“Well…” She shifted, her pupils dilated. “There’s a reason why I landed the job at the museum.”
Ramsey didn’t see a correlation between her last statement and her day job. “I assume you were the most qualified candidate. Anzio told me how dedicated you are.”
“Yes and yes,” she said. “But I feel compelled to elaborate.”
“Please do.” He watched her closely, not detecting any dishonesty.
“In order to even be considered for the assistant curator position, my graduate thesis had to feature local history.”
Ramsey waved his hand. “Kentucky is filled with intriguing history.”
“Yes, very intriguing,” she agreed, intently focused on his face. “My undergraduate focus was medieval Europe. So it only seemed natural to transition into specializing in Opposition City genealogy. There’s only a handful of families linked to 11th century Europe between here and Lexington.”
“Including mine.” The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together now.
She swallowed nervously. “And there’s only one family prestigious enough to earn a permanent exhibit at the museum.”
“The De Wolfes,” he said dispassionately, always quick to cut off anyone obsessed with his roots. He’d had his share of fan-girl stalkers over the years.
“The subject of my thesis…”
“My family.” The sound of disappointment in his own voice surprised Ramsey. Somehow he mistakenly thought this girl was different. Different enough to deserve his respect and time. He was going to ask her to dinner tonight before her strange confession. Ramsey wasn’t even sure she’d done anything wrong yet, but he didn’t like where the conversation was going.
“I pretended not to know who you were last night. I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Lord knows I couldn’t stop staring when you sat down at the table near the stage.” She sighed. “Then you asked me to have a drink. I’ve been formulating for weeks how I was going to ask you for an interview. I have so many questions. And you’ve evaded top journalists for years.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Ramsey stood, ready to take her home. “So you’re interest in me is purely professional. You thought sleeping with me would solve your problem. Well done, Ms. Blake, I didn’t see that one coming.”
“No,” she denied. “Please don’t think that way. At first maybe, but once we started to talk, I felt something I still can’t explain. A connection.”
“It’s called lust,” he said with intentional callousness. “And to think Anzio was concerned with your welfare. I’m the one he should have safeguarded.”
“Wait.” Madison shot up from the bed, still naked.
He might resent her premeditated seduction, but the sight of her sleek form did things to him—made him ready to fuck her again. “You can take a shower and eat your breakfast in peace. Please be ready to go by nine.” With a last look at her luscious breasts, he left his bedroom.
CHAPTER SIX
No. No. No. Ramsey didn’t give Madison a chance to really explain. She stared at the closed bedroom door for what seemed forever, worry and disappointment swirling inside her belly. Everything turned into a cluster the minute she opened her mouth. But she also blamed Ramsey for spinning her words. In no way was her interest in him just purely professional. She didn’t get a chance to tell him how much she admired his family. Or him. She looked back at the bed—the expensive comforter and sheets twisted up and half laying on the floor.
Her cheeks burned with shame. She deprived her body for so long because all of her energy went to her education, and now her job. She’d given up singing for three years, and the only reason she pursued it now was to make financial ends meet. Establishing herself as a serious professional in Opposition City meant everything to her. But those dreams were clearly in jeopardy now. Having the premiere De Wolfe pissed at her, wouldn’t help.
What if he contacted her boss at the museum? Worse yet, what if Ramsey told Anzio they’d slept together? And what if he passed along that information to her brother? Her heart skipped a couple beats as she searched for her clothes on the floor. She scooped up her skirt and shirt, then found her bra and panties a few feet away. As for her socks, she stared down at her feet and wiggled her toes. Last night Ramsey liked them.
The hot shower lasted ten minutes and she toweled dry in a hurry. The sooner she got out of here, the better. Maybe if she pretended she’d never met Ramsey and focused on his parents or one of his brothers, she’d be able to live with her mistake. Someone must know something about the family curse. Though first-born males were rumored to be the ones most affected by it. Of course Ramsey didn’t know that her second specialty was ancient legends and curses. And though she’d travelled to Europe three times in the last five years to do extensive research, the answers she sought could only be found here in Kentucky.
The line of De Wolfes born through the illegitimate son of Jonathan relocated to America in the early eighteenth century, along with much of their documented history. So somewhere in that spectacular mansion on a hill that the De Wolfe clan called home, were the secrets to their family.
A few minutes later, Ramsey pounded on the bedroom door. “Are you ready to go?” he called.
“Just a minute,” she replied, checking her hair and lipstick a last time. She might be on his shit list, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look good. She tracked to the door and took a deep breath before she opened it. “I can take a cab.”
Dressed in khakis and a midnight blue button up shirt that did nothing to hide his muscles, Madison had to force herself to concentrate.
“Nonsense,” he said. “I’m responsible for you, Ms. Blake. I’d prefer to see you safely home.”
She shrugged, not in the mood to argue. She retreated into the bedroom and grabbed her backpack. “I only live ten minutes from here.”
“What’s the address?” he asked.
“The Burgess Apartments.”
“On Davenport Avenue?” His eyebrows hiked.
“Yes.” Why did he look so concerned all of a sudden?
