The sirens were right outside now. Jessie holstered her weapon as a precaution, pulled out her ID, held it above her head, and looked at Carl, who seemed oblivious to the noise.
“When they come in,” she yelled at him over the din, “don’t make any sudden moves.”
He didn’t look likely to make any moves at all. In fact, she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her. His only priority seemed to be making sure not to look at the once-beautiful dead girl on the ground just feet away from him. She couldn’t really blame him.
Her ears became overwhelmed by the endless sounds of sirens blaring only yards away. As she stood there, waiting for the cops to burst in, a random thought entered her head, one she tried not to let control her. Ryan hadn’t checked in.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ryan covered his face with his arm as glass rained down on him from above.
When it subsided, he opened his eyes. He was still gasping for breath when he realized his attacker was right in front of him. He started to point his gun in the assailant’s direction but his foe smashed it away with a powerful forearm.
The gun left his hand and hit the shower stall floor. He wanted to reach for it but couldn’t risk it as the attacker was now on top of him, pinning his chest down with one arm as he jammed a forearm into his throat. As Ryan struggled to break free, he got his first look at the person trying to kill him.
It was clearly a man, one Ryan judged to be larger than himself. But discerning any other features was complicated by the fact that the man was wearing a black mask over his head, which had only small slits for his eyes and mouth. Making identifying him more difficult was the additional problem that he was being choked to death.
Ryan was a strong, well-built guy, but whoever this person on top of him was, he was bigger and just as brawny. Ryan punched at the man’s arms but the guy seemed oblivious. He gripped the man’s forearms and tried to rip them away so that he could wriggle loose. But the man barely seemed to budge. If Ryan couldn’t think of something fast, he was going to suffer the same fate as Garland Moses and the women in those mansions.
He was just starting to feel panic set in when he heard sirens, loud and close. He saw his attacker, dressed all in black, perk up at the sound as well. Ryan took advantage of the man’s half-second of inattention to smash him in the upper chest with an open palm.
It wasn’t the hardest blow ever but the guy winced audibly and he involuntarily shrunk back. Ryan didn’t wait, swinging his other arm, fist closed, upward. He made contact with his attacker’s jaw. The man fell backward, his body toppling off Ryan’s and onto the bathroom floor just outside the shower.
Ryan looked back for his gun. It was in the corner of the shower, mixed in with a heap of shattered glass. He reached for it anyway, grabbing it by the grip and giving it a little shake to free it from additional shards.
Gripping it firmly, he looked back toward his attacker, ready to pull the trigger. But the man was already up and scrambling out the bathroom door. Before Ryan could fire, the man disappeared from sight.
Ryan got to his feet, ignoring the slivers of glass that embedded in his hands as he pushed off the stall floor. He hurried out of the bathroom into the cabana, which was empty, and then out the door into the yard.
He saw that the larger man had already scaled the fence and was running south along the alley, away from where they’d found the dead woman. Ryan chased after him, holstering his gun as he prepared to climb the fence again. But as he reached up to grab the top of the pickets, he felt a sharp pain in his upper back.
He hopped back down and looked over his left shoulder, where he saw a shard of glass sticking out of his skin just above his shoulder blade. Reaching back with his right hand, he yanked it out, trying to ignore the searing sensation that nearly made his knees buckle.
He tossed the glass to the ground and looked back in the direction where his attacker had gone. But now the alley was empty. He considered trying to leap over the fence again but quickly decided it was a waste of time. The guy was gone. He’d be better off returning to the crime scene and giving the local cops a description so they could start a search.
Frustrated, and with his shoulder throbbing, Ryan returned to grab his sport jacket from just outside the cabana door. As he trudged over, a woman opened the sliding door to the main house and shouted out to him.
“Who the hell are you?” she screamed.
Ryan sighed deeply. Trying to keep his irritation in check, he reminded himself why he was here: to protect and to serve. When he was sure he could keep his tone calm, he forced a smile onto his face and reached for his badge. As he did, a sour thought entered his head.
I thought the beach was supposed to be relaxing.
*
It took several minutes to get Carl Landingham calm enough to talk. It was made doubly challenging by the fact that Jessie still hadn’t heard from Ryan.
Focus on what you can control.
She had taken Carl to the breakfast table, far from the dead body. But it was only now, after half the MBPD had arrived and locked everything down, that he was finally starting to speak. He looked nervously at the uniformed officer who had accompanied them to the kitchen, as if the man might shoot him at any moment.
“It’s okay, Mr. Landingham,” she lied soothingly. “The officer is here for both our protection. Now why don’t you tell me what happened while it’s still fresh in your mind?”
Landingham nodded but still didn’t speak. Jessie thought she was going to have to prod him again when he unexpectedly began.
“Her name’s Kelly. She’s not my wife. I was seeing her secretly. She’s a lingerie model. We’d been getting together for a few months. I just got back in town from New York. She was going to meet me here at the house to welcome me back. She had her own key. I came in and was about to go upstairs because I assumed she’d be in the bedroom. But when I got to the stairs, I saw…”
His voice trailed off at the memory. Jessie could see that he was in shock but needed to press him anyway. The longer she waited to get the details, the less she could count on their accuracy.
“You said you tried to help her because you thought she was still alive, right?”
“Yeah. When I touched her, she was warm. I thought maybe she was just unconscious. Her head was bleeding. I figured she’d fallen down the stairs. So I started to give her mouth to mouth. That’s when I noticed the thing wrapped around her neck. And then I saw bloody footprints on the floor. I realized someone had done this to her. That’s when I ran outside.”
He stopped talking, breaking down again. Jessie nodded sympathetically and gave him a moment to recover. She glanced out the kitchen window, from where she could clearly see the Strand. In fact, she had a clear view of Randy Fuller, who was still sitting on his porch, sipping his drink. The man was leaning forward, obviously watching the activity two doors down, while trying to maintain an air of casual disregard.
Jessie was about to try again with Carl when Ryan hobbled in the back door, holding his jacket and looking exhausted and in pain.
“What happened to you?” she demanded, standing up to help him. He quickly waved her off.
“I’m okay,” he assured her, though his voice sounded hoarse. “But I could use a glass of water.”