HUNTING (PAVAD)

by Calle J. Brookes

  “Shit has a way of happening like that.” Hell stood, checking his watch. “That’s the one thing I learned last year. I shouldn’t have been so blind to the way things really were—to the woman right under my damned nose. I’m just lucky things worked out for us the way they did.”

  “Yeah. You’re the lucky ones. I don’t think I’m going to be so fortunate. She’s determined. And that’s the one thing about her that drives me more than crazy. Stubborn, and her mind is made up. Nothing short of a miracle would sway her.”

  “So don’t sway her. Persuade her. That’s how I hear the husband did it. According to the one who knows her best, Jules was extremely reluctant with him, too.”

  That had Malachi thinking, and shifting his assumptions slightly. “So it might not be his death at all. It might be something else entirely…”

  “Jules had it rough all around—long before she met Bellows. Georgia hasn’t said much, but from what I understand Jules’ family life pretty much didn’t exist. So whatever’s keeping her so reticent—other than the natural inclination we all have to avoid you, you arrogant bastard—it probably goes deeper than her losing her husband.”

  Something for him to think about.

  What did he really know about her?

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  * * *

  Her first full day off after moving in with Malachi was better than she expected. He also had the day off, though she strongly suspected he’d arranged his schedule on purpose. He’d not come out and said it, but she suspected her ‘detail’ would be one dark-haired, blue-eyed Galahad with the initials MPB. And was he really off when hunting this killer? Somehow she didn’t think so. He’d brought all his files home with him, and they were spread out over the kitchen table.

  Ruthie had been given strong instructions that the papers on the table were not to be touched. The last thing she needed to see was the autopsy photos. The little girl was too busy chasing Malachi’s dogs Lois and Clark around the house to notice what Malachi was doing in the kitchen.

  Jules had nothing to do. Had anything ever felt so awkward?

  An hour after breakfast—prepared by Al before she’d left to go somewhere with Paige—Jules found herself sitting next to him at the table, his files opened before her.

  He looked up at her. “I think you’re right. I think I do know him. Now I just have to go through a list of people who it could be.”

  A list of people who could have potentially betrayed him. She understood how that would have hurt him. “So…start listing. This guy first came to your attention, when?”

  “Just after Thanksgiving, five years ago.”

  “Where did you live?”

  “New York.”

  “So he was in that general area. Where else have you lived since then?” She’d thought he’d been in St. Louis for quite a while.

  “I transferred here, six months later. Worked CEPD until the CCU nine months ago.”

  “And the guy’s been doing what for the last five years?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve tried tracking him, but his kills have been all over from New York to the Mississippi River.”

  “So this guy probably travels frequently. How does he get there?”

  “I’m thinking he drives—I’ve even checked airport security videos. No one that I recognized flew into those kill cities within a week of each victim.” His frustration was in his voice. Jules scooted her chair closer until they were shoulder to shoulder as they leaned over the files. Even though the topic of their conversation was horrible, it was nice to be sitting at the table with him, just together. Had they ever had downtime together, other than the time they’d spent in South Dakota recently? She didn’t think so. So why did it feel so comfortable, so natural? Hell if she knew…

  “So was there a particular day he killed on?” She knew she was reaching, but understanding killers was so not her thing. She did better with dead bodies and blood cells, than with thoughts and emotions.

  He grabbed a file then his phone for the calendar app. “Saturdays. Twenty-two were on Saturdays. The remaining ten were on Fridays or Sundays.”

  “So he at least works Monday through Thursday. And you think he’s in a similar field as you.”

  “More than that, I think he probably feels that he looks like me, as well. Look at this.” He spread out pictures of each of the male victims. She could see what he saw. Even those of a different race somewhat favored Malachi in build and dress. Shape of the facial features. Short, clean cut hairstyles. Clean-shaven.

  Dimples when they smiled. They’d all had beautiful dimples just like his.

  “For some reason you are the standard he is trying to achieve. So what if he works with you? Or went to school with you, and somehow felt you overshadowed him? You probably started out together in New York, even if you didn’t know it, then he moved to St. Louis. This is someone you know. And probably someone I’ve met. Because, let’s face it, no one knows about us but you and I. So someone had to have pointed out the change in our relationship to him—or he saw it himself. So…where have you and I begin together since Thanksgiving? And look, he’s got double the amount of kills around Thanksgiving each year.”

  “So something about the holiday is significant. I’ve thought that before, but couldn’t determine what it was.”

  “So…what were you doing at Thanksgiving five years ago?” She was with Rick, burning a turkey and making love. She’d been so thankful that year.

  “My parents and sister were in town. Al had been sent to her first field office assignment and I hadn’t seen her in months. Mick was somewhere overseas, but had just flown in that night. And so we had a giant party in my apartment, inviting friends we knew in the area. It actually started our tradition of Thanksgiving parties instead of pitch-in dinners. Usually we didn’t know where everyone would be, when, so I just started a blanket invitation to a Thanksgiving party. I’d invite people from the Bureau who I knew didn’t have any plans, a few friends outside of work, and my family. And it just grew once Al and I were both in St. Louis. And then Mom and Dad moved from San Francisco, and the parties just grew.”

