by Jami Alden
Somehow she managed to keep her shoulders straight, her expression composed as she strode across the parking lot. She waited until she was around the building and out of the other woman’s view before she let the facade collapse.
By the time she reached Tommy, who was waiting for her next to her rented sedan, her hands were shaking.
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you stopped and spoke to the press every once in a while,” she snapped. She was lashing out irrationally, but sometimes the pressure of having to maintain her composure while bitches like Walsh dragged her name through the mud made her feel like her head was going to explode.
Tommy scoffed. “No thanks. I’m happy to do my work in the background and keep as low a profile as possible. Unlike some people who can’t seem to resist jumping in front of a camera every time it’s pointed in her direction.”
Four days ago she’d been able to brush off a similar barb from him. Not today. Not after last night. Not after having the cold hard truth of how little she meant to him laid out in front of her.
To her utter humiliation, she burst into tears.
Chapter 16
Shit,” Tommy said. The expression of horror on his face as he frantically looked around the parking lot would have been comical if she hadn’t been so hurt.
“I do what I can, okay? I’ve lived my life in the public eye, and I try to use that to help these families.”
“I know, Kate,” he said, his voice pitched low. “It was a low blow—”
But the sleepless nights, the pressure of the case—not to mention Tommy’s hot and cold routine—pushed her to a breaking point. “You think I enjoy getting emotionally involved with families, feeling their pain as they imagine what might be happening to their kids? Having to go on TV and calmly talk about it when the truth is worse than they ever imagined?”
Tommy wisely stayed silent.
Kate flung her arms up in the air. “Like it’s so fun for me, to go on national television and be reminded, every single time, that I’m the girl who left her brother alone the night he was kidnapped and murdered. And now I get to be the media whore who leaked information that got Madeline killed.” Like most men when confronted with a sobbing woman, Tommy looked pained, willing to do whatever it took to make it stop. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. Impossibly, she felt herself start to calm at his touch. “Kate, I know how hard it is, to do what you do. You do good for these families, and none of what they say is true.”
Kate swallowed back another sob, guilt churning in her stomach as she admitted out loud what she barely liked to admit to herself. “No, some of it is true,” she said ruefully. “Part of the reason I do this is that I feel like if I keep showing the world how sorry I am, it will somehow erase the giant black mark on my permanent record.”
“You weren’t the only one there that night,” he pointed out, his voice gruff as his fingers tightened around her shoulders. “I—”
“No,” Kate cut him off sharply. “I was supposed to watch out for him. I should have known better. I should have done better. That night and after.” She sniffed one last time and shook her head, stepped out of his grip, trying not to notice how her arms felt suddenly cold. “I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassment surging as she pulled herself together. Of all the people to break down in front of. It could only be worse if she’d done it in front of the camera. “I shouldn’t have unloaded on you like that.”
“I get it,” he replied. He leaned closer, his expression grave. “We’re all under a lot of pressure. Sometimes you get a little crazy and do stupid things.”
She wondered if he was talking about what happened last night and felt her heart squeeze, her eyes sting with a new threat of tears at the thought. “We should get going,” she said briskly. “I just need to get a couple things from my car—”
“Mind if we take yours?” he asked, gesturing to her car. “My rear right tire has a slow leak, and I don’t want to risk it blowing out on the road.”
Kate shrugged. “Sure,” she said, and immediately regretted it once she was buckled in, closed up in what felt like a tiny capsule with Tommy. The truck would have been bad enough, but Kate’s standard rental had roughly half the room of his truck cab.
He seemed even huger than normal, taking up all the space. His shoulders were so wide they nearly brushed hers. His hand draped over the center console, so close she was sure she could feel its heat on the skin of her waist. Every breath she took was saturated with his scent, shampoo and shaving cream mixed with his own musk.
Kate nearly swerved into a parked squad car in her eagerness to get a window down.
“Jesus, watch it,” Tommy snapped.
“Sorry, it’s just hot in here,” Kate said, wincing at the breathless tone of her voice.
“You’re telling me,” he muttered, so low she wasn’t sure she heard him right. “We need to stop by Jackson’s first,” Tommy said. “I haven’t given him an update, and I don’t want to tell him about the Bludgeoner over the phone.”
Kate nodded and turned the car down Route 200. Despite her humiliation over having Tommy witness her mini-breakdown, she felt lighter, calmer than she had for days. Maybe a good cry was exactly what she needed.
Now if she could just flip a switch and stop the cells in her body from humming in pleasure at Tommy’s closeness and the memories of everything they’d done last night, she’d be golden.
They pulled into Jackson’s driveway and Tommy waited, if somewhat impatiently, as Kate did a quick once-over to repair the havoc her crying jag had played on her face. Eye drops for the red eyes, concealer around the nose, a whisk of blush on her pale cheeks. Topped off with a swipe of lipstick and she was good to go.
“You know, Jackson doesn’t give a shit if you wear lipstick,” Tommy said as he ushered her up the walkway.
