Page 11 of Heartbreaker (Buchanan-Renard 1)

“Yes, he has.”

  “And so have you.”

  “Yeah, well it goes with the job.”

  “Tommy worries about you.”

  They had just started up another steep incline and Nick was listening to the grinding sound as the transmission tried to shift gears. Wincing over the god-awful noise, he made up his mind to have a mechanic look her over before Laurant drove the car again. She was damned lucky she hadn’t gotten stranded on the highway.

  He glanced at her over the top of his sunglasses. “Tommy wants me to get married and settle down,” he said. “He thinks a family will make my life more normal. It isn’t going to happen though. With the work I do, marriage isn’t in the equation, and having children of my own . . . that’s definitely out of the question.”

  “Don’t you like children?”

  “Sure I do,” he replied. “But I know I’d ruin them. If I had any of my own, I wouldn’t let them out of my sight. Yeah, I’d ruin them all right.”

  “Because you’d be afraid that something might happen to them . . . because you’ve seen—”

  He cut her off. “Something like that. What about you? Do you want to get married and have a child?”

  “Yes, I do . . . someday. I don’t want just one child though. I want a houseful of them and I don’t care if it’s fashionable or not.”

  “How many constitute a houseful?”

  “Four or five or maybe even six. Does Dr. Morganstern have any children?”

  “No, he and Katie weren’t able to have any, but they do have lots of nieces and nephews, and they always have someone camping out at their house.”

  She watched Nick for a moment. “Why do you keep looking in the rearview mirror?”

  “I’m a cautious driver.”

  “You’re checking to make sure no one’s following us, aren’t you?”

  “That too,” he allowed.

  “Where’s your gun?”

  With his left hand he lifted the holster he’d wedged between the seat and the door. “Never leave home without it,” he said. “I’ll have to put it on when we reach the rectory. Rules,” he explained.

  Propping her arm on the window, she stared out at the old buildings along the avenue. She was thinking about Dr. Morganstern, wondering what he was going to be like, if he would be reasonable when she told him what she wanted to do. She had already decided to go around Tommy and Nick—both were too emotionally involved to be practical about the situation—but she hoped that the doctor would understand and help her, with or without her brother’s cooperation.

  “Laurant, we’ll finish making that list later,” Nick said. “We probably should have started it last night, but you were pretty wiped out.”

  “About last night . . . I was wondering . . .”

  “Yes?” he asked when she hesitated.

  “I fell asleep while you were watching a game.”

  “Not a game, the game. The Stanley Cup play-offs,” he explained.

  “Did you watch all of it?”

  “To the bitter end.”

  “And then what did you do?”

  He knew what she was trying to find out, but the devil in him decided to make her ask. “I slept,” he answered.

  A long minute passed. “Where?”

  He smiled. “With you.”

  The tone of his voice was self-assured. His aim, no doubt, was to make her blush, and she decided it was high time she turned the tables on him. She was always prim and proper, but not this time. “So was it good for you?”

  He laughed. “Sure was. I slept like a baby. Now I’m worried though. What’s your brother gonna say when I tell him I slept with his sister?”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  “Deal.”

  They reached Mercy, and Nick parked the car in front of the church so that he wouldn’t interrupt the basketball game in progress. They spotted Noah and Tommy right away. They were standing nose to nose in the center of a group of teenagers. Tommy was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white polo shirt. Noah had on torn jeans, a black T-shirt, and his brown leather shoulder holster and gun. The expression on his face was downright menacing. It didn’t take Laurant long to figure out why. Tommy was holding a whistle to his lips, and Noah was in his face, arguing over a call he’d made. Her stubborn brother had never been one to back down, and he was now giving as good as he was getting. His face was beet red, and he was being every bit as belligerent as Noah. The boys were clustered around her brother like a small legion of warriors ready to strike on command.

  Laurant got out of the car before Nick had time to open the door for her. She saw him slip on his gun and tried not to let it bother her.

  “I thought Tommy had to go to the hospital for more tests today,” she remarked.

