by Virna DePaul
The only thing the victims had in common was that they’d all been teachers, but they’d taught at different schools and different grade levels. Johnson had taught seventh-grade biology. Steward had taught elementary school. And Anderson had taught English at a local college. It was a connection, true, but it was far from a solid one. Unlike the other victims, Anderson had lived alone.
Given the information they did have, the first thing Carrie would recommend was canvassing witnesses at Anderson’s college. Talking to her students. Also checking out the facilities and who had access where. The man who’d killed Anderson had spent a lot of time on her. He’d needed the supplies, space and privacy to perform the embalming. It was unlikely he’d pick a busy college campus as his base camp, but she needed to make sure. After that, she’d have to explore other options. Places near the college. A mortuary? A hospital? And that was assuming he didn’t have an embalming facility set up in a house somewhere. Maybe that’s why there’d been a year-long gap between his second murder and his third. He’d relocated. Needed to set up shop someplace in San Francisco. That meant she’d need to check out businesses that sold embalming equipment. Track down individuals who might have stocked up on relevant supplies recently. And she’d have to speak personally with the detectives at Fresno P.D.
She already had their written reports. Of course, the Fresno P.D. had looked into a possible connection between Johnson and Steward, as well. They’d concentrated on questioning witnesses in neighborhoods near the victims’ homes and businesses, but had come up empty. They’d interviewed the victims’ families and friends, and SFPD had done the same with Anderson. But this was Carrie’s case now, and that meant she’d probably reinterview everyone herself, just to be sure all bases had been covered.
It wasn’t a matter of believing the other police officers had been sloppy or incompetent. It was a matter of speaking to the witnesses directly, being able to look them in the eye, study their demeanor and body language and tone of voice. In the same way that a jury needed to be able to assess a witness’s credibility on the stand, Carrie needed to assess the credibility of the witnesses who might be able to help her or prevent her from finding a killer.
With each hour that passed, Carrie’s “to-do” list got bigger and bigger. Long after she tired, she forced herself to keep working, reading police and psychological reports, looking at pictures, trying to draw links between pieces of evidence; even so, she was ever aware of the passage of time. At just before six, she couldn’t avoid it any longer.
She had no good reason to miss Mac and Natalie’s wedding celebration.
She’d been through the files multiple times and had compiled a detailed report of her findings for her meeting with Stevens. She was tired, mentally and physically, and she needed to take a break. Get a change of scenery and wipe her mind clear before diving in again. Was she going to join the other SIG members at McGill’s the way Mac had asked? Or would she continue to hide?
Forty-five minutes later, she had her answer. Actually, she had several, not all of them good.
As she stood on the other side of the street from McGill’s, staring into the bar through the front windows, she realized this was what she’d been dreading. More than she’d been dreading a reminder of her last encounter with Jase, she’d been dreading this feeling.
She’d been away from SIG for just over a month, but it had been enough. The passage of time had done more damage than Kevin Porter’s bullet. She didn’t even need to step inside McGill’s to confirm it. She was on the outside looking in.
Not just outside a bar watching her teammates talking and laughing inside. But outside the team. At least, that’s how she felt. Forget that she was the sole female on the SIG team. Or that she was one of only a handful of female special agents at DOJ, just as she’d been one of only a handful of female MPs in the army and the only woman on the Austin and SFPD SWAT Teams. She respected all her SIG team members and truly felt they respected her, but nonetheless her place within SIG had always felt tenuous, and tonight that seemed glaringly apparent.
She didn’t fit in. She never had, not completely. Hell, she wouldn’t even fit in with the other people in the bar, regardless of whether they were law enforcement or ordinary citizens.
Automatically, she tugged at her already pressed-and-creased button-down shirt. It was a far cry from what Regina had been wearing on her date with Jase one month ago. It was nothing like what the other women in the bar were wearing now. Unlike her, they wore makeup and their hair down. They looked soft. Feminine. Touchable. Compared to them, Carrie probably looked as brittle as she felt.
