Now You See Me

by Rachel Carrington

  Kate interrupted his silent litany of instructions by leaning closer to him. “What’s taking you so long?”

  He blinked away the voice in his head. “What do you mean?”

  Another move put her lips a fraction of an inch away from his. “Unless I’m really bad at sexual cues, you want to kiss me.” She shifted and her brandy-scented breath bathed his face. “And you have to be pretty bad at them yourself if you’re don’t realize I want the same thing.”

  Brad swiveled on the stool, slid his hand alongside her jaw to the back of her head. “Thanks for the clarification.” He touched his lips to hers and, just like the first time he’d kissed her, his stomach knotted.

  He’d kissed women before but kissing Kate felt natural, like it was something he’d been born to do. Standing, he pulled her off the stool and into his arms.

  Kate’s hands rested against his chest and she stood on tiptoe to deepen the kiss. Brad’s blood pressure spiked as her scent and taste surrounded him. The brandy lingered on her tongue, more intoxicating there than in the glass.

  Her arms slid up and around his neck and together they danced toward the kitchen opening. Brad’s hip bumped the wall, Kate’s back connected with the chair molding. She laughed against his lips, hooking one leg behind his calf for leverage.

  He breathed in as she exhaled, sharing oxygen. They tangoed down the hallway, Kate leaning into his body as he backed up. Just outside his bedroom door he stopped, pressing her hands against the plaster. His fingers laced with hers and for a moment, neither of them breathed as their gazes connected.

  Energy zipped through him, as electric as a live wire. Kate whispered his name, drawing his attention to her full, pink lips. She pushed away from the wall with her spine, arching into him. His focus narrowing, Brad lowered his head again, fusing his lips to hers.

  He shut out the dim reminder he might be taking advantage of her. An easy task since his brain was no longer in control. Releasing one of her hands, he reached to the side and opened his bedroom door.

  Kate moved her lips to his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses against his skin. They stumbled into the room, still clinging to one another. Brad stubbed his toe, cursed, and Kate laughed again.

  His body ready to ignite, he fisted his hands in the hem of his T-shirt she wore and began tugging it upward. He’d managed to skim the cotton to her waist when his cell phone rang. Kate jumped, and he settled his hands on her hips to steady her.

  “Damn. Damn. Damn,” he muttered, bumping his forehead to hers. “I’ve got to take that.”

  She nodded and tapped his chest with her palm before pulling away. “It’s fine.”

  Brad stormed around to the side of the bed and snapped his name into the cell.

  “Jericho, it’s O’Hara. We’ve got a problem.”

  Chapter Eight

  Her house had been ransacked, leaving Kate feeling as violated as its interior. Window screens had been sliced in jagged patterns while the glass from the windows lay scattered throughout the house.

  Every room had been desecrated in some way but it was her bedroom that had her fighting back nausea. Though nothing had been torn or mutilated, Kate’s intruder had left his mark in another sinister way.

  The linens had been turned down and rose petals scattered across the sheets. The windows were open and the wind brought the cloying scent of a cologne she didn’t recognize. And the coup de grâce was the articles she’d written about John Ramsey over the past years. They’d been clipped from the newspapers and were now fanned out across the foot of her bed in a black-and-white shrine.

  Her stomach rolling, Kate ventured farther into her room and wondered if she’d ever feel safe at home again. The door to the adjoining bathroom had been left open and the clawfooted bathtub was filled to its curved porcelain edges with frothy bubbles.

  Behind her, she heard Brad discussing the intruder with Detective O’Hara and several other police officers. The words sounded foreign, as though the men were talking about some other Kate Elliott.

  Had the intruder left any fingerprints? Could she identify any missing items? Had she left a spare set of keys anywhere? How had he gained access to her house? No locks were broken and all the damage to the windows had happened from the inside.

  Could the perpetrator have been inside the house before Kate had left for the evening?

