He reached down for his gun and headed cautiously into the kitchen
When he’d taken Payton all those years ago, he and his uncle had propped a ladder against one of the upper windows. She’d weighed nothing at all and it’d been easy to carry her out. Kari was making his shoulder throb like a bitch.
He’d thought about where he was going to leave her. He’d toyed with the idea of dangling her from the staircase which would be quite the sight, but there was no symmetry in it. The drama was all for effect with no subtlety. He moved quietly through the rear of the house where he occasionally had coffee with the housekeeper, glad she was away so he didn’t have to kill her too.
He went up the back stairs—the servants’ staircase—and trod softly, grateful for the thick carpet over old, thick boards. A slice of light under a door to the right pinpointed where Mallory slept. Presumably with her asshole boyfriend. One of the boards creaked beneath his feet and he moved more cautiously. He wanted them to find Kari’s body here—back where it had all started. Then he’d put a bullet in the guy and take the girl he’d wanted all along. No more substitutes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alex stood beside the bedroom door, listening.
“What was that?” Mallory shot upright in bed.
He held up his hand to tell her to be quiet. He was sure he’d heard something out there in the corridor, but it was so subtle it might just be the house creaking as the temperature dropped.
It was two AM. Mallory had been stretched out fast asleep in bed, fully dressed except for her boots. The urge to curl up next to her had been tempting, but he hadn’t wavered from his guard position.
She slipped out of bed, toed on her boots and scooped up her Glock from the bedside table. She came to him and put a hand on his back, holding her weapon pointed at the floor.
“I heard something,” he told her quietly.
“Let’s check it out,” she whispered urgently.
He could practically see her excitement crackling in the air. She wanted to catch this guy. He wanted her safe. He hesitated. If it had just been him he’d have already gone hunting, but if this killer worked as part of a team he couldn’t risk leaving Mallory alone.
“We stick together. We do not split up.”
“Okay.” Her fingers rubbed his back in reassurance. This hyper-awareness of danger felt a lot like combat. Okay. He was better equipped than most to catch this fucker and end this nightmare. But the idea of putting Mallory at risk wrapped around his gullet like barbed wire.
Pistol in hand, he opened the door, looking right and left for targets. Nothing. The corridor was dark and empty. He flicked on the light.
“What did you do that for?” Mallory hissed.
Because if the killer was here he wanted the bastard to know they were onto him and run rather than attack. He shrugged.
He moved swiftly along the corridor, Mallory at his back. She kept a firm grip on his shirt, a physical reference point as he concentrated on figuring out exactly what he’d heard earlier. Could have been a cat. A vagrant. The housekeeper returning home unexpectedly. The judge. The senator. He didn’t want an innocent caught in the crossfire.
Something drew them toward the room Mallory and Payton had shared as children. Soundless. Cautious. Every sense ramped to high alert. The atmosphere of the house had changed, turned malevolent and hostile. Dangerous. The temperature had dropped.
“Someone’s opened a window...” said Mallory.
Someone was here. He could feel them. But his pulse never wavered. Hell, the only thing that got his heart racing was sex with Mallory.
He’d trained so well and so hard for combat, killing didn’t even affect him anymore. It took years to perfect this sort of combat physiology. He needed that coldness and focus to operate. To kill without hesitation. He didn’t want to do it anymore, but if it stopped bad guys like this, maybe it was worth sacrificing his soul.
A breeze tickled his cheek.
All these closed doors were a nightmare, but they didn’t have the manpower to search every room.
“I should lead,” Mallory murmured into his ear, her fingers tightening on his shirt.
Yeah. No. Way. He used one hand to keep her behind him. They turned another corner. It was like living in a goddamn hotel. Up ahead, there was a light on inside the girls’ old bedroom.
Mallory froze behind him. He paused as he surveyed the corridor. Glanced behind him. Nothing. Everything was silent except for the ruffle of a breeze through an open window at the end of the hallway. Was that what he’d heard earlier? Someone lifting the sash?
