Okay, so this had been a really bad idea.
Kit gave herself twenty seconds to catch her breath, then stumbled to her feet to start the trek home.
Ignoring her pounding headache, she patted her pocket. No cell phone. And her safety strap on her gun had unsnapped when she’d hit the water.
Chilled, she shivered, even though the temperature hovered in the mideighties already.
Keeping her eyes peeled for any movement, any indication that she needed to move fast, she tried to keep her steps even and quiet. However, her breath came in shallow pants, and she knew if the killer were looking for her, all he had to do was stop and listen for a minute.
Ten minutes into fighting her way through the wooded area, Kit wanted her shoe back. Not wanting to think about what her foot was going to look like by the time she made it home, she continued to keep alert for any unwanted company.
So far nothing had set off her internal alarms.
She didn’t count on that to last long.
Finally, she limped to the edge of the woods and stopped. Her arm and her head hurt. So did her foot.
But she was alive. No thanks to anything like smart thinking on her part. More like dumb luck.
Or maybe God wasn’t ready for her to stand before him yet. Whatever the reason, she vowed to start using her brain and keep her issues—like her stubbornness—under control.
At least until the killer was caught.
Before she ventured onto the sidewalk that would lead her home, she studied the area surrounding it.
No green car.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Except the large German Shepherd bounding down the middle of the road.
Noah tried Kit’s number one more time.
Nothing. Straight to voice mail.
Now that was odd.
He hung up and paced the office floor. Then he snatched his phone back out and dialed Connor’s number.
The man answered on the first ring. “Wolfe.”
“Connor, this is Noah. Have you seen or heard anything from Kit?”
“No, why?”
“She’s not answering her cell. It’s going straight to voice mail.”
“I haven’t talked to her since yesterday. I don’t think Samantha has either. Did you try her home phone?”
“Yeah, voice mail too.”
“That doesn’t sound like Kit.” Connor’s concern came through loud and clear.
“True, but just Saturday she left her cell phone on silent and missed my calls. I tracked her down just as she was leaving to go to North Carolina. But I still don’t like it. She knows we could get a break in this case any minute.”
“I agree. Want to head over to her house and see what’s going on?”
“Yeah, I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Meet you there.”
“Ah!” He couldn’t believe she’d jumped off the bridge! But she’d lived. His intention hadn’t been to try to kill her, he’d wanted to grab her. He’d thought she’d be trapped on the bridge, but his plan backfired. And she’d jumped. He almost laughed. What an incredible woman.
And soon she’d be his. She just didn’t understand that.
But she would.
Kit stumbled after Roscoe, swiping away the water that dripped into her eyes. Her foot hurt, but she could walk on it without too much aggravation. Probably just some superficial scrapes and cuts. Still, she’d need to clean and bandage it as soon as she got home.
If she ever got there.
“Roscoe! Come here, boy.”
The dog ignored her and went about his business.
Kit decided she didn’t have time to mess with him. He’d find his way home like he always did.
Grunting, she covered the last half mile to her house and stopped short. Alena’s door stood open.
Hurrying, ignoring the bite of pain with every step, she made her way up the steps. The brief thought that she should enter her side and grab her gun flitted through her mind, but if Alena needed help now, Kit needed to get in there and help her.
She paused at the door and looked in. Nothing seemed out of place. Except for the open door. And the wet spot on the floor from the overturned glass.
Very odd.
“Alena?”
No answer.
“Alena?” Kit stepped inside, her eyes darting, taking in the details.
Had Alena left and just not shut the door firmly? That would explain how Roscoe had gotten out.
But Alena was so careful with her pet, Kit couldn’t see that happening.
A car approached and Kit moved back to the door, her eyes narrowed on the vehicle turning into her side of the drive.
Noah.
And Connor.
Slipping back out onto the porch, she caught Connor’s eye and held a finger to her lips.
Immediately, they went into full-alert mode, guns drawn and pointed in front of them. Noah came up beside her, his eyes wide at her soggy, one-shoed appearance. “Later,” she whispered. Connor slipped up next to her and she looked at them both. “I went for a run and nearly got creamed by a car. I found Roscoe in the road, and when I got back here, the door was open. I don’t know if anyone’s still inside.”
“I’ve got the back,” Connor said as he headed back down the steps and around the side of the house.
“You stay here. I’ve got a weapon,” Noah ordered, voice low, lips tense.
Kit nodded.
He entered with caution, swinging his arms to the left and back to the right. She knew that part of the house was clear since she’d just come from it. He moved farther in and Kit followed behind him.
He headed toward the back of the house and she swept her gaze into the kitchen. Nothing out of place. Then the back bedroom. Again, everything seemed fine.
“Clear.”
“Clear out here,” Connor called.
Kit let out the breath she’d been holding. “Then where’s Alena?”
“Maybe she forgot to shut the door good when she left.”
“That’s what I thought too, but I can’t see her doing that. She’s too careful about Roscoe.” Biting her lip, she walked back into the den area. “Look, two glasses. One spilled on the floor, the other in the middle of the coffee table.”