  That question made Kate’s head spin. No. He’d been outside. She’d seen him. That was why she’d left with Brad. No one could have gotten inside the house. The silent reassurances didn’t help.

  “Kate?” Brad called to her from the doorway of her bedroom.

  She turned to face him. “What is happening to my life?” Before he could respond, she held up a hand. “Never mind. I already know. I got involved with a serial killer.”

  It was time to get a grip. She’d traveled all over the world, risking life and limb on more than one occasion. And she’d survived. Just as she would do this time. John Ramsey wasn’t going to scare her into a corner.

  “If you want to grab some more things, I’ll take you back to my house. We can figure out what to do with all of this tomorrow.”

  She liked the “we” in Brad’s sentence, like they would now be doing things together. Having spent the better part of her life alone, she didn’t mind the assumption. What she did mind was the thought of removing anything else from this house.

  This house. Like it wasn’t her house any longer. It certainly didn’t feel like it. Her intruder had stripped away the comfort she used to feel when walking through the door, that sense of belonging.

  Brad laid a hand on her shoulder. “Do you need some help?”

  A lump the size of an orange prevented her from speaking. Her gaze slid to the door of the walk-in closet. Had he been in there touching her clothes? How would she know? Could she wear anything in there now?

  Images from old suspense movies rolled in front of her eyes—predators rubbing satiny lingerie against their cheeks, running their hands over a pair of pants as though they were being worn. She shivered and closed her eyes to the reel.

  Composing herself, she walked to the closet and twisted the knob. The shout of “don’t do that” came a second too late.

  A bulky detective who looked like he belonged on the football field cursed and stormed into the bedroom. “Jericho, don’t you remember anything about this job? She can’t touch anything.”

  Brad barred his path. “I told her to pack some extra things, so if you want to shout at someone, shout at me. But you and I both know if you haven’t already found fingerprints anywhere else in the house, you’re not going to find them on the doorknob to the closet.”

  “Still, she shouldn’t be touching stuff. There could be evidence.”

  Kate’s hand swept over a line of neatly clipped slacks. “You’re not going to find anything he doesn’t want you to find.” She unhooked several pairs and brought them to the doorway of the closet. “Look who’s training him.”

  “She’s got a point.” Brad slapped the detective on the shoulder and took the pants from Kate’s hands. “I’ll hold on to these.”

  “Thanks.” With just the one word she thanked him for more than just holding her clothes. Their eyes met and he smiled. She didn’t try to understand the warmth spiraling in the pit of her stomach.

  Something about Brad, being with him, comforted her. Maybe it was his past job as a detective telling her he could protect her, but she thought it had to be more. Being single, she’d learned how to take care of herself. Before this she’d never needed a bodyguard, and she doubted that was the reason why she found it so easy to be with Brad, to let him take charge if only for a little while.

  “Hey, there’s some gruff son of a bitch on the phone. Says he’s your boss.” The detective shoved the cordless into Kate’s hand before she could respond.

  How had she not heard the phone ring? “Aaron?”

  “What in the hell is going on?” Aaron sounded like he could stroke out any se
cond.

  Kate played dumb. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t give me that. I know the police are crawling all over your house like flies on fruit, and I’ve been calling your cell for the last half hour. You never leave home without that phone, Kate. So I’ll ask again, what in the hell is going on?”

  “How do you know about the cops?” She plugged one ear to shut out the surrounding commotion. “Did you rent a helicopter?”

  Aaron snorted. “Very funny. I have sources too, you know. So you gonna tell me, or am I gonna have to haul my ass to your house at this God-awful hour?”

  Kate filled him in, then waited while he digested the information. Mere seconds passed before he exploded into a litany of curses and dire threats against John Ramsey. Once he’d given vent to his anger, Kate spoke again. “The police will catch the guy who did this, Aaron.”

  His breath huffed in her ear. “That’s it? Your home’s been vandalized and all you can say is the police will catch the guy? I’m not buying it, Kate. You’re going to come stay with me and Marilyn, and that’s not a suggestion. There’s no way I’m letting you go to a hotel. I’ll be there to pick you up in less than twenty minutes.”

