All she wanted to do was to peel off her work clothes and slip quietly into her pajamas. Put an end to this horrible day... Inside, Claire called out for Willie and, hearing no response, flashed through the mail on the kitchen table and brought it into the study. She leafed absently through a Ballard Designs catalog.
The phone rang. Claire tossed down the catalog and picked up the phone. Hello... "
There was a hollow pause, as if someone were waiting.
Maybe one of Willie's friends.
“Hello...?” Claire called again. “Once, twice... last time. Still no answer. ”Good-bye."
She placed the phone back on the receiver.
A shiver of nervousness went through her. Even after all these years, when she was alone in the house, an unexpected noise, the lights on in the basement, sent a tremor through her.
The phone rang again. This time, she picked it up quickly.
“Hello... ” Another annoying pause. This was starting to get her pissed. “Who is this?” she demanded.
“Take a guess,” a male voice said.
Claire's breath came to a stop. She glanced at her caller ID.
“Listen, 901-4476,” she said, “I don't know what your game is or how you got our number. If you've got something to say, say it fast.”
“You know about Chimera?” the voice replied. “You're speaking to him. Aren't you honored?”
Claire froze. She arched upright in her chair. Her mind shot into gear: Chimera was a police department name. Had it ever been in print? Who knew she was involved in the investigation?
She pressed a separate line, about to punch in 911. “You better tell me who this really is,” she said.
“I told you” The little black choir girl was number one,“ the voice replied. ”The old bitch, the fat, unsuspecting cop, the boss... You know what they all had in common, don't you? Think about it, Claire Washburn. Do you have anything in common with the first four victims?"
Claire's body had begun to shake. Her mind drew a picture of the elaborate shots that had killed two of the victims.
Her eyes shifted outside the study window, to the darkness around her house.
The voice came back, “Lean a little to the left, huh, Doe?”
Womans Murder Club 2 - Second Chance
Chapter 68
CLAIRE SPUN just as the first bullet splintered through the glass.
A second shot shattered the study window, and Claire felt burning pain sear her neck. She was down on the floor as a third and fourth shot exploded into the room.
A startled cry came from her throat. There was blood on the floor, blood from her own neck, seeping onto her dress, her hands. Her heart beat madly. How bad was it? Had it severed the carotid artery?
Then she looked to the doorway and her blood froze.
Willie.
“Mom!” he exclaimed. His eyes were bulging with fear.
He was only wearing a T-shirt and briefs. He was a target.
“Willie, get down,” she screamed at him. “Someone's shooting at the house.”
The boy dove to the floor, and Claire scrambled over to him. “It's okay. Just stay down. Let me think,” she whispered.
“Don't you raise your head an inch.”
The pain in her neck was excruciating, like the skin had been sheared off. She could breathe, though. If the bullet had pierced her carotid, she'd be choking. The gash was surface, had to be.
“Mom, what's going on?” Willie whispered. His body was trembling like a leaf. She'd never seen him this way.
“I don't know. Just stay down, Willie.”
Suddenly four more shots blazed from outside. She held her son tight. Whoever it was was shooting blindly, trying to hit anything. Did the killer know she was still alive? A jolt of panic set in; what if he came in the house? Did the killer know about her son? He knew her name!
“Willie,” she gasped, cupping his head between her hands.
“Get down in the basement. Lock the door. Call nine one one. Crawl! Now! On your stomach!”
“I'm not going to leave you,” he cried.
“Go,” her voice replied sharply. “Go now. Do as I say. Stay down! I love you, Willie.”
Claire pushed Willie forward. “Call nine one one. Tell them who you are and what's happening. Then call Dad in the car” He should be on his way home."
Willie shot her a last, pleading look, but he understood.
He crawled, face and body pressed to the floor. Good boy Your mother didn't raise any dumb ones.
Another blast of gunfire came from outside. Sucking in a breath, Claire pleaded, “Please, God, don't let that bastard come into our house. Don't let that happen, I beg you.”
Womans Murder Club 2 - Second Chance
Chapter 69
CHIMERA SQUEEZED OFF four more rounds through the shattered window, smoothly swiveling the PSG-1 rifle in his hands.
He knew he'd hit her. Not with the first shot; she had spun around at the last second. But with the next one, as she was trying to hit the deck. He just didn't know if he had done the job. He wanted to send a message to Lieutenant Lindsay Boxer, and just wounding her friend wasn't good enough.
Claire Washburn had to die.
He sat in the cover of the dark street, the barrel of the rifle protruding from the car window. He needed to make sure she was dead, but, damn it, he didn't want to go into the house.
She had a son, and he might be in there. One of them might have called 911.
Suddenly outside lights flashed from a house down the street. At another, someone stepped out onto the lawn.
“Goddamnit,” he seethed. “Son of a bitch.” Part of him wanted to charge the shattered window and spray the room with a barrage. Washburn had to die. He didn't want to leave without finishing her.
From behind him came noise. A car turned wildly onto the street, its horn blaring, bright lights flickering on and off.
The car sped toward him like some meteor barreling right into his sight.
“What the hell is this now?”
Maybe she had called the cops. Maybe as soon as they heard the shots, the neighbors had. He couldn't risk it. She wasn't the one he would put himself on the line for. He wasn't going to get caught.
The honking, flashing car spun sharply into the driveway of the house. It screeched to a halt. The neighbors began to emerge from their homes.
He slammed the wheel with his hand and pulled in his gun. He put his car in gear and floored it.
It was the first time he had messed up. Ever. Jesus, he never made mistakes.
You're lucky, Doe. But you were target practice anyway.
It was the next one that mattered.
Womans Murder Club 2 - Second Chance
Chapter 70
I HAD TAKEN OFF MY MAKEUP and curled up to watch the late news when Edmund's call came.
Claire's husband was frantic, stammering. The impossibility of what he was struggling to describe slammed into me with the force of a train. “She'll be all right, Lindsay. She's at Peninsula Hospital now.”
I yanked a fleece pullover over my head, tugged on some jeans, and, throwing a top hat on the roof of the car, raced down to Burlingame. I made the forty-minute drive in under twenty minutes.
I found Claire still in one of the treatment rooms, sitting upright, dressed in the same rust-colored suit I had left her in only three hours before. A doctor was applying a bandage to her neck. Edmund and Willie were by her side.
“Jesus, Claire... ” was all I could manage, my eyes hot and moist. I melted into Edmund, resting my head on his shoulder, and gave him my warmest, most grateful hug. Then I threw my arms all over Claire.
“Go easy on the TLC, honey” She winced, jerking her neck. Then she managed a smile. “I always told you one day these fat cells would come in handy. It takes a helluva shot to reach anything vital in me.”