Scene of the Crime

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Scene of the Crime Page 5

by Carla Cassidy


  “Probably because the girls scream and clutch on to the nearest testosterone-filled boy,” she replied drily.

  He smiled. “You want to get some dinner before I take you back to your room?”

  Knots of tension twisted in her stomach and the taste of panic still filled the back of her throat. “I’m really not that hungry right now. Maybe you could just stop someplace and I’ll grab a sandwich to take back to the room for later. I can put it in the mini-fridge until I’m ready to eat.”

  “There’s a sub place not far from here—we can stop there.”

  They got into the car and Jordon was more than grateful to leave Mouse’s Maze of Mirrors behind. She hated her own weakness. She hated that she still felt a bit shaky and dark memories clutched at her heart and invaded her brain.

  The last thing she wanted was for Gabriel to sense any weakness in her. “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow? A roller-coaster ride through a cave? A tour through Ripley’s Believe It or Not?” She forced a flippant tone in her voice, determined not to let the memories pull her down.

  “Nothing quite so grand. We need to chase down all the men Kevin said he was with Sunday night and confirm his alibi.”

  “Even if his alibi is confirmed until around midnight, that doesn’t clear him for the murder, which took place much later than that,” she replied.

  “True, but in order to make a solid record, we need to corroborate everything.” He pulled into the parking lot of a small place called Subs and Such.

  “I’ll just run in and grab something,” she said. “You want anything?”

  “Nah, I’m good. I’ve got some leftover meat loaf waiting for me at home.”

  It took her only minutes to get a submarine sandwich, several bags of chips and peanuts and then return to the car. All she wanted now was a long soak in the tub and time to put the mirrors and her memories behind her.

  She might not have been woman enough to make her marriage work and she might not have been the daughter her parents wanted her to be, but she was one hell of an FBI agent. That was all she needed to be.

  “Do you want me to drive into the station tomorrow morning or are you planning on picking me up?” she asked once they were back in the Diamond Cove parking lot.

  “Why don’t I come here around seven in the morning to get you? That way I can start the day with one of Joan’s breakfasts.”

  “Sounds good to me.” She gathered her purse and the white bag holding her sandwich and snacks. “Then I’ll see you in the dining room at seven in the morning.”

  She gladly escaped the car and stepped into the cold night. She just needed a little time to get herself centered again. The little foray through the maze of mirrors had definitely shaken her up more than she’d expected.

  She carried both her purse and her bag of food in her left hand, leaving her right hand to rest on the butt of her gun as she made her way down the path toward her cabin.

  The night was once again silent around her and smelled of the clean evergreen that reminded her of Gabriel’s attractive woodsy cologne.

  She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached her door. She stepped into the warmth of the room and noticed a folded white piece of paper that had apparently been slid beneath the door at some point while she’d been gone.

  It was probably something from Joan and Ted, perhaps concerning breakfast the next morning.

  She dropped her purse and the sandwich bag on the coffee table and then picked up the paper. She unfolded it and a sizzle of adrenaline whipped through her as she read the message written in red block letters.

  U R Next.

  Chapter Four

  For the first time in months Gabriel’s thoughts weren’t filled with mayhem and murder. Instead they were filled with a woman who smelled like spring and had almost had a panic attack in a tourist attraction meant to be fun.

  She’d played it off well, but he’d picked up on the signs of her distress while they’d gone through the maze. Although she’d made a few jokes, her voice had been slightly higher in pitch and with a hint of breathlessness. When she’d grabbed his hand hers had been icy cold and had trembled. What had caused her such distress?

  She was a curious contradiction—tough enough to insist that she stay in a room that might put her at risk as a target for a vicious serial killer, yet shaken up by a silly maze of mirrors. Definitely intriguing.

  He turned onto the road that would eventually lead to his house, thoughts of Jordon still taking up all the space in his mind. She was not only beautiful, but also intelligent and with a sense of humor that reminded Gabriel he had a tendency at times to take life and himself a little too seriously.

  He’d been sorry that she hadn’t been up for dinner with him. Her company was far more appealing than leftover meat loaf and complete solitude.

  His cell phone rang. He punched the button on his steering wheel to answer. “Chief Walters,” he said.

  “Gabriel, can you come back here?” Jordon’s voice held a touch of simmering excitement.

  “Of course. Is there a problem?”

  “Unless I’m the victim of some sort of a sick prank, I think our killer just made contact with me.”

  Every nerve in his body electrified. “Are you safe?”

  “Yes, I’m safe. We’ll talk when you get here.” She disconnected before he could ask any other questions.

  He turned around in the closest driveway and headed back the way he’d come. Adrenaline rushed through him, along with a mix of uneasiness and cautious excitement.

  The killer had made contact. What did that mean? His investigation into the other murders hadn’t indicated any kind of contact between victim and killer.

  He drove as fast as possible and within five minutes was back at the Diamond Cove and out of his car. He hurried toward unit seven, his heartbeat racing.

