What Doesn’t Kill Her

Chapter Seventeen

Though she had buzzed Mark into the building just moments before, Jordan remained jumpy as she peered through the peephole, waiting to see him fill her vision. And when he had, she flung open the door, ready to rip him a new one. Hadn’t he essentially hung up on her, after hitting her with Levi’s murder? Without providing any goddamn details! What the fuck?

Then, when she saw him with his disheveled hair, grass-stained suit, and torn suit coat and pants, she blurted, “Jesus, are you all right?”

“Hard day at the office,” he said, and managed a small smile as he brushed by her into the apartment.

Jordan — in Indians T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, her hair trailing down her back — had in her right hand the switchblade she had commandeered from that mugger out back.

“Where did you get that?” he said, eyeing the knife, frowning back at her.

“Didn’t you know?” She clicked it shut, slipped it into her jeans pocket. “They issue these to all mental patients upon release.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. I don’t want to know. Truthfully, I’m glad you have something to defend yourself with.”

“I don’t need this to defend myself. What the hell happened to Levi? He’s dead? He’s really dead?”

He nodded solemnly, then gestured to the black-topped table. “Let’s sit.”

They did, and he filled her in on what he’d learned and seen. His delivery was understated, but he did not avoid the unpleasant details.

“Butchered,” she said quietly. “Like my family.”

“The use of a knife may indicate the same perpetrator, yes.”

“You think? Mark, he knows we’re looking for him. But he’s found us, before we found him! How does he know?”

“That may come out in questioning.”

She frowned at him. “What?”

He smiled and it was a self-satisfied smile of a sort she’d never seen from him. “I think I got him.”

“What?”

“I got him, Jordan.” He raised a fist chest high and shook it in a victory gesture. “This nightmare ends now. I only wish it could have ended sooner, before what happened to Levi, but... this is what you’ve been waiting for. It’s finally here.”

But it wasn’t what she’d been waiting for, was it? She’d wanted to find the intruder before Mark, before the police, because he had to die. This monster had to die, and at her hands. That was the only way. The only way.

Proud of himself, Mark was saying, “I made an arrest before coming over here — that’s why I’m so well-groomed.” He gestured to his torn, soiled clothing. “I had to tackle his behind.”

“Whose ‘behind,’ goddamnit?”

“Oh. Sorry. Stuart Carlyle.”

“One of Havoc’s coaches.”

He nodded. “He’s in custody now. That was whose picture I ran past you.”

“But I couldn’t identify him.”

“No, but you said it might be the guy.” Mark frowned. “By the way, you may want to forget I showed you that picture, when you’re brought in to pick him out of a lineup.”

“Bending the rules, Detective?”

“For you, I’d throw them all out the window.”

All of them? Would you stand there and watch me kill the man, just as savagely as he killed my family? Because if you want to woo me, Mark Pryor, that’s what it’s going to take.

Her eyebrows went up. “What happens if it isn’t him?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Well...”

“If it’s not him, when I get a better look at him, what then? I’ll tell you ‘what then’ — it means the real killer’s still out there.”

“Yes,” he said, though he was shaking his head no. “But the evidence indicates it is Carlyle. My work led to Havoc, and your team made suspects out of his staff. It’s a joint effort we can all be proud of. We can all take credit.”

“Credit! Who gives a fuck about credit?” She leaned forward. “We need to talk to the others on the team. I called them like you asked, but didn’t tell them about Levi. Maybe we should call a meeting, and—”

Halfway through that, he had started to pat the air with his palms. “I’m ahead of you. I’ve already called David, Phillip, and Kay, and broken it to them about Levi. I’ve sent uniformed officers to watch Kay and David, as well.”

“What about Phillip?”

“He declined police protection.”

“Well, if you already have the killer in custody,” she said openly sarcastic, “why bother with any of them?”

“Until you make your ID and all the evidence is in,” Mark said, “we have to operate as if the killer were still at large. I could be wrong about Carlyle. You’re right about that.”

“I’m glad you grasp that. Because I’m not sure about that photo.”

Or did she not want to be sure?

Mark shrugged. “As for Phillip, he’s a survivor of a crime apparently unrelated to the family murders. Says since he didn’t join the team until just recently, the killer probably doesn’t even know he exists. He says he’ll be ‘extra-vigilant.’ ”

“That sounds like him,” she said. “But you should talk him out of turning down protection. If there’s any chance the killer is still out there, he needs that the same as the rest of us.”

