by Kylie Brant
Choosing her words with care, she said, “I guess you could say I was having a bit of a pity party for myself that night. I was grateful you interrupted it. I detest people who insist on feeling sorry for themselves, even if it’s me. Especially if it’s me.”
He gave up the pretense of reading. “You don’t strike me as the wallowing type.”
“Ah, but I was.” Sophia thought back to that night a few short weeks ago. Somehow the wound that had been so fresh and raw on the evening in question had dissipated to an irritating occasional sting. She knew that could be attributed to the man seated across from her. But although Cam Prescott summoned a tangled host of unidentified emotions, gratitude wasn’t among them. “I’d just heard from my ex-husband.” Idly, she played with the strap of her iPad cover. “A courtesy call to let me know that he was getting re-married.”
Cam raised one dark brow. “And was it a courtesy?” He reached for his coffee again.
“Oh, probably. Douglas and I still maintain a cordial relationship.” She gave a wry smile. “Our divorce was boringly amicable. We’d grown apart, with differing ideas about our careers, our futures. I was living in Des Moines by then, and he was still teaching at the University of Iowa. Although my walking into his university office to find him having sex with his teaching assistant on top of his desk hastened the demise of our long distance marriage, its ending was probably inevitable. He was never happy with my decision to leave teaching to focus on my forensic research and private practice.”
He choked a little at that, putting the cup down with a speed that had its contents sloshing dangerously close to the edge. “Let me get this straight. You caught him banging a grad student and your divorce was amicable? Most women I know would have been lunging for the nearest sharp instrument.”
She could feel herself coloring. “I’m not very adept in the art of making scenes, but believe me, any number of murderous responses occurred. But instead of acting on them I just stood shell-shocked, long enough for him to spring to his feet, pull up his pants and demand to know why I was there.”
His fascination was obvious. “Please tell me you had least punched him then. One good right jab to the gut.”
That surprised a laugh from her. Although the thought satisfied in hindsight, she hadn’t been capable of it at the time. “Again, out of character for me. I told him very calmly that we would discuss it at home and then I left. It wasn’t until I got back to my car that I remembered we didn’t share a home anymore. And really, what was there to discuss, other than the bitter observations about his being the offspring of a promiscuous canine. Instead of going to his house—our house—I drove back to my condo in Des Moines. After a week of ignoring his calls I was calm enough to speak to him about a divorce. He concurred.”
He stared at her so long she began to fidget. “What?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Everything. You’re endlessly fascinating. Go on. You said he called to tell you he was getting remarried, sending you into a tail spin.”
“No, it was the news that he was about to become a father that proved to be tail spin material,” she corrected. And yes, that memory still had bite. “We had both agreed that we wouldn’t have children, that we’d focus on our careers and our research. He’d reminded me often of what happened to academics who took time off for the mommy track. And he’d come from a very dysfunctional home and had little interest in ‘propagating a brood’ as he called it. We’d been in agreement.” They had been, hadn’t they? They’d discussed having a family in the same way they had discussed everything—books, philosophy, and work. With logic and well-formulated pros and cons, the way reasonable people did. She imagined her own parents, both professors at the University of Michigan, had held similar discussions before reaching the decision to have an only child groomed to follow in their footsteps.
But when she’d left teaching, oddly enough the topic had never arisen again, even with the change in circumstances.
“So the cheating bastard that you divorced several years ago called to let you know he’d knocked up his latest squeeze and was marrying her. You rightly felt a little betrayed since he’d convinced you not to have kids while you were together, but here he was ready to dive into daddy-hood with someone a decade or so younger. At least I assume he hasn’t lost his taste for college co-eds?”
She shook her head. “But in fairness, we had agreed…”
“Yeah, you said.” He reached for his coffee again, drained the cup. “You’ve got more self-restraint than any ten women I could name, but even the most controlled woman could be forgiven for going out to hang one on when they find out…ah.” He set the empty cup down with a carefully controlled movement.
Mystified, she inquired, “Ah…what?”
“So you and me…that was rebound sex. Or revenge sex. Maybe both.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “It certainly was not. I don’t make a habit of getting buzzed and going home with men in a misguided effort to get back at a long-time ex. That behavior would be juvenile and self-destructive.”
The man at the next table—who until that point had been happily spreading cream cheese on his three bagels—was staring at them with rapt fascination. Her furious scowl diverted his interest back to his breakfast. Lowering her voice, she leaned toward Cam. “I should have known you’d put the most tawdry slant on our relationship.”
“Did I say it was tawdry?” Unperturbed he returned his focus to the sports section. Turned a page. “There’s not a man alive who minds being used for rebound sex. Revenge sex would be a little bitter, but on second thought, you have too much class for that. So it was definitely rebound sex.”
It occurred to her that she felt more sheer fury toward this man than she had when she’d walked in on Douglas bent over his teaching assistant. “It. Was. Not. You are, without a doubt, the most illogical, insufferable…”
When he gave her an indulgent smile she was shocked to feel her fingers curl into a fist. “Of course it was. Douglas—pansy name, by the way—did a number on your confidence. He’s bragging about moving on, starting a family with someone else even though he convinced you to set aside any parenting plans….”
