by Mary Stone
Autumn stood back up and dusted her hands on her pants. “The good news is that, with this level of escalation, he’s becoming more and more disorganized.”
Sheriff Morton turned to her. “And he’ll make mistakes.”
Rich frowned. “What does organization have to do with it?”
Adam jumped in first. “Organized killers are highly intelligent and have a well thought out plan. They take their time choosing a victim, then plan carefully so they leave no clues, and enjoy killing their victims slowly, enjoying the torture. Disorganized killers are less intelligent and are more likely to kill their victims quickly. After their deaths, they may commit further acts, such as necrophilia or mutilation, on the bodies.”
“Our killer doesn’t enjoy the act of murder,” Autumn put in, then frowned at the carnage in the room. “At least he hasn’t enjoyed it up to this point.”
Rich again. “What do you mean?”
“Some serial killers are focused on the act of killing while others are more focused on the process of killing. For those focused on the act, taking a person’s life is the goal. If a killer is more interested in the process, the murder itself is a means to an end, serving as the way to fulfill a fantasy.”
“But you said he was becoming disorganized,” Sheriff Morton said.
Autumn nodded. “With the escalation, he has less and less time between kills, so instead of being methodical when choosing his victims and taking steps to ensure he doesn’t get caught, he rushes and loses focus.”
The sheriff snapped her fingers. “Then, we catch the bastard.”
Rich scratched his chin, looking bleak. “But how many more people have to die before he makes enough mistakes to get caught? And Gina…” He cleared his throat and didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
“We need more information from you two,” Sheriff Morton said, her hands on her hips. “I need a lock on what our killer is going to do next.”
That infuriated Adam even more. They didn’t have a damn crystal ball at the ready. “We’ve provided a solid profile, and we’ll update it with this new information.” He swept his arm to indicate the room. “What will you be doing, Sheriff Morton? How is the search for Kyle Murphy’s vehicle going? How many divorcing couples have you warned? What do you—”
“I want to dig deeper into Helen Mathers’s background.”
Adam couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open at Autumn’s interruption. “What?”
She faced him more fully. “I said that I want to dig deeper into Helen Mathers’s background.”
He mentally compared the blood-splattered bedroom and the frantically butchered corpses that had been left behind by an irrational killer to Helen Mathers’s neat, tidy kitchen. He was astounded by the direction his protégé wanted to go.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What is there to dig into? She’s an old maid who takes in the less fortunate. Not some criminal mastermind.”
Autumn’s gaze was steady. “At this point, I can’t agree or disagree, which is why I want to look into her further. There’s just something…off about her.” She narrowed her eyes. “Of course, you were a bit preoccupied, if I remember correctly.”
Adam’s palm itched. He wanted to slap this little bitch across the face. How dare she insinuate such a thing. She hadn’t dropped the subject of Lisa at all. She had just been saving it up for the worst possible moment to use against him.
“How dare you! I was just being nice to the girl! She was shy, and you interrupted me before I could ask my next question, which was if she had ever met or dated our chief suspect, Kyle Murphy.”
Autumn faltered at that. Just like he knew she would. Time to go in for the kill.
“Autumn,” he softened his voice, giving her a look of compassion, “you clearly have a bias against Helen Mathers, but you have to remember that she is not your foster mother. You never lived in her home. When are you going to get over that? If you don’t, you’ll never be able to handle this type of situation. Maybe we should just pull you off this case.”
Sheriff Morton took a step closer, but Autumn planted her hands on her hips, her chin jutted out combatively. “I’m perfectly fine separating my past from the current case. You’re missing the point.”
Morton raised her hands. “Woah there, folks. This isn’t the place. We can talk about this somewhere else.”
Autumn stared at Adam for a long second, her green eyes narrowed. “Yes, let’s step outside for a moment. We can come back after the bodies have been moved.”
But Adam was done playing Autumn’s game.
She needed to understand who was—quite literally—the boss. “No. It’s late. I think it’s best that you and I return to the hotel to update our profile with this new information. We’ve obtained everything we need here. You can take notes on the way back. We can leave the fieldwork to the locals and stop tying everyone up.”
She breathed in slowly, her nostrils flaring.
Sheriff Morton took in the room, her gaze finally stopping on the boy. “If this isn’t a poisonous atmosphere, I don’t know what is. Let’s go.”
The four of them went down the main stairway to the front door, took off their booties, and stepped outside. The fog had closed in, and the rain now felt like ice.
Morton was speaking in a low voice to Autumn, but Adam heard her clearly. “Do you want a deputy to drive back with you? Will you be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I can handle him.”
“What time are we meeting in the morning?” Adam asked, making his intentions clear. They were leaving for the night.
“Seven a.m.”
Adam nodded to the sheriff and turned on his heel. Autumn could follow him or not, he didn’t care. He hadn’t been this angry at an employee since…ever.
Autumn was trailing in his wake, struggling to work her way across the mushy gravel. “Adam…”
He waited until she got closer before opening his door. He looked at her steadily. “Dr. Trent, there are a few things we’ll need to get clear when we return to the hotel. I advise you not to talk to me until we do.”