  A rivulet of relief flooded through him when Jordon opened the door to his knock. She’d taken off her coat and boots and appeared to be just fine.

  “Thanks for coming back,” she said as she closed the door behind him. She pointed to a white piece of paper on the bed. “That was slid beneath my door at some point or another while I was gone today.”

  He walked over to the bed and stared down at the note. Jordon moved to stand next to him, her fresh scent filling his head as the blatant threat of the words on the paper tightened his gut.

  “Do you think it’s really from the killer?” she asked. “I didn’t see anything in the case files about notes to the victims.”

  “This is something new and we have to treat it as a serious threat.”

  “Not that many people know I’m here,” she replied.

  “This is a small town with a healthy gossip mill. By now probably dozens of people know you’re in town and staying here.” He turned to look at her. “You need to get out of here. Pack your things and I’ll check you into a nearby motel.”

  She took a step back from him and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not going anywhere.” Her eyes flashed and her chin thrust upward. “If that note is from the killer, then it’s the first real piece of evidence we have. Hopefully, you can lift a fingerprint off it.”

  “And it shows that you now have a bull’s-eye on your head. I can’t allow you in good conscience to remain here.” The idea of anything happening to her absolutely horrified him.

  She laughed, a low husky sound. “Guess what, Chief Walters—you don’t get to allow or not allow me to do anything. You aren’t my boss.”

  He stared back at the note and then looked back at her. “Jordon, be reasonable. You’re setting yourself up as bait for somebody who has already killed three people.” A new frustration burned in his chest. She was right. He couldn’t force her to do anything, but he definitely wanted to change her mind.

 
“I am being reasonable.” She stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his chest. “Gabriel, please don’t fight me on this. This is what I’m trained for. This is what I do.”

  The warmth of her hand seemed to burn right through his coat, through his shirt and into his bare skin. He fought a sudden impulse to grab her in his arms and pull her tight against him.

  Crazy. These cases were definitely making him crazy. She dropped her hand back to her side and grinned up at him. “This little gun just might be your best opportunity to catch a killer.”

  “I would prefer for the little gun to stay safely in a holster,” he replied.

  “Hey, you made a joke,” she said.

  He frowned, not comforted by her light tone. This was serious business. “I can’t change your mind?” he finally asked.

  “No way. I’m a chatty, cheerful morning person and I’m stubborn as hell. Just ask my ex-husband.”

  He released a deep sigh. “I’ve got an evidence bag and gloves in my car trunk. I’ll just go get them and I’ll be right back.”

  A wealth of worry rode his shoulders as he headed back outside to his car. There was no question he wanted the killer caught, but not at the expense of Jordon’s safety.

  She’s trained, he told himself. She’s an FBI agent. She knows the risk and obviously embraces it. But that thought certainly didn’t comfort him in any real way.

  He grabbed an evidence bag and a pair of gloves from his trunk and then hurried back to the room with a heavy concern still burning inside him.

  As he placed the paper in the bag, she sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes glittering brightly. “This is the break you’ve needed,” she said. “I feel it in my bones and my bones rarely lie.”

  He sealed the bag and then sank down in the chair next to the fireplace, reluctant to leave her alone. “You know I’d feel better if you’d leave here and stay someplace else.”

  She shook her head. “This is where I need to be. First thing in the morning I’ll talk to Ted and Joan and ask them if they saw anyone unusual on the premises today.”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “Kevin Rollings didn’t have time to get here and leave a note after we left the maze.”

  “That note could have been slipped under my door at any time during the day after we left here. He’s not coming off my suspect list so easily and neither are his brothers.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, all of the Rollings brothers are up there on the list. Before I head home I’ll stop at the Overtons’ and see if they saw anyone on the property today who shouldn’t have been here.” He released a deep sigh. “I should put a couple of men on duty here so that you aren’t so vulnerable.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she replied fervently. “This place is relatively isolated and any men you put here would be visible. Their presence would drive the killer underground. If he doesn’t come after me, then he might be patient enough to come after another guest when Joan and Ted open the doors again.”

  She leaned forward. “You have to trust me, Gabriel. You have to believe that I know the risk and I accept it. He’s not going to get the jump on me.”

  A helpless inevitability swept through him. She was right. The last thing he wanted was for the killer to fall off the radar only to target another guest, and sooner or later, the Overtons would need to open their doors and have paying guests staying here again.

  The only thing he could hope was that the note might yield a clue, a fingerprint, an unusual watermark...anything that might lead to the guilty.

  “Now, unless you want to watch me slosh around naked in a tub of bubbles and hot water, you’d better get out of here,” she said.

  His mind was suddenly seized with erotic visions that heated his blood. He consciously willed them away and stood. “I hope whatever you do you’ll keep your gun right next to you.” He picked up the bagged note from the coffee table.

  “Don’t look so grim,” she said as she got up from the bed. “You need to remember that the other three victims weren’t armed and were unaware of the danger that was present here.”

