Brenda Novak - The Perfect Murder

“Malcolm is within reach, Connie,” he said. “I can feel it.”

“I think you might be right.”

Her sudden reversal surprised him. “What?”

“Someone called late last night, Sebastian, at about 2:00 a.m.”

“Who?”

“A man. He wouldn’t give his name.”

He gazed out at the overcast sky. “What’d he say?”

“He asked for you.”

Below, puddles formed in any depression, mirroring the gloom overhead. “Did you get the number he was calling from?”

“I couldn’t. It was blocked.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I said we broke up, that you were at your condo. But I don’t think he believed me.”

“Why not?”

“He said, ‘Then why the fuck doesn’t he answer?’ and hung up. He was…enraged. I could feel the hate coming through the phone. It was weird.”

Trying to absorb what that call, and the emotion of the caller, could mean, Sebastian looked over at the parking space where he’d found Jane crying. He wished he could have last night to do over again… “You think it was Malcolm?” he said.

When Constance replied her voice was softer than it had been in a long while. “Yes.”

Sebastian had immediately considered the possibility, but he had Malcolm on his mind 24/7. He’d never expected Constance to suspect a man she believed was dead.

Or maybe she simply wanted to believe he was dead-so Sebastian would come home and they could get on with their lives.

“It sounded just like him,” she went on with a degree of acceptance.

Lightning flashed in his peripheral vision before another crack of thunder rumbled overhead. “Are you sure? You only talked to Malcolm occasionally.”

“I talked to him enough to recognize his voice! I picked up Colton for you several times. Or have you forgotten?”

He hadn’t forgotten. He’d wanted her to get to know his son, to see how they’d interact. He’d been on the verge of asking her to marry him-they’d been that close-which was why he couldn’t believe he felt so indifferent to her now.

“He always made it a point to answer the door and harass me,” she was saying. “He’d clarify the time we’d be bringing Colton home, ask what we were planning to do with him-as if he had any right to approve or disapprove. He’d also inform me when Colton had homework so he wouldn’t be ‘saddled’ with it. Or he’d say we needed to get Colton a physical for sports or have his teeth checked or whatever. Don’t you remember? He passed off every chore he could, especially the ones that cost money, although you were already paying an exorbitant amount of child support.”

As long as it was for Colton, Sebastian hadn’t minded. His son had meant everything to him. Sometimes he’d even sent a little extra for Emily. He had no problem buying her a new dress or a meal out so she wouldn’t have to account to Malcolm for the expense. Why would he? She was the mother of his child. The happier she was, the happier his son would be.

What he wouldn’t give to have the option to overpay her again…

Clenching his teeth, he pressed his forehead to the cool glass. “He always had something to say.” It hadn’t been easy having another man tell him how to raise his son. That, more than anything, made Sebastian regret ever allowing his marriage to end. If only he hadn’t been so caught up in work during those early years. He’d been far too driven. With the hours he’d spent at the office, it was almost inevitable that Emily would get involved with someone else. She needed love, attention. He’d neglected her, yet he’d felt so angry, so betrayed, that he hadn’t been able to forgive her until it was too late.

“You hated it.”

“I did. All of it.” Because he’d been such a poor husband himself, his son had ended up living with a stepfather no one liked. And Emily had felt trapped. She didn’t want to “fail” again. But she’d been afraid of Malcolm…

Sebastian wished he’d given those fears more credence. But his father had needed constant care during the years she was first with Malcolm, and once his dad had died and he’d managed to forgive her, he was accustomed to the situation. He’d passed along a few bucks to ease the financial strain, hoping that would help, but he’d never expected it to end the way it did. The fact that Malcolm was a cop-that he loved being a cop-had convinced Sebastian that Emily’s husband was basically a good guy. Sebastian had thought he was just rigid and difficult to deal with on a personal level.

Even after so long, he was shocked by how wrong he’d been.

“So you finally agree that Malcolm is alive?” he asked.

“Now I do. It was him. Who else would be calling here in the middle of the night?”

Sebastian had no idea. But it was a relief to hear Constance acknowledge the possibility that Malcolm was still among the living. Until now, only his mother and, to a point, Mary-had believed him.

“Should I e-mail him? Let him know it was me?”

“You have his e-mail address?”

“It was on those transcripts you sent me.”

“No. I can’t afford to spook him. But why would he be looking for me?” he asked, but he could guess. Malcolm was tempted to see Mary this weekend, more tempted than he’d ever been to let someone from his former life know he was alive. But he was scared, too-scared enough to be searching for signs of trouble.

“Maybe he realizes you’re on to him. Maybe he feels you’re getting close.”

Lightning illuminated a few souls determined to brave the weather. At nearly eight o’clock in the morning, it was still dark enough that they had to use their headlights. One pair flipped on, then another.

“It’s possible,” he said. It wasn’t as if Sebastian had kept his search a secret. He’d flown all over the country tracking down everyone Malcolm had ever known, including Malcolm’s first wife. If Malcolm had been in touch with any of them, he’d probably been told that Sebastian was asking questions. Malcolm had contacted Mary, hadn’t he? Perhaps he’d contacted someone else, too-someone who’d heard what he’d done but didn’t quite trust the news. Or someone who was willing to accept any denials Malcolm had to offer.

“Do you think he checked with the bank?” she asked.

“That would be my guess.” Sebastian couldn’t believe that Malcolm would call Constance first, that he’d let her hear his voice when there were easier ways to get information. Lincoln Hawke Financial, the bank where he worked, was holding his position open, despite the topsy-turvy economy. Had Malcolm called there, he might’ve been told that Sebastian was still an employee. Or, depending on whom he’d spoken to, he might’ve been told that Sebastian hadn’t been in for more than a year.

What would Malcolm make of such a long absence?

“I’m nervous,” Constance said. “If he’s afraid you’re on to him, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

Turning away from the window, Sebastian went back to his computer. “It’ll blow the meeting this weekend, that’s for sure.”

“I’m not worried about the meeting-I’m worried about your safety!” she cried. “He’s already killed two people and gotten away with it. If he thinks you’re on to him, he might decide to get rid of you!”

“I’m prepared for that.”

“How do you prepare for being shot?”

“By knowing how to shoot back. After all the time I’ve spent at the range, I’m not bad.”

“But he could use this meeting with Mary to set you up. You might go there thinking you’ve got him, and it could be exactly the opposite.”

Maybe, but he’d never been this close to catching the man who’d killed his son. This could be his only opportunity. “Then we’ll see who outsmarts whom.”