Markham remained silent.
“Your wife won’t grieve for you. She knows you cheated your way through eighteen years of marriage. Do you think she kept count of all the young actresses you stashed in your little house in the Colony? Deborah told me you charged Connie a bit of rent, to make it look good, and both of you denied you were sleeping together. What a joke. How many other actresses before Connie did you keep there? They slept with you, sold their bodies to you, so you’d get them roles? Your precious wife is still tied up. I could go back there, finish it for her. And I would. Up to you. I want the truth, now.”
Theo Markham finally spoke, his voice low and flat. He sounded broken, in pain. How many times had Doc struck him, tortured him before they’d arrived? “I loved Connie more than anyone and you murdered her, sliced her throat. You’re the monster here, not me. Connie had what it took to be a star, with or without me cheering her on. I loved her, do you hear me, you crazy bastard? And you killed her!”
Doc gave a small chuckle. “I really enjoyed killing her. Let me tell you about it. She was asleep, probably dreaming of some handsome young stud, not a middle-aged man she was having to suffer sleeping with to get her start in some idiot movie. You know what? There was a script open on the bed beside her. It was The Crown Prince, the role Deborah wanted and deserved. Her eyes popped open just as I sliced across her neck. She stared up at me with her big beautiful green eyes, and she never made a sound. I watched her die. Like you watched Deborah die, you bastard. There’s one thing I want to know from you before I cut your throat and let you join your little slut in hell. How did you know it was me?”
“I saw you.”
“No, that’s not possible. I checked, you were at that splashy party at your house that night.”
“I was only fifteen minutes away. I never drove into the Colony, I always parked outside, came in under the fence. I saw you leaving the house, and I went in and she was dead.”
“How did you know who I was?” He slapped his hand to his forehead. “How could I forget that party at that degenerate’s house six months ago? That producer’s house, Willard Lambeth, that was his name. You telling me you actually remembered me, after six months?”
“Of course. The way you acted, your obvious disdain for all of us in the business, the way you treated Deborah.”
“Then why didn’t you tell the cops?”
Markham actually laughed. “You’re so smart, who do you think they would have put at the top of their suspect list? Me, of course, they’d have painted me the jilted lover. I had no proof you were there, and I wouldn’t have stood a chance. Even if they didn’t convict me, I would have been ruined, my career, my marriage, over.”
“You murdered Deborah for revenge, didn’t you? You gave Deborah that part she wanted so badly in your damned movie, and you sent her out of the country. All that time you were planning how to set it up.”
“You deserved to be destroyed, both of you. Like you destroyed Connie.”
They heard a fist strike flesh, heard Markham moan in pain. Cam started forward, but Daniel grabbed her arm.
Markham was panting now, screaming back, “It doesn’t matter. You’re insane! You murdered all those helpless, innocent young women. I had to stop you. Even after all of it, you tried to kill Gloria Swanson. Because I was sleeping with her? Are you completely insane?”
There was silence and then Doc spoke, his voice dreamy. “Connie was my third, you know. She was the worst of them, really, taking up with you. You’re responsible for her death, no one else. Do you know, each of them was better than the last? I fancied it was like a ballet, every move smooth and exact. They all died so beautifully, and I whispered to them to repent their sins but they couldn’t, their throats were cut open.”
There was the sound of a fist striking flesh again and another cry of pain.
Cam moved quickly along the narrow hallway, went down on her knees and looked into the second bedroom. Markham was duct-taped arms and legs to a chair. Deborah’s desk chair, Cam recognized it. Everything else looked the same as Cam had seen it Wednesday morning. The chair sat in the middle of the room, Doc leaning over Markham, his knuckles bloody from the many blows. Markham’s face was swollen and discolored, a deep cut over one of his eyes. A small maglite was propped up on a backpack, lighting Markham’s bloody face.
Markham’s words were liquid with blood. “There are hundreds, thousands of actresses. You said Connie was the worst because she slept with me. Everyone sleeps with someone. It’s only sex. Why? Why my Connie? Why all of them?”