  “No, Aaron, it’s okay. I’m not staying here and I’m not going to a hotel.” She hoped that would be enough.

  “Where are you going, then?” He dashed her hopes.

  Kate carried the phone out of her bedroom and down the hall, slipping into the guest bathroom for some privacy. “I’m staying with Brad tonight.”

  Silence. “Brad?”

  She sighed. “Brad Jericho.”

  “From the prison?” Aaron’s voice went an octave higher. “How did that happen?”

  “Can we talk about this later? I need to get out of here.”

  Aaron muttered something under his breath. “Fine, but I’ll expect full disclosure tomorrow. You can call me anytime after eight since I’m assuming you won’t be coming to work.”

  “You would be wrong.” Kate’s back tensed as she readied herself for a fight. “I’ve already been run out of my home, Aaron. I’m not going to hide out from my job too.”

  “There’s a difference between hiding and being safe. Hasn’t that prison warden told you anything about the kind of idiot you’re dealing with here?”

  She didn’t want to discuss Brad. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office. Good night, Aaron.” She ended the call on his splutter of protest.

  When she exited the bathroom Brad was waiting in the living room, suitcase in hand. “Ready?” He jerked his head toward the door.

  Once she thought she was ready for anything. Thanks to John Ramsey, life had thrown her a curveball. How did you prepare yourself for a hit you didn’t see coming?

  Underneath the edge of his mattress, Ramsey drew another mark on the concrete wall with a piece of stolen chalk before wiping the sweat from his brow. Though he smiled, he was irritated he hadn’t been there to see Kate Elliott’s face when she’d arrived home. He’d lost so much since being trapped in this cage, time he couldn’t get back. But he could start anew.

  He reached farther under the mattress, slid out the small bag that contained his next shot at freedom. Any second now he’d lose consciousness. His vision had already begun to gray.

  The jingle of keys signaled the approach of the morning guard, and though his lips had begun to go numb, Ramsey smiled. He’d timed this perfectly.

  I can’t wait to see you again, Kate.

  He rolled off his cot, going face forward onto the floor, his hand clasping the bag. The concrete felt cool against his cheek and, with his head angled, he could see his fall had alerted the guard.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” The guard whipped the handcuffs loose from his belt. “Get up, Ramsey! You’re not fooling anyone.”

  Ramsey attempted to raise his arm but his muscles had gone lax. Ah yes, the little mushroom was doing its job. As the darkness reached for him, he pictured Kate’s face, her lovely eyes, her silky hair.

  He really couldn’t wait to see her again.

  Brad arrived at the prison before the ambulance. His adrenaline at an all-time high, he raced through the corridors, shouting orders as he went. Now on lockdown, irritated prisoners responded with curses and threats.

  The death row pod was quieter than he’d ever heard as all ears tuned to the voices of the prison physician and the guards with him.

  “What happened?” Brad took in Ramsey on the floor, his mouth slightly agape and his hands cuffed. “Is he breathing?”

  “He’s alive,” the doctor responded. “But barely breathing. I found this in his hand.” He held up a bag containing a mushroom that looked pretty ordinary to Brad. “We need to get him to the hospital.”

  “For eating a mushroom?” Brad stepped into the cell. “Not happening. Take him to the infirmary.”

  The doctor stood, his dark glasses sliding to the tip of his nose. “You don’t understand, Warden. That mushroom has to be poisonous. It’s the only way it could produce the symptoms he’s having. Have you seen his face? It’s blue. That’s not caused by a shitake.”

  Brad couldn’t begin to describe how badly he wanted to tell the guards to step back, instruct the doctor to leave. The state might not be able to execute Ramsey right now but Brad could allow nature to take its course now that the killer had offered the option.

  “Does anyone know where the mushroom came from?” The question was met with blank stares.

  “The ambulance is here.” Deputy Downing dropped a hand to Brad’s shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking, but he has to get medical treatment.”

