Courting Death E-Book

Heather Silvio

• Herausgeber: Panther Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 224

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2002

Beschreibung

A trail of bodies.
A killer hiding in plain sight.
A man fighting for his family.

"Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater, had a wife and couldn't keep her."

Peter Hampton receives a phone call one evening that threatens to destroy his family.He thought he had outrun his past, but fears the nightmare is about to begin again. Peter has been playing a cat-and-mouse game throughout his life, never knowing who else was in the game or how the game would end. A woman hiding behind an alias seems to have a connection to Peter. Could she have the answers he seeks?

How does it feel to know that your presence in someone's life can condemn that person to death?

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Title Page

Prologue

Part One: The College Years

Chapter 1 - The First Murder

Chapter 2 - Session

Chapter 3 - A Funeral for a Friend

Chapter 4 - The Second Murder

Chapter 5 - Session

Chapter 6 - On Trial for Murder

Chapter 7 - Another Town, Another Murder

Chapter 8 - Session

Chpater 9 - On Trial for Murder...for Real

Chapter 10 - Session

Chapter 11 - Sentencing

Chapter 12 - Session

Chapter 13 - Prison

Chapter 14 - A New Chance at Life

Chapter 15 - Session

Chapter 16 - A Time to Flee

Chapter 17 - Session

Chapter 18 - Agony

Part Two: Present Day

Chapter 19 - Session

Chapter 20 - End of Innocence

Chapter 21 - Session

Chapter 22 - A Plan Comes Together

Chapter 23 - Week One

Chapter 24 - Week Two

Chapter 25 - T Minus 7 Days

Chapter 26 - The Mouse Takes the Cheese

Chapter 27 - Day of Judgement

Chapter 28 - Living in the Loony Bin

Chapter 29 - The Final Visit

Epilogue

Also by Heather Silvio

About the Author

Dedication

Copyright Page

Courting

Death

Heather Silvio

Panther Books

PROLOGUE

HIGH SCHOOL

“Let’s get married right after we graduate,” Pamela Spellman whispered in her lover’s ear. With a pained look, having expected this conversation, but hoping to put it off a little longer, Peter Hampton rose from the bed and walked to the window.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he started, not looking at her, but talking to the glass. He heard a light laugh and turned around.

“Of course, we won’t get married,” she began, and he felt immeasurable relief, “until you feel completely comfortable with the idea.” She missed his crestfallen face as he turned back to face the window. She continued to talk, unaware that their conversation was not going as she thought. “Besides, we’ll need the summer to plan the perfect wedding. I really wanted to be a June bride, but the fall is nice, too. Where should—”

“No. I mean I don’t want to get married,” he interrupted, “at all. Ever.”

“Sure, you do,” she replied, the confusion in her voice clear. “You just need time to get used to the idea. It’s hard to give up being a swinging bachelor.” She laughed, but it came out hollow. He walked to her and took her hands in his.

“I know you’ve been thinking about us walking hand in hand forever. But it can’t be that way. We’re only eighteen years old. I don’t want to miss out on life by getting too serious too soon. When we go away to college in the fall, we’ll both experience new and wonderful things, including new people. I’m going across the country. I don’t want you to give up your life for me and I want to be free to do what I want. I didn’t want to say this now, like this, but…” he trailed off.

The beautiful teenager yanked her hands away and slapped him across the face. “You mean you want to be free to be with every coed you can.”

The intensity of anger shocked him. He had never heard her raise her voice to anyone before. Of course, he winced, she has reason enough to be mad – I botched this talk. The girl stood, shaking with anger.

“Four years,” Pamela screeched. “I’ve been turning down dates and planning my whole life around you for four years and this is how you end it. Thanks for the great sex and pillow talk, but I’ll be seeing you,” she ended sarcastically. He tried to reach out to her, but she pushed him away. Her glittering eyes appeared insane as she dressed, all the while shooting him murderous looks.

“I’m leaving now,” she said with a detached voice, “but I want you to know something.” Her face, devoid of emotion, looked at him. “I was the best damned thing you ever had and you’ll come to regret throwing it away.” Then she left, walking out of the door, and his life, forever.

Peter sat on the edge of the bed, listening for the slam of the front door that would signal the end of this chapter in his life. When it came, he placed his head in his hands and wept.

“That piece of shit bastard,” she muttered to herself as she drove home at eighty miles per hour. “Who does he think he is?” Slamming to a stop at a red light, she glared at it. “We will be together again one day and it will be forever,” she vowed.

