by Karen Rose
“Neil, wait.”
He looked up at the stars, then back at her. “You really love him, don’t you?”
She nodded, again not knowing what to say. So she said the truth. “I really do.”
He took her hand, squeezed it. “I’ll probably go back on the first flight tomorrow.”
And as she looked at him, she saw a very lonely man who truly cared about the girls he believed himself to have failed. Her heart squeezing in compassion, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I hope you find peace, Neil.”
He grimaced. “I’d settle for a good night’s sleep.”
Her mouth curved up. “Try counting ewes.”
“Ah. Girl sheep.”
She rolled her eyes. “I knew it was a guy thing.” And he laughed as she smiled. He stepped away backward until he got to a tiny little car.
“Good luck, Jenna. I hope Steven’s the good man you believe him to be. If I had a woman like you waiting for me, I sure as hell wouldn’t be late.”
Jenna’s smile faded. “Safe travels, Neil.”
THIRTY
Thursday, October 13, 6:30 P.M.
NEIL WATCHED HER FROM HIS REARVIEW MIRROR as he drove away, cursing himself for once again being in the right place at the wrong time and Thatcher for having all the good fortune. Then a Volvo wagon zoomed past him on the right and exited the school’s parking lot in a cloud of dust.
Thatcher’s Volvo. Of course.
“Well, damn,” he said softly, though only half of him could regret Thatcher misinterpreting what he’d seen. The other half was glad. Jenna didn’t deserve a volcano ready to blow. She was also alone, waiting for a man who wasn’t coming to get her. And she still had to worry about Lutz and his friends as the next football game drew nearer. Those thugs were more than desperate.
He’d nearly returned to the front of the school when he heard her scream. Senses on full alert, he jumped from the car and pulled his Glock from the waistband at his back. “Jenna!”
She screamed again. Running, following the sound of her scream, he rounded the corner of the school where four big figures were dragging her toward the football field.
And having a hard time of it, he noted as he drew his weapon. She managed to kick two of them away, but the other two shoved her against the brick wall. Her cry of pain ripped at his gut.
“Stop! Police!” he shouted, trying to see who was who in the dark, swearing he now saw five boys where just a moment before there had been only four. He pointed his gun upward and shot a warning round into the air when no one stepped away from her. “Police!”
There was cursing and scuffling and the two took final parting shots at her face before running. He took one quick look to make sure she was breathing before taking off after them. They were fast, he thought. Probably wide receivers. No tackle could run that fast. The tackles were probably the guys she’d dropped back in the scuffle. The two did some fancy maneuvering that took them around the bleachers and over a fence.
Neil stopped running, breathing hard. He hadn’t had one good look at them. Sonsofbitches.
Hopefully Jenna had. Sprinting, he made it back to where she sat up against the wall, the fifth figure bending over her. So there were five. “Just step back from her, boy, and nobody gets hurt.”
The fifth boy froze, then backed up slowly, straightening. “Hands out where I can see them.”
The boy’s hands stuck out stiffly at his sides.
“Neil, it’s okay.” The cupped palm she held over her mouth was dripping blood.
“Shit, you’re bleeding.” He shrugged out of his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt with one hand while holding his weapon steadily on the boy with the other. He pulled off his shirt and threw it to her. “Here. Use that on the blood. It’s clean. Mostly.”
She held the shirt to her mouth. “Neil, put the gun down. Josh was helping, not hurting me.”
Josh. Neil let his weapon drop to his side, his fingers still tight on the trigger. “Turn around, son.” And waited while the big boy turned. And saw a face he hadn’t seen in many years. Josh Parker. Josh Lutz. They hadn’t bothered to change their other son’s first name. Neil guessed the Parkers weren’t as worried about the effect of a scandal on a boy of Josh’s aptitude. Or lack thereof. There would be no college scouts watching their other son. No future to protect. Josh stood looking at him, his hands still out at his sides, that same vacant look in his eyes that he’d had years before. “Just back up, son. Back up and tell me what you were doing here.”
