“No.”
“So the suspect must have already been on campus.”
“No, not necessarily. Curfew is at eleven, and George makes his rounds shortly after that. Someone could have come in then, and he wouldn’t have seen them.”
“How?” Cullen frowned. “Doesn’t he have to let all visitors in through the gates?”
“The faculty are issued remotes so that we can come and go even when George is off duty or on rounds. Even the staff who live off campus have remotes.”
Their gazes met for a moment, and Elizabeth knew they were thinking the same thing. The killer could be anyone, but the remote gave them a new lead. A new focus. As a member of the faculty, Paul Fortier had access to the campus. So did Lucian LeCroix. Elizabeth felt weak with fear, thinking of either man pursuing her through the darkness with evil in his heart.
“This doesn’t necessarily mean someone who works at Heathrow is the killer,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as Cullen. “With so many people away for spring break, someone could have broken into a car, stolen a remote, and it wouldn’t be missed for days.”
“That’s possible.” Cullen took her arm. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your house and you can pack a bag. You can’t stay here tonight. It’s not safe with everyone gone.”
“What about George?
“Yes, what about George?” Cullen said, his expression dark. “I have a feeling he’s around here somewhere, lying low. Question is, why?”
AS THEY NEARED Elizabeth’s house, she hesitated. The thought of the killer invading her private space, touching her personal things with death still on his hands made her physically ill. “I can’t go in there, Cullen. Not yet.”
He nodded. “No problem. I’ll go in and throw a few things together for you. You okay with that?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“You wait in the car.
A few moments later, they were headed back toward town. “I’ll drop you off at your parents’ house. You can spend the night there.”
Elizabeth remembered the conversation she’d had earlier with her mother, and an uneasiness crept over her. She still couldn’t understand why her mother had been so evasive, so secretive.
And why had she gone to Brussels so unexpectedly five years ago? Coincidence?
Elizabeth wanted desperately to believe that it was, but her mother’s reticence was not exactly reassuring. Elizabeth didn’t think she wanted to face her mother just yet. And besides, she didn’t relish answering a lot of questions.
She tried to think of somewhere else she could go. To Kat’s? That was no good. They weren’t that close anymore, and besides, Kat owned her own private detective firm. Sometimes she had to work odd hours. If she was out on a case tonight, Elizabeth wouldn’t want to alarm Kat’s younger sister, Emily.
Brie? Unfortunately, she and Brie had lost touch as well. Actually, Brie had been the one to pull away, and Elizabeth had sometimes wondered if it was because Brie was afraid she and Kat would find out the identity of her child’s father. As far as Elizabeth knew, Brie had kept the paternity a secret from everyone, and though Kat and Elizabeth had speculated about it plenty back then, they’d never been able to figure out who it was.
So Brie was out. Kat was out. And her closest friend at school, Rada Kilmeade, was off skiing in Vermont. Elizabeth turned to Cullen. “Just take me to the Moriah’s Landing Inn.”
He glanced at her nightgown. “Dressed like that? That should raise some eyebrows.”
She shrugged. “I really don’t care.” Besides, she had no place else to go. But when Cullen passed downtown and headed toward the waterfront, she sat up. “You missed the turn.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then where are we going?”
He kept his eyes on the road, staring straight ahead. “I’m taking you to my place. You’ll be safe there.”
His place?
Elizabeth sat back against the seat and digested this turn of events. He was taking her to his place? She was actually going to see where he lived? Maybe get some insight into his life?
Was this a new step in their relationship, or was Cullen simply being kind to her?
Elizabeth was still trembling by the time they reached his apartment building, but she thought it was as much from excitement as lingering fear. “You don’t think my staying here will raise eyebrows?”
He shrugged as he led her up the stairs. “I really don’t give a damn either.”
But Elizabeth didn’t think that was true. Not in the literal sense. She and Cullen both cared deeply what others thought. Why else had she hidden behind her aloofness and intelligence all these years? Why else had he turned bad as a teenager? Because they were both trying to pretend they didn’t care when the fact was, they cared too much.
His apartment was on the third storey, and when he unlocked the door and stepped aside for her to enter, Elizabeth glanced around with great interest.
It was a small place with a living/dining/kitchen combination and a small hallway that led, she presumed, to the bathroom and bedroom. The area was clean and sparsely furnished, but the items he did have were nice—leather sofa and recliner, a new TV and sound system.
The main focal point, however, was the large bay window where, if she craned her neck far enough, Elizabeth thought she would be able to glimpse the sea. The window faced east, and she imagined glorious sunrises. Tonight, however, there was only a pale dusting of moonlight.
“Make yourself at home,” Cullen said behind her. There was something in his voice, an odd, strained quality that Elizabeth had never heard before.
She turned from the window to face him. He’d moved back to the door after placing her bag on the sofa, and he watched her with a simmering intensity that caused Elizabeth’s heart to skip a beat.
Then she realized the source of his fascination. Standing in front of the window, with moonlight drifting through the glass, the silky fabric of her nightgown must have been all but transparent.
