On the Edge (The Gregory Series - Last Book) Page 19

  Chance glanced at Greg. “Maybe you’d better clean off that cut on his finger and put a bandage on it.”

  Alistair pulled his hand back. “No, it’s fine.”

  Greg’s eyes gleamed. “Can’t let you go out of here with a cut finger, Mr. Walden. It might get infected.” He wiped the scab off the finger and collected a blood sample Chance knew he’d use for DNA. They had Blackburn’s DNA as well as his fingerprints on file. The DNA would show if the two men were related.

  Alistair’s eyes were brown, Blackburn’s light blue. “Do you wear contacts, Mr. Walden?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Take one out,” said Greg. “Let me see your eyes.”

  “Absolutely not,” Alistair huffed. “Either charge me with something or let me go.”

  “Trespassing,” said Greg.

  It was the only reason they had to hold him. They had nothing to tie him to the other crimes except a strong suspicion he was involved and some compelling circumstantial evidence. He’d fought with Emma the night before her murder, yet his fingerprints weren’t in Emma’s house. His fingerprints didn’t appear at any of the crime scenes. He showed up in Caledonia, Texas, halfway across the country from Tacoma, Washington. He watched a kids’ baseball game, and Sarah recognized him. And aside from the beard and the colored contacts, he was the spitting image of Jack Blackburn.

  This man had an arrogant way about him that made Chance want to smash his fist into the guy’s face. Alistair had intended for the kids to spot him at the game, and he wanted Greg to pick him up, so he could thumb his nose at the entire Gregory clan.

  Chance examined the contents of Alistair’s pockets. The guy was from Tacoma, Washington, which was no surprise. “What are you doing in Caledonia, Texas?”

  “I don’t have to answer your questions. Give me a fine for trespassing and turn me loose or I’ll charge you with police harassment.”

  Hudson removed the handcuffs. “I can’t believe you morons called me all the way from Dallas for this nonsense. You’re free to go, Mr. Walden.”

  In the argument between Greg and Dave and the FBI agents, Alistair Walden slipped out the door and disappeared. Greg grinned, and Chance knew he’d let him go on purpose.

  After Hudson and Rolfs left, Greg said, “He’ll have to get his car from the barn.”

  “Blackburn’s eyes are blue,” said Dave, “and this guy is wearing colored contacts. Did Blackburn have any siblings?”

  Chance shrugged. “He was abandoned as an infant and adopted, but his adoptive father ran out on the family when Jack was ten. According to the psychiatrist who testified at his trial, his mother went crazy, blamed Jack for making his father leave, and made his life a living hell.”

  Dave whistled. “Nice family life.”

  Greg glanced at Chance. “How many siblings in his natural family?”

  Chance shook his head. “I have no idea. If you’re asking me if Jack Blackburn had a twin, I can’t answer you, but if he does, it’s the man who just walked out of here. Aside from the beard and the haughty attitude, this guy looks exactly like Blackburn, and he sounds like him, too. If they’re identical twins, their fingerprints wouldn’t match, but their DNA would.”

  “I put a tracking device on the car in the barn. Maybe he’ll lead us to something or someone interesting. In the meantime, I need to get that blood sample to a lab.”

  Greg called one of his deputies to take care of the blood sample, and then the three men drove out to the abandoned farm. But the barn door was open and Alistair Walden’s car was gone.

  Greg punched the side of the barn. “Damn! How did he get out here so fast?”

  “Maybe it wasn’t him who took the car,” said Chance.

  <>

  Baylee packed her things and checked out of the hotel with her two bodyguards. One rode with her and the other followed them to Bay’s house, where Edwin met her at the door. “Miss Patterson, I didn’t expect you today.”

  “I’m sorry, Edwin. I should have called. Meet Ross and Bret, my bodyguards. Do we have a suite for them?”

  “Of course. Will you be staying upstairs or in the master suite?”