Mark was nodding. “I agree. If this killer has been watching you... and there’s every indication that this is the case... then he knows all about your support group spin-off team. Might have intended targeting all of you.”

“You’ll talk to Phillip?”

“I will. You know, from what he said on the phone, he must be the last person alive to speak to Levi.”

“Really? Why do you say that?”

“Levi was on his way over to Phillip’s to work on the case. Apparently Levi had some kind of breakthrough. But he never showed. Then Phillip fell asleep waiting for him, didn’t wake till morning, and... not surprisingly... got no answer when he tried to call.” Mark shook his head. “Poor guy sounded shattered, hearing the news.”

“I wouldn’t have been surprised,” Jordan said dryly, “if Levi called and said he was coming over, and then didn’t show.”

“Why’s that?”

“We all knew that piece-of-shit car of his was a problem. Anyway, Phillip’s going to be key from here on. He’s the one with the computer skills.”

Mark shook his head. “That shouldn’t be necessary now. Even if I’m wrong about Carlyle — and I doubt I am — the one good thing that comes from Levi’s murder is that a real police investigation is going to be mounted. Finally what I’ve been doing... what we’ve all been doing... will be recognized as valid.”

She asked, “How did the killer — whether he’s this Carlyle person or not — even know about our support-group team?”

He touched her hand and she drew it back quickly, but he reached for it, trying again, and this time she let him. He squeezed gently.

“Jordan,” he said, “I’m afraid this predator may have been watching you since your release.”

She frowned. “Why do you think that?”

He took a few moments, selecting his words. “There was a waitress killed in this neighborhood a few days after you got out of St. Dimpna’s. She had a vague resemblance to you.”

“God. How... how was she killed?”

“With a knife. Multiple stab wounds.”

“You mean she was butchered, too?”

He nodded. “We can’t be sure there’s a connection. Sergeant Grant has a few suspects from the young woman’s life — a married man, and she had her share of dates, some of them paying for the privilege.”

“A prostitute?”

“Not hardcore, apparently. More casual than that, but yes. That she was found in this part of town, and that she had dark hair and your general build... her death may have been a message to you.”

She winced in thought. “What, that he was still out here?”

“Yes. A kind of terrible, sick... ‘welcome home.’ ”

Her eyes flashed and her nostrils flared. “How long have you known this?”

He put up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t keep anything back from you. I knew about her death from Sergeant Grant, when he asked me to talk to you for him. But at the time, neither of us saw any connection. Now that Levi’s been killed, in much the same way... well. It’s still just a theory.”

She shook her head. “What if you’re wrong, Mark, and he’s still out there? Watching us. Murdering us.”

“Jordan...”

And what if Mark was right, and she would never get to bring the intruder to justice, to her very special brand of justice?

She clenched her fists and shook them at the ceiling and howled in rage and pain. Then she began to sob, and she couldn’t stop. She rose from the table and hugged herself and walked in weaving circles, weeping convulsively, for Levi, for her friends, for herself, and when Mark came to her and tried to put an arm around her, she pushed him away, not viciously, not on his ass this time, but away. Yet when he tried again, she did let him hold her, and she hugged him hard and cried into his chest, the tears bleeding out of her as if the blade that had punctured Levi had penetrated the wall that kept her emotions in.

He spoke soothing words, words she couldn’t make out but their kind tone helped, as did the gentle pat of his hand on her back, and slowly control returned, sobbing ebbed, tears abated. He smelled good. Some kind of cologne, and it was warm in his arms, and she didn’t mind being held, not at all, even if he was a man.

He brushed tears from her cheek and she backed away slightly, still in his embrace, and looked into those blue eyes, which were moist themselves, though he hadn’t shed tears.

“Don’t kiss me,” she said.

“I won’t.”

“Don’t you dare kiss me. It’ll ruin it.”

“I won’t.”

She kissed him.

Brief, sweet, moist with her tears, but a kiss.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she said.

“I won’t.”

“That was just ‘thank you.’ ”

“You’re welcome.”

“This isn’t the time.”

“I know.”

And she kissed him again, only not so brief, and the warmth was more than thanks on her part and the urgency of how he returned her kiss spoke passion not pity. He really had been doing all of this because he loved her. That was so obvious, and she had known it. But now she felt it.

Still in his embrace, she said, “Has to stop there.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go sit.”

“All right.”

They walked to the table, awkwardly skirting the mattress on the floor, a mattress that was a third presence in the room, silent but yelling at them. They pretended not to hear.