  “It’s after ten now,” he said. “They’ve probably already been there.”

  “Shouldn’t you do something about that?” she asked with a nod toward Noah, who had just poked Tommy in the chest. Her brother retaliated by blowing his whistle in Noah’s face.

  Nick burst out laughing. “Look at the boys’ faces.”

  “They don’t like Noah shouting at their priest.”

  “He’s just having some fun.”

  “But I don’t think the boys understand that. Noah’s outnumbered.”

  “You think so?”

  She looked up at him. “You don’t think so?”

  “He can hold his own,” Nick said.

  “I’m going inside,” she said, waving to her brother as she crossed the parking lot. She saw Monsignor waiting for her in the open doorway and hurried toward him.

  Noah spotted her out of the corner of his eye. He stopped shouting in midinsult and turned his back on Tommy so he could get a better view.

  “What are you staring at?” Tommy demanded, still panting from the shouting match.

  “Laurant,” Noah answered. “She’s got a great body.”

  “You’re talking about his sister,” Nick reminded him, giving his shoulder a shove from behind.

  “Yeah, I know. It’s hard to believe they’re related. She’s so damned pretty and sweet, and he’s such a jerk. By the way, your friend’s as blind as a bat,” he added. “He can’t even tell a ball’s out of bounds when the line’s two feet away from him.”

  The shouting match started all over again.

  Ten minutes later the three of them came lumbering inside. Tommy was mopping his brow with the edge of his shirt, but Nick and Noah hadn’t even broken a sweat. They were all laughing as they headed for the kitchen to get something to drink.

  Laurant stepped back into the living room to get out of their way, shifting the heavy laundry basket she was holding to her other hip.

  “I can’t believe you offered those kids beers,” Tommy chided.

  “It’s hot out,” Noah defended. “I figured they’d want one.”

  “They’re underage,” Tommy pointed out in exasperation. “And it’s not even noon yet.”

  Nick winked at her as he passed her again, carrying a six-pack of Coke. Noah told Tommy to stay inside while he and Nick talked to the boys on the porch.

  “What was that all about?” she asked her brother.

  “One of the boys told Monsignor he might have seen the car the guy was driving Saturday, so Nick is talking to him.”

  “Did the boy tell the police?”

  “No, none of the kids talk to the police,” he explained. “But they all heard what happened, and as Frankie—he’s the leader of the pack—so eloquently put it, ‘Nobody’s gonna come in our ‘f’’ing parish and mess with one of our ‘f’’ing priests.’ ”

  Laurant’s eyes widened. Tommy nodded. “Frankie’s a good kid,” he said. “But he has to keep up appearances. Being tough is important to all of them. Anyway, they started talking to their friends. They all hang out on the street, day and night, and one did remember seeing a strange van parked on Thirteenth Street, next to that empty lot. Nick’s hoping he can get a description of th

e guy driving. Keep your fingers crossed,” he added. Then, switching the subject, he asked, “What are you doing with the laundry basket?”

  “I can’t stand waiting. I have to keep busy, so I asked Monsignor if I could help with anything.”

  Tommy opened the door to the basement, turned on the light, and watched her go down the wooden steps.

  Dr. Morganstern arrived five minutes later. She could hear him talking when she came up the stairs. The men were standing together in the front hall. His agents were a full head taller, and so was Tommy, but they were all deferentially “siring” him to death.

  Laurant was nervous and apprehensive about meeting the doctor, and she hoped it didn’t show when Nick pulled her forward to introduce her.

  He shook her hand, insisted she call him Pete, and then said, “Why don’t we go sit down and figure out what we’re going to do.”

  Instinctively she looked at Nick. He gave her a quick nod, and she followed Tommy into the living room. Morganstern stayed behind to speak to his agents. He spoke to Nick first, but in such a low voice, Laurant couldn’t hear what he was saying. Then he turned to Noah, and whatever he said to him so startled the agent he suddenly burst into laughter.

  “God will strike me dead, sir.”

