The Dying Game (36 page)

“She’ll be a redhead.”

“You haven’t already chosen her, have you? That would be cheating and—”

“No, certainly not,” Pudge lied. Of course, he had chosen his next victim. But what Ruddy didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt either of them. Feeling quite self-satisfied, Pudge thought about the cute redhead from Parsons, Louisiana, practically in his backyard.

On the drive from Soddy-Daisy to the Walker hunting lodge in the next county, Lindsay had questioned her sanity. What was she doing? Why was she rushing to Judd this way?

When Griff had called an hour ago, she’d been playing Monopoly with Callie’s kids, enjoying herself tremendously. During the past few years as a Powell agent, she had almost forgotten what real life was like. Regular routines, regular people living regular lives. No cloak and dagger. No murder mysteries to solve. No ruthless killers who couldn’t be stopped.

“He’s killed again,” Griff had told her. “A former Miss Birmingham. He chopped off her head.”

Lindsay pulled her Trailblazer to a steady halt in front of the lodge. To her surprise, lights burned brightly inside the house. That meant Judd wasn’t sitting in the dark, as he so often did.

“Just as Derek predicted, our guy is killing more often. Not a month or two apart now, only a week or so,” Griff had said. “The more frenzied he becomes, the better our chances of catching him, especially if he makes just one major mistake.”

After getting out of her SUV, Lindsay yanked her coat off the passenger seat and put it on, then locked the vehicle and headed toward the front porch. As she approached the door, she thought she heard music.

Music? In Judd’s house? Not possible. He didn’t watch TV, didn’t read, seldom listened to music, didn’t do much of anything that was halfway normal.

“I thought twice about calling you,” Griff had said. “I figured you’d had all you could take of both Judd and the BQK cases. But Yvette thought I should call you, allow you to decide for yourself. You don’t have to do this. You can say no.”

She could have said no, but both Yvette and Griff had known she wouldn’t. When it came to anything to do with Judd Walker, she was shameless.

As she lifted her hand to knock, she heard the music again. Soft. Mournful. A heartfelt rendition of “Body and Soul” floated from inside the lodge, like smoke in the night air. Hesitating, she dropped her hand and stood there on the porch, her pulse racing. Remembering. She had given Judd several jazz CDs for Christmas the year before last, knowing how much he loved jazz. He had tossed the decoratively wrapped gift aside without opening it.

Was this music off one of the CDs she had given him?

When she knocked several times, the tune changed to “Send in the Clowns.” Soft, sweet, bluesy.

By the time she pounded her fist for the fourth time, the front door swung wide open. Lindsay gasped, not expecting Judd to respond so promptly.

They stood there staring at each other. Her heart sank. It was obvious that Judd hadn’t shaved in days. His hair was tousled, needing not only cutting but combing. His golden eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard. He looked like hell.

Her first instinct was to put her arms around him and comfort him.

She didn’t.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His tone was neither hostile nor inviting.

He didn’t sound as if he was drunk.

“May I come in?” she asked.

He moved aside and swept his arm out in an inviting gesture. “Sure.”

When she entered the foyer, he closed the door behind her. The melancholy strains of piano, trumpet, and drums wafted out in the foyer from the sitting room on the left. She glanced through the open door and noticed a blazing fire in the massive stone fireplace.

Although she’d never been upstairs, she was quite familiar with the downstairs rooms: The two large sitting rooms flanking the foyer, the dining room, the kitchen, the three bedrooms, and a single bath with fixtures a good forty years old.

She noticed Judd had put his hands in his jeans pockets and his thumbs were hooked over the edge, nervously stroking the denim fabric.

“Want some coffee or maybe hot tea?” Judd asked.

Had she heard him correctly? Had he offered her something to drink? Had he actually been cordial?

“Nothing, thanks.”

“Take your coat?” he asked.

She unbuttoned the coat and handed it to him.

“Go on into the parlor,” he told her as he hung her coat on the hall tree in the foyer.

When she entered the sitting room on the left, she felt an odd sense of uncertainty. What was going on with Judd? Why was he being so nice to her?

