Todd glanced around, as if expecting someone else to be there. Zeus would not settle down so she excused herself and locked him in her bedroom upstairs, ignoring his not-so-subtle protests. It was more comfortable than the mud room. He could lie on the bed and look out the window.
She was just about to descend the steps when her phone rang. She detoured into the spare bedroom and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hey, beautiful."
She smiled. "Jake."
"I just wanted to check up on you."
"I’m fi—"
"Violet, love, where do you keep the corkscrew?"
Violet buried the phone against her ear and cringed, hoping Jake didn’t hear Todd’s question.
"Who the hell was that?"
No such luck.
"Uh, Todd Timms stopped by to watch a movie."
"With wine?"
"Never mind, I found it," Todd shouted, his voice carrying up the stairs.
Jake sighed. "Since I can’t get away tonight, as much as I hate that Timms is there, I’d rather you weren’t alone."
"I noticed the babysitters across the street."
"Not too subtle, huh?"
"Do you really think it’s necessary?"
"I’m not taking any chances with your life. And since Timms is there with you, and I'm still not convinced he isn't the unsub, I'm moving them to stand outside the door so they are within a yell if you need them."
After she hung up with Jake and returned to the living room, she took a seat on the sofa, opposite the chair where Todd was seated. She thought about what Jake said about Todd possibly being the killer and eyed her friend with new eyes. He didn't look like he could brutally murder women. He filled two goblets he’d procured from her kitchen with a deep burgundy liquid.
"I wanted to thank you," he said, handing her a glass.
"For what?" she asked, perplexed. She took a sip of the wine. The flavor burst on her tongue: dry with a fruity sweetness. Delicious.
"For being my alibi. Obviously you have some pull since the police haven’t bothered me again. "Cheers." He lifted his glass in the air.
Violet returned the gesture. "I didn’t lie for you," she told him honestly. "I just agreed that we had been together earlier in the evening."
"Whatever," he said, taking a sip. "It worked. He scooted back and threw one leg across the other, completely relaxed. "Of course, the police are so damn incompetent, they couldn’t find a clue if it walked up and bit them on the ass."
Temper flared in Violet. She quickly took another drink to calm herself. "What makes you say that?"
"Cause that damn janitor should be locked up. Even if he didn’t commit the crimes, he’s at least an accessory. Hell, he’s lost his keys so many times, no telling who made copies."
Violet sat her glass on the coffee table. "He lost his keys once," she said, purposefully lying.
Todd scoffed. "At least twice."
"How do you know about the second time?" she asked, her tone deceptively casual.
"What? Everyone knows."
"No, Todd, they don’t. Carlos didn’t tell anyone about losing them the second time. In fact, no one knew but him, the police and me."
"Ready for the movie?" he said, ignoring her question. He picked up the remote and flipped through the movie channels.
A light bulb flashed in Violet’s brain. "It was you, wasn’t it? That’s why I found the keys under your desk. Carlos didn’t lose them. You stole them from out of the door. You took them, hoping Carlos would get in trouble, or at the least, think he was losing his mind."
A flush spread up from his neck to engulf his face. "I didn’t mean anything by it," he admitted. "I was just playing a practical joke."
"That’s not a joke, Todd," she fumed. "He was on probation. If it happened again, he would have lost his job."
Todd shot to his feet. "I didn’t mean anything by it. Look, I’ll apologize to him. He knelt in front of her and grasped her hands. "Please, Violet, you have to believe me. I was going to return them. I swear."
She didn’t want to forgive him. And she certainly didn't want to hold his hands so she jerked hers away. She was angry. Carlos had been terrified he would lose his only source of income. But looking into Todd’s big sad puppy dog eyes, she felt herself give in a little. "You swear you’ll apologize?"
He nodded eagerly, a hopeful smile on his face.
"And tell the police so they don’t suspect Carlos?"
His smile faltered. He blinked twice. "If that’s what it will take for you to forgive me."
"It will."
"Okay then, I’ll tell them," he promised solemnly.
Violet nodded. "How about we watch that movie now."
Happy to be off the subject, Todd scurried for the remote and plopped down on the couch beside her. She shifted uncomfortably as he punched the remote to start the movie. From the corner of her eye, she felt his intense stare and a sliver of unease slid down her spine.
She swiveled to face him. "What is it now, Todd?"
"You are so beautiful, Violet," he said reverently.
She had no time to prepare for what happened next. He launched himself at her and kissed her roughly. Shock froze her in place, flashbacks from a night long ago assailing her senses. He used her hesitation to pin her against the cushions.
"Ah, God, Violet."
Shock segued into anger and she fought him, straining to break free. He grabbed her, imprisoning her arms against her sides, his mouth bruising hers. She felt his erection brush her leg and panic set in. Finally managing to tear her mouth free, she gasped. "Todd, stop. Let me go or I'll scream for the police."
"I love you, Violet. I’ve always loved you." He settled more firmly atop her. "Let me show you how much."
Violet went completely still. Her move lured him into a false sense of security and his grip loosened. With a burst of strength, she rolled to the side. The move caught him off guard and he tumbled off the couch, banging his head on the coffee table on the way down.
