Authors: Brandilyn Collins
“Oh, right, like we’d leave in
that
wired car. You think we’re stupid? Joanne had a friend come get her. We escaped out a back door.”
Slow heat trickled down Baxter’s spine. They’d gotten away
again
? What kind of incompetent fool had he hooked up with?
“…
took me to the district attorney’s house.”
That’s just the kind of stunt Joanne Weeks would pull.
On the other hand, any word that came out of Melissa Har-koff’s mouth was most likely a lie.
“Just how would a visit to the DA fit in with your plans to blackmail me?” Baxter spat. “You tell them your story about how I killed Linda—and your money goes up in smoke.” Not that he ever intended to pay it in the first place.
“She tricked me. Told me she was taking me to her brother’s house to hide out.”
Joanne didn’t have a brother.
“Once we got there the DA—his name is Dan Marlahn. You know him? He lives in Hollister, on Maxley Lane.”
The heat in Baxter’s spine flickered into a burn and spread down his limbs.
“Anyway, Dan the DA told me I’m a ‘material witness.’ And I can’t refuse to say what I know or he’ll put me in jail.”
Baxter’s knees weakened. He dropped into a kitchen chair. Material witness? That sounded too knowledgeable of the law. Not something that would come solely from Melissa’s devious mind.
“I kept refusing to talk. You know I don’t want to tell them how you killed your wife. But Dan the DA wouldn’t budge. Said it was jail time for me—right on the spot. I told them ‘Okay, I’ll do it’ because—what choice did I have? Then I went to the bathroom and escaped out the window.”
Baxter breathed into the phone, his heart grinding into an erratic beat.
“So, dear Baxter, your deadline has just moved up. Tuesday won’t do. I’m not sure I can stay on the run that long. Now I have both you
and
the law after me. Any cop who finds me will haul me in, make me talk. Do you understand, Baxter? I have
no choice
.”
He stared across the kitchen floor to the place where Linda had fallen six long years ago. The exact spot where he’d been forced to make the horrific decision that had led to this moment. “There’s always a choice, Melissa.” The words dripped with meaning.
“Not this time. I’m
not
going to jail.”
“So run. You’re good at that.”
“I’ll have the law on me wherever I go. You want that hanging over your head, Baxter? The day I’m found is the day you go down.”
He fixated upon the infamous spot, hatred churning in his gut.
“Go ahead, Melissa, tell them your story. I’ll tell them
you
must have killed Linda and buried her all by yourself, while I slept. I didn’t know a thing about it. It’ll be my word against yours. Who do you suppose the jury’s going to believe?”
“Interesting story. Not quite sure it fits with your original one. You know—Linda went to the store for aspirin and never returned?”
Baxter seethed but could think of no reply.
Melissa laughed. The sound drove Baxter’s heels into the floor. “There are things you still don’t know, Baxter. Besides, you want to take the chance on who they believe? You want to go through an arrest, a trial? Your name dragged through the mud? And let’s not forget the strange death of wife number two. What if they reopen
that
case?”
Rage coursed through Baxter. He hunched forward and gripped the phone, his throat tightening at the too-recent memories. It wasn’t his fault; he hadn’t meant for any of that to happen. If Cherisse hadn’t mouthed off in their bedroom at the end of a long day as he was inserting a wooden stretcher into his shoe. If she hadn’t run out the door when he ordered her to stay, and if he hadn’t followed, that stretcher still in his hand, and if she hadn’t reached the top of the stairs as his arm pulled back and whammed that solid block of wood into the side of her head, and if she’d fallen sideways instead of forward—
“
Don’t
you talk to me about Cherisse. Don’t you
dare
.”
“I don’t care about Cherisse,” Melissa shot back. “What I care about is the money. The price has just gone up, due to my circumstances. Which
you
caused. I want $300,000.
And
your deadline’s been pushed up. Now it’s Monday, ten a.m. That gives you time to get to the bank.”
“I’m not giving you a
cent
.”
“Fine. Then count on being arrested Tuesday. That’s about how long it’ll take them to dig up Linda’s body. I know, because I asked.