18
Autumn had been in tense situations before, but the ride back to the hotel probably gained first prize for the most uncomfortable.
As requested, she didn’t say a word. Not on the ride. Not as they walked into the hotel. And not as they strode through the lobby.
“We’ll use my room,” Adam barked.
That was when she opened her mouth. “We’ll use the dining area.”
He scoffed and waved his hand in that direction. The restaurant was more than half filled with diners. She turned to peer at the small conference room she’d noticed before. There was a sign that said “occupied.”
Shit.
“We can go to a—”
“My room. Now.” He looked like he was about to throttle her. That was fine. She wanted to do a little throttling of her own. “I have a suite with plenty of room to spread out.”
For the life of her, she couldn’t think of an argument. Clutching her purse, she was reassured that her can of pepper spray was firmly in its pocket. And if he touched her…hell, if he came within spitting distance of her, she’d Krav Maga his ass to the ground.
“Fine.”
Her boss turned on his heel and she followed him to the elevator, then to his room when they reached his floor.
The second his door was closed, he turned on her. “You need to remember that I’m your employer, and it’s on my say-so that you were hired in the first place. You have let me down, and it’s time to have a discussion about your lack of professionalism. Unless you prefer that I put you on the first plane back to Richmond, and we’ll discuss it later.”
Autumn was sorely tempted to do just that. Get on a plane and get the hell out of there. The minute her feet hit Virginia soil, she’d file a complaint about Adam Latham so damn long the ink would be drained from the printer as it tried to spit it out.
But…
There was Gina. Kyle Murphy. The Websters. The Langfords. The Roses. And young Matthew.
They were most important, and she wouldn’t let this pigheaded bigot of overinflated asshole get in the way of her doing her job.
“Well?” His face seemed almost distorted with anger, an emotion he probably wouldn’t admit to feeling right now. He probably thought of himself as calm, cool, and collected. And… right.
She didn’t need to be right, Autumn reminded herself. She needed to stop Kyle Murphy from hurting anyone else. And that was more important than winning an argument.
A large armchair sat in the corner under a reading lamp. He dragged it over to the desk and dropped into it, throwing a stack of papers onto the surface with a loud slap. “First, I didn’t appreciate you calling me out in front of Helen Mathers.”
She followed him over to the desk and pulled out a smaller wood chair before easing down on the edge. “I handled the matter tactfully and gave you a reason to leave that girl’s presence before you embarrassed the firm by frothing at the mouth.”
His fingers dug into the arms of the chair. “I did no such thing. I was being kind to a young girl in order to elicit additional information from her.”
“And that was why she was rubbing your chest?”
He was on his feet in an instant. “She was admiring my tie!”
“Do you know what I think?” She was on her feet now too. “I think you objected to the interview before we even got there and attempted to derail it.”
He took two steps closer to her. “And do you know what I think? I think you’re jealous of the attention I was giving to Lisa.”
If he’d slapped her, she wouldn’t have been as surprised. She was so surprised, in fact, that she laughed.
And then, he did slap her.
Her hand was up and covering the sting before the movement of his arm even registered.
The room grew silent, deadly silent.
“I’m sorry,” Adam muttered, curling his hand into a fist. “You made me—”
Fury burned through her soul. “I’m to blame for you committing physical violence?”
“It was just a slap.”
Autumn turned and examined her face in the mirror. Five finger marks were already turning red, a stark contrast to her pale complexion.
“Just a slap, huh? Just a little flirtation with a little girl, huh? Just a few insults to hardworking law enforcement officers who need our assistance, huh?”
His eyes narrowed. “I came out here to support you.”
“You came out here to sleep with me.”
He took two steps to his right, and Autumn realized that he’d just blocked her exit to the door. Her heart picked up speed.
“Move out of my way.”
His eyes were flat. “No. We’re not finished yet.”
She widened her stance and glanced at her purse on the desk. Damn. Why had she walked away from it?
When she said nothing, Adam smiled. “You know you don’t have to fight what’s been simmering between us.” He opened his arms. “I’m here. You can have me. You don’t need to be jealous of anyone.”
Bile rose to her throat. He was crazy. How did this man build himself up to the position he was now in? Gain the trust of so many?
That question was moot, of course. How many successful businessmen presented antisocial and psychopathic traits? A recent study claimed one in five were psychopaths.
And Autumn was looking at one now. A very clever one.
Adam’s features softened, and he took a step closer to her. As much as she hated it, she needed to let him touch her. She needed to understand his inner thoughts, and there was only way she could achieve that goal.
“Autumn, honey, it’s healthy to admit to your feelings. I can see why you’d be upset, but I promise to make it up to you.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch as his hand lifted. She said nothing as his fingers softly cradled her jaw, his thumb moving over the area that stung the most.
She gasped. He’d done this before.
