Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  “Yeah, sure.” Anderson’s clipped tone triggered a warning.

  “You gotta beef with me, mon ami?”

  “Are you coming or not?”

  Remy rammed his arm into the coat sleeve and jerked out the Corvette keys. “I’ll be there as soon as I can shake her loose.”

  “She find you okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “She said it was important.”

  Remy covered the pocket where the bag hid. “You don’t know how important. On my way.” He disconnected the call and faced Cody.

  “There’s been another murder, hasn’t there?”

  “Go home, Cody,” he said as he walked away.

  She snagged his coat sleeve and he stopped, looking at her. “He’s killed again.”

  He grasped her shoulders and gave her a slight shake. “You’re through playing amateur sleuth. Go home and stay there.”

  Her lips puckered and an urge to kiss them swept through him. From the moment he spotted her on the other side of the table a few minutes ago, he wrestled with taking her in his arms and kissing her senseless. He tore his gaze from her mouth and pushed her out of his reach and harm’s way. Grunting, he stalked out of the pool hall.

  Damn woman was going to be his downfall.

  Chapter Twelve

  Strangers had entered Remy’s turf. By the looks of things, they’d put down roots.

  He eased around the miles of electrical cord and breached the homicide department conference room perimeter. Scanning the room and the six people occupying it, he zeroed in on the man bent over the back of a chair speaking to a woman in the seat. There was his objective.

  “Play nice, LeBeau.”

  His gaze slid to Moreno. Iron Man watched the activity, a gleam in his brown eyes.

  “Mind tellin’ me, sir, who’s here?”

  “It’s an old friend of mine and a former detective. He’s a PI now. I called him in.”

  “A PI? Sir, I don’t — ”

  “LeBeau, you asked for help.” Moreno nodded at the group. “There’s your help.”

  He should be grateful. Remy needed all the manpower he could get to track down this serial killer. But a private investigator? What was the lieutenant thinking bringing this guy in? Movement at the back of the room distracted Remy as the PI moved toward them. Okay, the man carried himself like a cop. Moreno better be right about this.

  “Luc Santorini worked with us last time,” the lieutenant said.

  Marvelous. Another one with an agenda to breathe down his neck.

  Santorini flashed Moreno a toothy smile and shook Moreno’s hand. “Carlos, good to see you moved up in the ranks.”

  Moreno nodded at Remy. “This is Remy LeBeau, lead detective on this case.”

  Santorini’s hazel eyes narrowed a fraction, and he held out his hand. “French?”

  Remy grasped his hand. “Cajun.”

  Giving him a brief shake, Santorini withdrew. “Ahh. I can hear it in your voice. Never worked with one before.”

  “Never worked with an Italian.”

  Santorini’s grin widened. “It’s your lucky day.”

  “Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way, could we please get this debriefing in gear? I don’t want him killing another woman.” Moreno waved Remy into the conference room, then leaned outside the door. “C-Bar, get your carcass down here.”

  Finding an empty spot, Remy crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder into the wall. Anderson slipped into the room and joined him.

  “Heard this Santorini guy was good. Better than Iron Man in his heyday,” Anderson said.

  “Let’s hope so.”

  The other detectives assigned to the task force entered the conference room as Santorini took position at the front. Once everyone settled, the PI flipped over the portable dry-erase board. Pictures of the six earlier victims and the three latest were taped along the top. Beneath each photo were names, ages, date of discovery, and known connections to other victims, things Remy and his team already knew.

  What could Santorini add?

  “Let’s get started.” Santorini clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m Luc Santorini. Lieutenant Moreno has called my team in to help aid in this investigation of the Rodeo Sweethearts killer. I’m all too familiar with this case. When the RS killer struck five years ago, I was a detective with the department and part of the task force. I’ll be the first to admit, it’s been eating at me that this guy got away.”

  Remy shifted his stance, pushing away from the wall.

  “I’ve modified the profile from the last time to include new evidence.” Santorini uncapped a dry-erase marker and wrote Suspect on an empty board next to the victim one. “Here’s what we know: he’s male, between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five, he’s white, and lives in the Dallas area. He either participated in the rodeos, or is an avid spectator, and since the killings have happened only in Dallas, I’ll lean toward spectator.”

  Remy held up his hand, catching Santorini’s attention. “Why just spectator? From what I’ve learned, sometimes locals will ride in their hometown rodeos and nowhere else. Our killer could be one of those people.”

  Tapping the marker against his chin, Santorini gave Remy a satisfied smile. “Interesting note, Detective LeBeau.” He turned back to the group. “Keep that in mind, people. Now, from what we’ve learned about the victims, the suspect is sociable, probably has a big ego. He’s either dated these women or had a lot of contact with them. In fact, there’s prevailing thought he was involved with Clarisa Jacobs. From the autopsy report and going out of character by freezing her body, I’ll assume he might’ve had a personal connection with her.”

  Anderson elbowed Remy and leaned close. “An ex-boyfriend IDed Heather Trisk’s body.”

  And Cody had identified Clarisa’s. “Where was Trisk from?”

