Heart pounding, I tried to warn them, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move.
When I finally managed to croak out a semblance of a warning, the little girls turned with one face, and I scratched my throat raw with a silent scream. I knew her. All the women turned to look at me, their eyes chilling me to the bone. They were all a different version of me. The killer still circled, coming nearer and nearer, evil coating and coursing out of him like boiling lava. Mercifully, I woke up. Alive. And alone.
Disturbing images hung like wisps of spider silk. I eased to a sitting position. I needed to remember, to make sense of the frightening, now receding, scenes. I shook my head—a bad move. The pounding in my temples rivaled the pain that wracked my body, especially on my right side. An encounter with a dump truck would’ve been welcome right about now. Anything to kill the pain.
I stared into space for a good five minutes. The mule deer rack hanging on the wall in front of me wouldn’t have been my first choice of wall art. This was not my own bed at home. I was still in Wisconsin. Alone. More or less. Nick’s leather jacket hung on the doorknob to the adjoining motel room. The door was slightly ajar, and an Italian aria whispered into my room from his. Mystery solved.
Del had rented a separate room last night after the “accident.” So had Nick—right next to mine. Bad cop, good cop, on steroids. Tiny swords sliced into my temple at the thought of Del somewhere nearby. But Nick was right next door. His nearness was as deeply soothing as a warm, lavender oil scented bath on a cold night. I swung my legs over the edge of the rickety “resort” bed. If only I had a normal marriage. Or at least a safe one. But I would be better off without Del, especially this morning.
Images of sliding down the hill and slamming into the tree tangled and merged. Accident? Intentional? Details swam in an inky pool of conjecture when I tried to dissect the traumatic event. No. I couldn’t go down that path. I pushed the repugnant thoughts aside to focus on Nick’s serial killer.
What motivated the Mentor Sister Serial Killer? In order to stop him, we needed to find the key to his choice of victims. Nick’s description of the crime-scene photos merged with snippets from last night, oppressing my spirit with a weight that would’ve taken Atlas down.
Something Nick had said about this latest murder niggled at me. A connection hovered out of reach, teasing my subconscious. Something about why the Governor of Wisconsin wanted me involved in this case. Why me, a small-town police chief? Was this just a function of our small town roots pulling me back to the capital? Or did the Governor really need my help?
I’d let it settle in and bubble up when the time was right.
Two years ago, while slogging through mounds of data during a spree of gruesome murders, endless nights of pouring over reports, witness statements, crime-scene photos, and psych evals had strained me to the point of breaking. Another one of Nick’s “consult jobs.” My world had tilted more off kilter with each savaged child. I had sat beside each and every grieving parent, soaking up clues, tones, and possibilities. Desperately racing an unknown killer, I had nearly joined my colleagues in defeat.
Until my dreams wove into my daytime musings. Jarring bits and pieces from my dreams had pressed against me until a pattern emerged among the pictures in my head. Some bit of wisdom buried deep inside had led me to the key that unlocked the rituals the killer played out with his victims. It led us to his door… before a sixth child was taken.
There’d been many times over the course of my life when I felt and saw things in my mind’s eye before they actually occurred. I’d come to trust this, even if I couldn’t explain it. All I had to do was go about my business, relax into the rhythm of a new day, and the insight would find me. And that led me straight back to Nick.
I’d reached out to him last night, and he had appeared. He had my back. I imagined his handsome, square face above a steaming mug of his perfectly-brewed French roast coffee. The familiar longing tried to settle in. I had to knock it off before I started seeing apparitions of the guy wearing my apron and bringing me breakfast in bed. And maybe bringing me my Glock, fully loaded.
A shower might help. Hot water washing over me for a good, long time would help me face what lay ahead. I grabbed my cell and listened to my voice mail. Speak of the handsome devil.
Nick had already left three messages, telling me in the last one that he was going to pick me up, citing the name and address of our destination for the day. I looked at the fragile door between our two rooms. My eyes traveled over to the deadbolt. Best to get that baby locked. I called him back, and he told me Governor Burke wanted to see us as soon as possible. Since I had no car, Nick said he’d drive.