“Do you know how many calls we respond to at that place? Fucking crime central and you choose to live in the middle of it.” He gripped her elbow and steered her down the stairs slowly.
“Not all of us are trust fund babies,” she said.
“Trust fund?” Ramsey stopped on the landing and spun her around. “Is that what you think? My ancestors made their money the old fashioned way, Madison. Invested in land before the Revolutionary War, and worked their bloody fingers to the bone. Gentlemen farmers for lack of a better term. Then when the south seceded, they suffered ridicule and isolation because they refused to support slavery. Do I need to give you a history lesson on what life was like in Kentucky during the Civil War? Brother against brother. Confederate rebels slipped over the border and slaughtered Union supporters in the middle of the night in their beds. The women and children in my family were relocated to Pennsylvania and New York while the men fought for the Union. Imagine being displaced for a decade, not knowing if you’d ever see your beloved home again.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
He chuckled. “Everything about the last twelve hours offends me, Ms. Blake.”
He held the front door open for her. She brisked by, careful not to make contact with him. So the man took his family history very seriously. That’s what she’d hoped and prayed for. Not just for professional reasons; she cared about the contributions the De Wolfes had made to this state. Even today, the museum benefitted from an annual endowment and they often appeared at charity events.
She climbed into the passenger seat of his Porsche and buckled up. He slammed the driver’s door shut. “So I guess there’s no chance at an interview?” Why did she ask that? Stupid.
He blew out a frustrated breath and turned her direction. “What happened to the little church mouse that sang in the choir?”
“Oh she’s in here somewhere,” she
assured him. “But if you’re going to cast me in such a negative light, I might as well own it. Right?”
His features relaxed a little. “And if you could ask me just one question, Ms. Blake, what would it be?”
She tangled her fingers in her hair, feeling anxious all of a sudden. “Do you promise to answer?”
“There’s no guarantees.”
She puzzled over it. One question. One chance to get inside his brilliant mind. After last night, her interests had shifted tremendously. She didn’t want to part on such bad terms. Hell, she didn’t want to give him up. That lovemaking or sex, whatever he wanted to call it, had left her feeling incomplete.
He started the car and jammed the gear stick into reverse. His tires spun and he backed out of his driveway, then shifted into drive, gunning the gas.
“I’m waiting, Ms. Blake.”
Okay. She knew what to ask. Blame her choice on avowed dedication to her research. “Is there a way to break your family curse?”
He slowed down, turned on his directional, and pulled off the two lane street, stopping on the gravel shoulder. “What did you say?”
She met his gaze. “Is there a way to break your family curse?”
He rubbed his stubbled chin. “You have balls, Madison. I’ll give you that.”
He said nothing afterward.
“I gave you what you wanted, now play fair. Answer the question. Please.”
“Don’t you think if we knew the answer, we’d do everything within our power to change our futures? You’re the expert. Tell me what you know about my brothers.”
“Jordan has two sons with an ex-fiancé. Braden fathered a little girl three years ago. James recently broke up with his girlfriend who is now pregnant. And your youngest brother, Chancellor, is still in high school.”
His eyes swept over her, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. “I’m exceedingly impressed. Seems like you keep up with the gossip. Bastards beget bastards, Ms. Blake. Marriage for us is unattainable.”
How could he speak so nonchalant about something so heart wrenching? “But your father…”
“Step father,” he corrected. “Lars De Wolfe, my biological father, popped in and out of my mother’s life. Call it instinct—men are blindly driven by the need to reproduce. And my father found a willing partner in my mother. But every time she got pregnant, he disappeared. My step father was there to pick up the pieces—every time.”
Yes. Lars and Claire De Wolfe had never been officially married, common law only. But she used his name, even though she married his step father seventeen years ago. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” He slammed his palms on the steering wheel. “For me, or yourself?”
“You.” That much she knew.
“Well don’t be. We’ve adapted.”
He merged with traffic again, the conversation over. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into her apartment complex parking lot.
“What building?” he asked.
Madison disconnected her seatbelt and grabbed her bag from the floorboard. “I’ll hop out here.” She twisted in the seat, hoping to get a last look at his handsome face. “Should I say thank you or just goodbye?” A pebble-sized cluster of hope floated just near the surface. She wanted him to kiss her and tell her everything was going to be all right. That he forgave her for not telling him the truth last night.
“Goodbye will suffice.”
She shook her head, deeply embarrassed and hurt. “Goodbye then.” She hopped out of his car, closed the door, and watched him drive away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
By Monday morning at work, Ramsey still couldn’t get Madison out of his head. Even though he considered her an opportunist, the erotic memories were too hot to forget. He hadn’t even changed the sheets on his bed yet, her delicate scent deep in his pillows and blanket. And as he often did whenever something knocked him off his axis, he reached for the stack of wedding invitations in his desk drawer.
Sure they made him smile. But more importantly, it reminded him why his name wasn’t engraved on the expensive paper. De Wolfes don’t fall in love. De Wolfes don’t get married. He flipped through them, randomly selecting an envelope and opened it. Tamara’s hand written note fell out.