Once again they moved forward, Mallory a shadow against his back.
He could smell the fear and excitement rolling off her in waves, knew her pulse would be pounding. The predator was near. But where? No sound, no smell, no sign gave the bastard away.
Making sure Mal was to the side of the bedroom door, he pushed it wide.
Christ.
A dead woman lay on the bed. Naked. Battered. Hands resting low over her pubic hair just like photographs of all the other PR-Killer victims. A bloody smear coated her chest where, no doubt, the letters PR had been carved in a macabre love heart. The wind ruffled the yellow drapes and it was bitterly cold.
“There’s a drainpipe.” Mallory rushed forward to look out the window but he grabbed her arm, checked behind the door and any hiding places without touching a damn thing. He had no desire to put his DNA on this scene. He leaned forward through the open window to check the drainpipe when instinct had him whirling, bringing his gun up as an armed, masked figure in black appeared behind him in the doorway. Alex nailed him twice in the chest and the man fell backward, his shot going wild. It was the same guy who’d broken into Mallory’s house in Charlotte.
A woman’s low pain-filled squeal made them all startle as the dead woman suddenly rolled over on the bed—okay, not dead.
The assailant pointed his gun at the bed and fired. He shot again but his weapon jammed. Alex aimed at his head this time, but the bastard darted out of sight and ran like the chicken-shit he was. The woman screamed in agony. Alex checked to make sure Mallory hadn’t been hit, but the victim had been shot in the shoulder and there was blood everywhere. Mallory rushed to her aid and Alex was torn. Leave Mallory alone or end this thing by chasing down the asshole who’d done this?
He went after the killer, running flat-out down the plush corridor, only to be thrown into darkness as the fucker flipped the switch at the other end of the hall.
His legs pumped and his lungs burned as he ran as fast as he could.
Alex had nailed the guy squarely in the chest. He should have been dead but the guy wasn’t even bleeding. Kevlar. And some grim determination because there was a good chance those shots at that distance had broken a couple of ribs. He should have gone for headshots but had hoped a dying man might reveal Payton Rooney’s final resting place. He heard the guy running through the darkness and followed. He didn’t want to leave Mallory but this was a chance to get this bastard.
Rounding the corner that led to the main staircase he saw the shadow racing ahead of him. The guy stopped and fired off a few shots. Alex didn’t pause, he legged it, full belt, sliding down the banisters and flying after the sonofabitch who was out the door. Big, fit, fast. Running on adrenaline.
Alex burst out the front door in time to see the attacker skidding around the corner of the house. Gravel spit behind his trainers as he ran. He was about to take a shot when the guy dodged behind the eastern wall. He didn’t waste time cursing.
He took off running, moving cautiously around the corner. Shots fired, hitting where his head would have been if he hadn’t crouched down. He returned fire, heard a grunt, chased the guy’s shadow behind an old garage and past an empty pool. He came to an abrupt halt, standing there in the darkness. The trees in the woods rustled at the edges of the wide lawn, beckoning him to give chase. He looked back at the house. Shit. No way could he leave Mallory longer than he already h
ad.
What if the guy had circled back? Panic bit into his chest and he started sprinting the way he’d come. He sped around the corner and was abruptly blinded by headlights. He shielded his face with his arm.
“FBI, put the gun down!”
Alex shot out both headlights and dodged to the side. He had the “agent” disarmed, on the ground, face in the gravel when he heard a sound behind him and whirled.
“Oh, God, Alex. That’s my boss.” It was Mallory. She’d turned the entranceway light on.
“Shit.” Alex took his knee out of the fed’s spine and stood back. The guy was wearing what had probably been a very expensive pale gray suit and, now Alex had the chance to see, the headlights he’d shot out belonged to a very expensive Lexus that hadn’t been there earlier. The guy must have driven up while he was chasing the attacker around the back of the house.
