“No. Remember the art class I told you about? What am I saying? Brittany probably told you all about the class herself when the two of you spent time together the other day.”
“She did,” Lizzy said, trying to remain calm, determined not to let on that something might be wrong. “Where is the class held? I know she told me, but I forgot.”
“Although she’ll be attending Sacramento State, the classes are held at Folsom Lake College. I have the paper right here. You know how I like to know exactly where she is at every minute.”
“I was thinking of stopping by when class ends and surprising her. Jessica is here, and I thought it would be nice for the two of them to get a chance to see each other.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea. It’s in the Harris Center for the Arts building. Room 154. The class runs from twelve to three.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know who the instructor is today, would you?”
“No. Sorry. Why would you want to know that?”
“No reason, just being nosy. Jessica has been waiting in the car. I have to go, but I’ll call you later and we’ll set up a date to get together, OK?”
“Sounds good. Say hello to Jessica for me.”
“Will do.”
Lizzy grabbed the notepad and then ran out the door to the car. She jumped in, handed the piece of paper to Jessica, started the engine, and took off before Jessica could bitch about how long she’d taken.
“Whoa. Slow down.”
“No. No. No. Not again.”
“What is it?” Jessica asked.
“You guys have the wrong man. Jake Polly is the killer.”
“Jake Polly?”
“Also known as Zachary Tucker. He paints and he teaches art.”
Jessica didn’t need for Lizzy to spell it out. “Shit,” was all she said. “I hope you’re wrong about this.”
“I’m not. Look at that paper. That’s not some crazy symbol the killer leaves on his victims. It’s a Z and a T. His initials. That’s all it is.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
He unlocked the door to the wine cellar.
Claire hung from the wall in chains. He admired the clever artwork he’d done on her body, using paint and all sorts of fabulous tools. Her attempt at getting away and daring to attack him had been too much. He needed to teach her a lesson. “You’re dying in here—aren’t you, Claire?”
He pulled the lid from the lip balm he had brought and dabbed it over her cracked lips. She didn’t fight him, hardly even moved. “You’ve lost all your fire. Such a disappointment. I was hoping we would spend more time together, but such is life . . . and death.”
She didn’t ask him to remove the chains or the metal cuffs that were clearly cutting into her ankles and wrists. She looked like a bloody mess.
“They’ll find you,” she said, her voice a ragged whisper.
“I hate to disappoint you, but they won’t find me. Or you. It’s all over the news. Their number one suspect is in custody. They’ll spend the next week or so questioning the poor man, perhaps knocking him senseless until he confesses.”
“You’re a liar. I don’t believe you.”
“Well, you can believe what I’m about to tell you, Claire. Today is the day you’re going to die.”
It took some effort, but she lifted her head and spit in his eye. “Go to hell!”
“There’s my girl,” he said fondly as he used his sleeve to wipe the spittle from his face. “I’ll tell you what, Claire. Why don’t we enjoy these last few hours together? I’ll set up the upstairs, let you sit on the couch beside me and enjoy the lovely view. You haven’t had a chance to see the river and the way the water sparkles before the sun disappears in the distance. It’s beautiful. You’re going to love it. Any requests for your last meal?”
Again, she said nothing. “I’ll be back soon. Although I wish I didn’t have to, I will need to drug you first.”
“No drugs. I won’t fight you.”
“Oh,” he said with a laugh, “now who’s the liar?”
Lizzy did her best to explain what was going on, but Jessica didn’t seem convinced.
“I’m going to go on this wild-goose chase with you, Lizzy, because I have great respect for you, but when this is finished, you can either lend me your car or I’ll call a taxi. Massing will be there by now, and I need to question him.”
The tires screeched as Lizzy pulled into a parking spot of Folsom Lake College. She jumped out and sprinted up endless flights of wide stairs and then toward the buildings, with Jessica at her heels. When the Harris Center for the Arts didn’t present itself to them, Lizzy asked a group gathered at an outdoor dining area for directions. It was across the small campus from them. When they finally arrived, Lizzy burst through the heavy front doors and sprinted for Room 154, threw open the door, and stepped inside. Jessica stepped in behind her.
A bearded man at his desk in the far corner stood tall and said, “Can I help you?”
“Are you in charge here?”
He nodded. All the student painters in the room were looking their way now, as well as the naked male model sitting on a stool in the middle of their small circle of desks.
Lizzy and Jessica were both panting, trying to catch their breath. Lizzy was doubled over with her hands on her knees. OK, so she needed to make a little more time for running.
Jessica told Lizzy to collect herself while she went over to talk to the instructor.
While Jessica talked to the man, Lizzy straightened and looked around, her gaze sweeping over the room. No sign of Brittany. Maybe Cathy had given her the wrong room number.
The students had gone back to their painting.
Lizzy caught the attention of one of them and said, “Do you know if Brittany Warner is in this class?”
“This is my first day,” the girl explained. “I don’t know anyone’s name.”
“Brittany was here earlier,” one of the other students told her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. She just stepped out, in fact.” He pointed to the painting in front of an empty seat next to his.
“I saw her talking to someone outside,” another student chimed in.
Lizzy rushed from the room, the clicks of her heels echoing in the empty hallway. She pushed through the main exit door and then took a moment to take in her surroundings. In the middle of the campus was a parklike setting, grass and trees, where a group of kids were gathered. She could see the library behind them and office buildings farther on to the left. The sidewalks were mostly empty. She ran toward the group of students, couldn’t stop tears from streaming down her face when she saw that Brittany was not among the group.
“Lizzy!”
She stopped, turned around, and saw Brittany standing on the other side of the quad, a confused expression on her face. “Brittany!” she called out as she headed her way. “Where were you?”
“I took a quick break. Why? What’s going on? Is it Mom? Is she OK?”
Lizzy grabbed hold of her niece and held her tight. “Your mom is fine.” She moved her to arm’s length.
“Why are you crying?”
“I couldn’t find you, and I thought the worst. I’ll explain later, but right now you need to go home. When you get to your house, I want you to lock the doors and don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe. Do not open the door for anyone, including Jake Polly.”
“Jake Polly? The painter?”
Lizzy nodded. “He’s a dangerous man. I don’t have time to explain. Just do as I say.”
“You’re scaring me, Lizzy.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But you need to do this . . . for me.”
“My things are still in the classroom,” Brittany said, pointing that way.
“OK, come on. Let’s get your things and then I’ll walk you to your car.”