Mason brushed his cheek against hers, his late-day beard a seductive abrasion. His fingers continued their gentle circles along her head, and she could have sworn his hand trembled slightly.
“Good night, Jill.” His breath steamed over her ear before he stepped back.
Good night? He was leaving? Not pressing for more? Surprising to say the least, because she didn’t doubt for a second that he wanted her. She’d felt the intimate hard evidence clearly enough when they’d been body locked together.
She braced a steadying hand against the arch, the world shaky under her feet.
“Night, Mason.” She pushed open the creaky iron gate, blinking to clear her eyes and regain her balance.
She kicked a stray landscaping stone back into the garden. And then another stone. Why were so many disturbed? The sensor-activated security lights flickered on. Mason still warm at her back as he waited for her to make it inside, she slid her key halfway in the lock.
The hair prickled along the back of her neck, her cop senses on alert.
Her front door slipped open before she even twisted the dead bolt. Oh God, someone was in there. Or someone had been there. She knew without question that she’d locked up earlier. She was relentlessly professional about her safety.
Mason’s hand clamped on her shoulder. “Back up. Now.”
Jill stumbled against him. She needed to get her head together, call the cops, and assess the situation. As she backpedaled away, her eyes fell on the rock garden, now fully lit. Her stomach roiled. More than just a couple of rocks had been kicked aside.
Someone had swept away a whole section to create an unmistakable swirl in the sandy earth beneath.
TEN
Jill couldn’t move, could barely even process what she was seeing in her patio garden. She’d reviewed the same dirt swirl in crime scene photos hundreds of times. But she’d certainly never expected to see the serial killer’s signature at her own home.
“Hey, Jill?” Mason pulled her arm. “We need to call the police.”
“I am the police.” Well, sort of. She didn’t work for the police department anymore. Her jurisdiction as a contracted security force extended only to the acreage surrounding Area 51. Still, she couldn’t let a murderer just walk away if he was in her duplex. He could even be in there harming someone else.
But Mason was right. She couldn’t face someone so sadistic half-cocked—and she definitely couldn’t let Mason go in unaware. She would have to warn him and make sure he fully understood the danger.
Jill pointed at the dirt swirl in her garden. “That’s the serial killer’s signature.”
“Shit.” Mason stepped between her and the front door.
She tugged her cell phone out of her purse, her gun still in her other hand. Jill thumbed seven on her phone and waited through two rings.
“Gallardo,” her boss barked from the other end of the line, his voice gruff from sleep.
“It’s me. Jill. Send someone over to my house ASAP. There’s been a break-in, and it looks like it could be our serial killer.”
“Damn it, Jill,” Gallardo snapped from the other end of the line, now sounding completely awake. “Get the hell out.”
“I am outside, and I’m with Sergeant Randolph. I’m armed and watching the premises.”
“Good. Good,” he said so loudly that Mason could undoubtedly hear. “Both of you get back in the car and wait. Do not, I repeat, do not go inside without backup, and I don’t consider Randolph legal backup.”
The line went dead.
Mason’s jaw jutted forward. “There’s not a chance in hell I intend to let a serial killer get away if he’s in there. I’m not your regular tie-wearing civilian. What does your boss think I do for a living?”
She agreed with him, up to a point. “But you’re not armed.”
“Says who?” He reached under his jeans leg to pull out a knife. Had that been strapped to his leg all night? “I’m going in first. Don’t argue. We don’t have time. Seconds count.”
She couldn’t argue with that, especially not when she knew full well the level of this killer’s brutality. She would check on her neighbors after clearing her place.
“Let’s get moving.” Her heartbeat stuttering in her ears, she followed Mason. He moved with stealth through the stucco arch, past the disturbed rock garden, and nudged her door open. Thank God, the older hinges didn’t creak like the gate.
She blinked fast to adjust her eyes now that they were away from the streetlamps. Her living room was dark, as she had left it. Only a night-light in the kitchen cast any illumination. The tiny plug-in miniature teacup didn’t do much to give them a visual edge.
Her tiny kitchen and dining area appeared empty. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe. If there was somebody lurking inside, he must be in the computer room, bedroom, or bathroom.
Mason stepped through the living area and into the narrow hall. The carpet absorbed all sound of footsteps. Of course, the same would apply for anybody else trying to sneak around.
A thud sounded behind her. She spun around fast. A teapot rattled on top of the corner curio cabinet. The light inside flickered on and off.
A second thump sounded, followed by the muffled sound of a couple laughing, and she realized the noise had come from the other side of the wall—the other duplex.
Mason turned back toward the hall leading deeper into her home. As they approached the three doors, he glanced back at her again, a question in his eyes.
Jill checked around her. The computer room door was closed as always. The bathroom door was wide open. Her bedroom door, however, was half open. She generally left it wide like the bathroom door.
She pointed at her bedroom. Mason nodded. They eased closer, angling sideways to peer inside.
A dark-clad body loomed over her dressing table.
Her skin burned and pulled tight. Adrenaline was kicking in, without a doubt, but it surged so hard and fast it hurt.