  Anderson contemplated a moment. “San Antonio.”

  “The ex-boyfriend?”

  “Can’t remember. Have to check when I get to my desk.”

  Santorini’s voice pulled them back to the briefing. “I’m to understand that the first victim found was not the first killed. There was another victim found last night.” His gaze slid to Anderson and Remy. “Detectives, could you bring us up to speed?”

  All eyes turned on them. Remy glanced at Anderson, then stepped forward.

  “We’re still waiting on the autopsy results. The ME is currently working on that right now. But from the appearance of the body, it seems she was the first dump, possibly early last week.”

  “Any thoughts on who she might be?” one of Santorini’s group asked.

  “Not at this time. We’re going to do a search in missing persons. The decomp was bad, and from what I could tell, she fits the profile of the Rodeo Sweethearts killer’s preferred target.”

  “And where was she found?” the lone woman on the team asked.

  Remy looked at Moreno. He’d nearly burst a blood vessel when they told him the body was on Jack’s grave. Remy’s attention returned to the group. “She was propped against the gravestone of a former DPD detective, Jack Hawthorne.”

  Santorini stiffened and his head jerked to Moreno. “Carlos, you didn’t tell me this.”

  “I didn’t get a chance, Luc.”

  Moving to the front of the room, Remy joined Santorini. “We might also have another clue to add to the profile.”

  Eyes narrowed, Santorini stepped aside.

  “The CSU supervisor is testing a piece of evidence given to me last night. It was discovered by a person of interest and handed over to me by the witness from the Trisk murder.”

  The sound of rustling papers filled the room as people scanned their handouts.

  “Cody Lewis?” someone asked. />
  “Yes. Ms. Lewis was also able to identify the evidence. A knife. She referred to it as a Benchmade, military issue. The blade isn’t long enough to stab the heart, but it can inflict enough damage on the body post mortem.”

  “Military, you say?” Santorini started scribbling on the board. “This explains why he disappeared for five years. And explains why his killings are more spree-like now.” He backed from the board and stared at it, a blank expression covering his face.

  Silence fell over the room. Remy’s gaze darted to Moreno, where Iron Man held up a finger.

  Santorini faced the group. “We never knew why he suddenly stopped. The strike to the heart that kills the women makes sense now. He’s either Special Ops or in a combat unit. He must’ve been deployed right after his last killing and just returned.”

  “Which means he’s gone too long between killings and has a lot of pent up urges,” Remy said.

  “And it’s why he’s not following with his previous pattern of one woman every two weeks.” Santorini slapped his hands on the tabletop and braced his weight on them. “This changes things, people. We’ve narrowed down our pool of suspects. Let’s start working.”

  Frenzied noise ensued. Santorini turned to Remy and gestured for him to follow outside the conference room. Crossing his arms in front of his wide chest, Santorini eyed Remy.

  “This Ms. Lewis. I’m told she fits the victim profiles.”

  Remy looked over his shoulder at Moreno, and then back to Santorini. “Yes, she does.”

  “Get her into protective custody.”

  “No.”

  A frown marred Santorini’s face. “No? Detective, the woman could be the next target.”

  “She won’t stand for it, and neither will I. If — and that’s a huge if — the Rodeo Sweethearts killer is watching her, and she suddenly vanishes, he’ll know we’re on to him. With a military background, he’s got to be doing reconnaissance.”

  “Maybe. But I also understand he contacted you.”

  “Yes.”

  Santorini sighed. “Don’t make this difficult, LeBeau.”

  “Far be it. I want this guy as badly you do. But with the way things stand now, he might have already killed, and we’ve yet to find the body.”

  “Let’s hope you’re wrong.” He brushed past Remy.

  “What about Ms. Lewis?” Remy turned.

  Santorini paused and looked over his shoulder. “We’ll go with your suggestion for now. But if he so much as attempts to touch a red hair on her head, she goes.”

  • • •

  Regret churned in Remy’s stomach as he walked down the crime lab hall. By refusing protective custody for Cody, did he put her at risk? He’d denied a danger before and it killed his wife.

  He flinched from the surfacing memories. That was another time and place. Right now another woman was at risk and the clock was against him.

  Remy knocked on the evidence room door and stepped to the side. The RS killer wasn’t getting away this time. His mistakes would cost him his freedom.

  The door slid open on silent hinges and Summers appeared. “LeBeau, what are you doing down here?” She tilted her head up to peer through her lenses at him.

  “I came to check on the knife I gave you.”

  She removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. With a sigh, she looked at him. “LeBeau, I’ve been here since ten P.M. It’s now … ” She glanced at the clock on the wall behind her and grimaced. “eleven-thirty in the morning. I want to finish this and go home to get some sleep. Right now really isn’t a good time.”

  Remy pulled out the charm. “There’s never a really good time when you’re working.”

  She simply stared at him. “Are you mocking me?”

  Oops. Not in the mood for humor. “No. Sorry, Moreno slapped me with a private dick. And I’m just trying to stay on top of this.”

  “There’s a private investigator working this case?”

