Brenda Novak - The Perfect Murder

Betty hesitated but ultimately acquiesced. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

Jane smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Be careful,” she said, and Jane didn’t ask her to explain. They both knew what was at stake.

“I will. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

When they hung up, Jane was still preoccupied by the conversation and by the cautious hope she was feeling. She made a move to set her phone on the console so she could start the car, but it was wrenched from her grasp-and a pair of strong hands cut off her breath before she could scream.

Where the hell was she?

Sebastian paced the living room of Jane’s condo. She’d said she was leaving the office, but that was more than thirty minutes ago. It didn’t take thirty minutes to drive to Howe Avenue. He might’ve thought her appointment had shown up at the last second, but if that was the case, why hadn’t she called him?

With a curse, he dialed her cell again. He’d already tried half a dozen times to reach her. Every call went straight to voice mail.

This one was no different. “Damn it!” he said and threw his phone on the couch in frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

Kate stood at the entrance of the hall, her expression worried. After pizza, Sebastian had encouraged her to get her homework done so they could go to the movie. She’d been in her room long enough that he’d assumed she was engrossed in her math.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, but he was too upset to sit down. It felt as if he should be doing something with his hands. What, he had no idea, so he thrust them in his pockets.

“Where’s Mom? Didn’t she say she was on her way home?”

“She probably stopped off at the store.” He spoke casually, but when his phone rang, he snatched it off the couch.

Unidentified appeared on caller ID.

He punched the talk button. “Hello?”

“I’ve got something you want,” a man said.

Sebastian’s chest constricted until he could hardly breathe. He recognized that voice. Although it had been a while, he’d talked to this person at least every weekend for several years. It was Malcolm Turner, Colton’s stepfather and murderer, the man he’d spent an entire year searching for. “What is it?” he asked, but he was stalling, trying to come to grips with what might be going on. In his heart, he knew Malcolm was talking about Jane. He’d have to be an idiot not to know. He could tell by Malcolm’s self-satisfaction.

“You can’t guess? She’s not very big. She’s a half-pint, really, especially compared to you. But she sure is a handful. Oooeee, what a feisty thing. Pretty, too. I can see why you’d like her, although she doesn’t seem like the snobbish type you used to date.”

Nausea roiled in Sebastian’s stomach. He knew what Malcolm was capable of doing and felt helpless to stop him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? Tsk, tsk. I thought you might be skeptical. But, here, I’ll make it easy.”

Sebastian’s grip tightened on the phone as he heard Malcolm encourage someone to speak. Then Jane’s voice came through, her words a frantic rush. “Don’t do it, Sebastian! Don’t do anything he asks! Take care of Kate and stay away-”

The scream that cut off those words went through Sebastian like a shard of glass. Swallowing hard, he glanced at Jane’s daughter. She was still standing in the hall, watching him curiously. “Malcolm, don’t you dare…”

“Don’t dare what?” he taunted. “Don’t kill her? I might’ve broken her jaw, but she’s not dead. Yet. You’re the one who’ll decide her fate. Not me.”

Somehow, he had to remove Malcolm’s power. “You’re punishing the wrong person,” he said. “I don’t care about her. Not like you think. There’s no way to hurt me through her.”

Sebastian had struggled to make that lie convincing, but his performance evoked a laugh. “Nice try. But I know better. You dropped Constance for her, didn’t you?”

“No. Constance and I grew apart.” Jane was proof of how far they’d drifted. But there was no denying that she made him whole in a way Constance never had.

“That’s not what Constance told me,” Malcolm said.

“You’re lying. Constance might be angry, but she’d never contact you. She hates you, just like I do.”

“Well, you know what they say about a woman scorned. I can forward you the e-mail, if you like.”

It was true, then. Malcolm was taking as much pleasure in letting him know that Constance had betrayed him as he was in having the upper hand with Jane.

Closing his eyes, Sebastian kneaded his forehead. What could he do?

“Sebastian? Is everything okay?” Kate asked.

She was getting frightened. He spoke to her openly, so Malcolm wouldn’t feel threatened by any whispering and harm Jane. “It’s fine. Are you done with your homework?”

“Except a couple of really hard problems.”

“Can you work on them a little longer?” he asked. “I’d help you but this is a very important business call.”

“So it has nothing to do with my mom?”

He winced at the hope in her eyes. “No.” Would he have to recant later? Would he have to tell her that her mother was dead?

Visions of Emily’s lifeless body, of Colton’s, stole his strength. No…

“Who’s that?” Malcolm demanded.

“Can’t you tell? It’s a child.”

“Whose child?”

Sebastian waited until Kate was back in her room. “Jane’s,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “If you kill Jane, you’ll make this child an orphan.”

“If you care about Jane or her child, I suggest you do everything I say.”

“What?” he asked.

“I’m offering you a trade-your life for hers.”

“How?”

“Come to the farmhouse.”

Sebastian preferred to keep Malcolm in town, if possible, where there’d be a better chance of escaping or getting help. “I don’t know where that is.”

“Then get a pen. I’ll give you the address.”

What should he do?

“You still there, tough guy?” Malcolm asked.

“I’m here,” Sebastian said from between clenched teeth and pretended to write down the address he rattled off. “When can we meet?”

“Now.”

“You’re asking for trouble, Malcolm. The police haven’t even finished processing the house. They could be there for all you know.”

“Crime-scene techs don’t work this late, not when they’ve got most of it done. And the police are in no hurry because they can’t even find the suspect. We’ll be fine.”

As usual, it was too easy for Malcolm. Sebastian wanted to tell him he’d go to prison or hell-preferably the latter. But Kate had come out of her room again, this time on the pretense of getting a glass of water. “She’s your only leverage,” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

He chuckled. “That’s one hell of a way to make your point, Sebastian. She’s your only leverage. That’s all you’ve got to say?”

That was all he could say in front of Kate. “I’ll make the trade. Just…see that you don’t-” he glanced over at Kate, who was watching him as she sipped from a glass “-you know.”

“I won’t hurt her. Unless you call the police. Do that and she’s dead.”

Sebastian knew that unless they got very lucky, Malcolm would kill her regardless. “I’m on my way.”

“Clock’s ticking,” he said. Then he was gone.

Jane was handcuffed to a rod in the back of a utility van that had no windows, other than those in the front. She could feel the tires thrumming against the pavement, could hear music playing on the radio. And once she’d managed to focus her blurry vision, she could see the back of the man who’d attacked her when she’d gotten into her car. It was Malcolm Turner. She would’ve known him even if she hadn’t carried his picture around with her every minute for a week. She hadn’t found him; he’d found her.