“That doesn’t look good.”
“She wouldn’t just leave it like that. And especially the door . . .” Kit pulled in a deep breath. “I’m worried.”
“Let’s process this like a crime scene,” Connor said. “I’ll call Jake and get him out here. I want to know if there are any prints on the glasses and who they belong to. If we know who she was having a drink with, we might find out what happened here.”
Connor walked off to make the call while Kit limped for the front door. “I’m going to change and bandage my foot.” She grimaced. “I hope I didn’t contaminate anything. If you find blood on the floor that belongs to me, you know why.”
Noah followed her over to her side of the building. “What happened?”
Kit rolled her eyes as she unsnapped her keys from her belt loop and unlocked the door. Fortunately, those hadn’t drowned along with her cell phone. “Long story short, I went for a run this morning.”
“So you said. I couldn’t explode at that point. I can now. Are you insane?!”
Kit gulped. “Yes, apparently.” Her eyes slid from his, then she forced herself to look back at him. His outrage at her stupidity was clearly displayed. “Look. I’m sorry. I know it was dumb, but I just . . .” She stopped, gulped. That could wait. Pulling in a deep breath, she slowly let it out, donned her professionalism, and said, “When I got to the bridge, a car passed me, turned around, and came back. I had to jump off the bridge into the river to get away.” She shuddered as she replayed the scene in her head.
“What?!” More outrage.
“I know. I lost my shoe, my cell, and my pistol. I still have my work phone on my dresser, so that’s just going to have to be my backup until I can get another one
.”
Noah paced two steps away, then back. “Did you get a look at the car?”
“A dark green Dodge something. And no, I didn’t get the plates.”
The lines around his eyes tightened as he took in her information. He started to say something else and Kit held up a hand to silence him. “Hold that thought. I’ve got to get out of these clothes.”
His eyes flared and narrowed as they gave her the once-over and she felt the flush start to rise from her neck. That might have been the wrong thing to say to a man who’d kissed her like he had the other day. “Don’t say it, don’t even think it,” she blurted, then turned on her heel and headed for the bedroom.
“Hey Noah,” she heard Connor’s voice and paused in the hall.
Looking back, she felt her blood freeze at the object in Connor’s hand. “We found this under her sofa.”
A miniature gavel.
34
The task force met in the large conference room. Noah couldn’t help thinking about Kit’s comment. He’d wanted to offer to help her with the clothes thing, but thought better of it. When she’d left with her parting comment, he realized she’d read his thoughts like he’d had them stamped on his forehead.
How did she do that?
To survive the turmoil of his childhood, he’d learned at an early age how to keep his face expressionless, nothing about it revealing his innermost thoughts, and yet Kit seemed to do it without even thinking about it.
Unbidden, snapshots of his childhood flitted through his mind’s eye. Years in an orphanage, refusing to give in to the fear of the older kids, hiding his emotions, then his heartbreaking despair as he was shuffled from one foster home to the next with no adoption in sight—now Kit.
She stumped him.
He looked across at her and his heart twisted inside itself. He was going to have to share his past with her if he wanted to pursue a relationship.
“Noah? You have something you want to add?”
The question jerked him from his rare inattention and he flushed, his brain racing to catch up. What was the last thing he’d heard?
“Actually, Captain, I have something,” Kit interrupted.
Noah breathed a sigh of grateful relief. He owed her.
She said, “We’ve had no more bodies show up, but I don’t expect that to last long.” She swallowed hard. “I think he’s taken the girl who lives next to me, and if we don’t act fast, she’s going to die sometime soon. The crime scene unit found a miniature gavel under her sofa.” Kit drew in a deep breath and Noah ached for her sorrow.
She continued. “I feel like that was a message for me. For some reason, he’s zeroed in on me. He’s attempted to kill me three times. And now with Alena’s disappearance, I’d like to set myself up as bait and try to draw him in.”
That got his attention. Noah’s spine went rigid, his blood ran cold. Before he could protest, she went on. “I spoke with Alena this morning before my dip in the river, and she said that Corey had gotten into an argument with someone on the mock jury. She couldn’t remember his name, but I think we need to get a list of those jurors and start asking questions.”
“Sounds like an excellent idea, Kit,” the captain nodded. “Anything else?”
“One more thing. I think we need to talk to Justin Marlowe one more time without his father present. And while I don’t think he was lying about killing Bonnie, I do think he was lying about the knife that was used to cut off her nose, and I want to know why.”
“Do it.”
The meeting adjourned and Kit rose to leave. Noah followed her as she made her way back to her office.
He leaned against her desk. “Hey, thanks for saving my hide in there.”
She gave a small smile. “You owe me.”
“Yes, I do.” He cocked his head to the side. “What would you say if I think my friend has found you a house?”
“I’d say great. Where?”
“When this case is over and we find your friend, I’ll take you to see it.”