  “I’ll use my mother’s rooms.” Staying on the main floor was preferable this time, since there were several ways out of the house. Upstairs, there were two inside stairways and one off the balcony. Bay’s bedroom opened to a sitting room and the sun porch in one direction, to the hallway in another, and the French doors opened to a private patio with a gate from the patio to the side yard. There were also two dressing rooms with closets and a bathroom to hide in if necessary, and they all had locks on the doors. Even if Mary had given Black Jack the layout of the house, she’d feel safer downstairs, in Bay’s suite.

  While the guards—the two she’d brought with her and the three who’d been guarding the house—coordinated their efforts to protect the property and the people at the house, Baylee called the Houston police and asked to speak with the detective in charge of Mary Michaels’ murder. They put her on hold for what seemed like forever, and then a woman came on the line. “Detective Miller.”

  “Are you the detective investigating the Mary Michaels murder?”

  “I’m one of them. Do you have information for us?”

  “Maybe. I’m Baylee Patterson. Her killer was looking for me. He broke into my lake house north of Houston two nights ago and attacked me.”

  “I heard about that, but we didn’t know if it was related.”

  “It’s related. I think he beat on Mary until she gave him the address there. Once she told him what he wanted to know, he killed her.”

  They set up a time for the detective to come to the house. Baylee wanted Blackburn caught before he hurt someone else.

  While Ross slept, Baylee drove out to the lake house with Bret. Joe had replaced the broken window and cleaned up the broken glass, and he’d fished the patio furniture out of the pool. Aside from a little blood on the marble floor in the entry where Baylee had hit her head and a nick in the front door from the point of the knife, there was no sign there’d been any trouble here. Still, coming here gave her the willies. Her attacker was still out there somewhere, watching and waiting for his opportunity to beat on her again.

  And kill her.

  Baylee went directly to the master bedroom, where she packed the things Olivia had left behind. Bret carried the bags out to the garage. She’d ask Joe to bring them into Houston the next time he came out. They’d get them to the condo as soon as they knew Blackburn wouldn’t follow them there.

  As soon as she finished packing Olivia’s luggage, Baylee went through the house looking for personal items that had once belonged to Cody and Bay. There were a few clothes here and some pictures, but no personal papers. Some of the furnishings might have had a special meaning, but Baylee had never met Cody and she barely knew Bay. She wouldn’t have any idea which things they’d want her to keep.

  She packed a box of things to take back to the house, and Bret put them in the trunk of the Jaguar. And then she found a phone book in the kitchen drawer and took care of business. She’d sell the property subject to probate, assuming they could find a buyer before the estate got through the probate process, and she’d have the contents packed and stored for Chance. It wouldn’t replace what he’d lost when Black Jack blew up his house, but he and his family would have beds to sleep in and a fully-equipped kitchen.

  She was about ready to go when Chance called. “Baylee, where are you?”

  “At the lake house. Why?”

  “Listen to me. There’s not just one, there’s two of them.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Jack Blackburn has a twin brother, Alistair Walden. He’s the one who dated Emma, the man who argued with her hours before Blackburn killed her. He was here in Caledonia, and now he’s headed your way. Go back to the hotel and—”

  “I’m not going back to the hotel, Chance. I have bodyguards now, and I don’t have to hide again.”

/>   “Obstinate woman.”

  “That’s me.” Obstinate, bruised, and lonesome.

  “Let me speak with your bodyguard.”

  She handed the phone to Bret and walked away. Standing in the window of the family room, looking out over the pool and the lake, she relived the night of the storm. Icy fingers ran up and down her spine. How long had Black Jack been watching before he broke into the house that night? Did he see her put the umbrella down over the patio table? Did he watch her throw the deck chairs into the pool?

  She shivered and rubbed her arms. Was he watching her now, waiting for another chance to kill her?

  Bret walked into the family room and handed her the phone. “Chance wants to speak with you again.”

  She took the phone. “Chance, stay with your kids. One of those men may be trying to lure you away so the other can—”

  “My kids have a bunch of people around them. No one will get to them. Not now. I’m more worried about you. Honey, just because you got away one time doesn’t mean you can do it again.”

  “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s working.” Tears burned her eyes and filled her throat. “Did I ever thank you for shooting that cougar?”