“I care,” she said coolly. “Besides, I don’t want him to see me like this. I’m supposed to be the one who keeps a cool head when the rest of the family can’t.” She felt her game face slip into place automatically as Tommy rang the doorbell.
“That’s a talent,” Tommy mused as they waited for Tracy to answer the door.
“What?”
“The way you can be totally out of control one moment and the next it’s like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.”
“Okay, fine, I cried and ranted a little, but I wasn’t totally out of control.”
“I’ve seen you out of control,” he said, his voice low and laced with a heat she had to be imagining. “And I’m not talking about the crying.” Her gaze flicked up to his and she saw the unmistakable gleam of heat in their dark depths.
Was he actually flirting with her? As they prepared to tell his friend that his daughter’s disappearance could be connected with a string of brutal murders?
Her game face cracked, giving way to a violent flush as she stammered, “Th-this is so not appropriate to bring up right now.”
“I know,” he said angrily as footsteps approached.
Whether he was angry at himself or her she didn’t know, and the door swung open before there was time to find out.
Tracy greeted them with a smile that was slightly dimmed around the edges. “Hello, Tommy, Kate.” She paused, two deep grooves forming between her eyes as she stared at Kate. “It must be hotter than I realized for you to be so flushed, Kate.”
Though there was no way the other woman could guess at the images careening through Kate’s mind, she felt her blush burn brighter.
“I’ll get you both something cold to drink,” she said, and led them to the kitchen.
“That would be lovely,” Kate replied. But as they followed Tracy through the great room, the heavy, somber feeling of the house chased away any inappropriate thoughts.
Kate was all too familiar with the feeling, as if the despair and helplessness had seeped out of the residents to create its own atmosphere. It grew heavier as each day passed without knowing.
Sometimes it con
tinued to grow long after the truth of what happened came to light. In Kate’s house, it had grown so thick it nearly suffocated her.
She pushed her own heaviness aside and focused on this house’s primary source. Jackson Fuller stood outside on the deck, staring out over the water. His broad shoulders slumped under his navy knit shirt. His arms were folded across his stomach, and he was slightly hunched as though in pain.
He straightened at the sound of Tommy’s voice, and when he turned there was no mistaking the dark circles under his eyes and the deep grooves of worry carved into his cheeks. He gestured for them all to take a seat around the teak patio table while Tracy came out bearing a tray holding a pitcher of iced tea and glasses. She poured a glass for each of them, and while Jackson thanked her, she noticed he didn’t take so much as a sip.
She wondered if he’d eaten anything since the lasagna they’d shared. It already felt like a lifetime to Kate. It must have felt like infinity to Jackson.
She listened as Tommy quickly filled Jackson in on the note Kate received and the reasons they believed Tricia’s disappearance could be linked to the other victims.
“The FBI thinks Dorsey, who killed himself shortly after he was questioned, was the culprit, but I don’t think it’s as cut and dried as they want us to think,” Tommy said.
“But the murders stopped after he died,” Jackson said.
“True,” Kate said, “but it’s not unheard of for serials to stop for years, even decades before starting up again. Remember the BTK killer in Kansas? He killed for over fifteen years, then stopped. They manage to get the impulses under control, and then one day something triggers them and they’re back at it.” Jackson nodded, his mouth pulled into a thin line. “At this point we need to consider every possibility. But I hope to God there isn’t anything here.”
“The bright side, if it can be called that,” Tommy said grimly, “is that the girls were all believed to be held within a five-mile radius of where they were taken. So if it’s the same guy, it means she’s most likely close.”
“And he didn’t kill them right away,” Kate said. “He waited at least a week after they were taken.” The lump in her stomach echoed the dread in Jackson’s expression. As reassurance, it was pretty piss poor.
“And what is he doing to her in that week?” Jackson choked. “And what if we don’t get to her in time and she’s beaten to death?”
There was a sharp gasp. Kate turned and locked eyes with Brooke Fuller’s horrified gaze. She wasn’t alone—Ben Kortlang stood next to her, his expression equally shocked. “Oh my god, she’s dead? She was beaten to death—”
Kate pushed from her chair and cut her off. “No, you came in at the end. We were just telling your father about a potential connection to another case—”
“Where the guy kidnaps girls and beats them to death?” Brooke’s already-pale face went gray. Sobs choked in her chest and she buried her face in her hands. A keening wail came from her and she tried to flee, only to be caught by Ben’s hands on her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” Ben said, pulling her resisting form into his chest. “They didn’t say she’s dead. You have to think positive—”
“Leave me alone!” Brooke screamed, and shoved at Ben’s chest. “How can I think positive when it’s my fault she’s gone in the first place. You stupid idiot, you have no idea what you’re talking about!” Hurt flashed in the young man’s eyes and he let her push past him to flee back down the steps to the beach. A squeezing pressure in Kate’s chest made it hard to breathe. She looked at Jackson, still seated at the teak table, his shoulders slumped as he cradled his head in his hands.
