Sebastian couldn’t say what Malcolm would do. Malcolm had no conscience, nothing to inhibit his behavior, or he could never have planned and executed the deaths of Emily and Colton. Sebastian was sure only of Malcolm’s self-interest. Narcissism was his most consistent trait. “He won’t have any reason to hurt you as long as he doesn’t find out about me.”
“So if he shows up here, should I slip away and call you?”
“Only slip away if you’re positive he won’t catch you. Dial 9-1-1, then call me. Your safety comes before anything else.”
“My safety? Now you’re really scaring me.”
Sebastian couldn’t tell her to relax. She needed to be on guard. Last night, when he was exchanging messages with “Wesley Boss,” he’d represented her as more interested in her old flame than she really was. He’d been hoping to achieve the meeting he was after-not this. What if Malcolm appeared on her doorstep expecting her to fall into his arms, but she refused to sleep with him? He might regret revealing himself and decide to tie up loose ends.
“I’ll send him a message thanking him for the flowers and push for a rendezvous so he won’t feel like he needs to come to your house,” he said.
“Shouldn’t I send that message?” she asked.
“Why?”
“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on. It makes me uneasy. You talked to him last night and today I received flowers for the first time.”
The aroma of brewing coffee drew Sebastian back to the motel bathroom. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know. Just keep your head down.”
“So I don’t get caught in the cross fire.”
He wished he could frame his request in a more positive light, but his conscience demanded he not downplay the seriousness of the situation to meet his own goals. “More or less.”
She released an audible sigh. “Wow. This sucks.”
A beep signaled an incoming call.
“It should be over soon,” he promised and held his phone so he could see caller ID. It showed a local number, one he didn’t recognize. “I’ve got to go. I’ll check in with you later.”
“Okay,” she said, but he could tell she wasn’t happy to get off the phone. She’d gone along with his plans to ensnare Malcolm partly because of the friendship that’d developed between them, and Sebastian felt guilty for taking advantage of her. But they’d come too far. Malcolm was interested in her, already knew her address. There was no way out.
“Take care,” he said and switched to the other line.
“Hello?”
The voice was deep, masculine and far more confident than Jane had expected. “Mr. Costas?”
“Yes?”
Although Jane was ready for work, she hadn’t left the house yet. “My name is Jane Burke. I’m a caseworker at The Last Stand-”
“How’d you get my number?” he interrupted.
“Detective Willis with the Sacramento Police Department passed it to me. He said you visited the station a few weeks ago, inquiring about a man named Wesley Boss.”
“And you’re somehow related to the Sacramento police?”
Sebastian certainly didn’t seem like some revenge-crazed lunatic. He sounded brisk, impatient-someone who thought fast and expected others to keep up or go away.
“Loosely.” Dressed in an Ann Taylor sweater and slacks, she was just sliding her feet into a pair of pumps that’d cost her far too much. She’d developed expensive tastes when she was a wealthy dentist’s wife. It’d been a long time since she could afford the kind of wardrobe she’d once enjoyed, but she’d splurged on this outfit the day she hit her goal weight a year ago. Now she was even more slender. “As I was saying, I’m with The Last Stand, a victims’ charity here in Sacramento, and I’m currently involved in an investigation in which Boss’s name has surfaced. I was wondering if we could get together. I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”
“What sort of investigation are you talking about?”
Jane packed her briefcase while she talked. “An abduction. Two African-American teens were taken three weeks ago.”
“That doesn’t sound like the man I’m looking for.”
She dropped the file folder she’d grabbed and straightened. She’d expected him to immediately agree. Wasn’t he the one who’d shown up in Sacramento, asking for help-asking for answers? “How many men named Wesley Boss are there in this area?” she asked.
“In Northern California? None that I’ve been able to find.”
“My point exactly. And I’m telling you I’ve come up with one.”
“I’ve already got a lead on the man I’ve been searching for, and I have a big day ahead of me, Ms…what did you say your name was?”
“Burke. Jane Burke.” She folded her arms. “You don’t think there’s any chance they could be one and the same?”
“No way. My Wesley Boss is the biggest racist I’ve ever known.”
“He’s white?”
“He’s white. And he’d never touch a woman who wasn’t.”
“You know him that well?”
“I should. He was my son’s stepfather. I heard what he said when Colton took a Japanese girl to Homecoming.”
“Maybe Wesley Boss has changed his M.O.”
“I highly doubt it. Besides, kidnapping could compromise what he’s already accomplished.”
“Which is…”
“Getting away with murder.”
“Maybe he thinks he can get away with this, too.”
The silence stretched, and Jane wondered if Sebastian was considering her response. “I need another cup of coffee,” he finally muttered.
Still feeling the effects of her strenuous morning workout, she sat in a kitchen chair. “What?”
“Just a minute.” He was gone for several seconds. When he came back, he asked, “What do you have on your Wesley Boss? Do you have an address?”
“Do you have a few minutes to meet?” she countered.
“Ms. Burke, as I’ve mentioned, I have a busy day ahead of me. Someone else could be hurt if I don’t find this SOB.”
“I certainly don’t want to see anyone hurt, Mr. Costas. That’s why I owe it to these sisters to-”
“Did you say sisters?” he cut in.
Jane stood and scooped her purse off the counter. “Yes.”
“The teens who were abducted were sisters?”
“Yes.” She looked inside her purse for her keys and managed to dig them out from beneath her wallet.
“Malcolm’s having trouble with some roommates,” he said. “He told me they were sisters.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“I’ll explain later. Where should we meet?”
“Now you’re willing?” she asked in surprise.
“Now I think we might be after the same person.”
“Our offices are on Watt Avenue, not far from El Camino. Can you come there?”
“Give me an hour.”
“See you at nine-thirty.” She provided the address and hung up. Mr. Costas was articulate. And direct. She wondered if he could somehow be right about Malcolm Turner.
After a glance at her wall clock, she picked up her pace. Time was getting away from her.
Grabbing her phone, she dialed Gloria’s number on her way out. “We have the name of the man who owns the cell your sister used last night,” she announced as soon as Gloria answered.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Wesley Boss. Have you heard of him?”
“Never.”
“We’re working on getting his address and we’ll check him out. I just wanted to give you an update.” Her car chirped as she pressed the button on her key chain to unlock it.
“Luther came by las’ night and put a note on my door,” Gloria told her. “I found it when I lef’ for work this mornin’.”
Jane tossed her briefcase on the passenger seat. “What did it say?”
“‘You think that skinny white bitch who came to see me cares any more than the cops do what happens to people like us? You should’ve come to me. I’ll find Latisha. Lucifer.’”
Skinny white bitch? Jane knew she should be offended, but she’d worked so hard to lose weight that the skinny part was almost a compliment. “I thought Lucifer was a name you only used behind his back,” she said.