See Jane Die Part 30

TWENTY-FOUR.

Thursday, October 23, 2003

12:05 a.m.

The phone dragged Stacy from a deep sleep. Instantly awake, she found the receiver and answered before the end of the second ring.

"Killian here."

"Stacy, it's Ted Jackman. Jane's a.s.sistant."

She sat up, swung her legs off the side of the bed. "Is Jane all right?"

He hesitated. "Physically, yes. But...somebody slipped a disturbing message through her mail slot. She's

pretty upset. I think you'd better get over here."

Stacy stood and crossed to her dresser. Propping the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she opened the top drawer, selected a sweater, then shut the drawer with her hip. She slid open the second drawer,

grabbed her denims. "Did the message have anything to do with Ian or with the murders he's been arrested for?"

"No. At least I don't think so. It was a newspaper clipping. From 1987."

Stacy's fingers stilled. "That's it?"

"He wrote on it. Said he did it on purpose. To hear her screams."

"On my way."

Stacy ended the call and immediately dialed Mac.

"It's Stacy," she said as he answered. "Meet me at my sister's, ASAP."

Less than fifteen minutes later, they arrived d.a.m.n near simultaneously.

"What's up?" Mac asked, climbing out of his vehicle and crossing to meet her.

"Jane's studio a.s.sistant called. Seems somebody slipped an old news clipping about Jane's accident

through her mail slot. A message accompanied it. Said he did it on purpose." Stacy tucked her hair

behind her ear. "Thought I'd better include you, just in case."

The door opened. Ted waved them over. On the way up he explained how he had heard about Ian's arrest on the news and come to check on Jane. "The envelope was in the foyer, on the floor. She discovered it when she stepped on it."

He closed and locked the door behind them, then started up the stairs. "Watch your step, the light's out."

They found Jane in the living room, huddled under a blanket on the couch, knees to her chest. She looked up as Stacy said her name.

"I always knew," she whispered. "I always knew he did it on purpose."

Stacy glanced at Mac, then crossed to her sister. She crouched in front of her. "Where's the clipping,

Jane?"

She nodded toward the coffee table behind her. Stacy twisted, gaze landing on the envelope.

Stacy glanced at Mac; he nodded slightly, giving her silent permission to go forward. Grabbing a tissue

from the box on the couch beside Jane, she used it to handle the envelope and its contents so not to further contaminate it. She read it twice, then stood and carried it to Mac. He, too, read it, then handed it back without comment.

"It's just like my nightmare," Jane murmured, breaking the silence. "He's come back. To finish the job."

Stacy's mouth went dry. "Most likely, this is somebody's idea of a sick joke."

"No." Jane shook her head. "It's him. I know it is."

Stacy returned to the couch, knelt in front of her sister. She took her hands and, finding them as cold as

ice, rubbed them gently to warm them. "Think this through. The timing couldn't be worse, but the likelihood of this being from the boater from sixteen years ago is almost zilch. Someone has become aware of you through all the recent new stories. Texas Monthly just hit the streets this week. Most of Dallas now knows your past. This is some sick b.a.s.t.a.r.d's idea of a joke."

Jane withdrew her hands and curled them into fists. "He may have found me through the new stories, but it is him."

Stacy looked from her sister to Mac, then Ted. Her partner looked troubled; Ted gazed intently, almost fiercely, at Jane. Stacy realized in that moment how much the man cared for her sister.

"Mac and I will follow up on this. We'll check for prints and other trace evidence. Did you both handle it?"

"Yes," Ted said. "Sorry."

Stacy stood. "Call me if you receive anything else like this. Promise?" Jane nodded and Stacy started for the door. She stopped at the doorway, an offer to stay on the tip of her tongue.

Jane thought of her as the enemy. She had made that clear the last time she had offered her help.

Jane looked at her, eyes gla.s.sy. "I'm the only one who ever thought he did it on purpose," she said softly.

"But I was the only one there in the water, wasn't I?"

Stacy stared at her sibling a moment, aching. Guilty. Yes, her sister had been the one in the water that day. She, the older of the two, the one who should have been behaving responsibly, had encouraged her to swim.

"If you need anything, call me. Anytime."

The words landed hollowly between them. She could tell Jane didn't believe her. That she thought her words empty plat.i.tudes.

She and Mac let themselves out. He walked with her to her vehicle. "Maybe you should stay with her?"

She glanced up at her sister's windows, then back at her partner. "She doesn't want me here."

"I'm not so certain of that. You're her sister. Family."

"Not tonight. Tonight I'm the law."

A gust of wind blew her hair across her face. He pushed it back, tucking it behind her ear. "We need to

talk."

The familiarity, the intimacy, of the gesture took her by surprise. He stood too close, she realized. Closer than a partner should.

Awareness stirred inside her. Uncomfortable, she took a step backward. "About?"

"A story I heard while working Vice."

"Truth or fiction?"

"You decide. I heard it from a slimy little snitch we called Doobie." Mac looked away a moment, then

back. "He was the kind of guy who was always whining about his life. How everything bad that ever happened to him was somebody else's fault."

"What are we talking here? Pimp? Bookie?"

"Both. An all-around bad guy and loser. Anyway, he claimed an incident that happened when he was a teenager was the root of all his woes."

Mac expelled a breath. "He and a friend had skipped school, taken a case of beer out on the kid's dad's boat. They were whooping it up until they came upon a swimmer. A girl. Out in the lake alone."

Stacy knew what was coming. She braced herself for it.

"It started out, Doobie thought, as a joke. His friend aimed the boat at the swimmer. To scare her. Make her pee herself. They'd have a few laughs, no real harm done.

"But his friend didn't turn the boat away. Doobie tried to get the wheel; he screamed for his friend to

stop. And then he knew it was too late.

"The girl screamed. There was this sickening...thump. The water turned red."

Stacy realized she was holding her breath. That she had fisted her fingers so tightly her nails bit into her

palms. She forced herself to breathe, to relax her hands.

"Doobie was sobbing, begging his friend to go back and help. He laughed at him. Called him a p.u.s.s.y. He threatened Doobie. Promised he would kill him if he told anyone."

"And he believed him?" Stacy asked.

"The kid's family had money. They wielded considerable power in Dallas."

Jane had always insisted he'd done it on purpose. She had been right.

And now, maybe, he was back.