Almost Dead (11 page)

CHAPTER 24

Lizzy walked to her car, frustrated and tired. She hadn’t been sleeping well. The notion that someone had taken Shelby was too much for her. And then there were the people on Melony’s list—targets, every one of them.

And the man who was watching her.

Fuck this life of hers.

Not a day went by that Lizzy didn’t feel his eyes on her, crawling over her skin like a tick looking for its host—sensing body heat and vibrations.

And yet the cameras Tommy had hooked up in the front yard and backyard had yet to show anything tangible: deer, raccoon, the usual culprits you would expect to see on any given night.

Once she was inside her car, she looked over the list of names Melony Reed had provided her. She stopped at Dean Newman. According to Melony’s scribbled notes, Dean had grown up in a wealthy family. His father owned Merrick’s Lumber and Hardware. The way Melony told it, the things Dean had done in high school ended up being too much for him and drove him to drink. Sounded to Lizzy like this could just as easily be Melony’s own guilt talking, but who knew? Whatever the reason, Dean was definitely a drunk. Kicked out of college in his junior year, he’d moved back home and even ended up on the street for a short time until he’d joined Alcoholics Anonymous. As far as Melony knew, he’d stayed sober since then.

A quick check with DMV records provided her with an address in Roseville. It was a nice house at the end of a cul-de-sac off East Roseville Parkway near the Galleria mall. It was past ten in the morning when she knocked on the front door.

A woman answered with a burp rag thrown over her shoulder and a baby in her arms. Judging by the dark shadows under her eyes, she hadn’t slept any better than Lizzy had.

“I don’t want any,” she said.

“I’m not selling anything. I need to talk to Dean Newman. Does he live here?”

“You tell me,” the woman said. The baby began to cry, and she moved the infant from one arm to the other. She started to walk away and said over her shoulder, “Come on in and shut the door behind you.”

Lizzy stepped inside.

Big mistake. Had she known the woman was going to wheel around and plop the baby in her arms, she never would have followed her. “I’m not good with babies,” Lizzy warned her. “I haven’t held a baby in years. I might drop her.”

“It’s a boy,” the woman said from the kitchen. She held a bottle beneath the water, waiting for it to heat up. “You’re doing just fine.”

Lizzy had to agree. The tiny human in her arms had stopped crying, and he was looking up at her with bright-blue watery eyes.

“Nobody ever told me taking care of a baby would be so hard,” the woman said from the kitchen. “All of my friends made it look easy. They all said breast-feed, cuddle, change the diaper, and repeat. What a crock of shit. Blake refuses to breast-feed. He cries when I cuddle him. And he won’t sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. I’m at my wits’ end.”

“I’m sorry,” Lizzy said, wondering what to do now that Blake was grabbing fistfuls of her hair and pulling. He was stronger than he looked. It hurt, but she didn’t want to make him cry, so she let him be. When his chubby fingers got a little too close to her nostrils, she made googly eyes at the kid and then lifted her chin. Blake must have found her amusing because he giggled.

“Did he just laugh?”

“I don’t know,” Lizzy said. “I think so.”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Stay right there. Don’t move. I need to get my camera.”

Lizzy’s bottom lip was being twisted and pulled.

“Blake, that really hurts,” she told him. “Maybe you should go back to pulling my hair.”

He smiled.

“You’re pretty cute, but you already know that, don’t you?”

He started to coo and gurgle.

“OK,” the woman said as she returned to Lizzy’s side. “Do it again. Make him laugh.”

“I don’t think I can. I have no idea what I did the first time.”

“Maybe it’s your voice. I’ll just keep the video running while you talk . . . about anything.”

“Let’s talk about Dean Newman.”

As if on cue, the baby laughed.

“You did it! He laughed.”

Blake did laugh. And then he proceeded to spit up on Lizzy’s shirt.

The woman stopped recording and handed Lizzy a rag.

Lizzy cleaned herself as best she could, considering she still cradled the baby in her arms. She followed the woman back to the kitchen and tried to hand Blake to her, but she wouldn’t take him. “I’m sorry,” Lizzy said, “but I really don’t have time for this. I need to get going.”