She gritted out the words from between clenched teeth. “We both agreed…”
He barreled on as if she hadn’t responded. “You were at a low point. You felt rejected and unwanted. Rebound sex is the perfect solution. Explains a lot, actually.”
Sophia wondered fleetingly if it were possible to strangle a man with a newspaper. To snatch the pages from his hand, roll them up and wrap them around his throat. “For the last time, whatever there was between us was not rebound sex. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
The gold flecks in his eyes were alight with interest as he gazed at her. “What was it, then?”
She opened her mouth. Snapped it shut again when she could find no words. Damn the man. Wasn’t that the exact same question she’d been grappling with for weeks?
“I am not late. It’s not late. You guys are just ridiculously early. Why are we up at dawn? Where’d you find the coffee?”
Jenna approached the table, words tumbling from her lips. Sophia shoved her iPad back inside her bag, gathered up her purse and rose to brush by her. “I’m going up to the room to get my suitcase.”
Behind her she heard the female agent say, “What’s the matter with Sophia? She didn’t look happy.”
Her temper spiked to dangerous levels when Cam answered, “Who knows? Maybe she found out she wasn’t a morning person after all.”
Chapter 5
“You don’t talk about your training much.”
The question was sudden, and completely unexpected. Sophia had suspected that Cam had fallen asleep. His face was buried in a pillow, and she was straddling his bare hips giving him a back rub.
Or at least attempting to. She’d never given one in her life and was only doing so now because she’d lost the bet. First one awake had to give the other
a back rub. That’s what they’d agreed to last night.
A slight frown furrowed her brow. She’d suspect him of cheating to win this one, except she couldn’t imagine how he could feign sleep so convincingly. His eyelids hadn’t fluttered once. His heartbeat had remained steady and slow, even when she’d stroked him intimately.
If he had been awake she’d have been a bit disappointed.
But he was awake now. And curious. She dug her thumbs into the muscles along his shoulder blades, got a grunt of approval in response. “You want to know about my schooling?”
“I want to know what it was like to be trained by Louis Frein before he retired from the BSU.”
She resumed her actions, moving to his shoulders. “He was brilliant. Short-tempered, but a wonderful teacher. He addressed my graduate level deviant psychology class one day and we spoke afterwards for quite a long time. He saw something in me I still don’t understand. When his offer came to intern at Quantico, I was stunned. He was persistent.” And impossible to tell no.
“You did some ground-breaking work with him. Not many get a chance like that so young.”
Sophia moved lower and started on the center of his back, alongside his spine. “And you’re wondering why I didn’t springboard from that to BAU?” she guessed shrewdly. The behavioral analysis unit consisted of FBI agents using the type of research generated by the BSU and utilizing it to solve active crimes. She used the heel of her palm to rub at a knot below his shoulder blade, eliciting a grunt of pleasure from him. “Because I’m not like you. At heart I’m an academic, like my parents. And I don’t have a brave bone in my body.”
He lifted his head to peer over his shoulder at her. “Don’t kid yourself. I’ve seen you in interviews. Where you go psychologically is every bit as harrowing as where a cop goes physically chasing these guys.”
“With the distinct advantage of not getting shot at.” Her voice was dry. His unexpected compliment warmed her, but she had no illusions about her capabilities. “My parents were…are academics. They expected me to follow their path.” That had seemed important at the time.
He dropped his head facedown to the pillow again. It was a wonder he could breathe. “It’s a shame to waste talent like yours.”
“I’m not wasting it.” She paused to admire the play of muscles in his back as they quivered and jumped at her ministrations. Redoubling her efforts, Sophia said, “With private practice I get the best of both worlds. A varied client list and the opportunity to consult with law enforcement on fascinating cases.” And wasn’t it odd how that circle had been completed, despite her detour to academia. Louis had predicted it would, eventually.
“I meant your massage technique. You’re so good at it I don’t feel guilty at all for pretending to be asleep when you woke up.”
“You…” It took a moment for his meaning to register. Indignation quickly followed. “You were not. I checked.” She rolled off him, only to have him follow and capture both her legs with one of his.
Laughter lit the gold flecks in his eyes. “You mean when you checked my pulse? Or later when you put your hand between my legs to…”
“You’re shameless,” she huffed. To punctuate her point she gave his chest hair a yank. He grimaced but merely shackled her wrists with one of his hands, stretched them over her head. Raked her nude body with a look that sent quick little bursts of fire through her veins.
“Smart,” he corrected. “I learned how to control my breathing in the Army. Came in handy in when I was wounded in Afghanistan and trying to convince a Taliban fighter I was dead. As for the other…” She could feel her cheeks heat at the wicked look in his eyes. “I was reciting the Gettysburg Address in my head to distract myself from where your hand was. Although if you’d lingered any longer I wouldn’t have gotten much past four-score-and-seven-years-ago.”
An unwilling smile pulled at her lips. “Devious and smart. A dangerous combination.”
He lowered his mouth to hers. “You forgot charming.”
Against his lips she breathed, “No. I didn’t.”