Kate listened as Brooke’s sobs trailed off into the distance, her stare locked on Jackson’s bent head, willing him to get up, go after her. Didn’t he see that if he didn’t act soon, he was going to lose what was left of his family?
“Aren’t you going to go after her?” Tommy asked finally.
Jackson shook his head. “She won’t talk to me anyway.”
“You have to keep trying,” Kate said. “She’s dealing with a lot of guilt, a lot of pain—”
“Well, that makes two of us!” Jackson said, and slammed his hand down on the table. “And right now I’m too fucking exhausted and scared to deal with a bratty teenager who had a part in getting us into this mess. And don’t think I don’t blame you too,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Ben. “You two are older, you should have taken more responsibility.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what else to say,” Ben said helplessly.
Jackson shook his head, turning his gaze back to Tommy. “And I’ll appreciate it if you keep your advice about my family dynamics to yourself. I brought you on to help find my daughter.” He stood from the table and stalked back into the house.
“Right,” Tommy said, disappointment deepening his voice as he watched his friend’s back retreat through the sliding glass doors.
Kate watched Ben’s throat bob as he swallowed hard, his face a mask of guilt and shame. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “You can’t take what he said to heart. Emotions are running high, and he’s saying things he doesn’t mean.” At least, she hoped that was true. But she remembered trying to tell herself the same things about her own father, her own family. And then the pain, as sharp today as if it had happened yesterday, when she realized they meant every single word.
“He’s right,” Ben said, his voice thick with emotion. “I should have looked out for her that night. We both should have.”
“You can second guess yourself to death and spend the rest of your life wishing you’d done something different,” Kate said. “But right now, I suggest you go after Brooke. No matter what she says, I know she needs a friend right now.”
Ben shook his head. “It’s my fault she was even at that party. She blames me as much as her father does.”
“No,” Kate said. “Trust me, right now she doesn’t blame anyone but herself. She’s lashing out, but I know it would mean everything in the world if you just let her know you are there for her.” She could feel Tommy’s gaze on the back of her neck, her throat tight as she remembered how desperately she’d wished Tommy could have seen past her rejection all those years ago.
“If nothing else,” Tommy said darkly, “someone should go make sure she doesn’t do anything to hurt herself.”
Ben started a little at that. “You really think she might…” He turned and jogged down the stairs to the beach and headed off in the direction Brooke had taken.
Kate’s eyes flicked to Tommy and she unconsciously covered the fine white line on the inside of one wrist. Did he know? Kate’s father had been so careful to keep any whiff of scandal out of the public eye. Then again, Tommy had demonstrated his ability to unearth supposedly unattainable information enough for her to realize she couldn’t count on anything being private.
His gaze was blank, revealing nothing. “We should get going.”
Kate nodded, following him out to the car on legs that felt stiff and clumsy.
“You want me to drive?” Tommy asked. “You look a little… off.”
Kate nodded and gratefully handed the keys over. She was afraid in her current state she would drive into a tree or wander over the yellow line.
She is not you, and Jackson is not your father, she tried to remind herself as she buckled herself into the car. Though she wanted to believe he didn’t mean it, Jackson’s comments about Brooke hit her like a knife through the heart. The only consolation was that Brooke had already run too far to hear it.
But what else had she already heard?
Her heart throbbed in her chest like one big bruise as she thought of how Brooke must be feeling, five days into her sister’s disappearance. The guilt, the grief, clawing at her until it was eating her from the inside out. And nothing—not the warmest hugs or words of reassurance could make it go away.
Kate knew that. But Kate also knew what it was to crave any small bit of comfort from t
he people around you, some sign that you were loved despite your thoughtless actions and horrible mistakes. And she knew the urge to lash out, push people away. Only to realize the mistake after it was too late.
“I’m worried about them,” Kate said as they pulled onto the highway.
“Jackson will come around,” Tommy said. “I’ve known him for a long time, since the girls were little. He’s a great dad. It’s just the stress talking.”
Kate shook her head. “Situations like this, a family is either pulled closer or it’s torn apart. Their mother is already gone, and if we don’t find Tricia…” She blinked away the tears burning her eyes. “Even if he does blame her on some level, if he doesn’t reach out to Brooke and make sure she understands he loves her, no matter what, I’m afraid of what might happen. To both of them.”
Chapter 17
Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy saw Kate’s thumb sweep across the faint line on the inside of her left wrist. Only a couple millimeters thick, its silvery color blending in with her pale skin, it was almost imperceptible. Tommy wouldn’t have even noticed it had he not run his tongue over the smooth skin and seen it up close.
It hadn’t registered in the moment. It was only after he’d gone back to his place, spent the night torturing himself by replaying every second, every touch, every taste, every brush of skin on skin.
That moment created a skip in the playback as the long, thin scar on the inside of her wrist finally registered.
He didn’t want to think about what that might mean, tried to tell himself it was nothing. Kate had been devastated by her brother’s death, but she wasn’t the type to try suicide.