“I thought you wanted to know about Dean.”

“I do, but I’ve been here for almost fifteen minutes and I know more about Blake than I do Dean.”

“Fine,” the woman said in a huff, crossing her arms. “Dean and I have been living together for five years now. He’s also Blake’s father. Three days ago, Dean came home from work and told me he needed to deliver another one of his stupid letters apologizing to someone he feels he may have slighted in high school.”

Lizzy waited for the woman to continue, but that seemed to be the end of the story. “Are you saying he never returned?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. He’s done this before. Every once in a while he falls off the wagon and doesn’t return home for days.”

“Did you report him missing?”

“Nah, what would be the point? He’ll come back. It might be another day or two, but he’ll come back to me with a bouquet of roses in his hands and a mountain of apologies. This is exactly why I won’t marry him. He’s not ready. It’s sad, really,” she said as she reached for Blake, took him into her arms, and held him close. “He’s missing out on so much.”

Now that Lizzy was empty-handed, she felt a strange sense of loss that confused her. It took her a moment to figure out what she wanted to say. “Could you let me know if Dean returns? I really do need to talk to him.”

The woman reached up and smacked her forehead with her free hand. “Oh, my God! I’m sorry. Ever since Blake was born, I’ve been out of sorts. I haven’t even asked you your name or why you’re even looking for Dean.”

“My name is Lizzy Gardner. I’m an investigator.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I recognize your name. What could you possibly want with Dean?”

“A woman he went to high school with hired me to investigate a string of accidents.”

“I don’t understand. Does she think Dean was involved in these accidents somehow?”

“No, not at all. Dean is on the list of people she’s concerned about. She and Dean and others had formed a group when they were in high school together—the Ambassador Club.”

“I’ve heard Dean mention that club before.”

“Melony Reed, the woman who hired me, was worried that people in the Ambassador Club were being targeted.”

“So she thinks Dean could be in danger?”

“Yes. The list of letters you talked about Dean delivering . . . you wouldn’t happen to know or recall the names of the people he’s been apologizing to, would you?”

“No. I never asked. I feel like a dunce. I should have talked to him about it, asked him more questions. What if he’s been hurt?”

“I’ll leave my card right here on the kitchen counter,” Lizzy told her. “If Dean returns or you remember anything at all about the people he was setting out to apologize to, I’d appreciate it if you could give me a call.”

CHAPTER 25

Jenny sat in her car a few blocks away from the house that Dean Newman shared with his girlfriend and watched Lizzy Gardner make a quick exit.

This was more than a coincidence.

First, Lizzy Gardner had shown up at Melony Reed’s house, and now she was talking to Dean Newman’s girlfriend. The first time she’d seen Lizzy at Melony’s place, she hadn’t known who she was, so she’d followed her to her office downtown. As soon as she saw where the woman worked, it all made sense. Melony had always been the leader of the Ambassador Club. Of course Melony would be the one to notice that her friends were dying off.

It didn’t take Jenny long to conclude that Melony must have hired Lizzy Gardner to investigate the series of recent deaths. The mistake Jenny made was in thinking that killing Melony would put an end to any possible investigation. Not so. Apparently Lizzy Gardner felt compelled to help her clients even after they were dead and buried.

Thanks to Ms. Gardner, she’d had no choice but to make quick work of doing away with Melony Reed. After Melony was asleep, Jenny opened the dishwasher, made sure multiple knives were sticking straight up, and then poured dishwasher soap on the floor. She also removed the lightbulb above the kitchen sink. Then she opened the refrigerator and unscrewed the bulb, leaving the place dark. The appliance would set off an annoying beeping alarm after being left open for too long. Melony would come out and flip on the lights to no avail. She’d then have to take the quickest route to shut the timer off and the rest was history.

At the time, Jenny hadn’t been sure her plan would work, but it all fell together beautifully. Melony had tripped and impaled herself upon a variety of knives. Jenny had been watching and waiting. She beat the ambulance to the hospital and then listened to the nurses talk about the woman who came in with a fillet knife stuck in her neck and a carving knife that had pierced all the way through the woman’s middle.

