by Desiree Holt
“Are you okay to continue?” He started to reach for her hand then stopped , as if not sure it was okay to touch her.
Funny, because for the first time since she was fourteen, she actually wanted a man to touch her. Make skin-to-skin contact, and what was up with that? Was this man from another planet? To keep herself from reaching out for him, she began pleating the hem of her shirt again. Maybe once she got through this, the urge would go away, and she could return to the comfortable barrier of her fear regarding men.
“Micki?” he urged again.
She wet her lips. “Yes. I’m fine. I haven’t…said anything about this for a lot of years, and I don’t know if it has anything to do with my father’s death, but…” She forced herself to look at him. “But I guess it’s time to get it all out, in case it does. I mean, in case it somehow connects to me.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This is hard for me, Sheriff.”
“Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”
She knew that had to be a lie, with everything going on outside. But his assurance and the deep, mellow tone of his voice, helped her move forward. In halting sentences, she described for the first time what had happened all those years ago right in this house. In the very bedroom she was staying in right now.
She kept her eyes on her hands while she spoke, unable to look at Alex Rossi, afraid of what she’d see on his face. When she finally got it all out, with the feel of a burden being lifted at long last, she let out another breath and dared to look at him. She had expected pity, or even disgust, or … she didn’t know what. But the look in his eyes of caring and understanding stunned her. And something else. He looked at her as a woman, not a freak show like the men in her failed relationships had. A woman who had been through a terrible ordeal.
And behind all that was unexpected anger.
“You’re right. The fact we have two out-of-the-ordinary deaths so close together in a place that seldom sees anything like this would make anyone look for a connection. And let me say this.” His voice was like warm molasses flowing over her skin. “One way or another, I am going to find every man involved in this abominable little group and methodically destroy them. You can count on that.”
“First, you have to find out who they are,” she pointed out, her voice still a little shaky. “See if they’re part of his inner circle, if any of them killed my father, and why.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, and this time he did reach for one of her hands and enfold it in his.
“Micki, I’m not sure if you know this, but I was a SEAL for ten years. SEALs are the baddest of the bad special forces. We can find out things even hidden from God.”
He smiled as he said it, but she had no doubt he spoke the truth. Maybe that was why he was the first man in sixteen years who didn’t frighten or panic her. Who in fact made her insides tremble and not with fear. And wasn’t that a shock in the middle of all this.
Alex gave her hand a gentle squeeze before sitting back.
“So.” He paused. “Do you think Holly Martino’s murder was in some way the catalyst for what happened tonight?”
Micki shrugged. “I don’t know. All I can say is the two things happening so close together… I mean, it’s not as if things like this happen around here on a regular basis.” Then she shook her head. “But I’ve been thinking all these years there must be many other girls this happened to who didn’t tell anyone. They were too terrified, like I was. Especially after the courageous ones who gathered themselves to report what happened despite the threats to them. And then ended up dead.”
“What makes you think they’d come forward now? Especially after what happened to Holly.”
Micki looked directly at him. “Because I have the sick feeling my father’s ‘“death”‘ is tied to it in some way, and I think we’ve all been frightened long enough. And because a man who comes with Hank Patterson’s recommendation and who is a decorated SEAL knows how to keep us safe.”
She realized she meant every word of it. For the first time since she’d been thrown down on her bed and violated, she wasn’t afraid. Not that the danger wasn’t still out there, but Alex Rossi, despite being just one man, wore the aura of someone who, as he said, could handle it all.
“But how does that help you with tonight?” she asked. “What happened to me is old history. And where does my father fit into the picture? Did Holly Martino’s death ignite this? And why?”
“Not sure yet. Right now, I’m collecting information. It seems strange, though, that the only murder in this county in a year is a young girl who it turns out is the most recent victim in a string of heinous crimes going back years. And suddenly, while I’m investigating it, your father drops dead at a party.”
“You think my father was involved?”
Oh, please, god, no.
But Alex shrugged. “I’m not ruling anything out right now. Like I said, right now I’m gathering information.”
“I don’t know if anything I said helped or not”
“Everything helps,” he assured her. “I just have to figure out how.” He pushed himself up from his seat. “I need to get back outside and see where we are. What my detectives have come up with. All those people are probably ready to lynch me for making them hang around.”
“They’ll survive.”
He gave a soft laugh. “You don’t have much use for them, do you.”
She shook her head. “Why should I? These people are all so self-centered and focused on their money and power. I’m sure my parents love me—and Jason—but my father’s business and political worlds always came first, and my mother lives her life by what other people think of her. But I do want to know how he died. And if someone killed him, why? If that was the reason.” She looked up at Alex, who had such compassion in his eyes she wanted to cry. “Do you think he found out about me and was driven to expose everyone because of it?”
He shrugged. “It’s a definite possibility. But wouldn’t he have approached you first? Maybe be devastated that his little game, if he was part of it, had hit too close to home? I’m guessing, but I’d expect there was an unwritten rule they never touched each other’s families.”