A knock on the side of her cubicle swiveled her attention to a man in his late forties. Salt-and-pepper hair cut in a fashionably shaggy style graced his head and black-rimmed glasses straddled his nose.
Kit lifted a brow. “Can I help you?”
“Are you the detectives investigating the law students’ murders?”
Kit lowered her feet to the floor and Noah stood from his perch on the side of her desk to hold out a hand. The man shook it and Noah said, “We are.”
“I’ve debated whether this had to do with anything or not but after Corey’s death . . .” His eyes teared up and he coughed. “Sorry. Corey was my nephew.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Kit laid a hand on the man’s arm and directed him to a chair in the cramped quarters. He sat and Kit handed him a tissue. She said, “You must be Nelson Moseby. We have you on our list to question about Corey’s murder. We had a bit of an emergency with . . . uh . . . another suspect so we hadn’t gotten to calling you yet.”
“I’ll be glad to answer any questions you might have, but I think I may have found a connection between all of the murders.”
Kit’s gaze sharpened. “What do you mean? The only connection we really had was that the victims were law students.” She refrained from saying anything about the body parts that had been removed. That hadn’t been released for public knowledge. “And then your nephew is killed in exactly the same way as the other victims. The only thing is, he’s not a law student.”
“But he did sit in on the mock jury.”
“You mean the trial that all of the law students participate in?”
“Yes. I teach law at the college. I arrange the mock trials and sit as the judge over them. I pick several very promising students to act as the defendant and the prosecutor, alternating them throughout the trial to give them a taste of what it’s like. We do this throughout the semester, but only those with the highest grade-point average argue in the last one.” He sighed. “It’s sort of a tradition. Most law schools don’t do this, pick the best of the best, so to speak, but we do—and it’s the reason we get an incredible number of applications each year. Everyone wants to prove they’re the best.”
“Interesting.”
“They’re also responsible for picking the jury from the list of volunteers. Once they have twelve jurors and two alternates, the trial begins. Then right before the closing argument, the jury votes on whose closing argument they want to hear. All the students must prepare one, but only one gets to present it.”
“Very competitive. And your nephew was on this jury?”
“Yes. As were all of the other victims.”
Kit scrambled for a pen. “We need the names of all of the others who were involved in the trial.” So, she’d been on the right track after all.
“Sure, I figured you would.” He handed over a piece of paper he’d been holding for the duration of the conversation.
Kit took the paper and scanned through it. Her eyes screeched to a halt as she recognized a name. “And there’s Alena’s name,” she whispered.
Noah leaned over her shoulder. “Your missing friend?”
“Yes. Alena Pappas. She’s my neighbor. She was on the jury.”
“And now she’s missing. That’s the link. The jury. We have to warn all these people and get some protection on them.”
Kit’s phone rang and she snatched it up. “Hello?”
“Kit, it’s Connor, the captain and I need you and Noah in my office. Samantha just got a threat texted to her phone—with a picture of Andy attached.”
Kit bolted to her feet. “Be right there.”
She hung up and Noah raised a brow. With a thudding heart, she said, “Come with me, we’ve got a problem.”
“Let me just give this list to the captain.” Noah fingered the paper.
“He’s with Connor.”
Noah turned to the professor, who stood gaping at them. “Sir, I want you to stay here until someone comes to escort you
home. Your life may be in danger and I don’t want to take any chances on you walking out of here without an officer with you.”
“What? Are—are you serious?” As the impact of Noah’s words hit, he paled and his throat worked, but he nodded. “All right.”
“You have any other family around here?”
The man shook his head. “No. My wife died last year and all my children are scattered around the globe.”
Noah took three minutes to track down the right officer and explain the situation, then he and Kit headed to Connor’s office. The assistant DA and Edward Richmond stood to the side, twin grim looks on their faces.
Edward shrugged at Kit’s startled look. “I hurried over as soon as you left the DA’s. Since he is no longer able to . . . um . . . supervise me, my professor arranged for me to shadow the ADA. He called and told me I needed to be in on this.”
“Right.” She really didn’t care right now.
Captain Caruthers sat looking at something on a Blackberry phone. Samantha held Andy in her arms. He watched his surroundings with wide blue eyes. When he saw Kit, he grinned around his pacifier and her heart melted. She walked over and planted a kiss on his bald head.
The tension in the room caused her blood pressure to spike.
Connor looked ready to rupture something. A vein pulsed in his head; his left hand opened and closed, balling into a fist, then releasing. Granted, she’d known him for less than a year, but she’d never seen him this angry.
“What is it? What happened?”
Samantha’s usually smiling face looked strained—and furious. “The creep you’re after threatened my son.”
“How did he get your cell number?”
“I have no idea. And don’t even really care. I’m taking Andy and getting out of town for a while. I’m not taking any chances with his life. Not after—” She broke off and swallowed hard.
Kit had heard the story of how Jamie’s stalker had come after Samantha, entering her home and nearly killing her while she was pregnant with Andy. “Let me see the picture.” She held out a hand and the captain passed the phone over to her.
A Killer Among Us Page 23