Every kill had gotten easier. Taking matters into her own hands, making these horrible people pay for what they did to her, left Jenny feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride.

After Lizzy drove away from Dean Newman’s house, Jenny was tempted to knock on the door and ask Dean’s girlfriend what the purpose of Lizzy’s visit was, but there was no need. She knew exactly what Lizzy was doing. There was no other explanation.

Lizzy Gardner could ruin everything. Kill her.

Don’t be silly. I’m going to stick to the people on my list—the ones who deserve to die. Besides, the Gardner woman intrigues me.

Jenny checked the time. She had an appointment with Ron Jennings at AutoNation in Roseville. It was time to park her car at home and take the bus to the Auto Mall.

Jenny chose the car farthest from the main building and then used one of her disposable phones to call Ron Jennings and let him know she was out in his lot and had found a car she was interested in taking for a test drive.

It didn’t take the man long at all to find her by the SUV. It was definitely the same Ron from high school. He’d gained a few pounds and he now walked with a labored, irregular movement, but the round bowling ball head pierced with two squinty eyes hadn’t changed a bit.

She greeted Jennings with a smile. Today she had gone for the edgy platinum-blonde wig that gave her a flirty look. “My good friend told me you were the best salesman in the area, so I thought I would come see for myself.”

“What’s your friend’s name? I could give her a call and thank her for recommending me.”

“Oh, no,” Jenny said. “It’s been too many years. She wouldn’t remember.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Very well. Let’s find you a car. You told me over the phone that you needed something with power and lots of room.”

“That’s right.”

“I have a beautiful red stunner, a Cadillac Escalade, right over here.”

Jenny didn’t budge from her chosen SUV. “I like this one.”

“OK, this one it is!” He opened the door for her, and she climbed in. She clutched the steering wheel with both hands. Being that it was the end of January and the air was still nippy, she knew he wouldn’t question her gloved hands. She poked a few buttons. “Oh, this one won’t do. I don’t see the On–Off switch to deactivate the air bag in the passenger seat.”

“No worries,” he assured her, then hustled around to the passenger side. With the cab briefly to herself, she pulled from her purse the pair of glasses and tube of lipstick she’d found inside his ex-wife’s car and dropped them between the seat and the console.

Jennings opened the passenger door and pointed. “It’s right here beneath the glove box. It’s on the Off position. You just insert the key and turn it on whenever you want to activate it.”

“That only deactivates the passenger side air bag, is that right? I have small children I’m worried about.”

“That’s right. The driver’s air bag will remain on at all times. That’s exactly why the manufacturers started making these switches—for busy mothers like you.”

“Great.”

“So, do you have a large family? Do you travel a lot? Will you need lots of space in the back for family outings? Well, you’ve come to the right place. This baby can do it all.”

For the next five minutes straight, she listened to his high-pressure tactics. Ron Jennings was still a salesman. He used to be on the debate team in high school and would mock his opponents to throw them off their game. Ron hadn’t raped her or held her down for his friends like Dean Newman had, but he used to pinch her when nobody was looking. Sometimes he yanked on her hair or poked her with a sharpened pencil.

He dug deep into his front pants pocket and pulled out a key. “Want to take this baby for a ride?”

“Boy, do I.”

After they both latched their seatbelts, she turned on the engine and headed out to the main street, making a right on Sunrise and a left onto Eureka Road. “Am I allowed to take the car onto the highway?”

“Absolutely. Anything you want to do.”

She stopped at the light. So far, so good. “So how’s the car business these days?”

“I can’t complain.”

“Are you married?”

He laughed. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No,” she said, trying her best to look bashful. “I was just curious.”

“I was married once. No children,” he said. “That woman put me through hell. She’s still trying to get every dime out of me.”

Jenny listened to him ramble on. She knew all about his failed marriage and acrimonious divorce, which was why she knew the cops would go straight to his ex-wife after they found him.

“I’m only thirty,” he said. “I plan to keep my options open.”

The light turned green, and she hit the gas a little too hard. “Oops, sorry about that.”

Quit fooling around. You’re never going to pull this stunt off.