Without meaning to, she searched for Jase.
He was sitting with fellow SIG agent Bryce DeMarco and talking with a couple of women who’d stopped by their table. They were stacked. Gorgeous. As confident in their femininity as Carrie normally was in her abilities as a cop.
Now she was just one jumbled mass of nerves and insecurity.
It was a hideous feeling, not because she didn’t have her fair share of hang-ups, but because she was doubting her current ability to hide them. No one could see how vulnerable she felt. No one. Whether they were cops or criminals, strong personalities had a natural tendency to exploit weakness in others.
To prevent herself from becoming easy prey, she needed to act like nothing had changed. Like she hadn’t changed. And that meant walking into that bar and congratulating Mac on his recent marriage.
She didn’t want to. She didn’t feel up to any of it. Not congratulating Natalie Jones, Mac’s new wife, a woman who, despite her blindness, seemed to have the kind of life that had never been an option for Carrie. Not seeing the faces of her teammates. Not bantering with Jase and pretending she didn’t want him.
But she was going to go inside. She was going to pretend she was fine. And hopefully, soon, she would be. She’d have her bearings back.
Work was the thing that had always been her comfort. Her confidence. She’d never been the pretty one. Never fit in with the girls at school or understood their need to shop and primp and gossip. She’d been more interested in the things her brothers did. And she’d always been interested in helping others. Taking on those bigger and stronger than her and besting them through stamina and smarts.
That’s what she’d always been good at.
That was her place in the world.
Trying to expand it would only bring her grief.
CHAPTER FOUR
JASE WAS IN A PISS POOR-MOOD, but he wasn’t dead. That’s why, when Carrie walked through the door of McGill’s after a month’s leave from SIG, his body responded the way it always did in her presence—at full aching mast. Time spun away, and suddenly he was back outside the bar with her body pressed against his, before Regina had come looking for him. Just as he had back then, he imagined taking Carrie in every imaginable way possible—with her standing up, sitting down, bent over or on her back with her legs spread wide and over his shoulders. He pictured her mouth doing everything but talking, while his own mouth got busy investigating the moist depths of her body.
In his mind, he took her with a ferociousness completely contrary to the way he’d actually kissed her before, when Natalie Jones-now-McKenzie had been hospitalized. Carrie had been trying so hard to comfort Mac, when in reality she’d needed comforting herself. And Jase had needed to be the man to give it to her. No, that brief, closed-mouth kiss on the lips had been nothing like the ones he currently fantasized about.
But knowing it was all he was likely to get, he cursed softly.
From beneath hooded eyes, Jase watched as Carrie headed toward Mac and Natalie, who were standing by the bar getting another round of drinks for the table. Except for Simon Granger, who’d be acting supervisor for the next two weeks, the whole SIG team was now present to celebrate Mac and Natalie’s spontaneous trip to City Hall and their official new beginning. Tomorrow, they were headed to Africa for an unconventional honeymoon. Jase didn’t doubt they’d be spending a lot of t
heir time indoors and horizontal, but they’d also enjoy exploring the exotic locale. Mac had mentioned more than once that Natalie, who’d made her living as a photographer before she’d gone blind, was excited to try a new technique for blind photographers she’d recently read about. Knowing what Natalie had overcome in the past few months, including nearly being killed by a man nervous about some photos she’d taken, Jase couldn’t be happier for them.
As Carrie made her way toward the couple, Jase rubbed his ear, the same ear she’d tried to bite off the last time they’d been here together. She wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever known, yet he couldn’t help comparing her to the women she passed. McGill’s wasn’t exactly a trendy pickup joint, but it wasn’t a bad place to meet women, either. There were always a few trolling for men to spend some time with in and out of the sheets. Like the two friends who’d just been chatting with Jase. Like the brunette who was at that very moment eyeballing him from another table. Like the curvy blonde Carrie had just passed. They’d been painted, plucked and slathered with lotion until they radiated feminine allure.