At the table, seated, they held hands, loosely. He looked vaguely embarrassed. He glanced back at the mattress, and she shook her head.

“Get that out of your mind,” she said.

“Get what out of—”

“No.”

He swallowed. Nodded.

“Maybe when this is over,” she said, “who knows? Maybe after he’s been taken care of... I’ll feel clean again.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know! But he was... inside me. Understand? He is a sickness and he... was in me. That’s hard to live with. The idea of having any kind of... normal relationship, after that...”

He was frowning. “Don’t give him that power.”

“What?”

“Jordan, he controlled you for a few minutes, a few terrible minutes. Don’t give him any more than that. He doesn’t deserve it.”

She drew her hand away.

“Jordan...”

She raised a traffic-cop palm. “No. I’m not mad. I’m... I’m just coming to a kind of... realization. Having a... is the word epiphany?”

He wasn’t following her. “Is it?”

Now she clutched his hand and squeezed it so tight, his eyes popped a little.

“Mark, you’re right, you are so goddamn fucking right. He controlled me that night, but I let him control me for the next ten years. Well, that fucking ends now.”

His smile was ridiculously boyish. “Jordan, I guess you know how I feel. You know I love you. That I have since—”

“Since high school. Will you stop? I’m not that innocent little girl anymore.”

“I, uh, noticed.”

“I am a bundle of neuroses and you need to know that and be ready to deal with it, if you want to find out if ten years later I’m worth knowing... never mind loving. No more kissing tonight, Detective Pryor. We have other things to do.”

“You’re right.”

“But when this is over...”

When that miserable butchering bastard is dead.

“I think it is over,” he said.

“When this is over... then we’ll start over. We’ll see if I’m anything more than some dream girl you wove out of your teenage fantasies, or if the reality of the woman I am now just isn’t worth the fucking trouble.”

He smiled a little. “I think you’re worth the effing trouble.”

“Even if I swear like a stevedore?”

“Even then.”

She squeezed his hand. “We’ll see. When the time comes.”

“When the time comes.”

“...In the meantime, how about something to drink?”

“Sure.”

“How about a sandwich?”

“I don’t think I’ve eaten all day.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

They wound up sharing the last two Coke Zero bottles from his pizza run. She made them both Swiss cheese and smoked turkey sandwiches on rye.

As the meal wound down, Jordan frowned in thought. “What do you think Levi’s breakthrough might have been?”

With about two bites of his sandwich left, Mark said, “Maybe Carlyle will tell us. Otherwise, that’ll be tough to figure, with Levi’s laptop gone.”

“It was taken?”

Mark nodded.

“Then,” she said, “the killer knew there was evidence on Levi’s laptop?”

“Maybe. But Carlyle also took Levi’s cell.”

“For now let’s just say the killer took Levi’s cell.”

“Fair enough. But whoever did it took the time, just off a public thoroughfare, to make the killing look like a mugging.”

“A mugger who collects eyeballs? I don’t think so.”

Her harshness made him blink, and he put down the remaining bite of sandwich.

“Anyway,” he said, “that cell is not a great loss. I’m waiting on a warrant to get Levi’s phone records now. Either our man didn’t know we could get those, or didn’t care. I’m guessing it’s the latter.”

“So he was after the laptop.”

“I would say so.” Mark used a paper napkin and had a last swig from his glass of Coke Zero on ice. “You’ll have to take a ride downtown for a lineup, to identify Carlyle, tomorrow. Cool with that?”

She half rose. “Hell, I can do it right now.”

He gestured for her to settle down. “The wheels don’t grind that fast. I’ll call you in the morning. Okay?”

“Okay. You’re... going?”

“Yeah, I have a couple more things to do yet tonight.” He rose. “There’s a patrol car out front and it’ll stay there all night, and tomorrow, too, till I say otherwise. You’re protected. But just stay put till you hear from me, okay?”

“Okay.”

She walked him to the door and she squeezed his hand. He looked at her like he wanted to kiss her, but she shook her head.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said, maybe a little embarrassed.

Then he was gone, and she was alone.

Shit!

She should be thrilled that Mark had apparently caught the intruder, and he probably thought he deserved more gratitude than she’d shown, maybe another kiss or even more.

Only she didn’t want the intruder’s ass in jail — she wanted his throat in her hands!

Maybe she could go down there for that lineup tomorrow morning and say he wasn’t the guy, and they would release him, and she could...

Yes.

That would do nicely.

She curled up on the mattress and slept more soundly than she had in a very long time.