  Remy shook his head. “Don’t expect me to understand it either. All I know is he worked the case as a detective the first time around. And Moreno wants him.”

  Summers rolled her eyes. “Just what I needed. Another one with an agenda.” She waved Remy inside the lab. “Come in.”

  He followed her inside.

  “The knife hadn’t been handled properly.” She snapped on a pair of white surgical-style gloves. “Too many people touched it.” Summers handed him a set of gloves. “And making it inadmissible if this were to go to trial.”

  Remy wasn’t worried about that point. This killer would not go to trial. If he did, it’d be a miracle.

  “What do you want to know?” Summer asked.

  “My witness said it was military issue.”

  She pointed at the knife in a clear evidence tray. “Yes, a Benchmade thirty-eight hundred NTK. Civilians can buy them, but it’s an expensive knife.”

  Bent over the tray, Remy examined the black grip and blade. “So, we still can’t close the option of a non-military killer?”

  “Yes and no.”

  Remy looked at her. “Explain.”

  Summers cleared her throat and leaned against the desk. “If the deaths are an indication, this killer might’ve had military training. But who’s to say he was in the military at all?”

  “It would explain the five-year absence.”

  “Could … I mean maybe he decided to join when things were getting too hot the first time. But deployments last anywhere from six to fifteen months, with time spent stateside in-between. If he was back, wouldn’t he have killed again?”

  Remy smiled. Crafty woman. “Only if he’d returned to Dallas. This city is his comfort zone. He knows its nooks and crannies, and from his taunting, knows the police.” He directed his attention back to the knife. The blade wasn’t long enough to make the killing blow. Which meant the killer had a different one for that. “If he was, say, Army, he could’ve been stationed at a base anywhere in the country. Same with the other branches.”

  Summers pursed her lips into a thin line. “True. I didn’t consider that.”

  “But still, a civilian could have bought this knife?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any trace?”

  Rifling through a short stack of papers, she withdrew one and handed it to him. “I found miniscule amounts of what I think is blood on the handle. I’m running it, but I don’t know if it was enough. There were fingerprints of the two people who mishandled it, Ms. Lewis and Mr. Manning.”

  “What about the partial print from the first scene.” Remy returned the print-out.

  She swept past him, stirring the faint scent of citrus and roses. Remy followed her to the metal shelves. She pulled out the small evidence box, jotted the date and time of opening, and withdrew the film.

  “Still no match. I crossed it with the prints done on JC Manning. Nothing.”

  Picking up the film by a corner, Remy held it toward the florescent light. “Can you check the military database?” He placed it back in the box. “If he is or was in, they’ll have record.”

  Summers frowned. “Hard to say. Sometimes the government gets a li’l cranky. But I’ll see what I can do.” She sighed. “Don’t hold out any hope. Everything about this case screams trouble.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  November nineteenth. Two weeks until she headed to Las Vegas for the National Finals Rodeo. Cody flipped the calendar closed and pushed off with her feet, setting the office chair in motion. It rolled across the cement floor, and she braked with her heels, halting next to the open door. An elbow braced on her knee with chin propped on her fist, she stared into the riding ring.

  Dad worked one of his colts on a lounge line. The horse’s sleek body glistened with sweat as it trotted in a circle around him. The steady cadence of
hooves moving over dirt comforted her.

  She should get S’mores in here. The Thomas and Mack arena was different from what the mare was used to. S’mores and Cody’s back-up, Maverick’s Flash, needed to practice anyway.

  Her Jason Aldean ring tone dragged her from the doorway. She squinted at the unknown caller then answered. “Hello?”

  “It’s LeBeau. Where are you?”

  “How’d you get this number? I don’t remember ever giving it to you.”

  “Cody, I’m a cop. How do you think I got it?”

  The sneak! Now he was pulling personal information on her. Next he’d start digging through her medical files. “Isn’t that considered an illegal search and seizure?”

  “Aiyee, cher! Where are you?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because I’m at your place, and you’re not in the house.”

  She bolted to the office window. Remy’s Corvette sat next to Daddy’s truck in the driveway, and the handsome devil stood on the porch. She took a step back and flopped onto the battered couch. Couldn’t he just stay away and finish his investigation in Dallas where he belonged?

  “Cher, you there?”

  “Yeah.” She rubbed her throbbing temples. “What’s your excuse this time?”

  “Aren’t you excuse enough?”

  “Stop that.” Cody ground her teeth and then released a ragged breath. “Stay where you are. I’ll be there in a sec.” Ending the call, she shoved the phone in her pocket as she stalked out of the office. “Dad, I’m heading back to the house.”

  “Tell LeBeau I’m watchin’ him.”

  She tripped to a halt and looked back at her dad. “How’d you … ”

  “Kiddo, I heard every word.” Dad chuckled, covering it with a cluck to the colt.

  Okay, she was officially going to disown him, if a daughter could disown her father. With a shake of her head, she left the indoor arena.

  Remy sat on the top step and watched her approach. He remained seated, giving her a cocky smile when she set a booted foot on the bottom step.