Random Acts of Iniquity Page 3

  I didn’t know how to answer that, so I shrugged and felt the tears pressing at my eyes again.

  Someone else entered the room and nodded to the manager as he left. Chase stepped back—but only slightly. He was still close enough to hold my arm, to catch me if I fell.

  “This is Detective Wilson,” Chase said. “He’s going to take lead on this case. I wish I could, but I’m too close to it.”

  I quickly observed the slight man with glasses and a receding hairline. He was Chase’s opposite, just based on appearances, at least, and probably nearing retirement—in his mid-fifties, I’d guess. He pushed something around in his mouth—a mint maybe.

  The detective paused in the door, a compassionate look in his eyes as he addressed me. “Ms. Paladin, as Detective Dexter said, I’m Detective Wilson. Can you tell me what happened? Do you feel up to it?”

  Did I? Not really? But I knew time was of the essence right now, and I would push past my dread if it meant catching this guy. “Yes . . . yes, I can do that.”

  Chase led me back to the seat behind the desk and lowered me there. Then he stood beside me like a guard as Detective Wilson took a seat across from me after closing the door.

  “I guess I should just start at the beginning . . .” I drew in a shaky breath. Then I told them what I’d gone through. All the details. The horror. The things that didn’t make sense.

  “Can you tell me where you were held captive?” Detective Wilson asked.

  “I . . . I might be able to find it. But . . . I . . . I can’t go in.” Panic swarmed in me at the thought of that retro kitchen. The pink bedroom. The chrome edged furniture of the dining room.

  I couldn’t face that place. I couldn’t . . .

  “We won’t ask you to do that,” Detective Wilson said quietly. “We just need to know where this took place.”

  I nodded resolutely, determined to be strong, even though I wanted to crumble. “I’ll show you.”

  Chase’s hand pressed on my shoulder. “I’ll go with her.”

  Relief filled me. I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

  Thank God for friends.

  Chapter Four

  Chase took my hand into his as we sat together in the back seat of Detective Wilson’s car. I craved human connection to keep me grounded and to remind me this wasn’t a dream. For that reason, I squeezed Chase’s fingers, never wanting to let go.

  My stomach churned as I thought about seeing the house again. Would I recognize it? I thought I would but . . . I’d fled so quickly. My only goal had been to get away.

  As we pulled into the neighborhood, the same eeriness from earlier washed over me. What was wrong with this community? Why did it feel more like a movie set than a place where people lived?

  From the safety of the car, I observed the streets again. The houses, just as I remembered, looked old-school Americana with their porches and craftsman style. They weren’t as large as most of the new homes being built. Fresh asphalt covered the street, and dirty tire tracks stretched down the middle.

  “Where are we?” I asked, realizing I had no idea how far from home I was.

  “We’re on the north side of Cincinnati.”

  I blanched. That was a good forty minutes from my house near downtown. But it made sense. Lots of new neighborhoods were being developed in this area.

  Detective Wilson slowed as we reached the first street. Dread built in me as we got closer and closer to the house of horror.

  “Turn here,” I muttered.

  The detective followed my direction.

  I could do this, I told myself. I could face the place I left behind.

  This still seemed like a nightmare I’d woken up from. But it wasn’t. As I glanced down at my dress, at the torn panty hose over my legs, I knew with certainty the events that had played out had really happened.

  “Where next?” Wilson picked up a plastic box of orange Tic Tacs and guzzled a few into his mouth.

  “Turn left up here. The house should be on the right, about eight lots down.”

  Chase squeezed my hand tighter, as if sensing my rising anxiety.

  “Anything you remember about the house that might help us identify it?” Wilson’s voice still sounded gentle and prodding, and I appreciated his sensitivity.

  I closed my eyes and tried to remember any details. “The windows are all covered with wood . . . I’m not sure what else.”

  The detective slowed. My eyes searched each house we passed. They were practically cookie cutter images of each other. Which house was it?

  My head pounded as pressure pushed in on me. I had to be on my A game. We had to catch this guy.

  “It’s okay, Holly,” Chase murmured. “Take your time.”

  I stared at the houses and tried to remember the color of the front door. Was it yellow? Or red?

  I had no idea.

  “They’re all blending together.” I shook my head. “I think I left the door open. But the man could have closed it.”

  “Was there a car in the driveway?” Wilson asked.

  “No, I don’t think there was. Maybe it was in the garage? This whole neighborhood kind of seems empty.”

  “It’s just been built,” Chase said. “Most of these homes aren’t ready to be occupied. There have been some financial struggles, if I remember correctly.”

  “That’s right,” Wilson said. “Some investors have pulled out, and things have been put on hold until the developer works out his issues.”

  Everything made a little more sense then. Why there were no cars. Why no one was home.

  But my house had definitely been decorated. Someone had started to move in.

  “We’re about at eight houses.” Detective Wilson rolled the car to a stop.

  I stared at each of the homes but shook my head. I had no idea which one I’d been in. I kept praying for something to stir a memory.

  “That one has wood over the windows.” My heart raced as I pointed to one.

