The White Carnation
Page 15
“Hey, you’d look good even if you shaved your head bald.”
Looking at him over her shoulder, she smiled. “Thanks.” Turning back to the table she continued to pick up photographs and set them down again. What was she thinking?
“What if the mothers don’t matter at all?” she asked softly.
“What do you mean?”
“What if it’s about the babies themselves, his babies? He knew Meredith’s son wasn’t his, but the others? Kate Newcomb’s son would be a year old, Tracy Volt’s daughter nine months, and Estelle Watters’s little girl would be six months old. There’s a three-month-old child out there, too. What if the Harvester is creating his own master race? His successors? It’s like something out of a movie like The Boys from Brazil.”
“Let me run this idea by Trevor. You could be onto something.”
• • •
Faye finished drying the dishes and moved back to the table where they’d placed the folders. She and Rob had spent most of the day rearranging them, making notes as to how each aspect of the case was the same, where they varied and why, and placing the files in a new order. There were nine folders on the table now: Lucy Green’s, the only one that didn’t fit with the cult theory; Mary, Kate, Tracy, Estelle, X for the missing victim—Faye was convinced that was Ruth Hamilton—and Meredith. The final file bore her own name. She shivered at how close she’d come to being a victim.
Clark was out of the office on another case, and Rob had debated calling Tom, but in the end, they’d decided protecting her location outweighed asking Tom to get them some answers. They’d left a message and waited for Clark to return the call.
Rob had grilled steaks while she’d baked potatoes and made a salad. They’d eaten outside at the picnic table, enjoying the beauty of their surroundings and a nice merlot until the mosquitoes forced them indoors. At the moment, Rob was watching the ball game on television. The score was tied.
Opening the files, Faye removed the pictures of victims one, two, and three—the same photographs she’d looked at on Friday. These had been healthy, happy, young women. What did I see in these pictures when I looked at them the other day? She’d noticed their resemblance to one another and to Mary, but there was something else. Why them? Why me? Exasperated, she threw the pictures down on the table.
“I give up!”
“Give up on what?” Rob asked, looking away from the television. He reached for the bottle of wine on the coffee table and added more to his glass.
“Trying to figure out what I saw on Friday night when I looked at those pictures. I can’t blame it on the booze, and I sure as hell don’t want to think the damn drugs he gave me have some residual effects.”
“Maybe you’re just tired. It’s almost ten. I don’t think Clark’s going to call tonight. Why don’t you go to bed, and we’ll start over in the morning?”
The thought of going upstairs alone brought back the fear she’d managed to keep at bay all day.
“No, I’m not tired. Is there any merlot left?”
“Yeah.” He refilled her glass. “The game’s over. I was going to watch the news. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine.” She reached for the glass he handed her. “Thanks.” Taking a seat on the sofa next to him, she stared into the bowl of the wineglass wishing it held the answers she needed.
“I’m positive my cult theory is right, but I can’t prove it as easily as you proved yours. There isn’t a DNA test I can request. I’m convinced the babies are the targets and the mothers are collateral damage. This cult is controlled by a charismatic leader, who may or may not be doing the dirty work. He’ll keep a low profile and rule with an iron fist to ensure everyone complies with his orders. This group won’t be on Homeland Security’s list. Its members stay under the wire, but I’ll bet they aren’t new either. It’s the only way the Harvester could manage it, the only way he could be in all those different places at once and not be noticed. The Harvester is the perfect name for him. He plows the fields—unsuspecting women—plants his seed, and collects the crop when the time is right. He doesn’t need the women anymore—so where is the fifth woman?”
“Hey, we didn’t know there were five until Wednesday. Cut us some slack. Trevor’s got teams checking the homes of every missing woman who fits the profile. You know, Faye, it’s possible she’s missing and no one knows it yet. He tends to go after women who live alone. He might have found one without relatives, without anyone who cares about her.”
“Her job would miss her. They’d contact the police, wouldn’t they?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. Estelle Watters was reported missing after her editor lost contact with her. There are people who work at home who might go weeks or months before their disappearance is recognized and reported.”
“That’s probably the most frightening thing you’ve said yet.” Faye yawned. “I guess I am tired.”
“Go to bed. I’ll be right here on the couch.”
“I know it’s stupid and makes no sense, but can you sleep upstairs again tonight? I just … I don’t want to be alone.”
“Not a problem. Let me make sure everything is locked up tight, and I’ll be right up.”
“Thank you.”
“Faye, there’s nothing wrong with needing someone to watch your back now and then. It’s not a sign of weakness; it’s being human. You’ve been through a lot. Think of me as a temporary security blanket. Once you’re feeling like your old self again, you won’t need me or anyone else to tuck you in.”
She smiled weakly, praying that day would come sooner rather than later.
Chapter Twelve
Birdsong and sunshine dragged Faye back to reality. Like the previous morning, she was snuggled spoon-like against Rob. Knowing she should pull away was one thing, but leaving the protective shelter of his arms, especially after another confusing dream, was another. He’d offered to be her security blanket, and by God she’d take advantage of that—not forever, but until she felt whole again.