  Brad’s lips curved into a snarl. “Yeah, by all means, let’s make sure the serial killer gets help so he doesn’t die. How many women did he torture and murder while he was out? I’m sure they wished someone would have intervened on their behalf.”

  As all eyes trained on Brad’s face, he released a sigh and waved a hand. “Don’t mind me. Long day. I want four men on him at all times. If the doctors give you any trouble tell them to call me. He is not to be alone in that hospital room. Is that understood?”

  The guard kneeling beside Ramsey nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “David, call local PD and have them send over two officers to shift outside Ramsey’s room. He needs to be on a clear floor, if possible, and as far away from other patients as they can get him.”

  “I’m on it.” Downing started to walk away then paused to add, “Are you coming?”

  Not a good idea considering how much he wanted the doctors to make a mistake. Just one missed step and Kate could go back to a normal life. Damn. Better for him to walk away. “I’ve got to get back. You got things here?”

  “Always.”

  “One more thing.” Brad caught up with his assistant. “Find out how Ramsey got that mushroom.”

  Surprise flashed in Downing’s eyes. “Do you really think that’s the best use of our resources?”

  Nerves already jangling, Brad leaned in so only Downing could hear his next words. “Somehow Ramsey got a hold of a poisonous mushroom, which tells me someone on the outside has access to this prison. So you’re damn right it’s a good use of our resources. If we find who brought Ramsey his ticket to the hospital, we’ll find whoever it is that’s been stalking Kate.”

  Downing continued to stare at him for a moment longer before he inclined his head. “Whatever you say.”

  As he walked away, Brad watched him for a moment. The guy had never questioned his decisions before. So why now? Why wouldn’t he want to know where the mushroom had come from? He didn’t have long to think before the clanging of wheels on concrete signaled the approach of medical help.

  Paramedics wheeled a gurney down the hall and stopped outside Ramsey’s cell. As the prison doctor explained the situation, the men began the process of transport.

  Brad didn’t move back until Ramsey had been properly cuffed to the gurney. Three guards approached from the opposite end of the corridor, falli
ng into flanking positions beside him.

  “Don’t take your eyes off him.” Brad ground out each word. If Ramsey thought eating a mushroom was going to be his get out of jail free card, he was sadly mistaken. He could ingest an entire fungus garden and Brad would still cart his ass back to prison the second the doctors released him.

  He retreated to his office once the ambulance pulled away. His hands shook when he logged on to his computer, and he cursed. John Ramsey had the ability to take away all of his restraint, to send him to a dark place where rational didn’t exist.

  After a brief check of the day’s activities Brad locked the computer down and headed toward the door, dialing Kate’s number on his way out. It rang three times, then went to voice mail.

  Brad tried his home number on his way to his SUV. It didn’t ring at all. He sped through two red lights and had gained a police escort by the time he made it to his house.

  “Kate!” He burst through the front door with two uniformed officers right behind him. When she didn’t answer his summons, his heart dropped.

  Had Ramsey’s fake suicide attempt been a ruse to get him away from Kate? Had his protégé taken her? How in the hell could he have let this happen?

  “Jericho, there’s a note.” One cop waved a slip of paper he’d discovered on the trunk in the living room.

  Brad snatched it out of his hand and scanned the words and relief flowed through him. Aaron had picked her up. They’d gone for coffee. She hadn’t wanted to call him in the middle of a crisis.

  Damn. He sank down onto the arm of the sofa and waved the cops away, with his thanks. Shaking hands dragged through his hair and he forced himself to remember how to breathe.

  He didn’t know how Kate had gotten to be so important to him in such a short amount of time. Maybe it was just his protective instincts. He hadn’t been able to save Hannah, but he could save Kate.

  Yeah, that was it. He shut out the small voice in his head calling him a liar.

  Aaron dropped his phone onto the table next to his plate of eggs. “John Ramsey was just taken to the emergency room.”