If Josh recognized him, he gave no sign of it. One of the boys curled up on the ground moaned and cursed. Neil took a step back to see them clearly. “You two on the ground holding your dicks, put your faces in the dirt and your hands out to your sides.” When they made no move to comply he shoved one of them with the toe of his shoe. “I said on your faces or I’ll let the teacher here give you another kick.” Immediately both rolled to their bellies, groaning pitifully, hands outstretched, like snow angels in reverse. “Next time you decide to fuck with a woman, make sure she doesn’t have a fucking brown belt,” Neil snarled and both boys made whiny whimpering sounds.
Josh Lutz glanced at the two on the ground. “They were hurting her. I had to do something.”
“You did, Josh,” Jenna said, her voice muffled by the shirt against her lip. “You did just fine.”
Neil pulled his phone from his pocket, dialed 911, then tossed the phone to Jenna. “Tell them where we are.”
Jenna gave the operator all the information, then stood up, his phone still in her hand. “I need to call Steven,” she said.
Steven. Hah, Neil thought, sorry sonofabitch, caring more for his petty ego than the safety of this woman. “Good luck. He’s probably halfway to Virginia by now.”
Her hand stilled on the cell phone and she lowered it to her side. “What do you mean?”
He debated for a moment telling her, knowing it would hurt her, then told her anyway, knowing it was for her own good. “He passed me on my way out of here. Doing about eighty.”
Even in the darkness he could see her pale. “He was here?” “Yes.”
“He saw us talking then.” She paused. “He saw me kiss you good-bye.”
Neil flicked a glance at Josh, then looked back at her. She was trembling now. Partly the shock of yet another attack. Partly the shock of knowing it wouldn’t have happened had her volcano not blown. Mostly the shock of realizing Steven hadn’t trusted her. “I’m sorry, Jenna.”
“So am I,” was all she said before turning back for the front of the school.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
She turned and he could see the lines cutting through the grime on her cheeks. Tears. Dammit, she was crying and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do.
“I... don’t know,” she whispered.
“Well, sit down,” Neil said irritably, mad at his own helplessness. “Those other two are still somewhere around here. Just wait till the cops get here.”
One of the boys on the ground twisted to look up at him, snarling. “You said you were a cop.”
Neil bared his teeth. “Substitutes are a real bitch, you know? All the responsibility with none of the authority.” He pressed his toe into the thug’s back and if it was a bit harder than necessary, who was going to tell? Not Jenna, who stood in the same exact spot, looking like she’d lost her best friend. Not Josh, who stood looking like he was stuck sitting in the wrong movie but didn’t have the means to get up and switch theaters. And certainly not himself. Hell, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Jenna cleared her throat from behind him. “On second thought, I think I will use your phone,” she said, sounding almost like her old self again.
“You’re not calling Thatcher, are you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
She smiled, grimly, then winced at the pain in her cut lip, using his shirt to dab at the flow of blood. “No, I’m not calling Steven.” She dialed and listened. “Dad?” she said, starting out strong.
Then her voice wobbled. “Can you come get me please? I’m at the school.”
Thursday, October 13, 6:45 P.M.
Steven stopped a few miles away, pulled into a parking lot, and switched off the motor. Tried to force his heart to calm. The pain inside was . . . excruciating. Worse than Melissa. Much worse.
Jenna had said she loved him. Laid in his arms and said she loved him. Then twelve hours later she was kissing another man. And not just any other man.
Neil Davies. Steven’s blood churned at the thought. The man disrupted his investigation, distracting his people from the real killer while two more girls were stolen. Then he had the nerve to move in on his woman.
But Jenna wasn’t his woman. There was no way she could be his and kiss Davies. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, feeling his heart slog back to normal. Wishing his head and his gut would do the same. Right now it felt like a million sledgehammers were pounding away inside his skull while a million knives dug deep and ripped at his gut.
How could she? Maybe she didn’t.
He lifted his head from the steering wheel and blinked. But she had. He’d seen them.
What did you see? Her. Kissing him.