  She stared at him a moment. “He was at the party, wasn’t he?”

  “He probably watched us dancing. Or saw us talking in the kitchen.”

  “But you danced with several women that night, didn’t you?” She’d seen him with at least two or three different women. Right in the center of the dance floor.

  “Yes. I danced at least six or seven times.”

  “So why me?”

  He looked at her, his blue eyes intense. “Because you are different.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  ***

  Yes, she was. And had been for a long time. And the bastard after them had most likely noticed before Malachi had. “My feelings for you are different, Julia. And probably have been for a long time.”

  “So this guy knew, before you did, how you felt. I’m not buying it.” Her nerves were right there for him to see and hear. She stood and paced around the table. “He’d have to be as close to you as a brother, or best friend.”

  “Maybe he is. Not Mick, of course. But someone I’d consider close.”

  “So let’s go back to the party. Gather photos. I know Al took tons, and Paige, and probably half the people there. Let’s put it together, and then form a list of everyone who could have been in New York, and Lexington, and Huntsville, and all the other places this guy has been. You have the answers; we just got to pull them out of your head.”

  He appreciated her belief in him. He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her before she had time to protest. She kissed him back for a moment, shocking him.

  Why was it that she’d protest verbally any hint of a relationship between them, but the instant he touched her she was as willing a participant as he? The woman gave off some seriously conflicting signals. But maybe it was because when he touched her, it took the decision out of her hands? Mad
e it easier for her?

  That was probably part of what had him intrigued. He’d yet to figure out the enigma that was Julia Bellows. He returned her to her chair, conscious of the little girl laughing with the dogs in the next room. Of his brother walking around upstairs as he finally woke after a late night assignment. Conscious of Al’s snickers as she entered the kitchen from the hallway stairs. He didn’t care if any of them saw him kissing Julia, because as far as he was concerned they’d be seeing more of it.

  But it would bother Julia, and he didn’t want her too uncomfortable. Not when she’d been essentially forced to stay with him.

  He told his sister their theory and she went back upstairs to grab her camera. She returned just as Mick entered the kitchen, bare-chested and sleepy eyed. Malachi’s brother grabbed a cup of coffee and grunted at them.

  “So what are we doing now?” Al asked as she loaded the camera’s memory card into the laptop she’d brought downstairs with her.

  “The…” He looked at the little girl who’d entered the kitchen and climbed onto her mother’s lap. “Player was probably at the party. And he works in a job where he can be off most weekends; to…uh…do his particular brand of business. He always increases that business around Thanksgiving. And he most likely resembles me. Probably closely at this point. He may have even altered his appearance. He also had to work around the New York area five years ago. He most likely moved to St. Louis from there. We all know him, and he’s relatively close. How else could he know to focus on Julia?”

  Julia rocked Ruthie for a moment, kissing the little girl’s forehead. “Baby, can you go build Lois and Clark a house out of your blocks? I need to have grown-up words with Malachi and Aunt Al.”

  They waited until Ruthie had left the room, then Julia looked at Al. “He was at the party, close enough to see Malachi and I dancing. To hear what it was we talked about, even. This is one of your family’s friends. And probably has been for a long, long time. We just have to find him.”

  “And you think someone must have taken a photo of him?” Mick asked, his own attention on the laptop.

  “Yes. I think someone probably did. And I think he’s probably been at previous Thanksgiving parties,” Malachi said. “Al, do you have those pictures?”

  “Somewhere. On disks at my desk upstairs. It’ll take me a while to find them.”

  “What about the cameras?” Julia asked, a report in her hands. “I’ve not talked to Cody or Kelly Reynolds yet. What did they find?”

  “They called when you were in the shower. Generic nanny-cams, that could be bought anywhere. And we found one in your bath, bedroom, and dangling from the ceiling fan cord in the living room. Quick placements that could have happened at any time.”

  “So no real way to trace?”

  “No.”

  “What about here?” The look on Al’s face told Malachi she felt the same revulsion they all felt knowing just how close the bastard had gotten to Julia. “Did anyone think to check here?”

  Malachi closed his eyes. No, he hadn’t. Hadn’t even stopped to consider that the UNSUB had been bold enough to invade his space. He’d been arrogant in thinking that way. But if the UNSUB had been in his house multiple times, why wouldn’t the guy have wired the place? If he liked to watch people, it made sense he’d watch his main target. “We probably should have.”

  Al grabbed her phone. “I’ll call Cody again. Have her and Kelly sweep this place. If something’s here, they’ll find it.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  * * *

  He had to smile, watching the group of people surrounding Malachi’s table. Al looked beautiful as always, though her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore those workout clothes of hers. Probably on her way to that dancing thing she did with those friends of hers. Paige was most likely headed there in an hour or so, too.

  She had on a similar outfit. He had spent a few moments this morning watching Paige, as well.