Thank you, Ramsey. For opening my eyes to what was missing in my life. For giving me that proverbial shake. John is wonderful. We met the day after I left Opposition City, at the train station in Lexington. I believe everything happens for a reason. Even us. In some special way, you helped me find my soul mate. Please attend the wedding, we consider you a guest of honor.
Love,
Tamara Tyson
Tamara had been one of his favorites. Blond hair and brown eyes, a little too voluptuous, but God if he didn’t enjoy… And now she was happily married with two kids. She emailed occasionally, and if he felt generous, he replied. That was the extent of his intimacy. Words typed on his computer. He sighed and shoved the invitation and letter back into the envelope, then stashed the pile where it belonged, hidden away.
Even his younger brothers had managed to sire children. Something he wanted desperately. So he waited patiently, hoping to meet the right woman.
Someone knocked.
“Come in.”
“Detective De Wolfe,” Clyde Pinkett stepped inside. “We found another body by the lake. Female, early twenties, looks like sexual assault. The team is on scene, and Dr. Glover is on her way.”
Sandra Glover and Ramsey didn’t always agree on investigative procedures, but the woman was the best forensic pathologist in the state. He stood and walked to the coat rack near his door, plucking his suit jacket off the hook. He put it on, then followed the junior officer outside to the parking lot. They climbed into Ramsey’s black Chrysler 300, and headed to Cronis Lake, twenty minutes outside of the city limits.
As soon as he pulled into the gravel parking lot, Ramsey spotted the local news vans, police vehicles, and curious bystanders.
“Get the people out of here,” he said to Clyde as he opened his door. The first officers on scene should have secured the area better. But the department had made some personnel cuts recently, limiting the number of officers available.
He rounded his vehicle and retrieved his own camera from the trunk, preferring to take shots of the crime scene from his perspective. Ramsey kept a white board in his office where he liked to hang photos and reports so he got a clear visual of everything he needed to tell the story of the victim. He’d successfully closed dozens of violent crime cases. But the latest string of rape-murders left his mind spinning.
All the victims were between eighteen and thirty, petite, blond, and connected to the downtown area in some way. Two had been prostitutes, one a stock broker, and the remaining four, students from Lexington. He strode to the yellow tape barrier separating the crime scene from the open space where the media had set up their cameras. A reporter called to him, but he waved his hand, not in the mood to say anything before he had a chance to examine the body.
Three other victims had been recovered from campsites at this park. Stupid teenagers and college students liked to party here on the weekends. Knowledge of a serial rapist-killer on the loose in the city didn’t dissuade them. Alcohol and sex took precedence over safety. He eyed the beer bottles and food wrappers strewn across the ground. Ramsey followed the line of small orange cones set up, marking the locations of possible evidence. At the first one he found a red bra. Cigarette butts at the second. Matching red panties at the third cone, and a silver locket at the fourth. He snapped pictures from different angles, then found an officer making a plaster cast of a footprint in the nearby mud.
Again he took a photo, pressure building in his chest.
The girl’s body was half covered with a blue tarp, everything above the shoulders exposed to the sunlight. The ligature marks on her neck were fresh and deep. The son-of-a-bitch had used electrical cord again, he recognized the familiar pattern. No matter how many murder scenes he investigated, it always felt like
the first time. Rage and regret washed over him, but the need for vengeance is what kept him focused. He wanted to catch the bastard so bad he could taste blood.
“It’s a shame.” The officer bent over the cadaver looked up at Ramsey. “We found her purse. Margaret Costner, she’s twenty-one. What a fucking waste—so young and beautiful…”
All murders were senseless, but when women and children were involved, it hit extra hard. “We’ll get him.” That’s all Ramsey said.
He walked thirty yards to the shoreline, sharply focused on the pathway. It appeared the team had done a good job canvasing the area. Nothing caught his attention. As he turned back, he spotted Dr. Glover. Ramsey hurried to meet her.
“Ramsey,” she greeted as he approached.
“Doc, good to see you again.”
She nodded, then glanced down at the victim. “Did you get a close look?”
“Same MO as the other killings. I’m headed downtown to talk to the restaurant and club owners. Someone in Opposition City knows Margaret.” He addressed the officer again. “Get one of the forensic guys to scan her license and send me a copy.”
“Sure thing, Detective De Wolfe.”
Ramsey rejoined Clyde in the parking lot, pleased to see the area had been cleared of unnecessary people. “Thanks for dispersing the crowd, goddamned amateur CSI’s will do anything to see a body. Did anyone look suspicious?”
“No,” Clyde answered. “But I know Channel Five taped some practice footage. Want me to ask them to send a copy to the department?”
“Do that,” Ramsey said. “I’m out of here.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
With her boss attending a convention in Indianapolis all week, Madison had time to devote to her interests at work. She’d spent the morning reexamining public records, newspaper clippings, magazine articles, family letters, and what few reference books the museum owned that mentioned the De Wolfe family. Several newspaper pieces explored the topic of the family curse. Ramsey’s biological father had even confirmed it in a very candid interview with the Opposition City Times back in 1985. But something was missing.
Never Cry De Wolfe--World of de Wolfe Pack Page 4