Jennings settled back in the leather seat, appeared at ease. With his tight pants, wrinkled shirt, and ugly tie with a food stain front and center, not to mention his slicked-back hair, she knew he’d be single for a while.

“What do you think about financing?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you looking for a larger monthly payment over a shorter duration of time or—”

“Cash,” she said.

“OK, now we’re talkin’. This baby isn’t cheap, you know?”

“That’s all right, Mr. Jennings, I’ve worked hard my entire life. I deserve a nice car.”

“Well, good for you.”

She didn’t want him asking questions about her work, so she asked him about himself, and for the next ten minutes he talked and she drove.

She merged onto Interstate 80 and then cut over and headed toward Marysville on 65. She stayed at the legal speed limit all the way to the Blue Oaks exit. She was well on her way to a seldom used two-lane road where teenagers sometimes gathered on the weekends to drag race when he finally stopped talking long enough to realize that something might be a little off.

“Where are we headed?”

“You said I could go anywhere I wanted, so I thought I’d take us on a little joyride in the dirt, see if this car is as good as you say it is.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, toots.”

“‘Toots’? Do you call all of your female customers toots?”

“Just the cute ones.”

She turned onto the dirt road and pushed down on the gas pedal, bringing the speedometer to seventy. “Tell me, Ron. Do you still pinch and pull hair like you used to?”

“What?” One of his hands was clamped on to the grab-handle above the window. He cleared his throat. “Of course not. What are you talking about?”

“You’re a liar.” She sped up. The speedometer read eighty and then eighty-five—way too fast for the road. The SUV was swimming a bit over the dirt. It was exhilarating.

The bend in the road wasn’t too far off now.

He let go of the grab-handle and placed both hands on the dashboard instead. “You need to slow down, ma’am. This isn’t safe or legal.”

When she failed to do as he said, he lunged for the steering wheel.

Jenny grabbed a sharpened pencil from her jacket pocket and stabbed his arm—once, twice, three times until he finally retreated.

Blood dripped from his arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She kept her eyes on the road. “Nothing more than you did to me in high school.” She dropped the pencil. “How does it feel? Not too good, right?” Keeping her eyes on the road, she blindly reached for him and pinched him as hard as she could.

He shouted an obscenity as he yanked his arm back where she couldn’t get to him. “Who are you?”

“Someone you messed with one too many times.”

“You’re crazy!”

The speedometer read ninety. The dirt road was long and straight with a gradual uphill grade. Finally, straight ahead, was the 60-degree bend she was waiting for.

“Slow down!”

As the SUV lifted into the air over the peak, just before a bare dirt bank with a stand of trees in the background, she reached over with her right hand and unclasped his seatbelt.

His hands were all over the place as he tried to connect the belt. But it was too late. Instead of turning the wheel, she slammed hard on the brakes. She knew the air bag was supposed to be activated by accelerometers, not by making contact.

BAM!

The air bag on the driver’s side shoved her back with tremendous force. For two seconds, Jenny wondered if she’d broken her neck. Disoriented, she reached for the door handle. A strong acrid smell and a fine white mist floated around her.

She sat quietly for a moment.

Before climbing out of the car, she looked over at the passenger seat. The top part of Ron’s head had gone through the window. From the looks of it, a jagged piece of glass had taken off the top of his head upon impact. She could see more than just his skull. After the collision, she’d planned on giving him a shot of cyanide to make sure he didn’t survive, but there was certainly no need for that now.

She stepped out onto the dirt road. Her legs trembled, but other than that she appeared to be in one piece. She moved her arms and legs. No broken bones.

That was close.

“You worry too much,” she said. “Jennings is dead, and I feel great.”

She cut off the road to the left, took off her heels to make it easier to walk on the uneven ground as she moved past trees and prickly bushes. When she got to the area where the trees ended and a field of grass began, she took off her wig and the long skirt, rolled them up tightly, and put them in her bag. She pulled out her compact mirror, made sure her hair and makeup looked all right, and then she hurried across the field, unseen. With her heels back on her feet, she knew she only had to walk two more blocks. Then she would call a taxi and go home and enjoy a long hot soak in her bathtub.