Doc raised the knife and both Cam and Daniel aimed their Glocks at him, center mass. Then he slowly lowered the knife and spoke, his voice emotionless, thin as parchment. “You want the truth? All right. Back at the beginning, before I understood how corrupt and venal this business is, I wanted Deborah to succeed. She wanted it more than anything, more than she wanted me, probably. Of course you know why Deborah didn’t get any of those roles, you scum. It was because she was loyal to me, she didn’t sleep with any of you lechers to get ahead. So I decided I would help her.
“You know what? I found I was quite good at it.” His voice had dropped, became confiding. “It’s not as well controlled as surgery, and I really am a superb surgeon. I didn’t have to practice much to be a first-rate killer.”
There was a long moment of silence. Cam thought if she could see his face there’d be a huge smile on it. He was revving himself up. They heard him announce, his voice excited now, “It’s how I became famous, in the end. Time for me to go now, Markham, time for you to die. There are pretty young senoritas waiting for me.”
Markham had gone beyond fear. His voice sounded eerily calm. “They’ll get you, you know they will, no matter where you go, they’ll find you. They’ll never stop.”
“You think I don’t know that? I know this part’s over. There’s always an end of the line. That’s why I came for you, Markham. Did you think I’d leave you behind? They’ll come for me tomorrow with more questions and their lie detector, and what they’ll find is rubble and a burned body. They’ll think my grief for Deborah drove me to kill myself. By the time they know better, I’ll be gone, an obscure village doctor they’ll never find.”
Doc’s voice suddenly caught, and he sobbed. “You know what, Markham, you evil bastard? If you hadn’t killed Deborah, none of this would be happening.”
Markham barked out a strangled half laugh. “Of course it would. You’re a serial killer.”
Doc’s shadow lengthened and he raised his knife.
67
* * *
“Put the knife down, Doc. Now!” Cam jumped to her feet and raised her Glock.
Doc whirled around, shock clear on his face. He screamed, “No, it’s impossible! You can’t be here!” He shoved Markham’s chair toward them and dove for the open window.
Daniel followed Doc through the window, rolled, and tackled him, landing with all his weight on his back. He grabbed his wrist, twisted it until Doc dropped the knife, and pulled his arms back to cuff them. Doc kicked himself up to his knees, twisted, and got an arm free. He held a small pistol in his hand.
“No!” Cam yelled. She and Doc fired at the same time. The bullet knocked Doc backward onto the ground. Daniel fell off him, onto his back.
She was at Daniel’s side in a moment, saw blood spreading over his chest. She pressed down on the wound hard with both hands. He was struggling to breathe. She pulled her cell out of her pocket, dialed 911, forced herself to calm, and told the dispatcher to send an ambulance, officer down. She looked briefly over at Doc, lying still now, silent. She wondered if he was dead. She hoped so.
Harder, she had to press harder. “Stay with me or I’ll make sure Missy makes your life miserable. Daniel, breathe!” She heard his breath bubbling, saw him spitting up as he tried to suck in air. He was bleeding into his lung.
His breathing eased. He whispered, “Where did he get a gun?”
“Not important. Be quiet
and don’t move an inch. Breathe, Daniel, help is coming.”
“Cam, the gun—how . . .”
She leaned over him, whispered, “We’ll have a talk about that later. We started this together, Daniel, and we’ll finish it together.” His eyes were vague, cloudy, and she leaned close. “Think about the dozen kids you and Missy are going to have. Daniel, focus!”
“Missy,” he whispered, his voice liquid, and she’d have sworn his eyes brightened. She heard sirens. She kept pressure on his chest, the wet of his blood warm against the burns on her palms. “Hang on, Daniel, the cavalry’s near.” A moment later she heard the front door burst open as the EMTs came pounding through. His eyes were closed, his head to the side. She pressed her fingers against his neck. His pulse was thready, barely there. She kept pressing with the heels of her hands until the paramedics told her to move.
“He’s got a bullet wound in his chest. I’ve been pressing down as hard as I could.”
“That’s good, now move.” The paramedic quickly applied a pressure bandage. “On three,” she said to the other paramedic behind her, and together they lifted him onto the gurney.
“Will he live?”