The idea she could be attacked again, that she’d be as powerless as she’d been before, lingered in her mind and weakened her. Fear was unproductive. Cowering in the corner, waiting for that monster to find her, would eventually destroy her soul. Yesterday, she’d immersed herself in the case and had managed to suppress it, but last night, the thought of being alone in the dark, being vulnerable the way she’d been that morning in her apartment, crippled her.
I won’t live this way.
Instead of moving away as she should, she melted into Rob. Drawing strength from him like this wasn’t a frailty. As he’d said last night, sometimes you needed someone to have your back. The toughest marine in the corps didn’t go into battle alone. The Harvester, or whoever the monster was who’d attacked her, might have used her body and stolen her free will and memories, but he wouldn’t diminish her. Like her mind, her body didn’t remember him. He had no hold over her. Heat filled her as she allowed memories of Rob’s touch, his scent, his taste to surface. It had been months since she’d been with him like this, but desire quickened within her. She might have kicked Rob out of her heart, but her body sought the solace she’d always found in his arms.
“If you keep wiggling like that,” he breathed into her hair, and she could tell from his voice that he was half asleep, “I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”
“Maybe I don’t care about the consequences,” she said. “I need to overcome the sense of helplessness that monster’s instilled in me. I want to feel alive and in control of myself and my body.” For a second, she thought he hadn’t heard, but he slowly moved away from her to turn her onto her back.
“If there’s one thing you aren’t, Faye, it’s helpless. You’re the strongest woman I know. You’ll get through this, and we’ll catch the son of a bitch. Make no mistake.”
“I know, but right now, I want to feel normal. I want to go back to the way I used to feel when we were first together—no strings attached.”
“Are you sure? This may not be the best way to face your demons.”
“It may not be, but it’s what I want.” She’d consider the ramifications of her actions later, but at the moment she wanted the release making love to Rob had always given her.
It was all the invitation he needed. He pulled down the duvet, and the cool morning air barely registered against her fevered skin. He reached for the hem of her jersey and slowly pulled it up and off, tossing the garment on the floor. His eyes held hers a moment longer, and then he looked down at what he’d uncovered.
“I’ve missed this,” he whispered, bending his head to kiss her.
Masterfully, he captured her trembling lips with his, and she sighed, opening to him. At first, the kiss was gentle, exploratory, searching to recapture the magic of bygone times. Spontaneous morning sex had always been the best. Fueled by a frenzied fear she couldn’t control and the long, lonely months of abstinence, her response intensified. The kiss was hungry, probing, and intense, with fierceness and desperation.
Unable to stop herself, she ran her fingers through his hair, gripping his curls and pulling him even closer, her tongue the aggressor now. He moaned, moved his mouth away from hers, and feathered kisses along the side of her face, down her neck, and onto her breasts. His hands, callused from hours at sea working the ropes on his boat, followed the kisses and felt wonderful against her inflamed skin.
Caressing him in return, she thrilled at the feel of his muscular shoulders, lingering and stroking the scar from the bullet wound he’d earned years ago. He trembled at her touch, indicating he was as aroused as she was.
“Make love to me, Rob. Make me forget everyone and everything if only for a short while.”
“I want to, God only knows how much, but the last thing I want is to take advantage of you, especially now. I don’t have a condom. Maybe we should stop …” His voice was rough, his breathing heavy.
“No. I want this. I need it. Nothing else matters right now.”
She felt his tension, saw on his face the war raging within him, and knew the moment she could claim victory.
“Damn you, Faye.”
This time, his mouth came down on hers with a ferocity that stunned her. He plundered and pillaged, and when he entered her, she was rocked by the intensity of the pleasure coursing through her. The heat spiraled, and she cried out his name. It had always been like this between them—chemistry so combustive it threatened to consume them each time. Their bodies moved together, perfectly in sync, meshing seamlessly, and when the wave crested, she rode it and pulled him into her orgasm. Afterward, exhausted by the strength of their passion, she snuggled into Rob’s arms once more and fell asleep.
• • •
When Faye awoke again, she was alone in the enormous bed, her naked body tangled in the sheets, proof that the sex she’d enjoyed had been real and not a dream. The escape provided by joining their bodies had been what she’d needed. It hadn’t fixed anything, but for a few minutes she’d been in complete control of herself and that was the way she wanted to be. Her life, her body, her decision. Whether or not it happened again would depend on her physical needs and nothing else. Was she being selfish? Yes, but she doubted Rob would complain about it. He’d needed the release as much as she had.
According to the clock, it was almost ten. Listening intently, she heard Rob moving around downstairs. The smell of freshly brewed coffee tickled her nostrils, and her stomach rumbled. Grabbing the jersey she’d worn to bed, she pulled it over her head and padded across the room to the bathroom.
