Nancy Bush's Nowhere Bundle: Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide & Nowhere Safe. Nancy Bush
Hague intently. “Let’s all take a deep breath, here,” he said.
Hague croaked out, “He’s coming,” and then his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled. Auggie caught him and Della slid under one of Hague’s arms. Together they took him back to his chair.
As soon as he was settled, Della whipped around and glared murderously at Liv. “You always do this! It always happens! I don’t want you anywhere near him anymore! I told your father the same thing. He came here to talk to Hague about you. Like Hague knew where you were and would talk you into turning yourself in!”
“Did Hague go into one of his fugue states then, too?” Liv asked, looking down sorrowfully on her brother’s unconscious form.
“Yes! Just the mention of your name and poof! He’s gone.” She threw a glare at Auggie, too. “I’m not going to call the police. I’d never hear the end of it from Hague, if he found out. I don’t know what you’re doing with her, Mr. Rafferty. Maybe you can get through to her. No one else can.”
“Someone is after her,” Auggie stated tersely. “Even Hague feels it.”
“You’re as bad as she is!” Della stalked to the door and held it open. “Don’t come back,” she said tautly as Auggie and Liv walked into the outer hallway. The slam of the door was a sharp report in the otherwise quiet building.
They stared at each other tensely for a moment, then Liv said through her teeth, “What was your complaint about your family?”
A spark of amusement entered his eyes, and he drawled, “I’m having a hard time remembering right now.”
“Yeah.” She headed for the elevator and he climbed in beside her. Liv was torn between laughter and tears, but Auggie crowded her to one side, pulled up the brim of her hat and kissed her hard on the mouth while they descended. When she came up for air, she said, “I don’t think public displays of attention are a good idea.”
“Don’t care,” he said, and kissed her again.
By the time they reached the first floor Liv felt flushed and weak and some of her hurt and fury had receded. In the Jeep, he reached over and cupped her chin, forcing her gaze to his. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out.”
“Why is it that you feel more like family to me than my own brother and father?”
“Because I’m on your side. Remember that. No matter what happens.”
She gazed at him through eyes filling with liquid. He was a gift. “How did I get so lucky when I picked you?” she whispered.
“Meant to be, I guess,” he said hoarsely, then he dropped his hand and dragged his gaze away, turning his attention to the Jeep and the trip back home.
Who is he? How did she get with him?
She came to see her brother. Is she onto me?
I have to run to keep up with them, to see where they’ve parked. I have to hurry to catch up with them in traffic. But I’ve found her again!
Something’s wrong inside my head and I thump the steering wheel with my palm in frustration. But there they are. In a gray Jeep, moving through the streets and over the bridge to the west side.
It’s hard to keep them in my sights, but I will . . . I will . . .
I should have never shown my hand and killed all those people. Killed them all with a fucking gun! I wanted her . . . to take her with me . . . but they were all staring at me with dead eye sockets and slack mouths. I took them out quickly, one by one. Bam. Bam. Bam-bam.
But Olivia wasn’t there! I couldn’t have her!
And then her neighbor came after me. He saw me. The gun was with me and I shot him. Bam. Bam-bam! I had to. He was in the way.
It doesn’t matter . . . I’ve confused them all and they can’t find me. It’s not my pattern. They can’t find me, because it’s not my pattern!
But Olivia, I’ve found you again.
Who is this stud you’re with? Are you fucking him? Lovely, crazy Liv Dugan . . .
I can smell the sex from here.
I follow them at a distance and wind through the west hills behind them, keeping a vehicle between us at all times. Luckily, there are cars ahead of me when they finally turn into a driveway and I speed on past, two cars back, unnoticed.
I turn around a few blocks farther on and drive past the house once more. They are out of the car and unlocking a back door, crowded together in an embrace. Kissing!
My rage blinds me. A few miles later I pull over into the empty parking lot of a church, burning up inside. I am shaking all over. I sense liquid running from my mouth. Spittle.
My brain is full of worms. I will have to kill her soon.
Like the other one, she asks questions. Questions and questions and questions. I inhale, remembering with a sizzle of pleasure her face turning purple beneath the pressure from my hands.
My hands . . .
I look down. She scratched me and there are angry red lines on the back of my right hand.
But Olivia . . . he’s fucking her, isn’t he? Sticking his cock inside her?
Moaning, I unzip my pants and stroke, stroke, stroke.
I see her throat. The ridges of her windpipe.
I close my eyes and hear the questions. More and more questions! She can’t stop! I must kill her soon, like the last one whose life escaped in a sigh through blue lips.
Suddenly I come. It’s a release, but not enough.
“Lllliiivvv,” I whisper.
I know where you are now.
Chapter 18
September gave Guy Urlacher the evil eye as she entered the station around seven on Monday morning. She whipped out her badge and silently dared him to ask for more as she passed by. It looked like it took a good deal of self-control for him to just let her pass, but he did. It felt good to win that battle of wills; she wasn’t the newbie she’d been last week. A lot of things—a lot of things—had happened since, practically none of them good.
She’d slept poorly and had fallen asleep hard around four, blasted awake by her alarm clock at six. She’d woken up slowly in the shower, then had wolfed down some strawberry yogurt and half a bagel with cream cheese. Coffee she would get at the station, sludge that it sometimes was. Still, it had the power to jolt you awake and she was counting on that as everyone involved with the Zuma case was attending an impromptu meeting in D’Annibal’s office around ten.
Foremost in September’s thoughts was Trask Burcher Martin. It appeared he’d stumbled into something involving Olivia Dugan, and it seemed likely whatever it was had something to do with the Zuma Software massacre, too. The press had gotten hold of that angle last night; they’d interviewed Jo Cardwick and managed to get her to scream that it was Olivia Dugan’s fault her boyfriend was dead. She’d come to the station directly afterwards and broken down. That bit had been breaking news at eleven last night.
It was a damn good thing Auggie was bringing her into the station today.
Gretchen was yawning at her desk, cradling a cup of coffee. September went straight to the staff room and poured herself a cup, too. When she returned to her desk Gretchen was standing beside it.
“I called the hospital,” she said. “Jessica Maltona’s taken a turn for the worse. Upjohn isn’t doing much better.”
“That’s depressing,” September answered glumly.
“Weasel wants to run on the Decatur killing, since it looks like the same doer killed Sheila Dempsey and he feels connected to her.”
September