“He’d better,” she called back before she closed the ambulance door. “I mean look at him. He’s the whole package.” Police were all around Cam now, more cop cars pouring in. Only then did she turn to look down at Doc. She’d thought he was dead, but there were paramedics surrounding him, busy trying to keep him alive.
She saw his eyelashes flicker. She knelt down beside him and leaned in close.
He opened his eyes, empty and vague as he stared up at her.
“Tell me one thing before you leave this earth. Where did you go when you left the hospital for those forty minutes the night Deborah was murdered?”
A ghost of a smile. “I went to visit Gloria Swanson. She wasn’t home. I went back last night—didn’t work out—but lots more nights—”
He died with a rictus of a smile on his mouth. She watched them start pumping on his chest and pushing air into his lungs. She watched as they put him on a gurney and moved him to an ambulance. She’d seen enough to know she’d heard his voice for the last time. She didn’t move until she heard Markham yelling for her from the house, still bound tight to his chair with duct tape.
EPILOGUE
* * *
SANTA MONICA COMMUNITY HOSPITAL
SUNDAY AFTERNOON
Missy and Cam stood by Daniel’s bed in the step-down unit. They knew he was awake, saw his eyelashes flutter, but they didn’t say anything, let him rest. They listened to the bubbling sound of the suction machine, a pleurovac, a nurse called it, connected to a tube in Daniel’s chest.
“So many tubes and lines,” Missy whispered. “I’m afraid to touch him.” But she did, lightly stroking his forearm above an IV site at his wrist.
His eyelashes fluttered again. Missy leaned down, her breath warm on his face. “Daniel, open those beautiful eyes of yours and wink at me.” He couldn’t seem to make his eyes open, to reassure her. He felt like a boulder was sitting on his chest. It didn’t hurt much now, but he knew it would if he tried to move.
He heard Missy say, “He’s so pale, Cam. It’s like he’s hardly here.” She sounded like she was going to cry and he hated that. He forced his eyes open but knew he looked vague, confused.
“Hello, Daniel,” Cam said, leaning close. “Don’t worry about a thing. You’re going to be fine, your surgeon said you came through surgery like a champ. You only need time now, time to heal.” She wasn’t about to tell him about the hours they’d spent in the waiting room, afraid he would die.
Missy pressed the morphine pump into his hand. “If you have pain, you push the magic button.”
Daniel tried to smile, to say something. He wanted to tell her she looked beautiful, her hair tousled all over her head. But he felt strangely disconnected, no words in his brain. Cam was smiling down at him, so she was safe, and that was a relief. He whispered, “Doc?”
“He’s dead,” Cam said, nothing more.
“Markham?”
“He’s in jail, but I doubt for long. His lawyers are proclaiming Markham is innocent, getting the word out everywhere in the press. They’re using Mrs. Markham to make a hero out of him, how he saved her life by confessing with a gun to his head. For now, she’s standing by him. We’re going to need some physical evidence. We’ve served some warrants, started talking to those people at the party he slipped out of. But that’s not for you to worry about. Your assignment is to heal yourself, all right?”
He felt the warmth of Missy’s voice beside his left ear. “Cam told me she had you thinking about me, about us, to keep you going, back there. I had to tell her she was a bit premature, seeing as how we haven’t even gone to the movies or out to my favorite Italian restaurant yet. You haven’t even kissed me. Well, I can take care of half of that.” Missy leaned down and lightly kissed him. “I’ll give you a week to reciprocate.” She smiled at him, but then her voice hitched. “Don’t you ever let this happen again, Daniel Montoya. Do you hear me?”
He whispered, “I saw you dressed in your cutoff jeans and orange tank top, your hair all over your head. Snapped me right back.”
Missy laughed, a small one, but it was a laugh. She said, “Look, Arturo’s here. He’s been bitching and moaning until they finally released him. He said he’d stop by, wanted to make sure you weren’t going to fold up your tent and leave him to face Markham’s lawyers alone.”
He heard Arturo’s deep voice, “Hey, dude, looks like I’m beating you out of this place. You’ve got to get well so we can rock ’n’ roll with Markham. Your sheriff, Murray, agrees with me. You’re needed.”
