Evil Never Dies (The Lizzy Gardner Series Book 6) (21 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

He unlocked the door to the wine cellar.

Claire hung from the wall in chains. He admired the clever artwork he’d done on her body, using paint and all sorts of fabulous tools. Her attempt at getting away and daring to attack him had been too much. He needed to teach her a lesson. “You’re dying in here—aren’t you, Claire?”

He pulled the lid from the lip balm he had brought and dabbed it over her cracked lips. She didn’t fight him, hardly even moved. “You’ve lost all your fire. Such a disappointment. I was hoping we would spend more time together, but such is life . . . and death.”

She didn’t ask him to remove the chains or the metal cuffs that were clearly cutting into her ankles and wrists. She looked like a bloody mess.

“They’ll find you,” she said, her voice a ragged whisper.

“I hate to disappoint you, but they won’t find me. Or you. It’s all over the news. Their number one suspect is in custody. They’ll spend the next week or so questioning the poor man, perhaps knocking him senseless until he confesses.”

“You’re a liar. I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you can believe what I’m about to tell you, Claire. Today is the day you’re going to die.”

It took some effort, but she lifted her head and spit in his eye. “Go to hell!”

“There’s my girl,” he said fondly as he used his sleeve to wipe the spittle from his face. “I’ll tell you what, Claire. Why don’t we enjoy these last few hours together? I’ll set up the upstairs, let you sit on the couch beside me and enjoy the lovely view. You haven’t had a chance to see the river and the way the water sparkles before the sun disappears in the distance. It’s beautiful. You’re going to love it. Any requests for your last meal?”

Again, she said nothing. “I’ll be back soon. Although I wish I didn’t have to, I will need to drug you first.”

“No drugs. I won’t fight you.”

“Oh,” he said with a laugh, “now who’s the liar?”

Lizzy did her best to explain what was going on, but Jessica didn’t seem convinced.

“I’m going to go on this wild-goose chase with you, Lizzy, because I have great respect for you, but when this is finished, you can either lend me your car or I’ll call a taxi. Massing will be there by now, and I need to question him.”

The tires screeched as Lizzy pulled into a parking spot of Folsom Lake College. She jumped out and sprinted up endless flights of wide stairs and then toward the buildings, with Jessica at her heels. When the Harris Center for the Arts didn’t present itself to them, Lizzy asked a group gathered at an outdoor dining area for directions. It was across the small campus from them. When they finally arrived, Lizzy burst through the heavy front doors and sprinted for Room 154, threw open the door, and stepped inside. Jessica stepped in behind her.

A bearded man at his desk in the far corner stood tall and said, “Can I help you?”

“Are you in charge here?”

He nodded. All the student painters in the room were looking their way now, as well as the naked male model sitting on a stool in the middle of their small circle of desks.

Lizzy and Jessica were both panting, trying to catch their breath. Lizzy was doubled over with her hands on her knees. OK, so she needed to make a little more time for running.

Jessica told Lizzy to collect herself while she went over to talk to the instructor.

While Jessica talked to the man, Lizzy straightened and looked around, her gaze sweeping over the room. No sign of Brittany. Maybe Cathy had given her the wrong room number.

The students had gone back to their painting.

Lizzy caught the attention of one of them and said, “Do you know if Brittany Warner is in this class?”

“This is my first day,” the girl explained. “I don’t know anyone’s name.”

“Brittany was here earlier,” one of the other students told her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. She just stepped out, in fact.” He pointed to the painting in front of an empty seat next to his.

“I saw her talking to someone outside,” another student chimed in.

Lizzy rushed from the room, the clicks of her heels echoing in the empty hallway. She pushed through the main exit door and then took a moment to take in her surroundings. In the middle of the campus was a parklike setting, grass and trees, where a group of kids were gathered. She could see the library behind them and office buildings farther on to the left. The sidewalks were mostly empty. She ran toward the group of students, couldn’t stop tears from streaming down her face when she saw that Brittany was not among the group.

“Lizzy!”