On the other hand, Carrie looked just as out of place as she had the last time he’d seen her at McGill’s. Her deep red hair was pulled back into her obligatory ponytail, any makeup she’d been wearing had long since faded and her pressed Dockers and starchy pinstripe shirt, while not quite disguising her femininity, definitely radiated business more than romance. The files she held at her side added to the professional image. Which was hilarious, considering she was on medical leave, and therefore business was the last thing she should have been dressed for. Hell, the woman obviously didn’t know the meaning of the words casual or fun.
Didn’t matter. She hadn’t even looked at him, but he was already harder than an iron spike. His response to her was completely baffling, especially given how fervently she denied the attraction between them. Especially given she was a cop.
Professionally, Jase had no problem working with female cops. Some of them, including Carrie, were the best cops in the business.
Personally?
Jase liked his women simple, tarted up and willing to please. Carrie Ward, a former Army MP and now special agent just like Jase, certainly didn’t qualify. So why did she get to him so much so fast?
It was barely noticeable, but he saw the slight way she favored her right leg as she walked. It had suffered significant trauma. Since the doctors had believed she wouldn’t walk for at least six weeks, let alone that she’d ever walk without a cane, she’d obviously been doing her physical therapy and pursuing recovery the way she did everything else—head-on, at full speed ahead.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true.
She pursued everything that way except her desire for him. That was the one thing she had no intention of facing. Ever. Her failure to even look at him simply confirmed the fact.
Hell, he should be glad. He’d fought his attraction to her from the instant he’d seen her. Had gone out of his way to avoid her since the night they’d shared that brief kiss. At least, he’d gone out of his way until that last night at McGill’s. That night, he’d been standing next to Regina but studying Carrie’s reflection in a mirror on the wall. He’d been watching her the entire time since she’d arrived. As such, he’d noticed when she’d turned and spotted him with Regina. For a split second, she’d looked hurt and then she’d left. Something—a flash of loneliness he’d seen in her eyes or perhaps the empty ache he’d felt in his own chest—had compelled him to follow her. To proposition her. But she’d rejected him quite thoroughly. Not all that surprised, he’d cursed himself for a fool and counted himself grateful that she’d ignored his little moment of weakness. Then she’d gotten shot, and the severity of her injuries had reminded him exactly why she was the kind of woman he needed to stay away from.
The kind that would eventually destroy him whether he kept her or lost her.
He’d almost gone crazy when he’d learned she’d been shot. He’d beat everyone to the hospital and had been hollering for an update before Mac had arrived and tried to calm him down. But even when he’d heard Carrie was going to be okay, he hadn’t calmed down. He hadn’t felt calm in over a damn month. No matter where he went, no matter who he was with, inevitably he thought of her. For a man who enjoyed women in all their infinite variety and had no problem moving on to the next great thing, it had scared the shit out of him. Afraid of what he might reveal, he’d forced himself not to visit her, at least not after that first time, and instead had settled for the occasional update from Mac and the commander. In the past few weeks, even though she was never completely out of his mind, he’d managed to think of her less often. It was an achievement he had to continue.
When she returned to SIG, things between them would be back to normal, with him dating his women and her… Well, he had no doubt she’d once again use her sharp tongue and another man to keep her distance from him. At one time, that man had been Mac. Now, it looked as if she’d be using several new men instead.
According to DeMarco, before she’d been shot, Carrie had been dating her way through San Francisco P.D.’s SWAT team. Was that why she’d gone to McGill’s that night? Had she been planning on bedding a SWAT officer only to be distracted by Jase?
“Jase, you dog. You’ve been holding out on me.”
Jase reluctantly dragged his gaze from the sweet curve of Carrie’s khaki-clad butt and turned to face DeMarco. “What?”
DeMarco grinned. “You were checking out Ward.”