“Have a seat,” he said.

Startled that he was so close, only a couple of feet behind her, she gasped, then whirled around and faced him.

“Griff called,” Lindsay said. “The Beauty Queen Killer has struck again.”

Judd nodded, but said nothing.

“A former Miss Birmingham. He cut off her head.”

Judd flinched.

“Griff’s flying to Birmingham in the morning,” she said.

“Okay.” He nodded. “Should we drive down or should we see if we can catch a morning flight out of Chattanooga?”

She stared at him, puzzled by his calm, rational manner. “Want to tell me what’s going on or should I assume you’re an alien who has taken over Judd Walker’s body.”

His lips twitched. Was it possible that Judd had almost smiled?

He took a couple of hesitant steps toward her. Her breath caught in her throat.

When only inches separated them, Lindsay felt a sense of panic.

Run! Now, while you still can
.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he told her, his voice low and calm.

“I thought about not coming,” she admitted. “Griff said he could call you or he could send Rick after you or … I had to come myself. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Placing her cupped hand over her mouth, she swallowed salty tears. She would not cry. Silly, silly woman! “I guess I’m like an old dog that keeps coming back after his master has kicked him for the twentieth time.”

Judd stared at her, a peculiar expression on his face. When he reached for her, she jerked away, startled by his action. But she couldn’t stop looking at him. He lifted his hand up and circled the back of her neck. Gently. When he pulled her closer, she didn’t resist. Couldn’t resist.

He lowered his head, bringing his lips in line with hers and whispered, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

Chapter 25

Other than his lips on hers, Judd didn’t touch her, which somehow made the moment all the more poignant. Every nerve ending in her body tingled, alive with love and desire. She could no more stop loving him than she could grab a heavenly star and hold it in her hand.

He ended the brief, tender kiss, opened his eyes, and lifted his head. Lindsay looked up at him, staring into his face, unable to speak. He had taken her breath away with his gentleness. And the sincerity of his words.

I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’ll never know how sorry I am
.

He pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy and erratic. Closing her eyes, she savored the sweet moment. She could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers, the scent of his body soap-and-water clean.

“I swear to God, Lindsay, if you can forgive me, I’ll never do anything to hurt you ever again.”

She sucked in air, so taken aback by his declaration, knowing in her heart that this time he meant every word. There was not one doubt in her mind.

He lifted his head again, then reached down and took each of her hands in his. Loosely. No pressure. Holding her hands as if they were made of fragile glass.

“Any other woman would have given up on me a couple of years ago,” he told her. “I’ve managed to methodically alienate every friend I ever had, including Cam and Griff. The only reason Griff has given me numerous second chances is because of you.”

“Judd—”

“Shh … Let me get it all out while I can. Then you can say whatever you need to say. Okay?”

She nodded.

Continuing to hold her hands between their bodies, arms down in a relaxed manner, he said, “When Jenny died … when she was murdered …”

Lindsay squeezed his hands.

“I lost my mind. That’s the only way I know how to describe what happened. I hurt so much. I couldn’t bear the pain. You know how I was. You were there. You and Griff and Cam. Then day by day the agony grew worse until one day, there was nothing left inside me—no pain, no love, nothing except anger and vengeance.

“And no matter what I said, what I did, how I roared and bellowed, you were always there, trying to help me, caring about me when I wasn’t worth caring about. I kept trying to push you away, but you wouldn’t let me. Not until …”

Silence.

Their gazes met and locked. Lindsay thought she saw a shimmer of moisture glazing Judd’s eyes, but quickly realized the tears were in her eyes, not his.

“You offered me love and I threw it back in your face.”

“You couldn’t help it that you didn’t love me. We don’t choose who—”

“I cared about you, Lindsay,” he admitted. “That was the problem. I didn’t want to care. I didn’t want to feel anything, and there you were making me feel again, making me want and need again. I hated you for making me feel. And I hated myself for needing you so badly.”

“Judd?”