First Session

“I don’t know if you can help me,” the client whispered.

“I’ll certainly try. Why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?” And who you really are? Jeff Janitz, Ph.D., asked the second question silently. When his receptionist told him who his 4 p.m. client was, he knew the name was false. Valerie Clark. He was a man into Broadway musicals. And he’d immediately recognized the name from A Chorus Line. When he learned his new client intended to pay cash for the session, he knew he was right. In the days of HMOs and insurance companies, even with a sliding fee scale, almost nobody paid cash. Certainly not a young girl who looked barely old enough to be out of high school.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” Valerie said, hesitant. Janitz remained silent. “I guess you could say it started with a boy.” She chuckled sadly. “Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Why would that be pathetic?”

“That a boy could make me so unhappy. Women aren’t supposed to rely on men for happiness, right?”

“You’re an individual. Not defining yourself by a man doesn’t mean one can’t still hurt you. Tell me more?”

“Okay,” Valerie agreed, but then was quiet for several minutes. “This guy, um, Jack, is the love of my life . . . was the love of my life.” Tears welled in her eyes.

“What happened?” Dr. Janitz asked gently.

“It’s over. He’s leaving forever. I loved him so much and now I don’t know what to do. You need to tell me what to do,” Valerie pleaded with Janitz, who shook his head.

“I won’t tell you what to do. I will, however, do my best to help you figure out what you want to do. How does that sound?”

“Okay, I guess. But . . .”

“But, what?”

“I’ve never felt this much anger before and it scares me. I’m so confused. I still love him and know we belong together. At the same time, I want him to suffer.”

“That’s an understandable emotion,” Janitz began, but Valerie cut him off.

“No, you don’t get it. I want him to pay, and pay dearly, for hurting me. Or, I want him dead.”

Death

“Um, hey, Mr. Spellman. Is Pam here?” Peter shifted his weight back and forth, uncomfortable with the look Pamela’s father was giving him. Peter gestured to his cellphone. “She asked me to come…”

Mr. Spellman opened the door wider, revealing Pamela’s mother, sister, and best friend sitting on the couch. The room was lit by a handful of white candles. Mrs. Spellman held Pamela’s senior portrait in her hands.

“What are you guys doing?”

“When was the last time you spoke to Pamela?” her father asked in a quiet voice.

“Why?” Peter ignored the question. He had avoided her and her text messages, until tonight. “Where is Pamela?”

“Why are you here?” Pam’s mother demanded. Peter’s eyes met Mrs. Spellman’s.

“Pamela texted me.”

“Liar!” screamed her younger sister, Samantha. “Pammy hung herself yesterday afternoon.”

Peter stared at the girl, not understanding. “What are you talking about?” he finally asked, overcoming his shock. “She sent the text an hour ago.”

“No, she didn’t, Peter,” Mr. Spellman told him. “She’s dead.”

“And you killed her,” Samantha hissed.

“Excuse me? I killed her?”

“Yes,” Pamela’s best friend, Amanda Jackson, said. Tears streamed down her face. “She hung herself because of you.”

“I don’t understand,” Peter mumbled, frozen in place.

“‘I cannot live without Peter’,” Mrs. Spellman read from a piece of paper. “She wrote that in her suicide note. Amanda found it when she…” The older woman took Amanda’s hand. “Now get out. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but get out. We would like to finish Pammy’s service.”

The color drained from Peter’s face as he realized why the house was candlelit when he had arrived.

“But who texted me?” Peter asked, searching for understanding.

Mr. Spellman looked old and tired. “I don’t know,” he replied, then turned off the lamp. Taking that as his cue to leave, Peter walked out the door and to his car. One thought spun around and around in his mind. I killed her.

Present Day

“Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater, had a wife, and couldn’t keep her,” the feminine voice whispered into the phone. The man on the receiving end felt a chill despite the innocent nature of the children’s rhyme.

“Who was on the phone?”

“Wrong number,” Peter Hampton replied to his wife after a moment’s hesitation. She looked at him but didn’t question further. He would tell her what was going on when he was ready; she would not push.

“Where would you like to go to dinner?” she asked, changing the subject. He smiled at her, silently thanking her for her understanding.

“Anywhere you’d like, honey. But not that fish place again,” he hurried to insert before she could decide on that wretched place. She laughed and walked out of the room, calling over her shoulder as she left.

“How about the Italian place, then?”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter responded, more from habit than from hearing the suggestion. His mind was back on the phone call. Could it all be starting again? he worried.