What had I said or done to him while under the influence of some pretty hefty painkillers? Vague images of him bending over me with warm, loving eyes plagued me. Had I kissed him? Hopefully not. Did it count if I couldn’t remember it? I sort of hoped I had kissed him. Sort of. Mostly not.
My cheeks warmed and I bent my head, gritting my teeth. I had to get these thoughts and feelings under control. I am not going there. I’m a married woman. For now. Focus on work. Focus on the serial killer case.
The FBI only called Nick in when they were up against a multi-state monster that only the best could catch. He had top-flight law enforcement experience. How he’d landed in Washington DC as some sort of secret agent after the Special Forces and the Chicago PD had their way with him was still a mystery he kept from me. That was how Nick rolled.
Given the gaps in my understanding of his career trajectory, him being assigned to meet with Governor Burke this morning seemed like one more “tell” to me, but who knew? I had my own connection to the state capital, but it wasn’t that big a secret. Wisconsin is really just a series of small towns strung together, like beads on a necklace. When it came right down to it, I was practically related to, or had gone to school with someone related to, every other person in the state.
The killer’s dirty work in Wisconsin had both sides of the aisle in the state’s capital in an uproar. Governor Burke himself wanted to meet with the core team and, by executive order, that now included me. Nick had wanted to give me a pass when he saw my condition last night, but I wouldn’t hear of it.
Knowing I’d been summoned to the governor’s office with Nick had undoubtedly fueled Del’s early morning silence. Which was preferable to last night’s ugly scene at the hospital when Nick had showed up in the emergency room. Del’s angry bellow had been the only warning before he rushed Nick, completely forgetting his supposed injuries. Orderlies had jumped in and grabbed Del’s arms while Nick stood by my side, steely eyes burning into my husband with disdain. When the orderlies muscled Del away, Nick just shook his head and made a tsking sound.
Last night, painkillers had seemed to do my marriage a world of good. Might’ve just been me though, come to think of it. I tried to shrug with my one good shoulder, dismissing the conflicting thoughts about my two main men as I made my way to the bathroom.
It wasn’t my best move of the morning. I’d forgotten how much my punctured shoulder ached, but I remembered it as soon as I shed the T-shirt I’d worn to bed and shuffled over the thick, shag carpet. The throbbing nerve signals in my muscles felt like hot pokers, and I gasped. But I needed to wash my hair and get presentable before meeting with the brass.
And I cared what Nick thought of my appearance. I managed to wash my hair and protect the bandages. Somewhat. It took a lot more effort than I’d have liked, but it was definitely worth it.
Once I finished my morning routine, grateful to whomever had brought my bags from our wrecked SUV to my room, I searched for Del to confront him before I spent the day hunting killers and holding politicians’ hands with Nick. I found my husband in the diner next door, eating breakfast and holding court with a small group of locals. As I made my entrance, he was giving fantastic, faux details of the crash, making him out to be the hero in some wild, man-against-nature adventure.
So this was how it was go
ing to be. Again.
I puffed out a breath of air and rolled my eyes. Swallowing bile, I turned away from the whole lot and sat down by myself at the other end of the counter. They knew who I was. They took Del’s lead and ignored me. Another set of silent witnesses to my not-so-secret misery. Then Nick walked into the diner, singing in Italian and smiling with his perfect, white teeth.
Nick Vitallero was as gorgeous this morning at thirty-six as he had been at twenty-six. No, scratch that. He was actually better looking. A touch of gray at the temples set off his jet-black hair. A perfectly formed, square jaw framed his museum-quality, Italian features. And he was as dangerously fit as ever.
Oh, boy. I’m gonna need another painkiller. STAT.
I ordered sausage, eggs, and toast, and turned away from Del and his new buddies as Nick slid onto the stool next to me. He winked at the waitress.
She smiled at him expectantly. “What’ll it be, hon?”