He held out his hand to the man on the ground who was looking a bit shell-shocked. “Sorry.”
“No time for that.” Mallory grabbed his arm. He holstered his gun while she spoke. Her boss picked himself up off the ground, looking pissed.
“The girl is alive but she’s lost a lot of blood. We can’t afford to wait for the ambulance. I need help carrying her and we’ll drive her to the ER.” She pulled him with her.
“There’s another victim?” Mallory’s boss dropped the attitude and jogged swiftly up the stairs with them.
“Yes, but the UNSUB shot her before he ran away. She was already in a really bad way.” Mallory was running up the stairs and both of them stuck to her like honey on bread.
Alex took a quick detour. “Grabbing car keys,” he yelled to the feds. He also wanted to get their gear. It took under twenty seconds to stuff everything together and race back out of the room. He met them on the landing with Mallory’s boss carrying the battered girl, wrapped in blankets. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she sobbed in pain and anguish. Alex couldn’t imagine what she’d been through and he’d spent plenty of time in hell. Mallory pressed a towel against the gunshot wound which stopped the bleeding a little. Alex strode ahead and opened the car door so the guy could slide in with the girl on his lap. He threw their luggage in the trunk.
“I’ll drive,” said Mallory.
“Not this time.” He got in the driver’s seat and started the engine. He caught the other man’s cold, blue gaze in the rear view. “Buckle up.”
As soon as Mallory had her door closed and belt on, he started driving, foot to the floor, maneuvering the gravel road at extreme speed. “Hang on,” he told them, taking a left out of the driveway that had the tires screeching. Getting Mallory out of danger, getting this critically injured young woman to the hospital was all he gave a damn about. Despite the white-knuckled ride he wasn’t about to let anything bad happen to either of them ever again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mallory paced the hospital corridor the way she’d been pacing it for the last hour. So close. She’d been so close to the bastard who ripped her sister from her life, she’d looked him in the eye for a moment before he’d run.
For a moment she’d wanted him dead, but more than that, she wanted him to tell her what he’d done with her sister. Where had he buried Payton?
The need to know was so intense it had crippled her ability to actually shoot the bastard.
Alex had nailed him square in the chest only to discover the guy had been wearing body armor. The killer had known they were there and expected they’d be armed so had planned accordingly. There was no mercy in his actions. He’d have killed Alex, left the injured woman for dead and taken Mallory for whatever twisted reason he’d given himself to justify rape and violation.
A burning heat warmed her from the inside. Her fists clenched with anger and frustration. She should have used her Taser. Why the hell hadn’t she thought of that sooner?
They were running the injured woman’s fingerprints through IAFIS but Mallory was almost positive from her general description that she was Kari Regent. Her face was unrecognizable, but if she survived there was a good chance, once the swelling went down, that her face would return to normal. Although Mallory knew the girl would never be the same.
Why were her prints on the murder weapon at a double homicide? Mallory had no doubt she was a victim in this, but what had the UNSUB made her do before he’d beaten and strangled her?
Was he local? The murders of the McCaffertys and the return to Eastborne with Kari tonight, suggested he was holed up nearby. Maybe he’d been at Lindsey’s funeral? Or watching the house?
She made a mental note to talk to the sheriff and check the ID’s of the mourners. Maybe they should put surveillance on the grave itself as serial killers often revisited their victims after death.
She shivered.
Without Alex she’d have been a victim.
She’d been taken by surprise in her old bedroom, which is exactly what the killer had intended. Finding the injured woman in her old bed had side-swiped her and changed her priority from hunting to rescue, and he’d damn well planned the whole thing to put her off her game. Smart. Organized. Ruthless. Sadistic.
Alex’s instincts had saved them both. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve him but she was grateful he was here. He sat on an orange plastic chair, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“You’re a hell of shot,” she told him with an absurd amount of pride. He hadn’t been crippled by emotion and adrenaline. She needed to ramp up her training. He was the civilian—albeit, one who’d earned one of their country’s highest honors for valor, she reminded herself.