She felt ill, nausea gripping her at the thought her father not only might have known who her rapist was, but himself been part of their evil little game. She swallowed hard, hoping she ’wouldn’t vomit in front of Alex Cross
“It frightens me to even think that,” she told him, “but I guess with what happened tonight, we have to look at everything.”
“I wish that wasn’t so, but it’s highly unlikely that two murders so close together, in a place that almost never sees them, would be unrelated. I need to figure out the connection. Anyway, thanks for talking to me.” He took her hand and pressed a business card into it. “I’m sure you have the number of my office, but this has my personal cell on it. Call me anytime. For anything.”
“I— Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate this.”
“Alex. Please call me Alex.”
She managed a tiny smile. “Okay, Alex. I expect we’ll be seeing each other again.”
“Count on it.” The look he gave her was equal parts of compassion and understanding with a healthy dose of heat thrown in. And for the first time in her life, it didn’t frighten her.
Holy shit!
Chapter 5
Alex leaned back in his desk chair, booted feet on the desk, mug of coffee cradled in his hands, and looked at his friend, Hank Patterson, sitting across from him.
“I’m telling you, Hank, I pull one string, three more follow it, and two others break off. I’ve gone over the reports we found at Bartell’s house and checked the interviews from the party until I’m blind, but I can’t find a damn thing that points anywhere. This thing is a fucking mess.”
“No shit. What did the lab find in Schroeder’s glass?”
Alex looked at the coroner’s report on his desk, although he had it memorized by now. “Cyanide. Not exactly hard to
come by, damn it. It can be extracted from so many natural sources, if you’re inventive you don’t even have to shop for it and leave a trail.”
“Well, that’s no help.” Hank shook his head. “I suppose fingerprints didn’t help.”
“Fuck, no. For one thing, there were too many of them, and they were smudged. For another, I’d have to get people in here and take their prints for a match and I’m not ready to do that till I narrow the pool of suspects, of which, by the way, we have an abundance. “
“Well, that sucks.”
“And according to what my men are learning, there seem to be a lot of people who wouldn’t have minded slipping it into his drink. I only knew him casually, but ’he was not considered a warm and fuzzy type of person. Maybe ’he was different with close friends, but in what little contact I’ had with him, he came across as an egotistical jackass.”
“That’s probably about right.”
Alex snorted. “According to many of the people we interviewed, that’s an understatement. I found it interesting that people didn’t mind accepting his hospitality even while they said he was an arrogant bully who took pleasure in stomping all over people. Except for those closest to him, who praised him as a rancher and businessman.”
“I don’t know how much actual ranching ’he did in recent years,” Hank told him. “I grew up around here, and for as long as I can remember his foreman, Arch Neville, has run that place. Probably for the best, anyway. Arch is the gold nugget of foremen.”
“Best I can find out, he spent his time flying on his private plane to Helena or Bozeman on businesses or politics. Sometimes even to D.C. Even to Vegas.” Alex took a swig of coffee. “And a bunch of other places here and there.”
Hank chuckled. “That’s as good a way as any to describe it. He and his wife flew around the country with their friends, sometimes on their plane, sometimes on someone else’s.”
“What can you tell me about Frank Harding, Jim Northrup, Adam Hoffman, and Drake Brandt? I’ve asked the detectives about them, but mostly they give me facts and figures. I figured you’d have a better picture of them. Come at it from a different angle.”
Hank shrugged. “Not people I have a lot to do with. They’re all part of what I call the Crazies celebrity crowd. Rich men who travel in high-powered circles and got where they are through intimidation and control.”
“Certainly, fits the picture of the rapist.” He paused. “Rapists, if our theory is correct. Also, I didn’t get a warm and fuzzy feel at the ranch house when this all went down. Dana Schroeder took to her bed and refused to talk to me. Jason’s insisting whatever happened to his father was a mistake. And Micki…”
“What about Micki?” Hank prompted. “I asked Sadie about her, since they both grew up around here, but she says Micki hightailed it out of here right after high school graduation and comes home as little as possible. Maybe there’s something going on there you need to look into. Not,” he said quickly, “that you need me to tell you how to run an investigation.”
Alex held up a hand. “It’s okay. I’ll take all the insight I can get. People around here don’t like to answer questions much.”
Hank snorted. “No shit.”
“I had to practically use a pry bar to get them to open up at all. But something happened that made someone drop cyanide in Bill Schroeder’s drink, and it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. They had to come prepared.” He set his coffee mug down on the desk. “Shit, Hank. This investigation is going to open the biggest can of worms the people around here have ever seen. It means going over those reports Bartell hid once again, and I have a feeling they’re only the tip of the iceberg. Rich assholes have been raping young girls around here for a long time and killing the ones who ratted them out. It’s like a small fraternity. You know what it’s like when these guys cover for each other.”
Hank let out a heavy sigh. “Sure do. They think they can get away with anything.”