Violet didn’t even bother to check on him. Launching off the sofa, she sprinted up the stairs. As if sensing her plight, Zeus scratched at the door and howled, one paw visible beneath the door. She flung it open and grabbed his collar before he could attack. He dragged her back down to the living room, fangs bared menacingly.
Todd was pushing himself up, one hand gripping the back of his head. His glasses hung askew off his face, one arm breaking off in the fall. There was a loud banging on the door.
"Ms. Anastasia? Is everything okay?"
"Get out now before I release his collar and let the police in."
Todd shook his head and looked up, directly in the face of her irate dog.
He swallowed and scooted back, one hand still covering the wound, which she noticed had now begun to bleed.
"Violet, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to—"
She moved towards the door. "If you are not out of here in five seconds, I’m letting them in to arrest you."
"Okay, okay." He pushed to his feet and swayed, his eyes blinking rapidly. She didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy. He wobbled to his boots and slid them on. She picked up his parka and hurled it at him. He ducked, one hand shielding his face. "Geez, you don’t have to get violent." With unsteady fingers, he retrieved the coat and fumbled it on. When he finished the task, he looked at her again, his brown eyes pleading.
"Please listen to me, Violet. This was no big deal. I never meant—"
She opened the door to the very menacing faces of two angry cops.
"Fine."
The word was so harshly uttered, Violet’s head snapped up. She had never seen such a look of pure evil on anyone’s face.
"He was just leaving," she told the officers.
When Todd got close, he whispered for her ears only: "If you tell anyone what happened here, not only will I deny it, but you will be very, very sorry. You have no idea what I’m capable of."
#
The task force had
been putting in extra hours, looking for any clue, hoping to break the case open and catch the killer before he struck again.
"I ran a check on those plates from the car that followed you," Vic announced. "Reported stolen three weeks ago in Mobile."
"That’s no help," Kincaid said. He slammed his fist on the table. "Dammit, tonight’s the night and we don’t have a clue."
He echoed Nick’s exact thoughts. Nick glanced at the clock. Eleven-eleven. If he were a superstitious man, he’d make a wish. It might just take divine intervention to help catch the maniac. "We need a break, a lead, something."
"We’ve got plainclothes cops and FBI agents patrolling campus, looking for any suspicious activity," Arch said.
"He’s too clever," Nick groused. "He knows how to hide."
"Would it do any good to close the campus altogether?" Milt asked.
Jake shook his head. "If he's part of the college, he would most likely leave with everyone else and then return when it reopened."
"So we would just delay his timeline," Vic concluded.
"There has to be something we’re overlooking." Kincaid tossed the file he had been studying to the table. "He can’t be this good, no one can be this damn good."
Maya entered the room and immediately headed for the coffee pot. She’d been scouring ViCAP for any links to other crimes around the country. She looked exhausted, her white oxford shirt and beige pants rumpled. He’d instructed her to wear street clothes while she worked on the task force. Hell, he wasn’t one for rules and he was glad he didn’t have to don the uniform anymore.
"Find anything?" he asked.
She shook her head, her black hair coming loose from the ponytail. A lock fell across her face and Nick reflexively lifted his hand to brush it behind her ear. Before he could reach for her, she managed the task herself. He dropped his hand before she saw the gesture.
"Nothing similar," she said.
"It’s late," Kincaid said. "Why don’t you go get a few hours of sleep and start again in the morning? I’ll stay here and keep looking for leads."
Nick’s cell rang. He met Kincaid’s gaze, knowing the other man shared the exact same thought. They wouldn’t be getting any sleep for a long time.
#
Maya nodded at Officer Tim Leisure as she ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. He glared without acknowledging her. She and Tim had gone through the academy together and butted heads many times. He was outspoken and highly opinionated, something Maya didn’t think a good cop should be, which she pointed out to him numerous times, hence the butting heads issue.
Maya knew other officers were upset she'd been given this assignment and more than one person had whispered about favoritism because of her father and what he meant to the department. It pissed her off because she worked hard to get where she was today. She wasn’t ashamed to be Carl’s daughter, the opposite in fact. She was damn proud. But she was also a cop who had worked and studied hard. Maybe she had gotten a break being appointed to the task force. She would work her butt off to make sure she contributed.
The officer who found the body was briefing Jake and Nick. Ignoring the icy stare of Officer Leisure, she surveyed the room, cataloguing everything. She had a photographic memory so she would have no trouble remembering everything. However, it did have its drawbacks, like trying to forget the night spent with Nick Turner.
Steeling her nerves, she glanced at the corpse. It wasn’t the first dead body she’d seen, but it never got any easier. Stepping closer, she had no doubt it was the work of the same man. The woman’s throat was slit from ear to ear, lingerie a few sizes too small cut into her body and the trademark note was resting on her torso, barely covering the brand on her stomach.
Nick and Jake flanked her to study the body. Jake’s cell phone rang. "Kincaid."
Maya could hear Violet’s panicked voice through the receiver. "Jake, is it true? Was Jamie Menendez killed tonight? I just talked to her two days ago."
"How the hell do you know her name already? Don’t tell me Ms. Stark."