Don’t
think I won’t talk, Baxter. Between you trying to kill me and the police looking for me, I’ll have
no choice
. If your deadline passes and you haven’t paid the money, I’m going straight back to the DA.”
Baxter’s eyes closed. He knew she meant it. She’d called him out of the blue last week after six years. Said she’d heard about Cherisse’s death through happening to read the
Vonita Times
online—the issue with Joanne Weeks and her big mouth as the cover story. Melissa wanted money by Monday or she’d tell the police he’d killed Linda. Now pushed to the brink, if she didn’t get her way, vindictive Melissa would pile it on. The tears, the manipulation, the wide-eyed innocence. The lies. Their affair would turn into his seduction. Or worse, statutory rape would become
forced
rape. And Linda’s death…
Baxter straightened in his chair. His gaze roved through the glass doors to his beautiful backyard. The yard he’d enjoyed with two equally beautiful wives. How he’d missed Linda. How he now missed Cherisse.
He’d lost enough. He would never lose his freedom. His reputation, his life.
Never
.
“All right.” The words lay bitter on his tongue. “Monday at ten. Three-hundred thousand.”
He could hear the smirk over the phone line. “I knew you’d come around, Baxter.”
They discussed drop-off details. He was to put the money in a box, taped up. Write the name “Ann” on top. Melissa gave him specific instructions to a place in the woods on the west side of 101.
“Leave it there, then get in your car and drive away,” Melissa commanded. “And don’t think I haven’t thought through how it’ll be picked up safely. I won’t be such an easy target this time.”
This was the scenario Baxter had so wanted to avoid. Better to trick Joanne Weeks into leading him to an unsuspecting Melissa than to try killing Melissa when she was on the alert. And that’s exactly how she’d be when picking up his package. All the more now, thanks to his scheme being uncovered.
What a backfire. He never should have done it this way. He should have gone through with a fake drop-off, stayed around, and killed Melissa himself. But that would have involved buying a gun. Getting rid of another body. Too many trails.
“I don’t ever want to hear from you again.” Baxter’s tone would freeze steel.
“Have a good life, Baxter. Just get me the money.”
Melissa hung up.
Slowly, Baxter rose and replaced the phone. Anger surged through him. He couldn’t even tell who he was more mad at—Melissa or his hired man. If they walked into his kitchen right now he’d strangle them both—with a smile on his face.
Wait
.
What if Melissa’s call was a ruse? Maybe she and Joanne were still trapped in the hotel and cooked up this story so he’d pull his man away from Joanne’s car…
But if he did pull off his man, how would they know it? They couldn’t be sure it was safe to leave.
Baxter paced to the refrigerator and back, shoving down his emotions, forcing himself to think logically. He pulled up short in front of the sliding glass door.
No
. That kind of ruse would be too open-ended. Joanne was smarter than that.
For once Melissa had to be telling the truth. They’d escaped the hotel. As for the DA part, Joanne could have fed Melissa that information…
But she wouldn’t be calling Baxter to blackmail him in front of Joanne. They must have parted ways.
Baxter unclipped his private cell from his waist and punched in a number. Mr. Idiot answered on the first ring.
“They got away, you moron.
Again
.”
“
What?
The car—”
“Strip the car of the GPS and go home. You can’t be anywhere around that hotel.”
“But—” His man huffed over the line. “So then what?”
Baxter related the exact spot in the woods to watch on Monday. “There will be a box there, with ‘Ann’ written on top. You got all this?”
“Written down. When’s she coming?”
“I don’t know. Anytime after ten. Just hide and watch.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t
miss. And I don’t
ever
want her body found.”
“When do I do the other lady?”
“We’ll talk about her later.”
“What about my leg, man? It’s still got a bullet in it. I got it wrapped up, but it hurts like—”
“Dig it out yourself.”
Baxter smacked off the call.
After our initial shock over Melissa’s disappearance, Dan jumped on the phone to the local police. Perry headed out to search for Melissa himself. “She couldn’t have gotten far.” He threw open Dan’s front door and ran outside.
I stayed behind, too tired and sick at heart to hurry after him. Perry wouldn’t find her anyway. She’d skulk in the dark until she was blocks from Dan’s house. The police with their spotlights were more likely to locate her.