Arturo’s too-hearty voice faded. Daniel wanted to say something, but the pain spiked. He wanted to scream with it, but he didn’t. The pain took over. Then he felt Missy’s fingers lightly press his fingers on the morphine button. It was amazing how fast the pain began to recede. But as it backed off, it took his brain away with it. All he could manage was a vague smile in Arturo’s direction.
Cam said, “My folks were here, Daniel. Mom left her famous chicken soup. The nurse said maybe tomorrow. Dad wanted you to know they’ll be throwing a party for you when you get out.”
The thought of chicken soup made him swallow bile. He heard a woman’s voice, and somewhere in his brain he recognized she was the surgeon who’d taken the bullet out of his chest. He wanted to thank her, but the words floated away.
Dr. Soufret checked her patient’s vitals, inspected the bandages over his chest, relieved there wasn’t much fluid draining through the tube. She shoved her glasses back up her nose and looked at Arturo. “I hear both you and Detective Montoya were heroes last night. Congratulations. Now, all of you, let me reassure you that Detective Montoya will heal. I’ll be taking the chest tube out soon, which won’t be fun for him. Let’s leave him alone, let him rest.” She paused a moment, looked at Missy. “What’s your name?”
“Missy Devereaux.”
Dr. Soufret smiled at her. “He was mumbling your name over and over before he went under for surgery. All of you can come back later.” She stopped in the doorway. “A warning. There’s a swarm of reporters downstairs. Nurse Hopkins can show you the back stairs, if you wish.”
Cam took a last look at Daniel. He would live. But five young women were gone, their lives ended by a madman. Six including Deborah, murdered by a man too much a coward to come forward, a man blinded by his hunger for revenge. It was almost too much to bear.
Arturo braved the reporters while Cam and Missy walked out of the rear entrance of the hospital into the bright warm California sunlight. Missy said, “I can’t believe it’s only been five days since I ran into you at the market. Look at what’s happened.”
Cam turned and hugged her. No way would she ever tell Missy she’d been in Doc’s crosshairs. “You’re going to be a star, Missy. It’s your time.”
EPILOGUE
* * *
> RASMUSSEN MANSION
WASHINGTON, D.C.
SUNDAY AFTERNOON
Delsey punched Rob in the arm and gave Venus a fat smile. “Yes, I’m thinking of forgiving him, Mrs. Rasmussen, but I made him promise if he ever keeps anything from me again, he will bow his head and let me shave him bald.”
Rob touched his fingers to his thick dark hair. “Delsey figures most guys would do about anything not to be bald.”
Delsey laughed. “It started out as my mom’s idea, to keep my dad on the straight and narrow.” She ruffled his thick hair. “Since Rob’s got such great hair, I think the threat might work on him, too.”
Sherlock turned to Dillon. “Nice idea. Maybe we should try that, Dillon. Keep you on the straight and narrow.”
He feathered his fingers through her beautiful hair. “As long as it works both ways.”
Sherlock looked appalled. “Oh dear,” she said.
“Would you shave my head, too?” Sean asked, looking back and forth between his parents.
“I’ll see to it your hair is safe, Sean,” Venus said, and handed him the cookie plate. She added to Delsey, “I rather hoped he would talk you around. He’s got a lot of his grandfather in him.”
“You must tell me about him,” Delsey said. “After all, knowledge is power.”
“Rob’s grandfather was creative, as Rob is,” Venus said. “But unlike Rob, he didn’t build houses, he built a business, nurtured it, gave it every waking hour, made it into an international force. His business, our business, is thriving. It’s your heritage, Rob, as much as it is Alexander’s and your father’s. It is my fondest hope you’ll join us, give working at Rasmussen Industries a try.” Her eyes twinkled. “Delsey, maybe you can help give him a little push. I think a good place to start would be on our development team here in Washington, in the home office. They design and build our new facilities, rehab our current ones. Your father enjoys working in that area, Rob, he could show you the ropes. He’s started his AA meetings. It would help to have you near. And he could help you avoid flattening Alexander when he tries to throw his weight around. What do you think?”