The Perfect Alibi (Robin Lockwood #2)(59)

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT


Blaine Hastings had been hiding in the bushes at the edge of the bar’s parking lot for an hour before the back door opened and a man staggered out. Several men and women had gone to their cars while he waited, but they had been in groups. He needed a lone drunk, and he got one just after one in the morning.

The man leaned over the driver’s door and made two unsuccessful attempts to insert his key into the door of an old Ford pickup. He was making his third attempt when Hastings hit him with a metal bar. As soon as the man collapsed on the asphalt, Hastings grabbed his wallet and ran. When he was far enough away from the bar to feel comfortable, he went through the wallet. There were thirty-four dollars and some credit cards. He took the cash and tossed the wallet with the cards into a Dumpster.

Hastings was very hungry. He’d been reduced to rolling drunks for cash because he didn’t dare use a credit card. He’d been sleeping on the street in Seattle and Tacoma. He couldn’t risk going to a shelter or a soup kitchen for fear of being identified.

This was his first evening back in Portland. He had gone to Mexico briefly and sent a letter to his parents, hoping it would be intercepted so the police would think he’d left the country, but he had planned to make his way back to Portland to kill Randi Stark, the lying bitch who was responsible for destroying his life.

After getting a burger, fries, and shake at a McDonald’s, Hastings made his way to the Starks’ house. He had spent a long time deciding what he would do when he got there. He was wearing a hairnet under a hoodie, and he’d shaved off his body hair in a gas station bathroom. He also had gloves and long sleeves to cut down on the possibility of leaving trace evidence for the cops to find.

When he got to the Stark residence, he would break in and beat the bitch and her mother to death. His only regret was that he’d have to kill them quickly. He would have loved to torture them for hours to avenge what they’d done to him. But the important thing was killing Randi.

Hastings had been to the house before, but the cops had been called and he’d had to run. This time he would be more careful. It took him three quarters of an hour to walk from the restaurant to the house. He noticed that there were no lights on. He tried the doors and found them locked. He didn’t think the Starks could afford an alarm system, so he broke a pane in the back-door window and waited a minute. When no alarm screeched, Hastings reached through the window and opened the door from the inside.

When he was inside, he crept up the stairs to Randi’s bedroom. He knew where it was because he’d seen Randi looking down at him the first time he’d been outside the house. He turned the doorknob slowly. Then he slid into the room. His hand closed on the iron bar he’d used to fell the drunk, and he walked to the bed. He wanted to stun Randi with the first blow so she could see who was going to beat her to death. Only he didn’t get the chance, because the bed was empty and neatly made.

Hastings made his way through the rest of the house. No one was home, and there were few items of clothing in the closets. Hastings stifled an urge to scream. Then he closed his eyes and took several slow breaths until he’d regained control of his emotions. The Starks were hiding. But where were they and who would know?

One name came to mind immediately. Robin Lockwood, Randi’s lawyer, would have to keep in touch because of the lawsuit. Hastings remembered the contempt she’d shown him in court. He hoped Lockwood would refuse to tell him where the Starks were hiding so he could beat the information out of her.





CHAPTER FORTY-NINE


“It’s Vanessa Cole,” Kellerman said as soon as he and Les Kreuger were alone in the contact visiting room at the jail. “The bitch has always been jealous of me.”

“I talked to Vanessa,” Les said. “She wouldn’t tell me much, but she did tell me you were forced to resign because of the way you handled Doug Armstrong’s case.”

“Doug Armstrong killed Frank Nylander, but everyone is trying to protect him.” Kellerman shook his head. “Paul and I had a deal. I can’t believe he’d stab me in the back like this. I was supposed to resign, and that was supposed to be that.”

“Vanessa knows about the deal. She told me that Paul tried to talk her out of bringing any charges against you, but she decided to charge you anyway. Once I know more about the case, I might be able to use Paul’s promise to your advantage. Right now, I need to know what’s behind these charges. If Armstrong is guilty, why were you fired for prosecuting him?”

“I may have cut some corners,” Kellerman answered with a nervous laugh.

“Tell me about that, because the indictment alleges that you bribed a witness to falsify evidence so you could frame Doug for a crime that could have led to his being executed.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t framed. The DNA evidence proved he’s guilty.”

“I’m confused. If you had evidence, what was the problem?”

Kellerman told his lawyer about the inconclusive first test and his request for a retest. “It was all legal, but Paul misinterpreted what I did.”

“Vanessa told me you had an affair with Doug’s wife and didn’t tell anyone about it. Did she ‘misinterpret’ that?”

“I didn’t tell anyone, to protect Marsha. I didn’t want to mess up her marriage.”