  There was some comfort. Still, even as she walked him to the door, he realized he’d never been so reluctant to leave a woman. “Stay alert,” he said.

  “Always. I’ll see you in the morning.” She opened the door and he walked out into the cold, a cold that couldn’t begin to rival the chill in his heart as he thought of Jordon being the next potential victim.

  * * *

  JORDON BOLTED UPRIGHT and grabbed for her gun. She gasped for air as she struggled to leave her nightmares behind. The room was cast in shadows, partially lit by the bathroom light she’d left on all night.

  As her breathing returned to normal, she placed her gun back on the nightstand. There was no danger here except for in the dreams she’d left behind.

  A glance at the clock on the nightstand let her know it was just after five. It would be another hour before her alarm would ring, but she knew there was no way she’d go back to sleep.

  She flopped back on the mattress and stared up at the dark ceiling. It had been months since she’d had any nightmares, but last night her sleep had been filled with them.

  Ralph Hicks and his mirrors had invaded her dreams, yanking her back to that cellar and the terror of those long hours. She’d also dreamed of a faceless figure she knew was the killer who had now marked her for death if she was to believe the note left for her.

  And there was no reason for her not to believe. Like the other victims, she was the only guest here, and from past actions, that was what the killer liked.

  She’d be stupid not to feel a healthy dose of fear, but she knew that specific fear would help her stay alive. She hadn’t been afraid on that day a year ago when she’d knocked on Ralph Hicks’s door to ask him some questions about the murders going on in the neighborhood.

  The forty-six-year-old man hadn’t been on anyone’s radar as a suspect, but he had lived next door to the latest victim and so was on the list to be interrogated. She hadn’t known she was in danger until he smashed her over the head and rendered her unconscious.

  The experience had taught her a valuable lesson, that everyone was a potential suspect and danger could leap out of nowhere. With a sigh she slid out of the bed, grabbed her gun once again and padded into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

  As she dressed she thought of the people they’d interviewed the day before. Certainly Kevin Rollings hadn’t hidden his resentment of this place, but did that make him their killer? Or was he simply a bitter man who verbally railed against all the perceived injustices of his world? Billy Bond had been sketchy, but that didn’t make him a killer, either.

  They just didn’t have enough information yet. Today they would be pounding the pavement and asking more questions, and hopefully something they stumbled on would help break the case wide open.

  She was huddled by the dining room door, freezing her butt off, when Joan unlocked and opened the door at quarter till seven.

  “I positively hate winter,” she exclaimed as she shrugged off her coat and then headed for the coffee.

  “I really don’t mind it too much.” A frown dug into Joan’s forehead and her eyes were dark. “Gabriel told us about the note you got. We didn’t see anyone around your door yesterday and we didn’t notice any strangers on the property. I wish we would have seen somebody. I can’t tell you how much I wish we would have seen the person responsible and you and Chief Walters could make an arrest and end all this.”

  Jordon poured herself a cup of coffee and then sat at the table and gestured for Joan to join her. “Is running a bed-and-breakfast something you always dreamed about doing?” she asked in an attempt to change the subject and erase Joan’s worry at least for a few minutes.

  “Always, although it took me some time to get Ted completely on board with the
idea. I think he worried that it would be too much work for me, but I absolutely love it. I love that the entire family is involved, and I was ready to get the kids out of the city and into a more family-oriented environment.”

  “Were you having problems with the children?” Jordon asked curiously.

  “No real problems, although Jason had started hanging out with some kids I didn’t really approve of and his grades were dropping and Hannah had started getting attitude.”

  Jordon smiled. “What fifteen-year-old girl doesn’t have a little attitude with her mother?”

  Joan laughed, but the laughter was short-lived and once again her eyes darkened. “We took such a gamble by making the move here. We put our entire life savings into buying this place. If it doesn’t work out for us I don’t know what we’ll do.”

  “We’re going to get this person, Joan. We’re going to get him, and all of your rooms will fill up once again and you all will be just fine.”

  Joan gave her a grateful smile. “Chief Walters has been wonderful through all of this. He’s been working so hard and I know these murders are eating him alive. I’m glad you’re here to help him.”

  “We’re definitely doing everything we can,” Jordon replied.

  Joan leaned back in her chair. “I’m just sorry you aren’t going to get a chance to see some of the sights and have some fun while you’re here.”

  “Actually, I did manage to go through Mouse’s Maze of Mirrors.”

  “Hannah and Jason love that place,” Joan replied.

  “I wasn’t a big fan,” Jordon admitted.

  “Really? Why not?”

  “I don’t like mirrors, but that’s another story altogether.”

  Both women turned toward the door as Gabriel came inside. “Good morning,” he said.

  “Back at you,” Jordon replied.

  Joan got up from the table. “I’ll just go see to breakfast.” As Joan left the room, Gabriel took off his coat and sat across from Jordon.

 

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