“I’ll have what she’s having, with a side of you for supper. Say, about nine o’clock tonight?”
She rolled her eyes, snapped her order book shut, and moved off, still smiling.
“Gotta hand it to you, Nick. You still got it.”
“Yes, I do, Jo. I’ve got everything but you. Which was painfully obvious last night. You didn’t have to alert every local yokel within a hundred miles. You called me. That was enough. I would’ve been happy to take care of you. And Del.”
“I couldn’t not call in the car accident... you know that. I forgot what it was like in a hick town. I should’ve thought about the fact that something like this would be the biggest event this side of the state fair for those guys. Why do you think I blew this pop stand the minute I got out of high school?” The levity I forced into my voice wasn’t working; Nick’s face was an angry wall.
“So you bring the keystone cops to the scene from four counties but don’t tell any of them about that scumbag of a husband of yours?”
“Sarcasm is beneath you, Nick.” I patted his hand.
“Maybe so. But anger isn’t. You grew up with half of those guys. As many times as you and your friends out-ran cops during your own crazy years, and you couldn’t pull one of them aside and tell them the truth? I guess I should be glad that I’m not the only one you won’t let behind those thick walls of yours.” He reached his hand over and wrapped his fingers around mine.
“I’m doing the best I can, Nick. And no—I wasn’t about to come clean to my old pals. Stealing for-sale signs and getting hauled in to the station together twenty years ago doesn’t exactly make them my soul mates. There’s no way I’d ever broadcast my wreck of a marriage to those dudes. Heck, three of them went from being tossed into the back of the squad to driving it within months of me taking the oath.” I chuckled.
“It certainly didn’t hurt that your sheriff responded to Del’s call. The minute he showed up, I hear Del went gentle as a kitten. I still want to punch Del in the face.” Nick’s casual tone was a clue. He always grew unnaturally quiet when he was jealous.
“You know Quinn and I go way back.” I eased my hand out from under his as our food arrived. “Can’t say I didn’t love the way he bee-lined over to me, completely ignoring Del.”
“Quinn’s too good a cop to buy your ‘accident’ explanation, but even in your weakened state, you charmed him into skimping the report. He told me you were like two little kids laughing about old times in the back of that ambulance, lights on and sirens off. It was ridiculous.” He snorted in laughter. I’d won him back.
“I plead temporary insanity. I found my Sheriff Quinn to be both amusing and a perfect gentleman.” I stabbed at my sausage and looked up at Nick.
“Someone should’ve chaperoned you two. I should’ve been there to defend your honor. Keep it from turning into a redneck reunion.” He laughed again and shook his head.
“Laugh if you must, but his phone call did get us to the hospital in record time.”
I’d barely made it back to my room to grab my belongings before Nick’s distinctive knock sounded at my door. I stood on the other side, trembling. As much as my heart sang at the thought of examining the evidence with him and going after a killer together, the mere idea of being alone in his car with him all day was throwing my body into meltdown.
Without all the distractions, would his laser mind cut through my denial of Del’s motivation in the ‘accident’? Even as we hunted a killer, Nick would chase down the truth about my crumbling marriage. Was that really what I wanted? To share with Nick the latest chapter of my gruesome love-story-gone-wrong?
I was sick of bearing secret agonies. Sick of living in isolation with nothing but the weight of my shame to rely on. Sick of slogging through the dregs of my unhappiness on my way out the door every morning, tiptoeing home every evening and hoping I’d make it through another day. Mostly though, I was sick to death of what was true about me and my abusive husband, and I was ready to find a new life. But could Nick guide me to the truth I sought? I stood there, unable to open the door.
Finally, I peeked through the door’s peephole.
“Hey, beautiful! Do I have to invite myself in?”
Opening the door, I stood aside. He pulled me into his arms as soon as he crossed the threshold, mindful of my bandages. I leaned into him. He tightened his grip around my waist and back, pulling me closer. The feel of him, the smell of him, the solid truth of him poured over me, Maui-perfect. Darkness weaved in and out between the two of us, standing side by side in my mind’s eye for a moment. I was a painfully married woman. Nick was my best friend. And long ago, he’d once been far more. But I couldn’t think about that now. I pushed gently away from his embrace, reaching for some balance between us.