He lifted her hands to his lips, kissed each in turn, then gently grasped her shoulders. “I’m a mixed-up mess, sweetheart. I don’t know if I can straighten up and fly right or if I’m just a lost cause. But I … uh …” He swallowed hard. “I’m a real bastard for doing this, but here goes—I don’t want you to give up on me. I need you. At least as a friend. Maybe … maybe more than a friend. I don’t know.”

She felt lightheaded, as if she were going to faint. It wasn’t until she gasped for air that she realized she’d been holding her breath.

“You know how much I loved Jennifer. A part of me will always love her. There’s nothing I can do about that. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come to terms with her death. If her killer is ever caught …? Maybe not even then.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Lindsay managed to say, her voice quivering slightly. “I’ll always be your friend. As for my being more than your friend … I love you.”

He pulled her into his arms and held her. “I don’t deserve your love. But God help me, I want it.”

With her head on his chest, Lindsay wrapped her arms around his waist and held him as she had longed to hold him. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head and when she looked up at him, he kissed her forehead.

This was a side of Judd she had never seen. The kind, caring man he must have been at one time, before Jennifer’s murder.

He gently shoved her away from him, but smiled at her. “Let me work on cleaning up my act. And let me try this friendship thing. I used to be pretty good at it. Just ask Griff.”

“He’s told me. You two and Cam were dashing bachelors, partying together, dating the same women—”

“I guess he told you that we all three wanted Jennifer, and that she dated both him and Cam before she dated me.” Judd’s smile vanished. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop talking about her.”

“It’s all right. She was your wife. You loved her. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t want to know everything about you, including your relationship with Jennifer.”

Judd studied her for a few seconds. “You’re a remarkable woman, Lindsay McAllister.”

Smiling, she replied, “I’ve been trying to convince you of that fact for nearly four years.”

He nodded toward the hallway. “I’ve got groceries. How about I whip up some soup and sandwiches for us, unless you’ve already had dinner.”

“Callie and I ate a late lunch and the kids both had after-school activities, so she was just putting supper on the table when Griff called.”

He grabbed her hand. “How about I fix the soup and you make the sandwiches?”

Nodding agreement, Lindsay’s smile broadened.

As he pulled her along with him into the foyer and down the hall, he said, “I’ve got a box of shortbread cookies. The last time you bought groceries for me, you picked up some. I remember your saying they were your favorites. You said that they were great with coffee or with milk.”

“Milk? Don’t tell me you actually have milk in your refrigerator?”

“Sure do. And bacon and eggs and a fresh loaf of bread.”

She paused when they reached the kitchen door. When she hesitated, he stopped, turned, and looked at her. “What?” he asked.

“Are you sure you’re not an alien who’s taken over Judd Walker’s body.”

He laughed. Honest-to-God laughter.

Lindsay’s breath caught in her throat.

I don’t know what’s happened. I don’t know if this miracle
is permanent or temporary, but thank you, Merciful Lord.
Thank You
.

Sandi and Earl Ray rested on the sofa, their legs spread out, her hips nestled between his thighs and his arms draped around her. They had sent the kids to their rooms shortly after dinner and had just finished off the chilled bottle of white zinfandel. The mantel clock struck ten.

“We should head on up to bed,” he told her. “Five-thirty will roll around pretty quick.” He nuzzled her neck. “Feel like fooling around a little tonight?”

She sighed. “I’m tired, but …” She maneuvered her body just enough so that she could raise herself up and kiss him. “If you’ll get on top and do all the work …”

“You’ve got a deal.” He rubbed his hand over her buttocks. “All you’ll have to do is lay back and enjoy yourself.”

She jumped up off the sofa, planted her hands on her hips, and glared at him. “Well, big boy, what are you waiting for?”

He grabbed her, yanked her down onto his lap and gave her a tongue-thrusting kiss. Just as they came up for air, the telephone rang.

“Who the hell would be calling at this time of night?” Earl Ray grumbled.

“I’ll get it.”

When she tried to stand, he held her down. “Let the machine get it.”

She pulled free and stood. “It might be one of the mothers calling about the costumes for the recital next month.”