His head rose. “May I remind you of the vulnerability of your position?” As if to emphasize his words, he shifted his leg to part both of hers. Slid his knee up to where she was damp and aching.
“All right, charmingly abrasive. That’s about the best I can do.”
A slow smiled curved his lips. “Your best has always been good enough for me.”
Walking miles around endless parks to question its patrons went a long way toward helping Sophia regain her composure. Today’s plan had been clear before they retired last night, so she’d dressed in the yoga pants, tee and sneakers she’d brought for lounging in her motel room. She could hardly traipse around the miles of trails in suits and heels, her only other wardrobe options.
“I know this isn’t your field of expertise,” Cam had told her hours earlier, “but you’re welcome to pair up with one of us. Jenna will join several of Boelin’s men, flashing the victim’s picture to park patrons at all the places where Van Wheton liked to run. “Or you can come with me. I’ll be going over the enhanced security footage Boelin just received.”
Although there hadn’t been a trace of the maddening man she’d come so close to choking that morning in his terse, matter-of-fact demeanor, the choice had been a no-brainer.
And despite their singular lack of success so far, there were worst ways to spend a sunny June morning than familiarizing herself with Edina’s lovely outdoor spaces. A dozen uniformed officers were scattered around the Ashton Creek Park loop. It was the fourth of the area’s running trails they’d checked, and although a few people they’d stopped had recognized Van Wheton, none admitted to knowing her or having seen her in the area yesterday.
Jenna walked briskly ahead to stop a young mother strolling a toddler and infant. Sophia lagged behind, scanning the area. It was a given that the offender had stalked the victim. According to Van Wheton’s daughters their mother had varied her route so the subject would have had to be following the woman to make his move. More likely he’d trailed her for days and chose the area he would snatch her from. Another big risk, she thought, bending to retie her shoe, unless his plan to accost Van Wheton depended more on deceit than surprise. None of the places they’d covered so far this morning were especially isolated, although some had trails less traveled than others. Given how security conscious her daughters had said their mother was, it wasn’t surprising that the woman’s caution extended even to her exercise routine.
Rising, Sophia’s gaze traveled past Jenna and the young mother, who was shaking her head and continuing on her way. But even if Sophia were right about how the offender managed to gain his victim’s cooperation initially, he’d still want to keep his exposure to a minimum. Maybe he changed his appearance for each kidnapping. She eyed the scantily clad female jogging at a steady pace toward them. Even the vehicle he drove could be different every time. It would explain the lack of similarities that had emerged so far about the disappearance of their other two victims. Although she imagined that Cam’s first task once they got back to Des Moines would be to compare the security footage taken at the Edina bank with security images contained in the case files for each of the ID’d victims.
The thought broke off as she sighted a figure in the distance. Frowning slightly, she walked rapidly toward Jenna, her gaze still on the man she’d observed. He was too far away for her to recognize his features but something nagged her about the way he stood, tall and lanky with hands shoved deep in the pockets of his baggy shorts, shoulders hunched, head ducked.
Except his head wasn’t ducked now. His attention was fixed on the barely covered woman jogging toward Sophia. Memory clicked and she veered off the trail onto the manicured grass, intent on talking to him.
His hair was sandy colored. Shaggy. He fought a losing battle with the slight breeze by repeatedly raking it back from his face with spread fingers, his focus still fixed on the woman sporting only a neon pink sports bra and s
pandex tights with running shoes. He maintained a swift gait across the grass in a style that seemed haphazard, as he circled around benches and trees. But ultimately he kept a parallel pace to the jogger on the path.
Sophia had closed half the distance between them before he noticed her. Froze.
“Sir, could you help me?” she called, quickening her step.
Abruptly he angled away, heading toward a wooded area closer to the creek.
She walked faster. “Sir? Please stop for a moment.”
But the stranger had forgotten his fascination with the jogger on the path. He was now intent on reaching the shelter of the trees.
A sliver of caution filtered through her, although Sophia didn’t break stride. Reaching into her bag, she brought out her cell phone. Thumbed in Jenna’s number.
“What are you doing?” was the agent’s greeting. Sophia tossed a look over her shoulder. Already Jenna was crossing the blanket of grass toward her.
“There’s a man here. I’m positive I saw him this morning at Centennial Park.” She’d reached the tree line now, and her step faltered. Although the area didn’t look particularly threatening, she couldn’t be sure what awaited her in there. Most likely the stranger was using the wooded area to slip away from her.
It was the possibility that he remained near, hidden, waiting for her to follow that gave her pause.
“You’re sure?” The agent had broken into a run now, and was gesturing to one of the officers across the park to join her.
“I think…” Sophia saw a flash through the trees. The man was only yards away. “I’m going in after him. You’ve got this, right?”
“No, wait for me. Dammit, don’t you…”
But Sophia had already lowered the phone and plunged in the grove of trees after the man.
The space was cooler than the open expanse of lawn she’d left. The tree growth wasn’t especially dense, but the vegetation was mature. The canopy stretched as far ahead as she could see. Sunlight dappled the ground, filtering through leaves and branches. Under other circumstances Sophia would find it charming.