  “Several homes in this area have boarded-up windows,” Chase said quietly. “There have been some break-ins in this neighborhood lately. Thieves have been shattering the windows to get inside.”

  My heart sank. I suppose that made sense.

  “Shoes,” I muttered. “I pulled off my shoes so I could run faster. I tossed them on the porch. The man could have grabbed them but—”

  “How about this? I’ll park here and check the porch for shoes. I’ll check all the doors. See if any are ajar.” Detective Wilson glanced at me. “Does that work?”

  I nodded and clung to Chase’s hand. I was glad no one forced me to see the house for myself.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered the bedroom. The retro kitchen. Seeing the man in the mask.

  A shudder snaked through me.

  I watched as Wilson climbed out of the car. Several other police cruisers pulled up in the area, and a few officers began pacing the sidewalks, waiting for instructions.

  Wilson sauntered to the house beside us. Tried to open the door. It appeared to be locked.

  I just watched. I needed to see what he would figure out. I needed answers. I needed for this to be over.

  Please, Lord.

  He checked three more houses.

  Nothing.

  The hollow pit in my stomach grew, and my head wobbled again.

  “So you never saw this guy’s face?” Chase turned toward me, seeming to sense my weakening state.

  “Just his mask. It made his face look like . . .” I trembled. “A porcelain doll. When I knocked him out, I probably should have removed it so I could see what he looked like . . .”

  “You did the right thing by running as fast as you could.”

  But had I? If I had looked under the mask, I could identify this man right now. My choice could mean the difference in this guy getting away . . . or me.

  Detective Wilson came back to the car and opened the door. “All the houses are locked up tight and there are no shoes in sight. Anything else you mig
ht remember that would give us a clue, Ms. Paladin? Anything will help.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to think. What was I missing? I couldn’t remember anything specific that made this home stand out.

  There had to be something, though.

  As I glanced down at my skirt, I saw a stain there. I sucked in a breath. Some of my chicken pot pie had gotten on me when I swung the cast iron skillet. “I know this might sound crazy, but look for chicken pot pie. Peas. Carrots. Chicken. Some got on my skirt, and it could have fallen off as I ran.”

  Wilson stared at me a minute before nodding slowly, like he didn’t know if I was joking or not. “Let me check it out.”

  As Wilson left, Chase pulled me toward him, and I rested my head against his thick chest.

  I hoped they found the right house. I hoped they found the man responsible for this. But I wondered if I was hoping too much.

  Wilson knelt on one of the porches, looking at the cement beneath him. A moment later, he stood and nodded toward an officer in the distance. Three men swarmed the area.

  My heart lifted. Was this the house? Had they found it?

  One of the men used a battering ram to knock open the door, and the men flooded inside.

  I watched, unable to say anything. I could hardly breathe. I only waited. Waited.

  As I did, I glanced outside. Saw the sun still stood high in the sky. But . . . that made no sense. “Chase, what time is it?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Eleven.”

  I blinked, certain I hadn’t heard him correctly. “Eleven in the morning?”

  “That’s right. Why?”

  I shook my head. My timeline was all discombobulated. I thought for sure it was closer to evening. “It’s just that . . . the man told me to make dinner. I thought . . . I thought more time had passed.”

  “That is strange. It was like he was playing some kind of game with you.”

  Game was a strange way to put it. Games were supposed to be fun. I certainly hadn’t had fun, but maybe my captor had been living out some kind of sick fantasy.

  Finally, Wilson emerged and sauntered back over. He opened my door and leaned against the car as he peered down to address me. “We found it.”

  A lump formed in my chest as good news collided with bad news. Good: They’d found the right location. Bad: This could be the moment of reckoning.

  “Anything?” I asked, my voice catching.

  “No one is there. But we’re going to scour the place for evidence. In the meantime, we need to get you to the hospital to be checked out—”

  “I’m fine.” I just wanted to go home. I didn’t want to draw this out. And, really, I was unharmed—just shaken.

  Wilson almost appeared fatherly as he looked at me. “We don’t know what kind of drug he gave you. We’ll need to know, just in case there are any effects, and also for the official report, of course.”

  I nodded. His explanation made sense. My tox screen would serve as evidence when this went to court. Not if. When. “Okay then.”

  “I’ll take her,” Chase said. “Can one of the guys take me back to my car?”

  “I’ll get one of them to do that right now.”

  * * *

  After Chase and I were dropped off at the gas station, Chase led me to his unmarked police sedan. He didn’t start the engine. Instead, he turned to me and brushed my hair out of my face.

  His blue eyes looked tender, and his motions were gentle. His presence reminded me of a Roman centurion guarding something precious.

  I was honored that, at the moment, that precious commodity was me.

  This was the first moment the two of us had really had alone, and I, for one, was relieved to be away from everyone else. Away from the pressure of curious eyes. Away from strangers who tried to ascertain my mental state.

  The October day was mild, so the temperature inside the car remained pleasant without any AC or heat. At least there was that to be thankful for.

  “Holly,” Chase murmured again, just as he had inside the office when he’d first seen me. The word was filled with so much affection.