  “And lose one of his trusted soldiers? I think not,” Pete responded as he led the two men into the living room. “Besides, I’m fully convinced God has a sense of humor.”

  Pete placed his briefcase on the table and flipped open the latches. Nick dropped down on the sofa next to Laurant, and Noah stood behind his superior, acting like a sentry, with his arms folded across his chest.

  “I was wondering, sir, if you’d found out anything significant from that profiler you assigned to the case,” Noah said. “What was his name, Nick?”

  The doctor answered the question. “His name is George Walker, and yes, he does have a few ideas that can help us. Nothing concrete unfortunately.”

  “Don’t profilers figure things out from crime scenes?” Tommy asked. “I read somewhere that that’s how they get their information.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Pete agreed. “However, there are other ways too.”

  “Like the tape?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tommy, will you please stop pacing around and sit down,” Laurant said.

  Her brother motioned for her to move closer to Nick and then sat down on her other side. He didn’t know quite how to phrase the question he wanted to ask, and so he decided to be blunt.

  “Exactly why are you here, Pete?”

  “We’re very happy that you’re here,” Laurant interjected so that the doctor wouldn’t think her brother was as rude as he sounded. “Isn’t that right, Tommy?” she added as she nudged him in the side.

  “Yes, of course,” he agreed. “Pete knows I appreciate his help. We go way back, don’t we?” he asked the psychiatrist.

  Pete nodded. Tommy turned to Laurant to explain. “I called Pete a couple of years ago about a troubled kid I was trying to help. It was out of my league, and Pete helped get him into a treatment center. That was the first time I used my connection through Nick, but since then, Pete’s come through for me with three other difficult cases. You never say no to me, do you?”

  “I try not to,” Pete answered. “I came here today to sit down with you, Tom. I wanted to review what happened in the confessional.”

  “You’ve heard the tape,” Tommy reminded him.

  “Yes, I have, and it’s been very helpful with the investigation. However, it doesn’t tell me what you were thinking while our unsub was talking. I’d like to take you through it again.”

  “I’ve told Nick everything I remember. I’ve gone over it at least ten times.”

  “Yeah, but Pete will be asking different questions,” Nick said.

  “Okay. If you think it will help, I’ll go through it again.”

  Pete smiled. “Noah, why don’t you and Laurant wait in the other room. Nick, I’d like you to stay.”

  Laurant followed Noah to the door then turned back just as Pete was opening his briefcase. “Pete? When you’re finished, may I have a word in private with you?”

  “Certainly.”

  Noah pulled the French doors closed behind them. Monsignor was coming down the steps from the second floor with a basket of dirty linens. Without a word Laurant took the basket from him and headed down to the basement again. She could hear her brother’s laughter and assumed the questioning hadn’t begun yet.

  Pete acted as though he had all the time in the world. He started by asking Tommy if he missed playing football. Tommy was sitting on the edge of his seat, obviously tense and worried. Pete eased him into the discussion about the confession, and by the time their talk had ended, they had two more little bits of information that might prove helpful. The unsub had been wearing Calvin Klein’s Obsession. Tommy had forgotten about that. And, until now, he’d also forgotten about a click he had heard. He had assumed the man was snapping his fingers to get his attention. Pete suggested that the click was actually the recorder being turned on.

  Pete ended the conference when he stood. “When you return to Holy Oaks, I would rather you didn’t hear confession for a while.”

  “How long is a while?”

  “Until we’ve devised a trap to snare him.”

  Tommy glanced at Nick and then back to Pete again. “You don’t think he’s going to come back to confession, do you?”

  “I certainly think he’ll try,” Pete said.

  Tommy shook his head. “I don’t see that happening. It’s too risky for him.”

  Nick, who had been unusually silent until now, spoke up. “He’ll see it as a challenge. He thinks he’s vastly superior to all the rest of us, remember? He’s going to want to prove it.”