PART ONE

THE COLLEGE YEARS

CHAPTER 1 – THE FIRST MURDER

“Excuse me, you’re in my psychology class, right?”

Peter Hampton looked up from the book he was studying at the beautiful young woman standing before him. He nodded and smiled. When he didn’t bite her head off, she relaxed.

“I missed class last Friday and wondered if I could borrow your notes.”

“Sure. Here, have a seat,” he replied, gesturing to the seat across from him. After she sat down and still hadn’t spoken again, Peter handed her the notes. “Name’s Peter,” he told her, offering his hand.

“Rebecca,” she replied, surprising him with the strength of her handshake. He suspected an iron fist beneath her shy exterior.

“Is this your first year?” he asked, marveling at the way the light bounced off her golden hair. She looked angelic with her blue eyes and waif-like appearance.

“Yes, but I’m already a sophomore. Because of placement tests,” she added.

Evidently, she was intelligent. He studied her as she rapidly copied his notes. Peter knew he wanted to get to know Rebecca better. Finishing, she handed him his notes and smiled.

What a smile, he thought.

“Thanks,” Rebecca said and rose. Peter jumped to his feet, startling them both.

“Wait, don’t go,” he said. She looked almost frightened. He smiled disarmingly. “I’m about done here myself. If you don’t already have plans, I’d like to take you out for coffee or something.” He watched her for a reaction.

“I’d love to,” she replied. Rebecca had noticed Peter last semester when they were both in an Introduction to Psychology course. When she saw him again in her biopsychology class, she decided it was fate telling her to forget her nearly debilitating shyness and approach him. Now, she was thrilled that she had conquered her fears and done so.

* * * * *

Sitting in the dimly lit coffee house, Rebecca took the opportunity to study her date. Dark, wavy hair framed chocolate brown eyes on a movie star handsome face. And what a body, she thought with a sigh.

“You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying and now you sigh. Am I that boring?” Peter asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh, no, my mind just wandered a little, that’s all,” she replied, blushing.

Chuckling, Peter tossed money on the table and took Rebecca’s hand. She didn’t resist.

“I need to leave anyway. I have to be at work early in the morning tomorrow and still have a paper to write tonight.”

“That’s okay,” Rebecca told him, realizing that she wasn’t at all uncomfortable with this man she had really just met. They walked in silence to her dormitory.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Rebecca said before quickly turning for the door. But Peter was quicker. He reached out and touched her shoulder.

“Wait.”

She turned to him and his lips brushed hers. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she looked pleased.

“I’ll see you in class,” she whispered and went into the building.

Peter floated walking back to his dorm. He felt that something special and wonderful was now happening. He arrived at his dorm and got ready for bed, thoughts of Rebecca filling his mind. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

* * * * *

“What a fantastic idea!” Rebecca enthused as she surveyed the surrounding area. “Picnicking when no one else is around is so incredibly peaceful.”

Peter watched her glowing features as she talked, and congratulated himself on having thought of the picnic. San Francisco in February did not have people flocking to the great outdoors. Not that it was uncomfortably cold, just most people wouldn’t think of it at all.

“Come here,” he growled and embraced her. They leaned back together, content to be in each other’s arms and listen to the sounds of the surrounding woods.

“I’m so glad you asked me for my notes. I never would have had the courage to approach you,” Peter said.

“Can you believe it’s only been three weeks since I did?” Rebecca could not quite believe her luck. She and Peter had seen each other nearly every day for those three weeks. At nineteen, she’d never been in love before. But, if this wasn’t it, it was damn close.

“Every moment with you feels like forever. In a good way of course,” Peter clarified.

“Silly boy, I guess we better eat,” Rebecca murmured while disentangling herself from Peter’s arms.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied with a sigh and a wink.

Rebecca laughed and gave him a long deep kiss. “That’ll have to hold you over until we take care of our other hunger.” She batted her eyelashes at him and pulled away. They set out the food they’d brought, continuing the light bantering.

“What is this?” Peter asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Rebecca peered into the Tupperware container he was holding and laughed.

“That is my roommate’s cornmeal face mask she’s been using faithfully every night we’ve been here this year. Until tonight.” Peter put the top back on and tossed the container aside.

“Oh, well. I suppose her skin isn’t going to shrivel up and fall off. Or is it?” he asked with mock worry.

“No, I suppose not,” Rebecca concluded, after giving the matter some serious tongue-in-cheek consideration.