  For several seconds neither of them spoke. Then he said, “I did what I had to do.”

  “My Superman,” she murmured. “I love you, but your kids need you more than I do. Stay with them. Protect them and love them.”

  “Baylee—”

  “Don’t come to Houston. Your family needs you there. Goodbye, Chance.” She turned off the phone, ending the call. And then she sat down before her legs gave out on her. Greg wouldn’t let anything happen to Chance, and Chance wouldn’t let anything happen to the kids. They’d be all right, but she wasn’t so sure about herself.

  She remembered her first meeting with Melissa Blackburn. Melissa was bruised and sore, and she had missing teeth, yet there was a dignity about her that Baylee admired. In spite of her injuries, she remained brave and strong. Black Jack Blackburn went to prison for that attack, and after he was released, he killed that brave woman.

  Just like he was going to kill this girl reporter.

  For revenge.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chance stood in Greg’s office holding a dead phone. “She loves me. She wants me to stay here with the kids, but she said…” He couldn’t stop smiling. “She said—”

  Greg laughed. “She loves you. I know. We’ll take care of the kids, Chance. Get your butt to Houston before Blackburn and his snooty twin find her.” He waved toward the door. “Go, before she changes her mind and decides you’re just a royal pain in the ass.”

  Dave said, “Keep an eye out for Alistair’s car.”

  Greg glanced at Dave. “Do you think we missed something or someone out there?”

  “Could be. He didn’t come to Texas alone.”

  “Then why didn’t they find two sets of fingerprints in that car with the baby inside?” Chance asked.

  “They didn’t come in the same car,” said Greg. “Blackburn stole cars to get here. His twin came in his own car.”

  “Why didn’t they come together?”

  Greg shrugged. “Maybe they don’t want to be seen together. Maybe they don’t want anyone to know they’re related.”

  “From a prosecution standpoint, Blackburn’s twin brother complicates the case,” said Dave. “With any luck, they found some prints or other evidence at the murder scenes, because DNA or witness ID won’t tell a jury which twin is responsible.”

  “Baylee said she was meeting with the detective in charge of Mary’s murder this afternoon,” said Chance. “Maybe she’ll have some news.”

  Greg pointed at the door. “Will you get the hell out of here? Go to Houston and take care of Baylee. We got the kids covered.”

  Chance grinned. “On my way.”

  He should run by Greg’s house and pack a bag, but he didn’t want to take the time. He’d send one of the guards out for a toothbrush, and Cody’s closet was filled with clothes. He’d find something to wear.

  “Tell the kids I’ll call them tonight,” Chance said on his way out the door. He couldn’t wait another minute to be on his way.

  Baylee loved him.

  <>

  Two hours later, as Chance neared the Houston area, he spotted a car up ahead with Washington plates. It was the same car he’d seen in the barn in Caledonia. His heart raced as he picked up the phone and punched in Greg’s phone number. “Greg, Alistair Walden’s car is in front of me. Hold on a minute.”

  Chance put the phone on the seat beside him and pulled up far enough to get a good look at the man behind the wheel. He had his head turned away while he played with the radio. The guy wasn’t paying attention to anything or anyone around him, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked like Alistair, with the beard and hat and aviator sunglasses, but he wasn’t wearing the same shirt. Huh? When did he have time to change shirts?

  The man moved his hand on the wheel and Chance snatched up the phone. “Greg, that scratch on Walden’s finger? Which hand?”

  “Left.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Excitement surged in Chance’s chest. “There’s no bandage and no scratch on this guy’s left hand. It’s not Walden, Greg. It has to be Blackburn.”

  He could barely breathe. The man who killed Emma was so close he could almost reach out and touch him. Or shoot him.

  “I’m on it now,” said Greg. “Hang up and wait for someone to call you. They’ll need your exact location, so watch for milepost markers. Don’t do anything foolish, Chance. Wait for law enforcement to get there.”

  “Okay.” Chance disconnected, knowing Greg would call the local police or highway patrol, whoever had jurisdiction in this area. He dropped back behind the car, keeping it in sight. The gun Greg had given him at the abandoned farm house lay on the seat beside him. His hand itched to pick it up and kill the creep that murdered Emma, but he wanted him to suffer first, spend a few years on death row before the state put him to death.