  “Tom, like it or not, he’s established a relationship with you, and I believe he’s going to want to keep you apprised of what he’s been up to,” Pete said. “One thing I know for certain now,” he continued. “This unsub is going to go to any lengths necessary to talk to you again. He wants your admiration, but he also wants your loathing and fear.”

  “In many ways, you’re the perfect partner in his plan,” Nick told him.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “He wants someone to appreciate how smart he is.”

  Tommy said, “I know you think I’m being stubborn about this, but I gotta tell you I still think you’re wrong about this guy. It just doesn’t make any sense to me that he would try to contact me again. I’ve listened to your arguments and I know you’re experts . . .”

  “But?” Nick prodded.

  “But you’ve forgotten why he came to me in the first place. He wanted absolution and he didn’t get it. Remember?”

  Pete gave him a sympathetic look. “No, he came to you because you’re Laurant’s brother,” he said. “And he never wanted forgiveness,” he added softly. “He was mocking the church, the sacrament, and he was mocking you, Tom, especially you.”

  Tommy looked miserable. “You do realize he almost got Monsignor McKindry in that confessional. I volunteered for the duty at the last minute.”

  “Oh, he wouldn’t have gone to McKindry,” Pete said. “He knew you were inside the confessional before he even walked into the church.”

  “He probably watched you cross the parking lot and go inside,” Nick said. “And if Monsignor had taken the duty, then he would have patiently waited for another opportunity.”

  “Nick’s right,” Pete said. “This man is organized and very patient. He’s put a lot of time and effort into stalking you and your sister.”

  Something Pete had said earlier began to nag Tommy and he asked, “What did you mean when you said he was giving us mixed messages?”

  “I meant that he’s deliberately trying to make us run in five different directions,” he explained. “In the tape he’s telling us he’s a stalker, maybe a serial killer. He’s telling us he’s just getting started, but then he implies that

he’s been at it a long time. He says he’s killed one woman, but he’s hinted at the possibility that there have been others. He laughed, if you’ll recall, when he told you that he’d only hurt the women before Millicent. Now it’s our job to figure out what’s real and what isn’t.”

  “In other words, it could all be lies or it could all be true.”

  “Tommy, try to understand that with these creeps, it’s always about fantasies. Always,” Nick repeated emphatically. “The fantasy is what is driving this unsub. It could all still be in his head, but we have to assume that Millicent did exist and that he tortured and killed her.”

  “And now he wants to act out his fantasy with Laurant?”

  Pete nodded. “The situation is urgent. He needs a reason to talk to you again.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?”

  Pete’s eyes, he noticed, were edged with sadness now. “If what he told us is true, then I’m certain he’s out there looking for another woman right now.”

  “He said he’d try to find a substitute to replace Laurant . . . temporarily,” Nick said.

  Tommy bowed his head. “Dear God,” he whispered. “And then he’ll want to confess his sins, right?”

  “No. He’ll want to brag.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Tiffany Tara Tyler was a slut and proud of it. She’d learned a long time ago that she was going to have to relax her moral code of behavior if she was ever going to get anyplace in this cold, hard world. Besides, not being a prude had carried her a long way from the trailer park in Sugar Creek—she was wearing the proof. And nothing, not even a blown-out tire on her rusted 1982 Chevy Caprice, was going to get her down. She was riding high and feeling good, and all because she was as sure as shit that her life was about to undergo a radical change. Oh, she knew she was always going to be a Jezebel in her mother’s estimation—she’d decided her daughter was damned to the eternal fires of hell after she’d caught her in the bathroom with Kenny Martin—but Tiffany had made up her mind not to care a hoot what her crazy, old, worn-out mother thought of her anymore. She knew where her real talent lay, and she believed with all her heart that if she worked hard enough, she would succeed. Who knew? Maybe by the time she was thirty, twelve long years from now, she might even be a millionaire like that Heidi Fleiss madam she so admired because she got to meet all those famous movie stars. Tiffany bet they treated Heidi just like a star too, and maybe, after she finished having sex with them, they even took her out to dinner at one of those fancy, expensive restaurants.