Guilty as Sin

by Jami Alden

  He cocked an eyebrow at her, and no matter how much common sense told him not to flirt, not to tease, not to react with anything but complete indifference, he couldn’t stop himself from saying “Latex comes in handy. I always make sure I’m carrying.”

  He could tell she caught his meaning from the magenta stain in her cheeks. It took a force of will to keep the smile from his face. Goddamn, he’d forgotten how much fun it was to make her blush, make her eyes drift silently to the floor. With her red-gold hair spilling over her shoulder, her cheeks pink, she didn’t look a day older than that sixteen-year-old he’d loved to tease.

  She’d been so innocent then, it hadn’t taken much.

  That it didn’t take much more now sent his thoughts drifting in a wholly inappropriate direction, such as wondering exactly how innocent she still was. How many lovers had she had in the past fourteen years, and did they make her skin get that rosy flush all over?

  He shoved the thought away and along with it the acid burn that accompanied the thought of another man touching her, running his hands over her smooth, pale skin… “Where’s your car?” he asked, a little too gruffly, judging by the startled look she gave him.

  “Out front.”

  He followed her out the door and about halfway down the block where she’d parked her rental. “It was tucked under the windshield when I came out this morning.”

  “You didn’t hear or see anything unusual.” It wasn’t a question. He doubted anyone else had seen anything either. The townhouses were popular rentals, being both on the lake and close to downtown, and also cheaper to rent than the larger lakeside houses. Dozens of people were in and out at all hours of the day, and anyone could have waited till Kate parked and went inside and slipped the envelope under the wiper without being remarked on.

  He cursed under his breath, kicking himself for not trying harder to convince the owners to install security cameras. Two years ago Tommy had installed a new alarm system across all the units after several homes nearby had been broken into. But the owner had balked at the cost of a state-of-the-art video surveillance system, and Tommy hadn’t been able to get him to budge.

  All it would have taken was one street-facing camera, and they might be able to see who was passing Kate the information. But unless that person made him- or herself known, his identity would remain a mystery. Along with the motivation for writing the note.

  The skin of his shoulders pulled tight at the thought of someone watching her, tracking her moves without her knowing, of possibly leaving the note to fuck with her. He’d always had that protective instinct when it came to her. Apparently it was still there, no matter how many years had passed or how much damage they’d managed to do to each other.

  They went back upstairs and Kate showed him all the material she’d found online about the cases.

  Tommy scanned through several articles. “You realize someone could just be doing this to mess with you.”

  Kate nodded. “Of course. But something in my gut is telling me we need to pay attention to it.” Tommy nodded and took his own laptop out of his bag. He was damned familiar with the feeling, and most of the times he’d gotten in trouble was when he’d ignored it.

  Except, he reminded himself, for the summer when his gut convinced him that beautiful, innocent, too-young-for-him Kate was the only girl in the world for him.

  So much for his gut, but he had to agree that the Bludgeoner case begged for more investigation.

  By the time CJ showed up with his own stack of papers, Tommy had managed to access information from the state and local law enforcement systems where the victims had lived and also had a copy of Dorsey’s interrogation transcript and the report from the medical examiner who’d done his autopsy.

  “You got the files?” Kate asked, her voice eager as CJ put his papers in the middle of the small dining table.

  “This is what they could send electronically,” CJ said. “The rest will have to be pulled and sent hard copy. And there’s no guarantee we’ll get all of it.”

  “I’m just glad you still have enough friends in the Bureau to have access to this,” Tommy said. “I may be the best, but hacking into the FBI’s files is something I like to save for only the most special occasions.”

  Kate gave a little snort but didn’t say anything.

  “I don’t think my limited influence would get you very far if you got caught,” CJ said. “I had to call in most of my favors just to access these files, and to be honest, I’m not convinced it was worth it. Tying Tricia’s disappearance to a serial case closed ten years ago just doesn’t make sense.”