Rolling his eyes, Jase leaned farther back in his seat, automatically smiling when the brunette at the nearby table caught his eye again. “I wasn’t checking her out. The last woman I’d be interested in is a whack job like Ward.” Even as he spoke, he felt a twinge of guilt. Not for being dishonest but for being disloyal. He was attracted to Carrie and fighting it, but first and foremost he admired her. She wasn’t a whack job so much as the one woman who was completely wrong for him but still managed to drive him crazy with lust. Somehow, it seemed wrong to disparage her just to disguise his own vulnerability, but he didn’t have much choice, did he? Not with the sudden gleam in DeMarco’s eyes that told Jase he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.
“Come on. Fess up. You can’t take your eyes off her, and with good cause. Ward is smoking hot.”
Because Jase wanted so badly to agree, he forced himself to continue the charade with a bit more force than necessary. “She’s a lunatic. An adrenaline junkie proud of her man-eater reputation.” At least that last part was true. Carrie was tough and rarely showed fear. Not even to the team.
Probably, if he was honest with himself, the team would be the last people she’d let see her afraid. It was true for him. Why not for her, too?
“Yeah,” DeMarco continued, completely unaware of Jase’s thoughts. “But she’s still muy caliente. If it wouldn’t be like kissing my sister, she could eat me up anytime.”
Another image of long limbs, smooth skin and moist, pink secrets flashed before his eyes. He tried superimposing the nearby brunette’s exotic features over Carrie’s face, but it didn’t work. “Different strokes, my man,” he managed to drawl.
“You’re protesting way too much. Why don’t you just admit you want her?”
“Uh—because I don’t.” Lie. Such a big lie. “She’s got a fine ass, but everything that goes with it is way too much trouble. Besides, I’m dating that model I met at the grocery store.”
“You mean the blonde with big tits?” DeMarco tsked. “She’s practically jailbait, man.”
“Twenty-four is hardly jailbait,” Jase said with a frown. Although it did sound a little young. “And talk about hot. The last thing I have time or energy for is Carrie Ward.”
DeMarco stared at him for several long minutes but, even though her features were a blur, Jase didn’t take his eyes from the brunette who now walked toward him.
“Well, shit. That’s no fun.”
Jase forced himself to grin. “I beg to differ. Lori used to b
e a gymnast, you know.”
DeMarco snorted and shook his head. “For you, that’s par for the course.”
Jase stood when the brunette finally reached them. “Hi. I was hoping you were coming to see me and not my friend here.”
She laughed, the sound low and just as sexy as her tousled curls and low-cut blouse. “Maybe I haven’t made up my mind yet.” Her gaze flickered to DeMarco. “You both look like you can show a girl a good time.”
Despite his sudden weariness, Jase forced himself to play his part. He leaned toward the brunette. “Thanks so much, darlin’. But you need to know…”
Jase spoke with the brunette for several minutes. Before she left, she handed him her business card and gave DeMarco a flirty wave goodbye.
DeMarco just shook his head. “Chica doesn’t know what she’s missing out on,” he grumbled good-naturedly, his massive ego obviously not in the least bit threatened.
Jase pocketed Kelly The Brunette’s number just as Carrie turned and looked at him. She’d been chatting with Mac and Natalie, and had finally put down her damn files. She smiled tightly at Jase before turning back to the bartender, a tall, good-looking kid with dimples. Jase couldn’t resist. “So have you heard when Carrie’s starting work?” he asked DeMarco. “I thought she wasn’t coming back for another few weeks, but she looks…good.”
“She’s meeting with Stevens in the morning. She’s got a shot at her first serial case. No way is she going to let it slip away.”
Forgetting to feign casualness, Jase straightened. “She’s getting the lead on the big one? Damn it, I told Mac I wanted that.” And he’d thought he’d made his request early enough for it to make a difference. Serial cases were far more rare than people thought, but they were generally high-profile enough that solving one could do wonders for one’s career. Besides, the connection between the recent victim and two cold-case victims, the same connection that had prompted the higher-ups to transfer the case to SIG, had only been made less than forty-eight hours ago. When had Mac and Commander Stevens made their decision?
