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In a way, it might make sense to wait a while longer before trying again. Locating her was the hard part. Just find out where she was staying, then let things rest. Eventually the cop would let his guard down; he’d have to leave Jaclyn on her own at some point. Eventually she’d go home. But what if Jaclyn remembered what she’d seen Wednesday afternoon before that happened? What if something—a visual, a scent, a dream—jogged her memory? The cops might try hypnosis or something, and then it was over. Done and done. Once the cat was out of the bag, it couldn’t be put back in.
Today. Like it or not, complications or not, Jaclyn Wilde had to die today.
Chapter Twenty-six
TAITE SAT IN THE BORROWED CAR, WHICH WAS IN THE shade of a tree across the street from the huge church and reception hall. The businesses in the redbrick building behind her were all closed on a Sunday afternoon, so she had the parking lot to herself.
She kept her eyes on the building across the street, waiting and watching. Discovering that Jaclyn Wilde would be there hadn’t been nearly as difficult as finding her Friday night. This was a big wedding, perhaps the wedding of the summer now that Carrie’s had been called off. She supposed you could say the wedding had been called off, given that the bride had been killed. Anyway, a lot of the people who came into the boutique talked about their plans as they shopped, which was how she’d found out Premier was handling this wedding, and that meant Jaclyn would be there.
For the first time since this had all started, Taite was worried. Since yesterday morning, the Hopewell cops had been calling her again. Detective Wilder had left three messages, and the other one, Sergeant Garvey, had left one. Why were the cops calling her again? They couldn’t know about Friday night. There was no way.
Was there? How could there be? She’d been so careful. But for the first time, a trickle of uncertainty made her doubt herself and her plans. Damn Douglas and his fucking fund-raiser, his airtight alibi. His Friday-night appearance had been so public, he couldn’t offer her an alibi when she needed one. She’d provided him with one when he’d screwed up and was in a total panic, but when she needed him, was he able to reciprocate? Of course not. And this was all because of his stupidity, his lack of control. Douglas had his weaknesses—every man did. But she’d had no idea he could be so violent when pushed to the edge. If he’d only told her what was going on, she could have helped him. They could have come up with a plan, a good plan. Instead she was having to act spontaneously, and that was always dangerous.
Taite hadn’t been home since yesterday afternoon, and she’d turned off her cell phone hours ago, tired of hearing it ring and seeing the same numbers come up on the display. If the cops kept calling they’d eventually just show up on her doorstep, and she couldn’t be there when that happened. She needed time to construct an unshakable out-of-town timeline before she return
ed any of the official calls. She needed to psych herself up to present a completely provable case. A few phone calls, a few favors called in … she could make it work. Chicago, maybe. She made several trips a year to the city, and there were people there who owed her. The big thing was, she would have had to drive, because obviously her name couldn’t appear on a passenger list anywhere, which meant she had to come up with a good reason for driving.
Or Jaclyn Wilde had to die. Without her, anything they had against Doug would just fall apart. Taite had had his car cleaned, because he’d been stupid enough to park at the reception hall, stupid enough to let himself be seen, stupid enough to act without thinking and risk everything she’d worked so hard to build. Being his mistress had worked out better than she’d ever thought it would. She had his balls in the palm of her hand, and they both knew it. The fool had actually fallen in love with her, gave her everything she wanted, and now she was in danger of losing everything. But Taite thought she’d covered his tracks fairly well. Unless Jaclyn could identify him, no judge would risk making an enemy of a future U.S. senator by issuing a search warrant without overwhelming cause.
For Taite, the solution was very simple. Eliminate Jaclyn, the only person who could put Doug at the reception hall when Carrie had been killed, and her very nice life could go on without disruption.
She wished she could simply have hired someone to do the job, put a layer of deniability between herself and the act, but it wasn’t as if she had “hit man” on her speed dial. Besides, what assurance would she have that she could trust a hit man? Anyone who chose that line of work was automatically untrustworthy. Every so often a murder-for-hire would be reported in the news, and invariably it was some undercover cop a nitwit had tried to hire. She was determined not to be that nitwit. Besides, if she went that route she’d have to get rid of the hit man, too, once the job was done, and then she’d be back to square one. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.
She was coldly furious with Doug; this was all his fault. He’d let Carrie goad him, let her trigger a momentous loss of temper. Kabob skewers, for God’s sake. If he’d wanted to get rid of Carrie it could’ve been done in a hundred different ways, all of them less ridiculous. Most of them wouldn’t have led right back to him. She could have helped him plan a method of disposal that would leave people wondering where Carrie had gone. She could’ve been another runaway bride, and eventually people would have stopped looking. It wasn’t as if anyone would actually miss Carrie, except maybe her parents, but if they had any brains at all it wouldn’t take them long to realize how much nicer their lives were now that Carrie was gone. God, she’d been such a bitch. Taite had always been amazed that Carrie had been able to turn on the sugar and fool people whenever she wanted.