She felt her face heat as her heart skipped another beat, then started to pound in overtime. “You’re going back to Heathrow?”
“Yeah, but you’ll be fine here. Lock the door after I leave. The bedroom’s just through there.” He nodded in the direction of the hallway. “Try to get some sleep. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so no sense waiting up for me.”
Elizabeth swallowed. “All right.”
He opened the door, but at the last minute, he turned back to face her. “By the way, while I was getting your things together, I found a book on the floor of your bedroom. I thought you might want it so I brought it along. It’s in your bag.”
Elizabeth caught her breath. Their gazes clung for an instant, and she could have sworn he smiled ever so slightly before he turned and left the apartment.
Face flaming, Elizabeth flew across the room and tore open the bag.
Nestled among a change of clothing and her toothbrush was a rare first edition of Juliette’s Diary: Her Secret Life, Elizabeth’s favorite volume of Victorian erotica.
TO HER SURPRISE, she was able to sleep after all. Locating a blanket, she curled up on the sofa so that she could hear Cullen when he came in. She dozed fitfully at first, but then, as the hours passed, she drifted into a deeper slumber.
When she awakened, dawn was breaking outside Cullen’s window, and a gray light had settled over the room. Her first waking thought was that she was glad it was daylight finally, and her second thought was that she wasn’t alone.
Gasping slightly, she sat up and looked around. Cullen stood at the window. He must have come in very late, and she hadn’t heard a sound. The knowledge that she could sleep so soundly after a murder had just occurred was a bit unnerving.
He heard her stirring and glanced over his shoulder. “Morning.”
Elizabeth stretched, then pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. It was chilly in the room. “When did you get home?”
“A little while ago.” He looked as
if he’d just stepped out of the shower and pulled on a pair of jeans. He was shirtless, and his hair was still damp.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said. “You could have been the murderer, for all I knew.”
“I can be pretty stealthy when I want to be.”
The better to slip from a woman’s bedroom in the wee hours of morning, Elizabeth thought. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I’ve been anxious to find out what happened.”
He ran a hand through his damp hair. “There’s not much I can tell you. The body will be autopsied later today, but I think we pretty much know what the findings will be.”
“No sign of the killer?”
He shook his head.
“What about George? Did you find him? Is he all right?”
“Yeah, we found him.”
Elizabeth’s heart jumped at his tone. “Is he—”
“Oh, he’s very much alive,” Cullen said.
“Where was he?”
“In one of the dorms. With everyone away, he decided to use the opportunity to catch up on his sleep. Or so he says.”
Elizabeth glanced up. “You don’t believe him?”
Cullen shrugged. “He may have been in one of the dorms, but I doubt he was taking a nap.”
“What do you mean—” Elizabeth broke off suddenly, remembering Kat’s words the night George had caught them scaling the fence. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s planted a few hidden cameras in the dorms. Everybody knows the man’s a perv. She swallowed. “Do you think George could be the killer?”
Cullen hesitated. “Let’s just say, I intend to keep a closer eye on him from now on.”
Elizabeth glanced down at her hands, seeing them tremble. Could she have been that wrong about George? She’d thought him harmless. Now she didn’t know what to think. Who else might she be wrong about?
She gazed up at Cullen, watching the shadows across his face, glimpsing the darkness in his eyes. “You didn’t find anything in the woods or in the cemetery?”
“No. But the fog made it damn near impossible to spot footprints or tire tracks. We’ll go back out later once the sun burns off the mist and see if we can find anything, but I don’t expect to. This guy doesn’t seem to make mistakes. At least he hasn’t so far.”
“What about me?” Elizabeth asked softly. “I was able to get away from him. That was a mistake.”
“Was it?”
His tone made her shiver. Elizabeth got up and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders as she walked over to the window to join him. “What do you mean?”
Cullen’s expression turned grim. “There was no sign of a forced entry in your house. No evidence that he ever got inside. Maybe he wanted to make you think he’d gotten in so that you would run, so that he could pursue you. Maybe this is part of some sick game of his.”
“But why me?” she asked a little desperately.
He shrugged. “Because he knows you’re helping me on this case. And maybe you’re the one person he’s afraid will find him out.” Cullen paused. “Think about it, Elizabeth. You’re not only brilliant, you have a Ph.D. in criminology. The perfect foil for him. The perfect match.”
Elizabeth clutched the blanket. “But why let me go last night? If he’s afraid I’ll find him out, why not kill me when he had the chance?” She stopped and glanced up at Cullen. “Because he isn’t finished, is he? The game isn’t over.”
Cullen shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “This scares me, Cullen. Someone that cunning. That evil.”
He put his arms around her. “We’ll find him, Elizabeth. We’ll stop him. I promise you that.”
“But when? Before he can kill again?”
He drew a weary breath. “I don’t know.”
They stood by the window for several minutes as the sun slowly rose over the sea. But it wasn’t glorious as Elizabeth had imagined. It was the prelude of another day that the killer went free.
