Erica Spindler - Dead Run

Liz drew her eyebrows together. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure. I’ll make coffee.”

Liz led her friend upstairs and to the kitchen. “Have a seat,” she said, motioning to the table and chairs. “This will only take a minute.” She quickly measured coffee into a filter and water into the carafe, then switched on the pot. That done, she turned to her friend. “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s been following me.”

Liz’s heart stopped. “What?”

Heather clasped her hands together. “Last night and…before. It’s probably nothing, but after Tara, I guess I’m just…well, I’m a little spooked.”

An understatement, Liz realized. She looked terrified. Coffee forgotten, Liz took the chair across from the other woman. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

She nodded. “For the last few days I had this feeling that I was being followed. You know how that is? It’s like you’re aware that someone is there, behind you. Or you catch a movement from the corner of your eyes but when you look there’s nothing suspicious.”

“Yes,” Liz agreed. “I know what you mean. Do you sense it’s a man or a woman?”

“Man. I’ve no doubt.” She drew in a deep breath, then continued. “Last night…I awakened suddenly. I didn’t know why, because I had been deeply asleep and dreaming.

“I was confused and sat up. My window was open. About two inches.”

“It wasn’t open when you went to bed.”

“No.”

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely. The night air can give me a sinus headache, so I’ve learned not to sleep with the windows open.”

“Did you call the police?”

She shook her head. “I was afraid…I mean, all this could just be my imagination.”

“But the window-”

“What if I was mistaken? I’d look like an idiot.”

“Better an idiot than-”

Liz bit back the word but it hung in the air between them.

Dead. Better than being dead.

Heather made a sound of distress. “I’m sorry,” Liz murmured quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, really, I…did Tara ever say anything about being followed?”

“No. But I only met with her twice and she never really opened up.”

Silence fell between them. Liz fidgeted, uncomfortable, uncertain what to do. Should she ask the other woman about the Horned Flower? Perhaps she had heard of the group. After all, because of Bikinis & Things, she saw a lot of teenagers. She would overhear conversations. Rumors.

And if she shared her suspicions about that, should she come clean about it all, most importantly her relationship to Rachel?

The phone rang and Liz jumped to her feet, nearly toppling her chair in the process. “Excuse me a minute, Heather. I’ve been waiting for a call.”

She crossed to the phone and picked it up, turning her back to the other woman. “Hello.”

“Liz? It’s Rick.” By their crackling connection it was obvious he was calling from his cell phone. “The images are the same.”

“My God, Rick. That means he was telling the truth.”

“Not necessarily. Everything we have right now is circumstantial. Or worse, speculative.”

Liz lowered her voice. “So, what do we do next?”

“Val needs to be brought up to speed. I’ve got to relieve Margo at the Hideaway. I’ll come by your place as soon as I can get away.”

“Wait! Are you sure that’s a good idea? Mark said-”

“It’s Mark I’m thinking of. We need to locate him fast. To do that, we need the police department’s manpower.”

“All right. You know your way around this kind of situation better than I do.”

“Liz? You’re breaking up. Look…to yourself…after we-”

His cell phone dropped the call, and she hung up, frustrated. She was pretty sure he had been asking her not to tell anyone what was going on until they had talked to Val. Which answered her question about whether she should involve Heather.

Liz glanced at her friend. Heather stared toward the window, her lovely face puckered with worry. Liz caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She didn’t know why, but she felt a strong compulsion to disregard Rick’s advice and tell the other woman what was going on. She felt that by not telling her she might be exposing her to danger.

Liz shook off the sensation.

Heather turned her gaze to Liz. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.” She forced a smile.

The other woman’s eyebrows shot up. “You seem kind of jumpy.”

Liz laughed. The sound rang false even to her own ears. “Too much caffeine, that’s all.”

Heather saw through her lie and looked hurt. She stood. “I’d better go.”

“Wait-” Liz held out a hand. “A friend’s gotten himself in some trouble. I’m trying to help, that’s all.”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Okay. If you need to talk, you know where I am.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Liz accompanied her friend downstairs to the front door. There, she met the woman’s gaze once more. “What about you? What are you going to do? I’m worried. I think you should go to the police.”

“Forget what I said about being followed. I’m probably overreacting. I mean, why would anyone be following me?”

“Heather, don’t take any chances. Please. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I’m pretty tough.” The woman grinned. “Anybody tries to mess with me, they’ll regret it.”

Liz watched her go, appreciating her pluck but unable to suppress a feeling of dread. No matter how tough she thought she was, Heather Ferguson would be no match for the monster who had murdered Tara.

Sunday, November 18

3:20 p.m.

Val was waiting for Rick when he arrived back at the Hideaway. He looked pissed. “We need to talk.”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Rick muttered. Instead of his bike, he’d taken his battered but reliable old Jeep to Marathon. Usually reliable, he amended. The air-conditioning had gone out just outside Big Pine Key. He was hot, tired and thirsty. The last thing he wanted to do at this moment was tangle with his old friend.

“Cut the shit, Rick. I know where you were today. And I consider it a personal betrayal of our friendship.”

The cat was out of the bag now. Dammit. Rick laid his cell phone and keys on the bar. “Mind if I get a cold drink first?”

“Hell yes, I mind. But you always do whatever you want anyway. Don’t you, Rick?”

Margo looked from one to the other of them and ducked her head, pretending to take inventory of the drink well.

The two men exchanged a long glance. Rick swore. “Margo, we’ll be in my office.”

A moment later Rick closed the door behind them. They faced each other. “You crossed the line, my friend. You crossed it big time.”

“How did you find out?”

“Daniel called. He’s had second thoughts about sharing that sketch with you.”

Covering his ass. Smart man. Rick lifted his shoulders. “What’s the big deal? No harm done.”

“Bullshit. I want that sketch.”

Rick stalled. “It’s only a copy.”

Val held a hand out. It shook slightly with the force of his rage. “The copy, please. Now.”

Rick dug it out of his pocket and handed it over. Val shoved it into his pocket. No doubt he had another copy in a file at the KWPD. “Jesus, man, that’s evidence you’re screwing with. My investigation you’re screwing with. I’d ask what the hell you were thinking, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s over. Do you read me? You’re out of this.”

He strode to the door, yanked it open and started through.

“Ever hear of a group called the Horned Flower?” Rick asked.