She stopped, turned around, and saw Brittany standing
on the other side of the quad, a confused expression on her face.
“Brittany!” she called out as she headed her way. “Where were you?”

“I took a quick break. Why? What’s going on? Is it Mom? Is she OK?”

Lizzy grabbed hold of her niece and held her tight. “Your mom is fine.” She moved her to arm’s length.

“Why are you crying?”

“I couldn’t find you, and I thought the worst. I’ll explain later, but right now you need to go home. When you get to your house, I want you to lock the doors and don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe. Do not open the door for anyone, including Jake Polly.”

“Jake Polly? The painter?”

Lizzy nodded. “He’s a dangerous man. I don’t have time to explain. Just do as I say.”

“You’re scaring me, Lizzy.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But you need to do this . . . for me.”

“My things are still in the classroom,” Brittany said, pointing that way.

“OK, come on. Let’s get your things and then I’ll walk you to your car.”

Candles burned all around the house. He’d gone to the bother to pick wildflowers that grew close to the river’s edge and put them in cups of water.
Quite beautiful
, he thought as he admired his handiwork.

He’d cleaned off Claire and then drugged her before carrying her up the stairs and setting her on the couch next to him. He’d also slid the doors to the balcony wide-open, hoping to see the sun when it finally disappeared behind the tall trees.

He sipped his Red Bull from a crystal glass, and then slipped his arm around Claire’s shoulder. He wondered for a moment what it would be like to have a girlfriend, someone to talk to and confide in, share a few laughs and, of course, a beautiful sunset with. He thought of Kathryn then, the only girl he’d ever considered hooking up with. He’d always felt close to the girl next door while growing up. Like most females, she’d been infatuated with him from the start. But her infatuation had been different. She had loved him since she was a little girl. He’d kept track of her over the years and had been quite shocked to read her academic paper on repressed memories. Luckily, it had been stored in the darkest corner of the most obscure academic site; only someone searching out every last crumb of Kathryn-related material would turn it up, and, even then, who would be able to connect the dots to him? He hadn’t been worried by the discovery. If anything, he was touched. Growing up, she’d never once given him reason to believe she’d witnessed his sister’s murder. And yet she’d still loved him. Had she kept the portrait he’d painted of her just before they fell out of touch, all those years ago? She had posed all weekend for him, her back straight, her smile like Mona Lisa’s while he painted her portrait. He’d barely gotten started when he’d decided to make it into a Picassoesque piece. He couldn’t help but imagine an arm where her leg should be and a finger instead of a nose. He quite liked the finished product. Of course, Kathryn had been stunned when she’d taken a first glimpse of his work, but overall the painting delighted her.

A snore out of Claire made him turn to her.
Sweet, sweet girl.
Too bad he couldn’t keep her.

She had to die.

It was a funny thing how his mind worked. Death fighting against life—the two forces wrestling with each other. On the one hand, life was ever changing, with no real purpose, so why keep her alive? But death was final—never again would he be able to talk to her while he painted her portrait.

He brought his glass to his lips. A knock at the door caused him a bit of a jitter, and he spilled his drink. He looked toward the door, but the way the sun was hitting the house, he couldn’t make out a silhouette or see who might be there. It was probably Landon, but he couldn’t be sure. He thought about leaving Claire where she was on the couch, but then he decided against it. He would lock her in the guestroom and then get rid of the annoying kid.

Leaning over the couch, he scooped Claire into his arms. “Come on, my precious Claire. I need you to hide in the back room for just a moment while I get the door.”

He laid her on the bed in the guestroom.
So small, so weak
, he thought as he bent over her and kissed her forehead. Hurrying from the room, he locked the door from the outside. After bringing Claire to the house, for exactly this purpose, he’d changed the locks so the bedroom doors couldn’t be opened from the inside.

Another knock alerted him to the fact that whoever it was, they were not going away anytime soon. Agitated, he headed for the front door.

