She leaned over to pick up a piece of paper that had fallen on the floor. That’s when she noticed a few other things out of place. Her pencil holder had been knocked over. The bottom drawer of the filing cabinet was open. Other drawers were open, too. Her purse was still there. Nothing appeared to be missing.
Frustration coursed through her veins. Her heart raced. While she was talking to the detective, her stalker had been in her office going through her things.
The detective had been right about one thing: she was losing it.
“You’re oh for a thousand,” Lizzy told herself. “Keep up the good work.”
It wasn’t until she was getting ready to leave that she found a folded piece of paper inside her coat pocket. Chills swept over her as she read the note:
What wood my life have been like without you in it? I can’t imagine. Love, Jared