He nodded like it was no big deal.
He’d also taken Frazer down without breaking stride. Thank goodness he hadn’t killed the man because her career prospects were already fried.
Speak of the devil. Frazer strode down the long, white hallway toward them.
“How is she?” Mallory asked.
Frazer opened a door to a waiting room, saw it was empty and nodded his head to indicate she follow him. She stepped inside and Alex was there beside her. Frazer shot him a look but didn’t order him out of the room. Progress? She doubted it.
“She’s alive. Barely. The fingerprints are a match to Kari Regent.” His blond hair was flattened against his skull. Mouth grim. A scrape on his cheekbone, courtesy of Alex’s rough handling. He wasn’t looking as smooth as he usually did, but she’d noticed some of the nurses checking out the FBI agent. They’d barely glanced at Alex. Somehow he made himself fade into the background—probably because he didn’t strut about penis-first. As someone who avoided the limelight, it was another thing that attracted her to him.
“Did she say anything?” she asked.
He shook his head. “They induced a coma until the intracranial pressure goes down and they are worried about internal bleeding. They might need to operate to relieve swelling.” He stopped and drew in a deep breath, clearly affected by the young woman’s injuries. “Her windpipe is bruised and very fragile. She’s been shackled, sexually assaulted, beaten and strangled. Not to mention is suffering from hypothermia and a gunshot wound. It isn’t looking great but she’s stable and she’s here.” He ran his fingers over his eyes as if trying to remove some of what he’d seen. “We’ve got DNA swabs from her body, which have been rushed to forensics. Your father’s house is now a crime scene. We all need to give statements at the sheriff’s office, then I want to go back and see if we missed anything.”
“I don’t want to leave until I know she’s going to be okay.” She felt protective of Kari, as if she owed her a personal debt.
Frazer shook his head. “It could be days before she wakes up. Weeks even. There’s a deputy on the door—”
Alex cut him off. “I’ve arranged round-the-clock protection. No one’s going to hurt her again.” The energy rolling off him was quiet fury.
“The FBI can protect her.” Frazer eyed him down the length of his nose.
Alex took a step into Frazer’s space. “One
of my partners specializes in personal security and she’s sending two of her best people.” His upper lip curled and his eyes narrowed. “They’ll be here within the next hour. No one will get past them. How long before your guys show up? Long enough for Kari Regent to end up dead?”
Mallory’s eyes widened. Her boss and her boyfriend were headed for a pissing contest and she didn’t appreciate being caught in the middle.
“What’s the problem with additional security? What harm can it do?” She broke in quickly, trying to diffuse the tension that crackled through the empty waiting room.
“I want background checks on anyone guarding her,” Frazer bit out between gritted teeth. “And they better not get in the way of law enforcement.”
“They know how to do their job.”
Frazer’s mouth firmed at that.
Mallory was already in this guy’s bad books. Alex was making it worse. “Why were you there, sir? Not that I don’t appreciate the back-up.” Although they’d had it handled thanks to Alex. He made a hell of a partner. Better than her so-called colleagues at the Bureau. SSA Danbridge had warned her the day she’d left Charlotte.
Frazer blinked at her. His eyes shifted and a weird shiver slipped down her spine. “I decided to come up and talk to the sheriff about that double homicide—”
“You set her up as bait and turned up late for the party,” Alex snapped.
Mallory backed up a step. What?
Frazer didn’t deny it. He smiled tightly. “At least she had you, Mr. Parker. Championship marksman, Indy 500 driver. Not to mention hand-to-hand combat aficionado.” Frazer’s expression turned murderous as he looked down at his torn thousand dollar suit. “I’d say the UNSUB definitely underestimated Special Agent Mallory Rooney’s new boyfriend.”
01 A Cold Dark Place Page 21