Dark clothes and a stocking cap tugged low, he was riffling through her jewelry box. If he was looking to make a quick buck to make up for not finding her home, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
Jill leveled her gun and stepped forward. A board creaked under her foot. The intruder looked up sharply, tensed.
He bolted toward an open window she knew darn well she’d locked. He’d set up his escape route.
Mason charged after him. The dark figure dived headfirst through the window. If he made it through, he would have a winding maze of streets in which to lose himself. Mason’s long legs closed the gap between them.
He grabbed the intruder’s feet and heaved him back into the room with a grunt and an oof. The two men appeared evenly matched in size, but Mason had the upper hand in slamming the guy’s face to the floor. Jill kept her gun pointed up, watching for the moment he might need help, and she needed to be careful not to shoot the wrong guy in the process.
The intruder twisted and flipped, somehow managing to get on his side. Mason powered a punch forward. The crack echoed through the room as bone met bone. The guy’s head snapped back against the carpeted floor. His very thick skull, apparently, since he only shook his head, barely stunned. He didn’t seem to have a weapon, and for some reason Mason had opted not to use his knife.
The dark-clad man bucked against Mason’s restraining hold while reaching, grasping.
Jill slammed her high heels on the man’s thick wrist. He screamed, his body doubling up.
In a flash, Mason flipped the guy to his stomach and ratcheted his hands up high behind his back. “What the hell were you doing in here?” He pumped the restrained hands up higher. “Answer me, damn it.”
“Stop, stop!” The man in dark clothes went limp. “I’m not fighting back. Don’t hurt me. I’m not fighting, man.”
“You sick jerk.” Mason peeled away the guy’s stocking mask to reveal a male in his twenties, sandy hair and scared-as-hell blue eyes. A total stranger. “They’re going to take you apart in jail afte
r what you did to all of those people.”
“What are you talking about?” His eyes went wide, fear fading to confusion. “I just wanted to find some money for a meal.”
“You can try that line on the cops when they arrive in about sixty seconds.”
“No, really.” His words tumbled out faster and higher with agitation. “The door was open, the lights off, like it was practically begging me to help myself, so I came inside. If you’re stupid enough to leave your place open like that, how can you blame a guy for checking things out?”
Jill knelt to his level, her gun in plain sight. “You’re not in any position to call someone stupid.”
“Sorry, sorry, really, lady, let’s take it down a notch. I’m cooperating.”
Jill glanced at Mason. “I always lock my door.”
He nodded. “I figured as much. Money for a meal, huh? More like cash for a fix to pacify you, since your original plan didn’t work out.”
“Does it really matter, dude?”
Hell yes, it mattered. In fact, it was the difference between finding a serial killer and a two-bit bum. But why would the serial killer leave his signature in her yard without attacking or sticking around? Feasible. In fact, he could have done the same to countless other women who didn’t report it, because before now, no one other than the cops knew about the signature move.
If it wasn’t this guy, could the real killer have been watching her and Mason from the minute they’d stepped out of his truck, when they’d kissed? Even the possibility made her nauseous.
It looked like the serial killer was still out there and now he had her address.
Mason stood outside Jill’s entry gate while the cops encircled her duplex. Neighbors clumped in small groups in their yards and on the street corner. Thomas Gallardo—Jill’s boss—was speaking with local police. He’d pulled up five minutes after the cops.
The intruder was restrained in the back of a police cruiser, waiting to be taken to the station, where they could begin picking apart his story to determine if he told the truth about finding the place open. If he was the serial killer, then he was a damn good actor.
Of course, that was the whole point.
And to think Jill could have stumbled in on the guy alone if they hadn’t ridden together. If they hadn’t stopped to talk. And more.
No time to think about that now. Mason checked his watch. Oh one hundred. He had exactly two and a half hours to wrap this up and get home before he busted crew rest—the mandatory twelve hours downtime before any flight. He couldn’t afford for anything to go off course in flying this next test mission for the hypersonic jet. He had two flights, both of which needed to go flawlessly before they could present the craft to the visiting generals.
That didn’t mean he could just bail on Jill. “You really think this could be the serial killer? I’m assuming it has something to do with that pattern in your garden, since that was when you freaked out.”
She eyed the press, then the small groups of people in bathrobes, one of whom must have called the media. “I did not freak out. Much.”
“There’s no shame in that. Whoever this dude is, he’s not someone to toy with.”
“I agree, and yes, the pattern in the garden has significance. You’re going to hear anyway, so I might as well tell you. It appears at every scene. We were able to secure the crime scenes before the press arrived, but someone leaked a CSI photo from the latest killing. So it’s not like it matters if somebody snags a snapshot of my garden.”
“You had this information? I would have thought the investigation for these cases rested with the sheriff’s department, not to someone hired out by a security agency.”
“Since all of the victims have a tie to the military in this area, we’ve been on a higher level of alert.”
“It makes sense to use all trained eyes available.” He reached into the cab of his truck, pulled out his jacket, and offered it to her. “Is that why you were so deep in the desert the night I parachuted out?”
She hesitated for a second then took the coat from his outstretched hand. “I can’t talk about details, but suffice it to say I get to hear about more going on than I normally would, which leads me to do things that wouldn’t usually fall under my purview.”