  Chance’s heart pounded so hard it shook his entire body. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and tried to breathe deeply. In minutes, Black Jack Blackburn would lose his freedom.

  His phone rang and he snatched it up. “Yeah, Chance Gregory.”

  A woman said, “Officer Phillips, Mr. Gregory. Do you still have the suspect in sight?”

  “Yes, he’s in the car directly in front of me.” Chance gave the officer his location according to the last milepost marker.

  “We have officers on the way. Does he know you’re behind him?”

  “I don’t know. If he does, he’s playing it cool.”

  “Okay then. Stay back and keep calm. Don’t do anything to tip him off. The officers should be there within minutes.”

  Stay back and keep calm? Yeah, right!

  Before long before Chance spotted two sets of flashing lights behind him. He rolled down the window, stuck his arm out, and motioned to the car in front of him.

  The first patrol car passed him and flipped on the siren. The officer forced Blackburn’s car off the road while the second car pulled up behind Blackburn’s car. There was no way Black Jack could get away now. They had him cornered, guns drawn and ready to shoot if he tried to run.

  Chance felt like cheering as he pulled off the road and stopped behind them.

  They’d caught him.

  They’d caught Black Jack Blackburn.

  A third patrol car stopped behind Chance. “Stay in your car and keep down,” the officer said on his way past, his gun already drawn and ready in case the killer tried to escape, or worse. Cornered and desperate, Blackburn could start shooting and more people could die.

  But Blackburn didn’t shoot. He might not have a gun, since he always used his fists or a knife on his victims. Blackburn stood beside his brother’s car, hands on the roof of the car and legs spread apart, and tried to convince the cops he was Alistair Walden.

  Chance’s hands shook
when he called Greg. “They got him. I can’t believe it. They got him.”

  Watching the officers pat down the suspect, read him his rights, and cuff him, Chance felt an enormous weight lift off his shoulders. This was the man who murdered three women, who attacked Baylee, who blew up Chance’s house and left a bloody message in his office. The man who threatened to kill Chance’s mother and his kids.

  Blackburn should get the death penalty for what he’d done, but there were no guarantees. A man like that didn’t deserve to live.

  An officer loaded their prisoner in the back of a patrol car. After a discussion with Chance about the background of the case against Jack Blackburn, they thanked him for his help and told him he was free to go.

  He was free to go on with his life, but what about Emma and Melissa and Mary? They didn’t deserve what happened to them. His kids didn’t deserve to lose their mother. They’d have to live with that for the rest of their lives. So would he. He could replace the house and most of the things he and his family had lost, but he couldn’t bring back the lives Blackburn had destroyed.

  Assuming they could find enough physical evidence to convict Blackburn of the murders, he’d never get out of prison. But there was another man out there. What was Alistair Walden’s involvement in the crimes Blackburn committed? His presence in Texas, especially at the farm right next door to Greg’s house, made Chance very uneasy. The kids had been staying there, and he didn’t want that creep anywhere near the kids. Yet Greg didn’t have any reason to arrest him except for trespassing on the farm, which would get him nothing more than a small fine in court.

  The officer behind him slowed traffic enough for the first and second patrol cars to pull out, then Chance pulled out on the highway. The initial adrenaline rush had subsided, leaving him deflated, but determined to see Blackburn get what he deserved.

  He’d had a big part in the capture of a killer today, but it wasn’t over yet. It wouldn’t be over until they figured out what part Alistair Walden played in Blackburn’s crimes.

  <>

  Baylee leaned her head back in the car and closed her eyes, trusting her bodyguard to get her back to Bay’s house. She thought they’d be there by now, but the moving company rep came by and she had to take him through the house. He’d asked about the old truck in the garage, and Baylee told him she hadn’t decided what to do with it. He suggested donating it to a school, so they could fix it up and auction it off to fund scholarships. It seemed like an excellent idea. The old truck wasn’t doing anyone any good sitting in the garage.