“Well, then, let’s eat.” Peter scooped potato salad onto their plastic plates with his plastic knife. They ate in silence.

“What other culinary masterpieces did you bring?” Peter asked, peeking into other containers, after finishing the salad.

Rebecca playfully slapped his hands away from her food. Even though the picnic had been his idea, Peter was a lousy cook and Rebecca an accomplished gourmet (at least among the picnic set).

“Next,” she responded with a flourish, “we have pasta; but, not your ordinary pasta. This is the most delicious cold pasta you’ve ever eaten. And the recipe is a family secret.”

“Since I’ve never had cold pasta before, yours can’t help but be the best. But, your family?” he questioned with a raised brow. Peter hadn’t met her parents, but from what she’d said, they didn’t possess many domestic skills, including cooking.

Rebecca reached over to smack him, but he ducked out of the way. “That’s the best you can do,” he taunted. Then he had the wind knocked out of him as Rebecca surprised him with a full body tackle over the food. She straddled his stomach, holding him down in the grass.

“This is the best I can do,” she told him and covered his mouth with hers before he could come back with a retort. They forgot all thoughts of fantastic cold pasta as they tasted the dishes before them.

On the phone that night, Rebecca teased Peter about the picnic. “You know, it would have been nice to have eaten something other than potato salad. And speaking of,” she continued before he could interject anything, “You have the strangest eating habits of any adult I know.”

“Me,” Peter protested. “What’s wrong with the way I eat?”

“Nothing. But putting only one thing on your plate at a time is pretty damn strange. I have a ten-year-old brother who does that,” she added.

“Are you saying I eat like a ten-year-old?” he asked in mock anger. Rebecca’s end of the line was silent. Except for the tiny giggles he could hear escaping her.

“You’re too much,” he told her. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

* * * * *

The next week passed quickly with neither having time to talk on the phone, let alone see each other. By the time the weekend arrived, they were excited. Rebecca had planned a romantic dinner to celebrate their one-month anniversary. She knew a secluded inn where they would be going.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Rebecca asked Peter, clasping his hands in hers.

“Yes, it’s perfect,” he replied, his eyes on her and not the dining room around them. “I’d like to make a toast,” Peter declared, pouring them both a glass of the non-alcoholic wine they’d ordered to celebrate. “To the most beautiful woman in the world, who is also intelligent and funny.”

Rebecca raised her glass to his. “I’d like to make a toast to the kindest and wittiest man I know – and you’re not too bad-looking yourself,” she concluded.

They clinked their drinks together, beaming. Suddenly, Peter lost his smile and his expression became serious. Rebecca lowered her glass to the table, watching him. He coughed.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat for the moment just looking at each other, wondering at the situation. This was their first year at college. Anything could happen, and probably would. All Rebecca and Peter knew or cared about was that they had found each other and were in love. The rest of the world, including the future, could wait.

The happy couple dined in relative silence, enjoying the evening. After a busboy removed the empty dinner plates, a waiter magically appeared by their sides, asking about dessert.

“I couldn’t eat another mouthful if I tried,” Peter explained, patting his distended belly. Rebecca laughed, but shook her head in disagreement.

“I, on the other hand, would like some dessert,” Rebecca told the waiter, astounding Peter with her apparently unending appetite. “What do you have with chocolate in it?”

“We have chocolate cake, chocolate cheesecake, and chocolate mousse.” Rebecca didn’t even need to think it over.

“Chocolate mousse, definitely,” she told the waiter, who retreated to the kitchen for the treasured delight.

“I can’t believe you aren’t full. Of course, you always eat like this,” he admitted.

“Are you kidding? There’s always room for dessert.”

The waiter reappeared with the mousse. Rebecca’s face glowed when she saw it.

“So, you like chocolate mousse, do you?” Peter inquired wryly, noting Rebecca’s reaction to the delectable dessert. She nodded in return, a bite of food already in her mouth.

“Oh, hey, how about coming to visit my parents next weekend?” Peter remembered to ask.

“Great. Do you want to leave Thursday night or Friday morning?”

“Thursday night. We can sleep in Friday morning.”

“And that’s always a plus to any trip – sleeping in,” Rebecca added. College life had certainly prevented many mornings of sleeping in. “I’m finished. Are you ready to go?”

Even the waiter looked surprised she’d inhaled the dessert. He said nothing as he handed Peter the bill.

“I thought we were going Dutch,” Rebecca half-heartedly complained. Peter had already counted out the money for the meal. Rebecca knew he would refuse her offer to help pay, as he always did. She still had to make the effort.