"There’s a live feed on the news. Olivia Larrson is interviewing her neighbors."
"Sonofabitch." He jerked the phone away from his ear. "Turner, Larrson is out there interviewing people. She released the vic’s name before we had a chance to contact the family."
#
Nick was pretty sure steam was billowing out from his ears and curling around his head as he stomped outside, his blood pressure hovering close to stratospheric proportions. This wasn’t the worst part of his job, but it was damn close.
The worst part was contacting the family of the woman who brutally lost her life tonight. Thanks to Olivia Larrson and her ilk, instead of a visit from a trained officer and possibly a clergyman, they found out via the television.
Yellow crime scene tape had been strung around the area but a growing crowd of onlookers gathered, huddling together for warmth. A truck with a satellite dish attached to the roof was parked along the street. Reporters had descended on the spectators like a pack of wolves on fresh meat. A bright light illuminated a petite blond woman holding a microphone and speaking into a camera. The man holding the camera on his shoulder spotted him and signaled the reporter. Her doe eyes widened and she quickly signed off before turning to face him. She squared her shoulders and thrust her chin out. Even in the ridiculous three inch heels she wore in the snow, she barely reached his shoulder.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?"
She held her hands up, palms out. "Let me explain…."
"There’s nothing to explain," he bellowed. Conversation around them ceased, all eyes locked on the confrontation. Nick was beyond caring. He pointed a finger in her face. "You released the potential name of a victim before family has been notified. Dammit, lady, are you that ice cold?"
"We didn’t mean to," she said hastily, backing up a step. She tottered on her heels and he felt a perverse thrill of satisfaction. Unfortunately she quickly regained her balance. "It was a live feed and I didn’t think—"
"No, you didn’t think. Let me remind you that what you did is against your station’s policy—a policy you yourself quoted to me less than one week ago—not to mention the decency of everyone in America. Because of you, a family just found out the harshest, most impersonal way possible that their loved one is dead."
"If you will just let me explain—"
"I should arrest you on the spot, but you know what? I’ll settle for your job. I’ll be contacting your boss. Now pack up and get the hell out of here before I change my mind and have you hauled downtown."
He spun on his heel and marched away.
"Is it true this is the work of the Burlington Butcher?" a reporter yelled.
"No comment," he growled.
"Hey, man." Larrson’s cameraman caught up with him and grabbed his arm. Nick looked pointedly from the man’s hand to his face. The man released him and held his palms up. "She immediately cut the guy off and reported that no official names had been released yet."
Nick glanced at Larrson. She stared at him wide eyed and slack jawed, looked as if he had just ran over her kitten. His conviction wavered.
"She reiterated it throughout the feed, several times."
"Tell that to the girl’s family," Nick said, walking away.
#
Olivia Larrson watched Detective Turner stomp off, a feeling of failure rolling over her in waves. She'd worked hard to get where she was today. Not many people took a perky blond former cheerleader seriously. But she was smart and she was ambitious. She wouldn’t let Turner destroy the first real job in broadcasting she had landed.
Oh, she'd suffered through other jobs that put her in front of a camera, trying to break into the business. None of them wanted her to utilize her brain, instead, they dressed her in skimpy clothing and had her point to a weather map or talk to goats at a fair or once, she had to model bikinis made out of Chunky bar wrappers. That had been the ultimate humiliation.
While this
might not be her dream job, she was a bona fide reporter handling live interviews.
She'd been horrified when the drunken man stumbled behind the girl she was interviewing and blurted out the name of the woman who lived in the apartment the cops were investigating. She immediately looked into the camera and told the audience that they had no official name of a victim, but the damage had been done. Apparently someone watching had notified Turner.
M.J., her cameraman stood up for her but she could tell by the look on Turner’s face, it hadn’t done any good.
Well, she would just have to do damage control, starting with her boss at the station and then contacting the woman’s family—after they had been officially notified—and apologize.
CHAPTER 15
January 15
Nick was exhausted. The task force had spent all night and day working the latest crime scene. They still had not one damn clue. If he didn’t get something to eat and then sleep soon, he would crash. His cell rang. A headache started pounding, sure it was the mayor or governor or some politician calling to berate him for not catching the killer. With a sigh, he flipped it open. "Turner?"
"Detective Turner, this is Olivia Larrson."
Worse than a politician. A reporter.
"First I wanted to thank you for not going to my boss."
Hell, she didn’t need to thank him. He just hadn’t had the time, that was all.
"I wanted to reiterate to you that it is against my station’s policy and my personal ethics to announce a victim prior to the family being notified. I was mortified when the man shouted her name on live air."
Yeah, he got that when he watched a tape of her broadcast. Maybe it wasn’t her fault specifically. He'd just been frustrated and angry and he'd taken that anger out on her. That was the real reason why he hadn’t contacted her boss.
"Second, I wanted to tell you that I personally called the family of Ms. Menendez to apologize."
Lucky for her, they hadn’t seen the broadcast so one of the patrol officers who attended the same church as the Menendez family had been able to contact their priest and he had been on hand to console them when Nick broke the news. Still, it took guts for her to call. Reluctantly, he found himself admiring her.
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