Back in Dan’s kitchen I listened to him request that Hollis-ter police put out a BOLO—Be On the Look Out—for Melissa. If found, she would be arrested. They’d bring her in on the gun charge
and
the material witness thing. A little time in jail should change her mind about testifying against Baxter. But the fact that Melissa was on foot made the BOLO more difficult to be effective. Police wouldn’t have a certain car to be searching for. Who knew what friend Melissa might call to pick her up?
“She’s likely to call Tony Whistman,” I told Dan as soon as he got off the phone. “The guy she just broke up with.”
Dan stood in his kitchen, one hand on his hip, the other drumming his granite countertop. He looked none too happy. “You know how to contact him?”
“I have his cell number. I don’t know his address, but I can find that quickly enough if you get me on a computer.”
Dan reached for the phone. “I can have his name run for his address and driver’s license. For now I can put some fear in him, in case Melissa’s already called. What’s his number?”
If Melissa had phoned Tony, he could already be on his way to pick her up. Fortunately it would take him some time to reach Hollister.
“Just a sec.” I hurried to the living room and pulled my notebook from my purse. Back in the kitchen, I rattled off the number. Dan punched in the digits, then hovered over the counter, head down.
I watched him listen to Tony’s phone ring. Anxiety pinged through my system like wayward electrodes. My legs threatened to give out any minute. I so needed sleep, but I wasn’t about to get it now. More than that, I needed a new life. No matter what happened here, Vonita would never be the same for me.
My body wobbled. I pulled out a kitchen chair and fell into it.
Dan’s head came up. “Tony Whistman?” He paused. “This is Dan Marlahn, district attorney for San Benito County. I need to talk to you about Melissa Harkoff…”
My nerves jittered and bounced—and just like that, some internal fuse blew. My mind dulled. I listened to Dan’s conversation with Tony as if he spoke from the opposite end of a long tunnel. Dan warned Tony that any help he gave Melissa in fleeing would be against the law, and Dan would personally come down hard on him. “Again, Tony, understand that if she cooperates with us as a witness in this case, we will protect her and keep her safe. And free. If she doesn’t, she’ll face jail time herself. If you care for her, you’ll do the right thing by contacting us the minute she calls you.”
My eyes closed. Dan’s voice faded. My head lowered…
I jerked up. My eyes blinked open, struggling to focus.
Dan was eyeing me, his phone on the counter. “He claimed she hasn’t called.”
I pulled in a deep breath, straightened in the chair. “Think he’s lying?”
“Don’t know.” He sighed. “We need to get you down to the station so they can take your statement.”
I nodded. “You got something to eat first? I need some energy.”
“Yeah, sure.” Distracted, his mind clearly running a mile a minute, Dan pulled out some lunch meat and cheese. I scarfed it down and drank two glasses of water. Then a craving for Jelly Bellies hit. When this night was over, I was going on a serious binge.
Perry stomped in as I was eating, thoroughly frustrated. “No go.” He leaned against a counter and frowned at the floor. A ticker tape of emotions scrolled across his features.
Dan made another phone call to police with three more requests. First, to alert hospital emergency room personnel in the San Jose area to contact them if a man came in with a bullet wound in the leg. Second, to tow in my car so a forensics team could go through it for fingerprints and other evidence, as well as checking for any hidden devices such as a GPS unit.
Great. Now I’d lost my car to police. No telling how long it would take to get it back.
Third, Dan sent an officer to run down a judge for a court order for Melissa’s cell phone records.
“On a Sunday night?” I asked when he hung up. “Aren’t you pushing it with some judge?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I need to get the process started. Once I get that order, it’ll still take me maybe twenty-four hours to get the records—and that’s if I keep after the cell phone company. Those guys are overwhelmed with requests. They’d take days if I let ’em.”
Perry looked up. “You’ll track her via cell phone towers?”
“Yeah. She makes a call, we’ll be able to locate her.”
I left the kitchen to visit the bathroom. As I washed my hands I stared at myself in the mirror. Bags under my eyes, my mouth pulled down with tiredness. I looked like a truck hit me.