But instead of careful planning, Doug had lost his temper and now here they were: Taite was left cleaning up his mess so her own life wouldn’t be ruined. Without Doug, her home would be taken away, her lifestyle would suffer. She wouldn’t even have the dream that one day he’d leave his bitch of a wife and marry her.
He owed her. He owed her big-time. When this was done he was going to owe her a shitload of diamonds, and maybe a beach house. Make that definitely a beach house.
If she got good at this, maybe Mrs. Hoity-toity Dennison could be next. It was the time crunch that made the planning of Jaclyn’s murder so difficult. Next time, she’d be able to plan properly.
Not that Fayre Dennison was the type to just up and disappear. Her murder would need very careful planning.
Douglas wasn’t getting off scot-free. No, this was his mess and he had to help clean it up. Taite knew she couldn’t very well drive all over town with no car tag, not after Friday night, and she didn’t dare let anyone see her own car in the vicinity of Jaclyn’s demise. So she was driving a borrowed car, one Doug had provided—one of Mrs. Dennison’s vehicles, a BMW sedan. Taite thought that was a hoot. She almost wanted to be seen—well, the car, not her personally—so the high-and-mighty Mrs. Dennison could be grilled about her whereabouts this afternoon. Wouldn’t it be cool if she didn’t have an alibi? If the cops began to think that maybe Mrs. Dennison killed Carrie to keep her out of the family?
In fact, it might be a good thing if someone did take note of the car. Taite wore gloves, so she didn’t have to worry about prints, and the hat and sunglasses made a decent disguise, at least from a distance. All she had to do was get off one good shot, then get the hell out of Dodge and ditch the car somewhere. It would eventually be found, but the important thing was there wouldn’t be anything to link her to it.
It was early in the evening but still light out—ah, summer—as the bride and groom made their getaway. Finally! Taite was getting a little cramped, sitting in the car for so long, and her hands and head were sweating beneath the gloves and hat. Soon after the bride and groom departed, wedding guests started climbing into their cars and making their getaways, car after car peeling out of the lot, heading in all directions. No one paid the car across the street any attention at all. Taite had made certain she was parked at the back of the lot, in the shade, so even if anyone glanced in her direction the car might look empty.
She even saw Doug and his bitch wife leave. Good. Now no one could place Mrs. Dennison at the church while Jaclyn Wilde was getting killed somewhere else. Now it would be Doug’s word against his wife’s, and the evidence would point to her. It struck Taite as a neat solution.
Finally, Jaclyn Wilde left by the side door. Twilight was deepening by then. She wasn’t alone; she never was, damn it. There were two older women and a pretty black girl with her. They all hugged, and after a few words headed for separate parts of the parking lot. One of the women headed for a Jag that looked just like Jaclyn’s. Taite had wondered about that car when she’d seen it in the lot, had wondered if somehow Jaclyn’s car had been repaired and returned so soon. It hadn’t seemed likely, but the detail had jarred her. Nice to know there was a logical explanation.
Naturally, Detective Wilder was close by, following Jaclyn out to the parking lot. Taite was almost glad. The job she had to do would be easier if she could get Jaclyn alone, but he could go, too. She might as well get two birds with one stone, if she could. It would be best if she could concentrate on one at a time, Jaclyn first and then Wilder, but she didn’t know what the night might bring. Besides, killing a cop wouldn’t be so easy, and would rain all sorts of hell down on the scene, but she was prepared for anything. If she had the chance, she’d take it, just because he’d been such a pain in the ass.
“Where are you staying tonight, Jaclyn?” Taite whispered. She wondered if the wedding planner and the cop had come here in one car, wondered if that would make things easier or harder. It didn’t really matter. From here on out she was going to have to play it by ear. When an opportunity presented itself, she’d make her move.
Jaclyn got into a Toyota, and Taite had to grin. Boy, wasn’t that a comedown from the Jag? Detective Wilder continued walking, and now that the parking lot was mostly empty she could spot his car, at the far end of the lot. Separate cars, then. Probably just as well. Somehow, some way, she needed to get Jaclyn Wilde alone. A few seconds were all she needed.
Jaclyn said she just wanted to get back to her hotel room and fall into bed. Alone. Eric suspected she didn’t really want to do that, but she thought it would be best that way. She was protecting herself from him, which annoyed the hell out of him but at least now he understood where her objections were coming from. He didn’t intend to give up, though; they had something good. At the very least, they had something that had the potential to be very good, and eventually she’d admit it.
“I’ll go straight to the hotel,” she promised. “You don’t have to follow me to the hotel and lock me in.”
“Yeah, I kinda do.”
She looked momentarily exasperated, but then she cast a glance over her shoulder at the church, and visibly shivered. “It’s okay,” he said gently. For now, anyway. Nothing could happen to her on his watch, because he couldn’t live with himself if it did. Friday night’s attempt had been too damn close, and the thought of how close she’d come to a bullet still sent his blood running cold.
She nodded tiredly, then unlocked her car and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. “I’ll be right behind you,” Eric said, and continued walking toward his car.