She lifted her face, and her gaze met Cullen’s. There was something in his eyes…something dark and needy. Something that matched the urgency she felt inside herself.
He searched her face for a moment, and then seeing what he needed to, he kissed her.
HE LAID HER on the bed and placed one knee on either side of her. Then, planting his hands beside her head, he lowered his head to hers, kissing her again and again until Elizabeth thought she must have surely died and gone to heaven.
His body hovered over hers, barely skimming her, but everywhere they came into contact, her skin flamed from the intimacy, from the thrill of being so close. She lifted her hand and tentatively stroked his chest. He was so hard! His physique reminded her of those male models who did the designer underwear ads. Sculpted. Muscular. Intensely masculine. Looking at him was such a turn-on.
She grew bolder, running her hand up over his shoulders and down along his arms. Everywhere she touched was new male territory explored and conquered.
Returning her hand to his chest, she skimmed it downward, over his abs, and lower still, until she felt his stomach muscles contract and he drew a quick breath.
She snatched her hand away. That was close. A little too close.
Suddenly, she didn’t know if she was ready for this.
He seemed to intuit her hesitation, and he broke the kiss to whisper his lips across her cheek, nuzzling her neck.
“Tell me something, Lizzie.” His voice was husky against her ear. “What’s a nice girl like you doing reading porn?”
She gasped. “It’s not porn! It’s literature. A classic!”
Cullen gave a low chuckle. “I saw those dirty pictures.”
“I’ll have you know those illustrations are fine works of art!”
“Right. And I read Playboy for the articles.”
She realized then he was teasing her to help her relax, and she wanted to kiss him. He was so sweet and considerate, nothing like people thought him. “You read Playboy?”
“Uh, no. Just kidding.” He ran his tongue around the shell of her ear, causing Elizabeth to shiver. “So tell me about that book.”
She swallowed. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s about…oh!” He was sliding his hand along her inner thigh, approaching dangerous territory himself. Elizabeth’s stomach fluttered with nerves. With excitement. And more than a little apprehension. “It’s about a young woman who travels to Victorian London to care for her maiden aunt. She has a series of…misadventures along her journey.”
“Such as?” Now his hand was…and his fingers were…
Elizabeth’s breath came in short, jerky little gasps. It took her a moment to answer him. “She…falls prey to…a mysterious stranger…who shares her coach….”
His lips nuzzled her neck. “What does he do to her?”
“He…kisses her.”
“Like this?” He lifted his head to capture her mouth with his, coaxing open her lips, and then his tongue dipped inside, matching the rhythm of his fingers.
Elizabeth felt light-headed. On the verge of losing control. When Cullen finally broke the kiss, she whispered raggedly, “Exactly like that.”
“What else does he do?” His eyes were dark slits of passion as he gazed down at her.
“He…undresses her.”
A knowing smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “Like this?” Hooking his thumbs through the straps of her nightgown, he slowly slid the silk down her arms, and lower, until Elizabeth’s breasts were completely exposed to his gaze.
Her first instinct was to cover herself, but when she reached for the quilt, Cullen’s hand closed around her wrist. He bent and kissed her again, until Elizabeth’s embarrassment began to melt away.
When his lips moved to her breasts, she squeezed her eyes closed, not wanting her natural shyness and inhibitions to dim the pleasure for even a moment.
He tasted her with his lips and then his tongue, and when she arched her b
ack, he groaned, a deep, dark, sensual sound that sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her heated veins.
That he wanted her as much as she wanted him was an erotic thrill. A boost to her fragile ego that she desperately needed at that moment.
She plowed her fingers through his hair, holding him close to her breasts and thinking to herself, “I always wanted my first time to be with you.”
He lifted his head. “What?”
She went perfectly still. Surely she hadn’t said the words aloud, had she? “What, what?”
“What did you say?” He’d pulled back, resting on his knees as he gazed down at her.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Yes, you did. You said you always wanted your first time to be with me.”
“So?” She tried to shrug, but she was trembling too hard.
“So? This is your first time?”
He sounded almost angry. The heat of humiliation washed over her entire body. “That can’t come as much of a surprise,” she whispered.
He let out a breath. “Not entirely. I mean, I guess I knew. It’s just…hearing it right before we were about to…”
“But it doesn’t have to change anything,” Elizabeth said, wishing she could crawl into a hole and never come back out.
“It changes everything.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared straight ahead. “Look, this isn’t right. Your first time shouldn’t be like this. You should have candles and romance and…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hell, I don’t know. But I know it shouldn’t be like this.”
“Like what?”
“The aftermath of an adrenaline rush,” he said bluntly.
That was all it had been for him? Elizabeth felt her own anger bubble to the surface. “You make it sound so…sordid.”
“That’s how you’d feel about it later, trust me.”
“How do you know how I’d feel?”
He glanced at her. “Because I know you. You’re not the type for a one-night stand.”
Was that what this was going to be? He might as well have shot her through the heart with a dozen arrows. The searing pain couldn’t have been more intense.
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