“Nope, I’m paying.” With that, he took her hand and they left the restaurant, high on the lovely dinner they’d just shared.

Rebecca and Peter made their way through the shadowy parking lot, giggling and talking in hushed tones to each other. Neither noticed the car engine revving somewhere to their right. Neither did it register in either of their minds that no headlights came on when the engine finally turned over. And it was only by chance that Rebecca saw the oncoming car as it barreled toward them. Peter never saw what happened at all.

“Watch out!” Rebecca hollered as she caught sight of the car heading straight for them. She shoved Peter out of the way before the car bore down on her. The last thing Rebecca saw was the hatred in the driver’s eyes. And then she was struck, flying off of the hood of the car and laying still on the ground where she landed.

CHAPTER 2 – SESSION

I’m so glad we’re able to continue our sessions online. I feel very comfortable with you and don’t want to get a new shrink.

Valerie’s fingers flew across the keyboard. When she’d decided to move to San Francisco, she’d been worried that Dr. Janitz wouldn’t be able to remain her therapist. But, her luck held when he told her he was registered with one of those online therapy sites. They wouldn’t have sessions often; just when she needed to discuss an issue. This was only their second online session.

You’re welcome. My patient’s well-being is important, so I’ll help you through what I can long distance. What do you want to “talk” about today?

The words appeared on Valerie’s screen and she smiled. She loved the immediacy of instant messaging.

I’ve done some reading. I know you’re not a psychoanalyst, but I had a disturbing dream I’d like to tell you about.

Okay. Tell me the dream.

I had this dream – it jumps around in location, as dreams do – and, in it, I’m on a college campus. I can see Jack with some girl. They seem friendly. It’s obvious she’s his girlfriend. The dream becomes disjointed, moving from the campus to a restaurant to the park. I feel like maybe I’m a stalker, following the two of them everywhere they go. Strangely, that thought doesn’t bother me. Then, the dream jumps to the final scene. It’s dark and in the parking lot of a restaurant. I’m in my car, watching Jack and his girlfriend heading for their car. Without thinking, I start my car. But I don’t turn on my headlights. A plan is formulating in the back of my mind, but it isn’t clear yet. I pull out of my parking spot. I can see up ahead that the happy couple has stopped, off to the side, but not out of the way of an oncoming car. I floor it and the car shoots forward. As I near them, I realize I’m aiming for Jack, which is a momentary surprise. I love him so much. At the last minute, the girlfriend sees me, screams, and pushes Jack out of the way. There’s a cracking sound as my car impacts her body. She flies forward, doesn’t fly up over my roof, like in the movies. I continue driving away from the scene. When I glance in my rearview mirror, I see them both lying still on the ground. That’s it.

Valerie felt like an hour passed before Dr. Janitz’s reply appeared on the screen.

What did you feel when you hit the girlfriend and drove away?

When I hit her, I felt relief. Relief I didn’t hit Jack. Relief I saved our relationship. Driving away, I felt good, almost powerful. I felt how easy it was to control the people in Jack’s life and, thus, his life. I’m crazy, right?

You’re still dealing with the hurt and pain resulting from your sense of Jack’s abandonment and betrayal. The dream is your mind’s way of safely expressing the rage you feel. How did you feel when you woke up the morning after the dream?

I felt better. I felt some resolution.

Good. How did you feel telling me the dream?

Like a weight was being lifted as I typed. I felt guilty, but you’ve made me realize it’s a natural part of getting over Jack.

Exactly. Our dreams allow us to experience things we know we can’t have in reality. Whether it’s something we truly want, or it’s just a symbol of what we want. You’re ambivalent. You want Jack out of your life, your mind. But you also want him to stay and get rid of any competition in favor of you. Does that sound about right?

Spooky, doc. You must be reading my mind :) Thanks for helping.

Certainly. Contact me if you have anything else you want to discuss. Okay?

Okay. Bye.

With a shake of his head, Janitz printed out a copy of his chat with Valerie before signing out.

CHAPTER 3 – A FUNERAL FOR A FRIEND

“Where’s Rebecca?” Peter asked groggily the next morning when he came to in the county hospital. The nurse motioned for him to lie still as he struggled to sit up.

“Let me go get the doctor. She’ll explain everything to you,” the nurse insisted. After checking to be sure the patient was okay, he left to find the doctor. The nurse returned quickly.

“Hello, how are you feeling?” Dr. Espi inquired as she walked over to stand by Peter’s bed.