  I leaned into his touch, wishing I could pull myself together. I wasn’t sure it was possible, though. My emotions went off like flashbangs inside me, each one making me flinch.

  “I wasn’t able to reach your mom,” Chase said.

  “She’s in the Caribbean on her honeymoon, and she left her phone at home in the ultimate ‘Do Not Disturb’ effort.”

  “Honeymoon? She got married?”

  “That’s right. It was spontaneous, but she seems really happy.” My dad had been gone for several years now. Then my mom had met Larry Truman, and the two seemed made for each other. No one in the family had been surprised when they went to the Justice of the Peace and were married.

  “I’m happy for her.”

  “We all are.” My thoughts shifted back to my family and friends. “Does anyone else know?”

  Chase let out a breath. “I called Jamie, Ralph, and Alex, and I texted Drew. I needed to make sure you weren’t with any of them.”

  I could only imagine the panic they might be feeling. I should have called them right away so I could ease their worries. I’d wasted so much time. “I’m going to need to let them know I’m okay.”

  “I can do that for you. While the doctor checks you out.”

  I nodded, feeling like I’d been dropped into another world. I knew I was moving and talking, but it almost seemed like someone else was doing so for me. Someone who looked and sounded like me but who wasn’t me.

  “It’s going to be a long day, Holly.”

  “I know.”

  “What are you thinking?” Chase dropped his hand, but his gaze was still focused solely on me.

  “I can’t stop reviewing everything that happened.”

  “Why don’t you walk me through what happened again? Maybe it will help you sort things out.”

  I drew in a deep breath, trying to prepare myself to share the details again. “I can’t stop thinking about when the man came into the house.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He set his briefcase down and came toward me.” I shivered. “I felt like I’d stepped into an episode of Leave It to Beaver. I mean, I woke up in this dress. I had to fix dinner, and it had to be ready by 5:30 . . .”

  “He didn’t . . .” Chase’s voice caught, and he rubbed his lips together, as if the words wouldn’t leave his mouth.

  “He didn’t touch me.” Praise the Lord. But I glanced at my clothes. “Although, I don’t know how I got into this dress.”

  Chase nodded, but I saw the emotion in his eyes. I saw the worry. The concern. The flash of relief.

  “It sounds to me like this was someone who knew you, Holly. Who knew enough about you to know you love everything retro. Maybe he was obsessed with you and that’s why he set you up in a scenario like this.”

  I shivered. “Maybe.”

  “Has there been anyone who’s given you strange vibes lately? Maybe someone at work?”

  I searched my thoughts. “Off the top of my head? No, I can’t think of anyone.”

  “You still have time. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  I just wanted to get this over with.

  Chapter Five

  Six hours later, Chase and I were back at my house. The doctor had examined me, given me some pain medication for my head injury—it was really just a big knot at the back of my skull—and run a tox screen. The police had taken my clothes as evidence and had given me some old sweat pants and a T-shirt instead.

  During the process, Chase had stayed with me as much as he could. He’d even called my family and Jamie and had given them an update while I’d seen the doctor.

  Throughout it all, I saw the pull of tension in his eyes. The desire to find answers versus the desire to protect me. He’d chosen to protect me, and I was grateful for that.

  When the police had finished checking my h
ome for evidence, we were cleared to go back. Chase had insisted on staying with me. That was fine by me because I didn’t want to be alone right now. I didn’t want to face my house by myself. I couldn’t stop picturing opening my door and seeing that man there.

  Now, Chase’s hand rested on my back as we stood at my front door. Darkness had fallen around us, and the day had been long. Really long.

  Chase took the keys from my trembling hands and inserted them into the front door lock. I should be finding comfort in my little white bungalow with its wide porch and repurposed furnishings. The place, with its lovely view of the city, was normally my haven.

  Quietly, he unlocked the door for me and led me inside.

  I shuddered as I stepped through the door.

  This was where it had all started less than twenty-four hours ago. I was thankful the ordeal hadn’t lasted longer. But it had lasted long enough.

  Chase took the Chinese food we’d picked up on the way and placed it on my kitchen table. I didn’t tell him I wasn’t hungry, and I was sure he was going to insist that I needed to eat. And I probably did.

  I was feeling lightheaded and weak. The doctor said I might have some PTSD symptoms after what had happened. I’d majored in social work and counseling, so I knew all about trauma and what it did to the brain.

  I was just glad that Sarah wasn’t here right now. Though I missed my foster daughter, the last thing she needed was to see me in this state. She’d been through enough distress in her life.

  In fact, I’d requested no one see me tonight. Right now, I just needed to recover.

  Chase paused by the table, the sleeves to his button-up shirt still rolled up to his elbows. He told me he’d taken the rest of the day off work and insisted that arguing with him about it would do no good.

  “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,” he said as he opened a carton of food and steam rose from it.

  I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. I stared at the General Tso’s Chicken in front of me, my stomach churning. Its spicy scent usually made my stomach growl. Right now, however, the dish had no appeal.

  I pushed away my empty paper plate. “Good, because I think I might puke.”