She was kissing his cheek. Just like you’ve kissed Liz’s. But it wasn’t the same.
And why not? Because it’s Neil Davies? Because you’ve felt wary of him since you’ve met? Because he looks at her, wanting her? Yes, that’s why.
But has she ever looked at him the same way?
He bit his lip and stared at the night sky. No. In all fairness, no she had not. He glanced at the clock and felt his blood go cold once again. She was waiting for him, all alone. Vulnerable.
Oh, God. He’d left her there. All alone. He raced back to the school, faster than he’d raced away. And arrived just behind two squad cars and an ambulance, lights flashing.
Dread clutched at his heart and he made himself get out of the car. Made himself walk past the flashing lights of the empty ambulance. He almost collapsed with relief when he saw her sitting on the ground, cross-legged, her skirt hiked high on her thighs. Unhurt. Alive. He walked a few steps closer and stopped short. She wasn’t unhurt. Her face was bleeding and her cheek was already starting to swell. Her clothes were torn and she had a dirty white rag bound around her right hand. One of the paramedics was unrolling it and Steven saw it was a shirt. A man’s shirt.
He lifted his eyes to find Davies facing away, talking to the uniforms as they cuffed two teenagers. Then Davies turned and Steven saw the man wore no shirt under his jacket. It didn’t take a damn detective to put the pieces together. While he’d been speeding away, Davies had come back and done his job.
Protected his woman.
Protected Jenna, who just now realized he was standing there. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t even hope Davies had kept his little tantrum secret. Because that’s what it had been. A tantrum. She looked up at him. Then deliberately looked away.
He dropped to his knees next to her on the ground. “Jenna,
I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. And said nothing. Then she cleared her throat and said in as strong a voice as he’d ever heard her use, “Go away, Steven. Just go away.”
“Jenna, honey, I’m here.” They looked up to find a silver-haired man standing above them and she crumbled right before his eyes. The older man knelt beside her and held her while she cried.
The sound of her sobs tore at Steven, made him want to kick his own ass, and knew a kicking would never be enough. He reached out and touched her torn sleeve. She jerked her arm away.
“Jenna,” Steven tried again. As soothingly as he could considering his heart was hammering right out of his chest, “Let me take you home.”
She cried harder and shook her head. “Take me home, Dad. Please.”
Dad. This was Seth. Seth met his eyes. Frowned. “Your apartment’s not safe, honey.”
“No, Dad. Take me home. Your home. And please tell him to go the hell away.”
Seth’s eyes narrowed, realizing Steven had hurt his girl. “You heard her. I’m taking her home.”
Steven watched as Seth lifted Jenna to her feet and into his car. And drove away.
Someone stepped to his right and Steven knew it was Davies. “Thatcher, you’re a fucking idiot,” he said, his tone low.
Steven watched the taillights of Seth’s car disappear, taking Jenna away. “I know.”
THIRTY-ONE
Friday, October 14, 9:45 A.M.
HER HEAD ACHED, WORSE THAN ANY HANGOVER. And to make it worse, she had company. She winced at Allison’s overly cheerful screech telling her to come downstairs. Coming home with Seth had seemed like a good idea last night, but now, in the light of day, she doubted its wisdom.
Neil stood in Allison’s living room, holding a bunch of red roses. “I didn’t know what you liked,” he said, holding out the flowers. “I went for tradition.”
She smiled, then winced when her split lip burned. “They’re lovely, Neil. Have a seat.” And when he did, she said, “I never got the chance to thank you for last night.”
“I wish I’d gotten back sooner,” he said, then blurted, “I told Thatcher he was a fucking idiot.”
“That about sums it up.”
“He’s outside, sitting in his car,” Neil added. “He was there when I got here.”
“He’s been there all morning,” Allison said, sweeping in to get the flowers. “I’ve told him three times to leave, but he won’t.”
“He knows he fucked up,” Neil said and Jenna lifted her brows.
“You’re defending him? Last night . . .” Jenna faltered and shook her head. Then winced at the searing pain. “Never mind.”