“I’m so glad you found me last night.” I sighed.
“I’ve never lost track of you, beautiful, and I never will. Don’t you know that yet? After all these years? Honey, you’re always in my scope.”
“Nick.” His name poured off my lips like a smile. The warmth and safety of his arms set fire to a potent mixture of raw emotions. My heart went into overdrive, and my windpipe constricted. Every cell in my body thrummed with a distant sense of pleasure. So refreshing after my failure of a marriage. I wanted to be loved... not abused.
I dropped my gaze to the porch decking outside my motel door as a wave of guilt washed over me. Should I even try to conjure up the courage to talk about what was happening in my shipwreck of a marriage, or was that way out of bounds? As much as I respected Nick’s opinion, mostly I just wanted an escape.
Was someone above looking out for me? Maybe my life could be bigger than this lousy moment in time, bigger than another wounded night by my abusive husband’s side. Could I possibly have a guardian angel, and did I even believe in them? Bigger gun, better question: did I even believe in God?
One thing was for sure though—if I had a guardian angel, he was Italian, and his name was Nick.
Olive skin wrapped the muscle of Nick’s right arm like water over solid rock in a Colorado river as he navigated the curved road one-handed. Judging by the slow upturn of his perfectly sculpted lips, he must’ve felt me watching him. I tried to pull my eyes away and content myself with staring out the window, but there was nothing to see but black-and-gray blobs speeding by as we glided down I-94 South toward Madison. Back to Nick.
He cracked a crooked smile. “You shoulda married me, Josie. You could watch me all day long.”
My smirk and an eye roll were all I had to offer. We’d been down that road—half joking and half serious—many times before. We’d come closest to the altar years ago when we made it through our first few nerve-racking years as inner-city beat cops. He was my whole world once. Until he walked out on me with no explanation, leaving me keening for him like a she-wolf, night after night for longer than I wanted to admit.
Then Del waltzed into my life. Del with his Midwestern roots, non-stop charm, and souped-up, black sports car. But I didn’t need to invite in the fantasy of Nick this
morning. I needed more than the fantasy. I needed Nick next to me in the line of fire. So I needed to remain all-business. Maybe I could give myself extra credit for keeping my feelings for him on a low simmer?
I swallowed. “Yeah, yeah, shut up and drive.”
“That’s what I love about you. No guesswork.”
“Nope.”
“Every man’s dream.”
“Yup. Well, turns out not every man’s dream.”
“So, are you ready to talk about it?”
“Guess not.” I really thought I was, but once we were alone and driving along a quiet highway, I couldn’t give voice to this. I couldn’t speak the words that needed to be said. Instead, I kept staring at his wrist bone as he drove. Smooth.
Nick moved his hand toward me slowly and rested it on my shoulder. “Josie, there isn’t anything you could tell me I haven’t already guessed.”
He widened his fingers and massaged my neck.
Warmth from his hand poured over me, crashing through my gut where it was met with a roiling sea. Heat rolled up my throat to my face. Twinkling pinpricks appeared before my eyes, and my lungs slammed into my ribs, leaving me gasping. I sat in silence. Surely my body would return to my control eventually. The car had stopped moving. Nick had pulled into a rest area, and I hadn’t even noticed.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face me. “Josie, what happened between you and Del? What’s really going on?”
His voice was low and steady.
A tear rolled down my cheek, and I turned to look out the window. I put my hand over his, kept my eyes focused on a fence post and began to speak.
“Shortly after we were married ten years ago, a couple of weeks maybe, we were driving on this very highway, fighting. The funny thing is, I don’t even remember what it was about. We weren’t even really fighting about anything, but we were fighting. And he was driving way too fast, like he does. And all of a sudden, going way over the speed limit, he pulls the car into one of those wayside stops. Without warning.
Cleansed by Death Page 2