  “It made sense to whoever left me that note,” Kate pointed out.

  “Any whack job with access to a computer and a printer can leave you a note,” CJ retorted.

  “Well, on the bright side,” Tommy broke in, “if it is the same guy who has Tricia, and he’s holding to his pattern, we probably have an entire week until he snaps and beats her to death.”

  They pulled out chairs around the dining table and started sifting through the files, searching for any kernel of information that might link these cases to Tricia’s.

  “It says here that there was some argument over whether Dorsey committed suicide,” Tommy said as he read through the medical examiner’s report. “One of the assistant medical examiners questioned whether the abrasions on Dorsey’s neck were consistent with the type of rope he used.”

  “Did he suspect foul play?” CJ asked.

  “All it says here is that the assistant thought it was worth additional investigation. Who knows? Maybe the real killer set Dorsey up to take the fall and faked his suicide.”

  “That sounds a little far-fetched,” CJ said.

  “Oh, trust me. Stranger things have happened. Remember my friend Sean?”

  Kate half listened to their conversation as she pored over the pages. She was at once nauseated yet unable to look away. You have to keep it together, she kept reminding herself. You deal with this kind of thing every day. You’re strong. Stuff like this doesn’t shock you anymore.

  Yet as she read paragraph after paragraph of the injuries inflicted on Stephanie Adler, the girl thought to be the Bludgeoner’s second victim, she couldn’t keep the horror at bay. Couldn’t imagine how terrifying and unbearably painful the last minutes of her life must have been.

  How excruciating it was for her parents to learn that their child was not only dead but that she’d died an agonizing death.

  She swallowed hard and flipped the page, only to lock eyes on a picture that sent her hurtling over the edge. It was a close-up picture of Stephanie’s face, so battered her parents had to identify her by a unique birthmark on her right thigh. Her skin was a cold gray where it wasn’t mottled with dark bruises. Her nose, once small and turned up at the tip, had been broken so badly it looked like a blob of clay stuck to her skin. Her cheekbones had been crushed. Finger-shape bruises ringed her throat, but that wasn’t what killed her.

  The medical examiner had determined that the cause of death was from repeated blows to her face and head with a heavy object, eventually damaging her brain so badly that her frontal lobe had been virtually turned to soup.

  Kate had seen evidence of worse, done to younger victims, but telling herself that didn’t stop her vision from swimming, didn’t stifle the sensation that if she didn’t get out, now, she was likely to claw out her own eyes to avoid seeing another gruesome image, reading about another vile act.

  She sucked in a shaky breath and put the photos aside for a moment to read the details in the medical examiner’s report. It took a moment for her to focus on the small print, but soon she was able to absorb additional evidence the body revealed.

  Thin cut on the victim’s neck, most likely left by a chain or necklace. Likely inflicted as assailant twisted the chain tightly around the victim’s neck. Kate absently lifted her fingers to her own throat, feeling her own skin tingle at the imagined sting of a chain digging into her neck. The wounds were co
nsistent with those found on the other bodies.

  Also in keeping with the other victims, Stephanie had been found with the residue of a skin cream with an iridescent ingredient that gave the girls’ skin a subtle sparkle. What kind of sick monster coated his victims’ skin in sparkly skin cream before killing them?

  She skimmed down and was about to turn the page when her gaze locked on a piece of evidence that wasn’t included in the other victims’ reports.

  She didn’t realize she’d made a sound but suddenly Tommy and CJ were both there, peering over her shoulder.

  “What?” Tommy asked.

  Kate licked her suddenly dry lips. It took her a couple of tries to get the words out. “Beaute D’or,” she finally managed, and was met by confused grunts. “The skin cream. Stephanie Adler had enough of it on her skin that they were able to identify the brand. It’s this really fancy stuff, with real gold powder mixed in.”

  “And that freaked you out why?” Tommy said.