  He might enjoy watching people, but because that watching rarely included observing their sexual acts, he didn’t consider himself a true voyeur in need of professional interference.

  No, sexual arousal while watching had only occurred once. And that had been when watching the smaller woman currently sitting so close to Malachi.

  Julia wore jeans and a sweatshirt, her own hair pulled back off her face. She looked so much like a soccer mom he had to smile again. That was the kind of image he wanted for his wife. A woman like Julia would look wonderful in a political commercial, their children playing around her knees.

  She’d probably do much better than Paige, and it would be more expedient to use a woman who already had a child, and who didn’t need quite the training that Paige did. It could bring about his goals in half the time.

  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t plan something for Paige as well?

  He had the entire day free to work on his strategy, and he actually laughed aloud seeing the forensic crew—women he knew from their association with Paige and Alessandra—scanning Malachi’s house.

  He’d put those cameras into place over three years ago, and they were just now being searched out.

  They wouldn’t find them. He’d hidden them far too well.

  A few hours later and he had to admit he’d overestimated the techs’ cleverness. They’d found a third of his cameras, which was far more than he’d expected. But he still had the main ones.

  Malachi’s bedroom.

  Alessandra’s bed and bath—he did enjoy the sight of a female form so well put together. He was a perfect example of a healthy male, after all.

  And even the kitchen where they all still sat, discussing what he suspected was him, had been missed.

  He laughed.

  He appreciated the move Malachi had made, though it resulted in no lost pieces for either of them at this point.

  Well played, Malachi.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  * * *

  “So this is it, isn’t it?” Julia waved the list toward Malachi. It was just them at the table again. Cody and Kelly had left hours earlier with the cameras they’d found. Julia tried not to think about those cameras, or how close the UNSUB had gotten to all of them. “Whoever is after you—us—is on this list.”

  Twenty names—far more than she’d thought—were on the list. Hopefully, they could narrow it down even farther.

  “Let’s get out of here for a while.” He stood, took the list from her hand. He tossed it on the table between them. “We’ll take Ruthie out to Pizza Pit and fill her with carbs and soda. We’ll pretend this guy doesn’t exist, and it’s just the three of us out for a night together.”

  She checked the clock on his oven. It was close to time to feed Ruthie. And if they were out, at least they wouldn’t be dwelling on what they didn’t know yet. There would be plenty of time to go over the list again after Ruthie was in bed.

  “Like this?” Her hair was falling down, and she’d stuck a pencil in it to keep it in place while they’d worked.

  “Exactly like this. You look fine. Like a mother who’s been at home with her kid all day. You look…perfect. Let’s go.”

  Spontaneous. Assured. He grinned at her, that irrepressible, arrogant, egotistical Mr. Perfect grin that drove her three directions up the wall. This was the Malachi she saw the most when she looked at him. This was the Malachi who drove her crazy. She’d almost missed him today while he’d been so focused on finding the UNSUB.

  She stood. Put her hand in his. “Let’s go.”

  He grinned, then bent down and kissed her, hard. “Grab your purse. I’ll grab the kid and tell my brother where we’re going.”

  ***

  He’d disconcerted her, and Malachi hid a laugh in a cough. He’d grabbed her arm the instant she’d exited Ruthie’s room after putting the little girl to bed for the night. It had been so easy to pull Julia down the stairs to the living room. “Sit. I’ll get you something to drink. Tea or apple juice?” Julia never touched alcohol. He�
��d wondered at it—until he remembered Georgia mentioning that the driver who’d struck her fiancé and Julia’s husband had been drunk. It was understandable on her part.

  “Juice, please. Tea and I don’t always agree.” She eyed him for a moment, wary hazel eyes watching him like he was a deranged predator and she his only prey. She was half right. She was his prey, and he was bound and determined to catch his prize. Tonight was as good a time to start as any. “What do you want? I need to get to sleep.”

  “It’s early yet. You don’t have to be at work until ten. And you set your own hours, remember?” Perk of her position. Just like his. If he wanted to be a few minutes late in the morning, he could. And it wasn’t quite nine o’clock, anyway. She was just trying to escape him. And he knew why. He’d seen her look at him tonight, with that softness in her eyes. With the memories of South Dakota.

  She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He knew it…and so did she.

  “Where’re Mick and Al?”

  “Out. I’m not sure where Al has managed to end up tonight, but Mick is back at Quantico for tonight and tomorrow. He’ll be back tomorrow evening. He texted me a few minutes ago.” He hid a grin when her eyes widened when she realized that they were essentially alone.

  “So it’s just you in the house? Some protection.”

  “I can keep you safe.” He had a car assigned to the street in front of his house, and one in back. The extra detail would be there until his brother returned. He wasn’t taking any chances with her and Ruthie’s safety. “I will keep you two safe. I can promise you that.”

  He’d kill to protect the woman in front of him and the child sleeping upstairs. Without hesitation, and without remorse.

  What kind of man did that make him?

  He fetched a bottled juice from the kitchen then dropped to the sofa beside her. “I had fun tonight.”