Lizzy drove, while Jessica tightened her seatbelt. “Slow down, Lizzy. You’re not going to be able to help anyone if you get us into a wreck.”

“So how did the instructor know where Jake Polly lived?”

“As soon as I mentioned Jake Polly’s name, he told me everything he knew about the man. I guess he already had his suspicions about Polly. Last month, while Polly was in the middle of this three-week series of guest workshops, the instructor tried to call him on some administrative matter, but his number had been disconnected. The address on his application was on the instructor’s way home, so he drove by. It turned out to be a hair salon. The instructor was starting to get worried now—he was the one who’d hired Polly and put him into such close contact with his students. He didn’t let on what he knew right away, though. Instead, just the other day, he followed Polly home after his last class. And that’s how he came to have his address. The instructor has already filed a complaint with the department head and has no plans to allow Polly back into his classroom.”

Lizzy sped through a yellow light and Jessica clutched the grab handle. “Slow down, Lizzy. If we get pulled over, it’ll take even longer to get there.”

“So what do you think now? Is Jake Polly our man?” Lizzy asked.

Jessica sighed. “Do you have any idea how routinely people lie on their résumés and employment applications? People lie about past employment, degrees, DUIs, you name it.”

“Look at my notepad . . . at his initials. It’s the same mark he’s been leaving on his victims, for God’s sake. And like you said before, he’s not like other killers. He would never watch me from afar, which is exactly why he made a point of visiting me downtown under the guise of wanting to hang one of his posters inside my office.”

“Jake Polly came to your office?”

Lizzy kept her eyes on the road and nodded. “It’s just like you said—he wants to keep me up close and personal.”

Before Jessica had a chance to respond, her phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket. “It’s Mitchell,” she told Lizzy before she hit Talk.

“Where are you?” Mitchell growled loud enough to be heard by Lizzy.

“I’m with Lizzy Gardner. We’re checking out another lead.”

“By whose orders?”

She didn’t answer.

“I told you I wanted you here.”

“This will only take a few minutes, and then I’ll be on my way. Has the interrogation started?”

“In two minutes.”

The call was disconnected.

“He sounds a little demanding,” Lizzy said.

“Look who’s talking.”

“Thanks for believing in me.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Once your mind is set, there’s no stopping you. And I don’t like the idea of you running into some strange man’s house and waving your gun around. You’ve done it before. With all the stress you’ve been under, it wouldn’t surprise me to see you do it again.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I might lose my job, but we aren’t leaving Jake Polly’s house until you’re sure he’s not your man, all right?”

“OK.” By the time she pulled her car in front of the address they’d been given, Lizzy felt somewhat defeated. What Jessica said was true; once again she had acted hastily, going on instinct rather than proof. But they were here now, and she wasn’t going to let on that she was quickly losing faith that she had the right man.

Lizzy climbed out of the car and waited for Jessica.

The house was on a tree-lined street that might have struck her as lovely under different circumstances. The house had been built on a steep hill with a bank falling sharply into the river. She could smell the river from where she stood—damp and earthy.

“OK,” Jessica said as she walked toward the front door, “let’s do this.”

Lizzy followed behind, decided to let Jessica do her thing, since she appeared to be much better at acting cool and calm.

Jessica rapped her knuckles against the door.

Lizzy pressed her face up close to the decorative glass and tried to see inside. She could see straight through the hallway and into the main area. The doors to a balcony were wide-open, and there appeared to be a nice view of trees and water. Then she saw a man walk past, carrying something in his arms. Her heart rate soared. “I think a man just walked by with someone in his arms.”

Jessica waited another minute before she knocked again.

When Lizzy saw someone coming toward the door, she took a step back and listened to a series of dead bolts and chains being dealt with. Who kept more than one dead bolt on their door unless they wanted to keep something out . . . or in his case, something in?

Claire tried to sit up, but every part of her felt heavy. She could hardly lift her head from the mattress. When the maniac had fed her some sort of liquid drug using a teaspoon, Claire had managed to let half of it dribble out the side of her mouth after he turned away.