Through his touch, she saw flashes of faces, one after the other. Blondes, brunettes, other redheads. It seemed he liked them all.
She felt their fear. She felt their resignation.
Adam Latham was a powerful man. Most gave in quietly just so he’d go away. Others fought.
Autumn would fight too. Very deliberately, she lifted a hand and wrapped it around his neck, her fingers playing with his hair.
He smiled, moving closer still. “See? We can’t fight what’s been going on between us.” He lowered his head, licking his lips as he stared into her eyes. “It’s simply fate for—”
She brought her knee up, using the hand around his neck for added leverage. His balls felt like jelly against her thigh. As he crumbled forward, she swung her elbow up, making a direct hit to the very center of his nose.
He went down, one hand cupping his groin while the other covered his face. His moans were like music to her ears.
Autumn was shaking and the backs of her hands were like piano wire. She wanted to claw his eyes out. Instead, she knelt beside him, took a big handful of his balls and twisted.
He grabbed her arm as he yelped, and the touch produced additional visions.
Instead of faces this time, she saw his confusion. He was truly surprised that she didn’t feel as attracted to him as he did to her. He was genuinely stunned that she wasn’t grateful for his attention. Narcissistic bastard.
“I’ve already drafted an email on my phone for Mike Shadley about your behavior at the Mathers and about your lack of perspective in general, including the way that you’ve been harassing me under the guise of being a ‘mentor.’ And now, I am going to add your…unwanted overtures to my complaint.”
Adam turned to his side, his face pressing into the carpet. “You’re just…trying…to destroy my career.” He let go of his balls and pointed at her. “You arranged…all…this. Hurt…me.”
Autumn shuddered with revulsion. Adam was already trying to rewrite the situation. This wasn’t over, she knew.
“You’re worse than the drunks at my aunt’s bar,” she told him. “If you wreck your career, you did it all on your own.”
She grabbed her bag and headed for the door.
“Autumn!”
She didn’t stop.
Slamming the door behind her, she ran down the hall and toward the stairs. She didn’t stop until she was safely in her room.
Grabbing her phone, she opened the draft email, pulling it up and reading it through. With thumbs that flew over the screen, she added the latest update. The email was almost done. She added a summary of the last few moments.
But hesitated.
If she sent this email, she’d be undermining Adam’s career, at the very minimum, or if Mike Shadley wasn’t the man she thought he was, tanking her own.
Either way, this situation would be over.
She crushed her thumb on the send button.
19
“…and then Autumn twisted his balls before leaving his room and sending an email complaint to Mike Shadley.” Noah slid two eggs from the frying pan and onto Winter’s plate. He added a large portion of breakfast sausages. His hair was adorably tousled. “Toast should be ready in a sec.”
After sleeping most of yesterday and all of last night, Winter had been ready to get back to work before Noah told her that Max Osbourne had insisted she take another day.
That pissed her off.
Yes, she’d been upset after her meeting with her brother. Who wouldn’t be? But that didn’t mean that she needed to be treated with kid gloves. She was fine. Fine, dammit. Just—
The toast popped up, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
Okay, maybe she was a shade or two less than fine, but she was good enough.
Smiling, Noah pulled the toast out, cut it into triangles, and dropped it onto Winter’s plate. “Butter? Jam?” She gave him a look, and he grinned, passing both in her directio
n.
“I’m going to call Autumn and see if she’s okay.”
Noah checked his watch. “You’re gonna call a woman at five in the morning to ask if she had a bad day? At least eat your breakfast first.”
Autumn wrinkled her nose. “I hate time differences. How about I just text her instead?”
She typed out a text message to her dear friend: I heard about Adam. Message me?
She nibbled at the food on her plate until she couldn’t eat any more. Noah always tried to feed her like she was a star athlete who needed to bulk up for the season. It was actually kind of cute, but if she didn’t watch it, she’d be feeling her belly jiggle soon.
After breakfast, she paced around the apartment, straightening cushions and running a dust cloth over the furniture. She was very tempted to just go into work, with or without Max’s approval. At the very least, if Autumn called her back, she’d ask to see the case notes and see if she could help from afar.
She liked to stay busy. Busy kept her brain focused in a particular direction. When she had time on her hands, her brain pinged around in her skull, searching for the most painful memory it could find.
And it usually found it.
Sissy…I love you to the moon and around all the stars in the big, big universe.
She was yanking the vacuum out of the little utility closet when she thought she heard her phone buzz. She leapt over a chair, went crashing into the table, managed to keep the vase of flowers Noah had brought her from falling while snatching her cell phone up.
She stared at the screen.
Nothing. Absolutely blank.
She really was going crazy.
“Trying to learn how to table dance?” Noah said from where he leaned on their bedroom doorjamb, a playful smile on his face.
Winter looked up through the veil of her hair and did her best to nonchalantly ease herself off the table. In doing so, she hooked the leg of her pajamas onto the back of a chair.
“Um, I don’t think that’s exactly how it goes.” He tilted his head. “Maybe a few lessons and that’ll be hot.”