“Look, Thatcher’s not number one on my hit parade, but I know what he looked like when you drove away. And I know how you looked when you said you loved him. At least hear what he has to say.”
Jenna sighed. “Fine. Then everybody leaves so I can take these painkillers and go to sleep.”
Neil went to the front door and gestured. “He’s coming. I’ll be going now.”
Jenna squinted at the light of the open door. “I thought you were going back to Seattle today.”
Neil frowned. “I changed my mind. Thatcher may have eliminated Rudy Lutz from his list of suspects, but my gut still tells me there’s something there.”
The room spun. “Rudy Lutz?”
Neil turned, still frowning. “I thought Thatcher would have told you.”
She shook her head, every movement feeling like a thousand knives. “No. No, he didn’t.”
“Well, he was right not to,” Neil said. “It would have contaminated the case.”
Jenna felt like she was going to throw up. Rudy Lutz? Well, wasn’t that just jiminy cricket? Rudy Lutz? He knew all this time. Damn him. Damn them both. She waited until Steven was in the living room before leveling both barrels at both men. “You didn’t think it was important to tell me I had a serial killer after me? Did you think I was too stupid to understand?”
Steven looked at Neil with murder in his eyes.
Neil shrugged. “I thought you would have told her. Pillow talk.”
“I run a clean investigation,” Steven gritted. “No loopholes for overeager defense attorneys.”
Neil scowled. “My investigation was every bit as clean as yours.”
“Shut up!” Jenna pushed her fingertips against her temples. “Tell me, if you don’t think I’m too feebleminded to comprehend, are there any strange chemicals at work in this case?”
Steven narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Yes or no, dammit,” she snapped, then gobbled down the painkillers Allison silently put in front of her. “Thank you, Allison.”
“You’re welcome.” Allison faced the two men. “Well, answer her question.”
“For God’s sake,” Steven grumbled. “Yes, yes there are. Ketamine, if you must know. Why?”
“Because I found some chemicals missing from my store
room yesterday. I had an inventory, but it got lost somewhere in the fighting. I know I was missing silver nitrate and some of the basic ingredients of ketamine. But your killer would have had to have access to sophisticated lab equipment. Not the kind in my classroom and certainly not the kind you’d assemble from a drugstore chemistry set. If the silver nitrate is involved, your killer is developing his own photographs. And for the record, there is no way under heaven that Rudy Lutz is smart enough to pull all of this off.” She massaged her temples. “To pull any of this off. His father, maybe, but football boy? No way. That is all. Now please, both of you go away.”
Neil gave Steven an intense look, then left.
“You too, Steven,” she said. “I’ve had enough.”
“You heard her,” Allison said and Steven’s face went red with anger.
“I will talk to her,” he said softly, “and you will please leave.”
“This is my house,” Allison started, then Jenna waved her hand.
“Let him stay long enough to have his say.” When they were alone, Jenna sat back and closed her eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
“My wife left me for another man,” he said and her eyes flew open.
“What?”
He was looking at her evenly. “The day my wife died I came home from work to find Brad watching Matt and Nicky. Brad was thirteen, Matt was nine, and Nicky was three. Melissa had gone to the mall, Brad said. Except I went to our bedroom and found a note lying on the bed. She’d said she left me for another man and that by the time I got the note she’d be halfway to Miami. She didn’t love me, had never loved me, and was tired of chicken nuggets, soccer games, and diaper changes. The boys were mine and I was welcome to them.” He was reciting the note in a monotone and Jenna knew he’d memorized every word. Stunned, she had no idea what to say to him.
“I sat there looking at the note for an hour, then figured I needed to tell the boys something. She wasn’t coming home.” He looked away. “I’d made it downstairs when the doorbell rang. It was a uniform from the third district, looking solemn, and I knew what he was going to say. She’d been in an accident on the way to the airport. She was in the car with another man. The married CEO of a Raleigh company, who had a blood alcohol level of point one eight. He lived, she died.”