  Kate closed the folder with shaking hands. “My mom used to use it, and Lauren and I were always sneaking it—we liked the way it made our skin sparkle. So when we turned sixteen she got us our own for our birthday.” Silence hung thickly over the room as they absorbed the information.

  “You were wearing it that night,” Tommy said, his voice tight. “I remember the way…” He cut off his words, and Kate heard his heavy footsteps as he crossed to the window.

  It meant nothing, she was sure. “It’s just a coincidence,” she said, hoping that saying the words aloud would alleviate the tight, tingly feeling creeping up her back and shoulders. “You can get it anywhere, any department store,” she said through the tightness in her throat.

  But she couldn’t stop the roll of nausea as she remembered how she and Lauren had so treasured that little jar of gold-flecked cream, used it so sparingly to make it last. The way she’d so carefully smoothed it on her skin that night, anticipating how Tommy would see it shimmer, touch the silky smoothness himself.

  For the victims, it had been just one more step in the killer’s sadistic ritual, one more violation as he’d rubbed it over their skin.

  She stood abruptly, swaying a little as Tommy and CJ looked up, startled. “I need—I need to get out,” she stammered. “I need air.”

  Fueled by her need as much as the humiliation of having them see her break down, Kate darted for the front door, pausing only long enough to grab her keys, a light jacket, and her cell phone.

  She walked quickly, blindly down the sidewalk, ignoring their calls to stop. “Please don’t follow me,” she called in a choked voice. “Please, I just need some space.”

  She didn’t check whether they obeyed, just kept going.

  Her phone rang several times in a row. Kate powered it off with a twinge of guilt, unable to even have it vibrating in her pocket. She needed to be cut off for a little while.

  At home in L.A. she often went on long hikes in the hills to clear her head. Today she instinctively strode to the edge of town where the trails wound their way up into the mountains.

  Though she hadn’t been there in years, her sneaker-clad feet automatically followed the path she’d taken dozens of times in her youth even as she struggled to clear her mind and pull herself together.

  There was no reason for her to fall apart. But she was forced to admit that no matter how she tried to keep the emotions at bay, being here, in this town, working so closely with Tommy and CJ was a constant reminder of Michael, that summer, that night.

  Even if she could keep the memories and rough emotions out of her conscious mind, they were there, lurking. Like toxins seeping into her system, slowly eating away at her, sapping her strength until she broke.

  The trail angled up sharply and Kate charged up it as though the hounds of hell were chasing her, as though she could purge the weakness and the sadness from her body through her sweat and fast-moving breath.

  And tears, she realized as she felt them rolling down her cheeks.

  She walked for miles, barely noticing their passing. As she sifted through her memories of this trail, she guessed she was about four miles from the townhouse, about three and a half miles from where she’d picked up the trail. She crested the ridge where the trail topped out and looked at the mountains surrounding her and the gorgeous view of the lake.

  She took a deep breath, feeling somewhat better. The hike had its usual effect of calming her down, taking her mind away, reminding her that even in a world where people could be so ugly, there was still an awful lot of beauty.

  She continued over the ridge, remembering that there was another fork she could take up ahead that would loop her down and around and back to town.

  She felt a twinge of unease as she watched a bank of gunmetal gray thunderheads moving in from the south. Soon the wind picked up, whipping her hair around and cutting through the thin cover of her jacket.

  When she’d left the house, the sun had been shining and the temperature had been in the high seventies. Now it felt like it had dropped at least fifteen degrees. Kate quickened her pace to a jog as goose bumps broke out over her bare legs.

  She was only a few miles out of town, and it was all downhill. If she ran, surely she could make it back before the storm hit. Her gaze drifted to the other trail going off to the right, the one that, if she remembered correctly, met up with the fire road in less than a mile. Then it was only another mile back to town. Every cell in her body revolted at the thought. She wouldn’t take that trail if someone held a gun to her head.