“If those marks in your garden mean what you said they do, then the killer has figured out just how involved you are in hunting him down.”
A dry gust of wind rolled through, and she burrowed deeper inside his jacket. “I shouldn’t have told you that about the markings, but I wanted to make sure you understood who was probably waiting inside. I may take heat for it, but I stand by my decision. Regardless, I can’t let up now. The second victim—Lara—was a friend of mine.”
Lara? An unusual name he’d only heard once before, here in this area. It couldn’t be the same person. But still, why not ask. “What is her last name?”
“It’s public knowledge, so it’s okay for me to tell you her name was Lara Restin.”
The oomph went out of his knees, and he leaned back against his truck. “Damn it. I knew her, too.”
“You hadn’t heard what happened to her?” She sounded suspicious.
“I told you I haven’t been up on the details. I didn’t know her well, but I know who she is—who she was. Damn,” he said again, the enormity of it blindsiding him after an already off-kilter night.
She leaned on the truck beside him, almost touching, her presence comforting even without contact. “It sucks you in, doesn’t it? Putting a real person’s face on the crime.”
He had too many faces in his head since he dealt with life-and-death stakes on a daily basis. He couldn’t do his job, go to war, and walk away unaffected. But maybe—given her profession—she understood that better than most.
Understanding her job, however, would only carry him so far. He didn’t give a shit that she carried a gun. That didn’t mean he planned to leave her alone here. He had a little longer before he had to hit the road. “You shouldn’t stay here.”
“I know.”
“You do? No arguments about independence and how you’re trained?”
“Not a one. If this killer targeted a man who was a black belt in karate, he’s a sadistic bastard.” She clenched her fists. “But why pick me to scare? There are plenty of others involved in the investigation, and it’s not like I have a direct link to the military.”
“You wear camos, and you work around Area 51, the alien playground.”
“I guess you have a point.”
“So where do you intend to stay?”
“Phil is the logical choice, and honestly I think it may be time for me to borrow one of his dogs—a really big dog.”
“A guard dog would be an excellent idea, wherever you stay.” He scratched behind his ear. “I’ll drive you there. I have time before my crew rest kicks in.”
“Crew rest?”
“For a flight. It’s my job. I do work every now and again.”
“So I’ve seen.” She nudged his foot gently with hers. “Is your ankle okay?”
He flexed his foot and held back a wince. “Almost as good as new. I don’t even need to tape it anymore.”
“You’re a speedy healer . . .” Her voice trailed off awkwardly. “If it’s really not too much trouble, I’ll take you up on the offer of a ride. And thank you for not pressing me to stay at your place.”
“As much as I’d like to think I’m a damn good kisser, I don’t expect one kiss is going to automatically lure you into bed.”
“Is that what you’re after?” Her eyes looked defenseless for once. “An affair with me?”
“Honestly? I don’t have a clue. You’ve pretty much blindsided me since you pulled up out there in the desert after my accident, and you haven’t let up for a second since.”
“Wow”—she crossed her arms defensively—“you really are good. Almost too good sometimes, Mason.”
She didn’t believe him? Now, wasn’t that a kick in the ass.
&nb
sp; Gallardo motioned for Jill, interrupting whatever answer he could have rolled out.
Jill hugged herself tighter, her eyes skirting away from him and to Gallardo. “If you’re done with me here, boss, then I’m going to stay with a friend.”
Gallardo nodded. “The cops seem to be finishing up, and I certainly don’t have anything else to ask tonight. I think staying with a friend is a wise idea.” He grinned. “Unless you want to come hang out at my place with my wife and three kids?”
“Not a chance would I risk bringing anything like this to your family’s doorstep.”
His smile faded. “Good point.” He clapped Mason on the shoulder. “At least I know you’re safe with this guy. I assume he’s who you’re staying with?”
Jill chewed her lip.
Mason stepped into the breach. “And you know this because—?”
“We ruled you out as a suspect—for that matter, we ruled out a number of people on the base—because you weren’t even in the country when some of these crimes occurred. Obviously you can’t be in two places at once or jet back and forth in a couple of hours.”
And just as Jill had her hold-back information, he had things that he couldn’t discuss without breaking a half-dozen laws and landing himself in jail. Of course, he knew he was innocent, so it actually didn’t matter that his alibi was bunk, since the new technology he worked on could have him around the world in a blink.
But what about other suspects they may have erroneously scratched off the list?
Lee watched Mason Randolph with Jill Walczak by the curb, cop cars strobing lights over the sleepy neighborhood. Enough people had poured out of their homes so that no one would notice her.
Just as she’d expected, they’d ended up back here and found her little “gift” in the garden. She’d walked around inside for a while, curious about why such a mousy woman caught Mason’s eye, but there hadn’t been anything extraordinary to offer insights. She’d considered burning the place down—she was an expert, after all, in how to rig electronics to explode and could have incinerated the place in a beautiful fire no one could have ever traced to arson. In the end, even as much as she enjoyed the heat and beauty of flames, she’d opted for a more subtle approach. The petty thief had been a surprise bonus. At least some of her plans were coming together well . . .
Renegade Page 11