Alex grimaced. “It sickens me to think that all those years ago a bunch of scum with unbelievable arrogance decided it would be a fun game to rape young girls at parties and get away with it. And kill anyone who talked. I read Jenna Donovan’s articles and got even sicker. She really nailed it.”
“Probably because she herself was a victim. Do you think Micki Schroeder might have been, too? That her father found out and was going to blow the whistle?”
Alex shook his head. “You know I can’t tell you if that’s true or not. But what if they were supposed to keep away from their own offspring and someone broke the rules? Maybe he was going to blow the whistle because of it.”
“If Micki Schroeder was one of the victims, she never came forward, but that doesn’t mean anything.” Hank scratched his head. “Of course, she’s spent zilch time around here since she graduated from high school. Maybe that’s the reason why.”
Micki Schroeder. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since the party. It devastated him that someone as sweet as her had been psychologically damaged by a brutal attack. He wondered if it had been just wishful thinking that they had made a connection. If she were his woman, he’d show her exactly how gentle he could be, how—
Well, fuck all, asshole. Way to go wanting sex with a woman who’d probably run screaming in the other direction. Who might as well have “trauma” tattooed on her forehead. It had taken all his SEAL discipline the other night to keep from hauling her into his arms and helping her chase her demons. He was hardly a sexual novice, and had enjoyed the company of many women over the years. But no one, ever, had gotten to him instantly the way Micki Schroeder did. So what now, idiot?
“I’d give ten bucks to know what’s going through your mind right now.” Hank’s voice, touched with humor, broke into his thoughts. “But I have a feeling you’d knock yourself out before telling me.”
Alex made no comment. Anything he said was sure to get him in trouble.
Hank laughed. “I can take a hint. Anyway, I have to get back to the office. By the way, Sadie would love it if you’d come to dinner one night.”
“Tell her as soon as I get this monster off my back, I’ll take her up on it.”
“In that case, I’m not holding my breath. I assume you’ll be attending the funeral?”
He had released the body to the family yesterday, and Jason Schroeder had called to thank him and let him know what funeral arrangements they were making. The service was scheduled for this coming Saturday afternoon.
“Of course. Not just out of respect but to see who all will be attending.”
“I hope Micki’s holding up okay. She seemed really rocked by the whole thing the night of the party.”
Damn, Rossi. The woman pops into your mind, and the words pop out of your mouth.
But he hadn’t been able to get the woman out of his mind. She was a combination of fragility and inner strength, that latter certainly what created the firebrand prosecuting attorney he’d read about. The recitation of her personal hell was etched in his mind, and he had the feeling that despite the career she’d carved out, she’d never quite gotten past it. Did she have anyone in her life? Had she managed to find a man strong yet sensitive enough to get her past the trauma and show her how good things could be between two people?
“Alex?” Hank’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Where’d you disappear to?”
“I was thinking back to the conversation with her the night of the murder.”
Hank lifted an eyebrow. “Do I sense something more than professional interest?”
Alex shrugged. “Who knows. I just met the woman and almost at once her father is killed. Anyway, my bet is she’ll hightail it back to Florida right after the funeral.”
“It’ll be interesting to see what Dana Schroeder does with that huge ranch. And who it’s left to, along with everything else. I don’t suppose you’ve picked up anything during your visits there? I’m curious, is all.”
Alex shook his head, as much for a negative answer as to get Micki Schro
eder out of his mind. He had plenty of experience with females of all varieties, but something set Micki Schroder apart. Made him want to connect with her and at the worst possible time. Damn. This wasn’t him at all.
“No.” He answered Hank’s question. “Nothing. I’m getting ready to check into it, because there night be a clue there that points to someone. But, as you know, lawyers are big on the confidentiality thing.
“Don’t I know it.” He pushed himself out of his chair. “Well, you can call me if you need anything.”
Alex sat there for a few moments after Hank left, letting everything roll around in his mind. He’d been back to the Schroeder house twice since the night of the party, mostly to see if he could pick up any strange undercurrents that might point him in one direction or another. They’d been there, all right, but even his highly developed senses hadn’t been able to figure out what they were.
Dana Schroder had taken to her bed, and Jason had only been there once when he came by. The other time, Micki told him her brother was at the funeral home making arrangements, but both times she had been willing to talk to him.
“Although I don’t know what else I can tell you,” she emphasized. “I told you everything the other night.” She rubbed her face. “Really everything. I’ve only been back to the ranch a half a dozen times in the past several years and then for only brief periods.”
He knew that was because of the attack on her. Listening to her the other night tell him things she’d kept bottled up inside her for sixteen years had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. It lit a rage inside him every time he thought of some powerful animal using the opportunity to satisfy his destructive needs.
“Have you checked into the names I gave you?” she asked.
“Working on it. Except for what’s in the public records and the media, there’s damn little to find.”
“I promised you, if they’re involved in this, there won’t be anything pointing to them, They’re too slick for that.”