Faye showered, relishing the hot water running down her body. Taking control and pushing away her fears wouldn’t happen overnight. A romp in the hay, no matter how good, wouldn’t slay her dragons, but the feeling of empowerment it gave her went a long way toward making her feel normal. After pulling her wet hair back into a ponytail and clipping it atop her head, she dressed in jeans and a green top she’d purchased in Albany. She slipped her bare feet into sandals, made the bed, and went downstairs.
She hoped there wouldn’t be any awkwardness between them and that Rob wouldn’t think what had happened meant more than it did. Things got complicated when you overthought them. There were more than enough complications in her life as it was. The last thing she wanted was regret from either one of them.
He sat at the table, the folders spread out in front of him.
“Good morning,” she said, determined not to let what had been a normal need overshadow the work relationship they’d developed.
“Morning.” He turned toward her and smiled. “Sleep well?”
“I did, thanks.” She walked over to the counter to make coffee. “Have you eaten?”
“No. I thought I’d treat you to bacon and eggs this morning.”
“Sounds good. Scrambled eggs with cheese?”
“You got it.” He leaned against the counter beside her. “I don’t know where this is going, Faye, and at the moment, I don’t much care. What happened this morning was your idea, but if it were up to me, I’d take you back to that bed and make love to you all over again. What we had was good, and it still is, but what is it? What happened fifteen months ago won’t go away just because the sex is good. This isn’t the time to go into that, but one of these days, when we’ve caught the bastard, we’re going to have to have a serious talk.”
“I know,” she said. “But for now, what we’ve got going will have to be enough.”
“You’re right. Clark hasn’t returned my call, but I expect he will soon. Now, how about that grub?”
Half an hour later, her appetite satisfied, Faye returned to the folders she’d examined last night, searching for what continued to elude her, while Rob finished the dishes.
“You know,” she said, gathering the pictures and documents and placing them in the correct file folders, “maybe there isn’t anything more here than what we’ve found. Maybe the whiskey addled my brain that night. So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
“Clark should call soon, and then we need to go into Lake Placid. We can take a walk around Mirror Lake and check to see if your mail has arrived. Have a beer or a glass of wine at a lakefront café. I’ll treat you to a seafood dinner.”
“My mail? Why would I have mail there?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
Rob laughed. “Have I ever told you how cute you are when you make that face?”
“I forget I even do it,” she said, ignoring the compliment.
“You have mail because Clark managed to acquire it from the paper’s mailroom Thursday afternoon and from your mailbox at the loft. He was surprised at how much mail you had at the paper. Don’t you ever collect it?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t had more than a couple of letters in months. Jimmy usually brings it up to me. He sorts mail while the clerk is on lunch.”
“The mail clerk told Trevor you hadn’t emptied your mailbox in at least six months, and she was getting pretty fed up with the ‘do not deliver’ notice you’d sent down.”
“I never sent down a notice like that. Why didn’t she say something to me?”
“Beats me, but Trevor included the note you sent her. Since it’s a federal offense to open someone else’s mail, he’s sent everything along. They managed to track down the florist who delivered the carnations. The girl who was on duty is on vacation. Trevor will email a sketch of whoever ordered those flowers as soon as he gets one. He’s hoping you might recognize the person.”
Faye shuddered. “I’m not sure I want to, but I love the idea of going into the village for a couple of hours—and did you say seafood? Let me go see what I have in the way of clothes, and I’m all yours.” She moved away from the door, but he reached for her.
> “I’ll hold you to that.” He kissed her tenderly, but she broke off the kiss before he could deepen it. Sex was one thing, but daytime kisses shrieked relationship, and she wasn’t going there. She’d been down that road before, and it had only led to heartache and disappointment. This time around, she’d stick to the KISS principle—keep it sweet and simple.
She smiled playfully as she moved out of his arms. “Didn’t you say something about seafood?” She ran toward the staircase. “I’ll be ten minutes, tops.”
• • •
The phone rang while Faye was changing, and Rob filled Clark in on her cult theory and asked him to check on the things they’d noted.
“I’ll contact Homeland Security and arrange for someone specializing in cults to see if they’ve got anyone on their radar who might fit Faye’s parameters,” Clark said.
“I’m glad you let me share this with her. Your people might’ve gotten around to thinking that way, but she zeroed in on it right away.”
“Well, keep her involved. How’s she doing?”
“Good. She’s working on trying to move on.” He thought of their early-morning activities. It wouldn’t be easy to go back to a platonic relationship if that’s what she wanted.
“No one’s asking questions about her at the hospital, but Agent Pierce and your partner are royally pissed about being pulled away from there and being unable to get hold of you. Tom seemed genuinely concerned. I think you need to call him because otherwise, he’s going to become a problem.”
“I’ll phone in this afternoon from the burner phone. How’s the search for the mole coming?”
“I’m no closer to identifying the leak than I was, but Amos has noticed some irregularities in his lab reports. The man makes a habit of keeping multiple copies in different places, and it’s a damn good thing. Among the missing data is the DNA analysis from Faye’s rape kit.”
Rob whistled. “That’s significant. How many people had access to that file?”