  Because to get to the fire road, she would have to pass a hunting shack, the same shack where Michael—

  A bolt of lightning streaked down from the sky, so close it made Kate’s hair stand on end. The boom that accompanied was so loud she felt the concussion through her entire body.

  Tommy stared out his wall of windows. He never got tired of watching the weather change in the summer, the way the heavy dark clouds would blow in over the mountain with stunning speed. The thunder and lightning that accompanied it was better than any pyrotechnic display he’d ever seen.

  The rain came down in sheets, streaming down the panes. He opened them, and some of the water leaked through the screens onto the floor of his office. He didn’t care, closing his eyes to inhale the smell of wet dirt and grass, the electricity of the storm giving the air a slightly metallic edge.

  During his time as a Ranger, he’d been deployed twice to Iraq. Baking in the desert sun, every inch of his body coated in a fine layer of sand that never seemed to wash away, he’d spent hours, days, fantasizing about the summer thunderstorms in his mountain home. But today the storm didn’t soothe him. Not when he couldn’t get the image of Kate’s pale, pinched face as she fled from the townhouse out of his head.

  Seeing her distress so close to the surface conjured up all kinds of urges he didn’t want to deal with, like the urge to pull her close, chase all her demons away.

  But he also knew from experience that sometimes when you got to that state, the last thing you wanted was company or comfort. Sometimes you just needed to get away as fast and far as you could and have a little breathing room before you dove back into reality.

  He’d forced himself to let her go, and they’d stayed at her place a little while longer before CJ got called away to deal with a situation thirty miles away. Tommy packed up and went back to his own home to make phone calls and put out several fires that had flared with the other clients he’d been ignoring.

  And, if he was going to be honest with himself, after looking at those crime scene photos, reading the reports of what those girls had been through, and discovering the random coincidence with the skin cream, he was ready for a breather too. Helping a client come up with a strategy to identify the corporate spy in his research and development lab had been a welcome distraction.

  But after another hour passed without a word, he called the volunteer headquarters, praying Kate had turned up. Tension curled in his gut when they said there had been
no sign of her.

  The next call was to CJ. “Have you heard from Kate?”

  “No. Not since she left,” CJ said.

  “Maybe she’s back at her place and just not answering the phone,” Tommy said.

  “I’ll get someone to drive over and check,” CJ said, his own voice tight with unease.

  The next ten minutes crawled by as Tommy waited for CJ to call back. His adrenaline spiked at CJ’s next words. “Her place is empty, and her car is still out front.”

  “She’s probably fine,” Tommy said, as if that could stop the voice screaming in his head to find her now. Christ, the worst-case scenario was that she was caught out in the rain somewhere.

  Lightning crackled in the meadow outside his window, and a boom of thunder vibrated through the house, as though to drive home the point that this wasn’t just a little rain shower they were experiencing.

  “I’m still over in LaClede,” CJ said.

  “I’ll find her.” Tommy was already off the phone before CJ could say another word.

  In an instant, he was in mission mode, all fear shoved aside for clear, cold rationality. Kate had her phone with her. As long as the battery wasn’t dead, finding her would be easy.

  A few minutes, a few clever keystrokes into her cell phone service provider’s Web site, and he was able to pull up a map with a little blue dot that showed the location of Kate’s phone and presumably Kate herself.

  He took one look at the map and swore.

  He shoved away from the desk and headed for his bedroom, where he stuffed a couple of shirts, sweatpants, and fleece jacket into a backpack. Then he pulled a waterproof GORE-TEX shell over his T-shirt and cargo pants and headed out for his truck.

  The rain was falling so hard and so heavily Kate could barely see. It didn’t help that once she got over the ridge, the trail maintenance tapered off dramatically. While she knew generally the direction she needed to head, several times she’d found herself off the trail, bushwhacking her way through thickets of chokecherry trees and sagebrush. Her bare legs stung with dozens of cuts and welts.