Deadly Dance

by Dee Davis

  “Harrison.”

  The voice pulled him from sleep, relief making him giddy.

  “Bree.” He reached out and grabbed her, his fingers digging into her arms. “You’re all right. You’re really okay.”

  “Harrison. Wake up.”

  And then it hit him. As it had a thousand times before. Bree was dead and gone. He hadn’t saved her then, and he couldn’t save her now. Disoriented, he fought against the last remnants of the dream—the sensory memory as strong now as it had been all those years ago in Texas.

  “Harrison,” the voice called again, and this time reality surfaced. It was Hannah. His eyes flickered open, and her face swam into view. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It was just a dream.” She was leaning over him, concern stretched tight across her face.

  The room came into focus. He was in Hannah’s house on the sofa. They’d been working late, trying to find the place at the lake. He must have fallen asleep. The events of the day had clearly brought on the nightmare, and he was gripping her arms as if there were no tomorrow.

  “Oh, my God,” he said, releasing her. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she said, as she rubbed her arm, the action negating the words. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” She sat down next to him. “You were calling for someone. Your sister, I think.”

  He blew out a breath, still trying to assimilate his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He’d never had the dream when someone else was present. And now, he wasn’t sure how much to share. He trusted Hannah, but he liked the idea of his past staying just that.

  Except that with Sara’s disappearance, past and present seemed to be set on a collision course, every nerve in his body screaming that history was repeating itself.

  “You didn’t scare me,” Hannah said, reaching over to brush the hair out of his face, the gesture soothing in its simplicity. “I was just worried.” She searched his face. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  He didn’t. And yet, he couldn’t seem to stop the words. “You were right. The dream was about my sister. Bree was murdered.”

  “Oh, God, Harrison, I…” Hannah trailed off, her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t imagine.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Yes, but that kind of thing never goes away. And all this stuff with Sara Lauter, it’s bringing it all back.”

  He nodded. “After it first happened, I had the dream almost every night.”

  “Sometimes the mind just needs an outlet.” She talked as if she really understood. “A way to cope.”

  “Yeah, I guess. But I can think of more productive ways to deal.”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Sometimes it’s just easier to put it in abstract.”

  “Believe me, this dream is anything but abstract. It’s like I’m there, experiencing it all over again.” He tried, but couldn’t contain a shudder, his body still drenched with sweat.

  Hannah waited, and he realized she wasn’t going to press. This was his chance to pull away. To keep his secrets. But suddenly, sitting here with her, he realized he didn’t want to deal with it all alone. He wanted to talk about it. Because it was Hannah.

  “Brianna was my ground wire. She was the one who always cleaned up my messes when we were young.”

  “Was she older than you?”

  “No. That honor goes to me. By two minutes,” he paused, looking down at her hands. “We were twins. She was my best friend.”

  “So what happened?” Hannah asked, her voice gentle.

  “It was a serial killer. The press dubbed him the cyber killer because he always sent his victims an email. The first one was simply a warning. The rest mentioned the names of the previous victims…” he trailed off, images of Bree filling his head.

  Hannah reached for his hand, her fingers giving him strength. “So this happened while you were at the FBI?”

  “Yeah. I was two years in. But I wasn’t on the case. It had been assigned to someone else. Hell, I didn’t even know the bastard existed until he took my sister. He was a real piece of work. A sadistic son of a bitch that tortured his victims before killing them. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like.”

  “And you shouldn’t have to. If nothing else, Bree wouldn’t want that.”

  “Yes, but if I’d been better at my job, if I’d done something differently, maybe I could have gotten to her in time.”

  “You know as well as I do that once someone’s been abducted the odds are against finding them alive. No matter who is working the case. Besides, I know you, Harrison. And I’m certain that you did everything humanly possible to help your sister. But that’s the hard part. Sometimes no matter how much we try, it still isn’t enough.”

  “I know you’re right, but it’s a little more difficult to accept. Bree was always there for me. And yet when she needed me most, I let her down. And because of that she died.”

  “She died because some sick son of a bitch took her. He’s responsible, Harrison, not you.” She squeezed her hand, her gaze holding his. “You can’t blame yourself for your sister’s death.”

  “I wish it was that easy.” He tried for a smile but missed by a mile. “Anyway, it was a long time ago. And I’ve moved on. It’s just this thing with Sara and the video. It’s bringing it back.”

  “So did you ever catch the guy?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “And not for lack of trying. We really got close a couple of times. But never enough to figure out for certain who he was.”

  “So how many victims were there?” Hannah asked.

  “There were five altogether. Bree was the third. They were spread in and around Austin, Texas. The killing ritual was the same, and the victims were all twenty-something, brunette, and single. We never found anything else to tie them together. Except for the emails, and we discovered that pretty late in the game.”

  “So were the emails sent beforehand?”

  “Actually almost simultaneously. That’s why we missed them at first. The women were taken about the same time that the emails arrived. Sort of a cyber-version of ‘gotcha.’ Almost as if he were gloating.”

  “You said there were five. I’m no expert on serial killings, but unless they’re stopped, don’t people like that typically keep going?” She was still holding his hand, and although the horror of the dream had faded, he found he had no desire to break the contact.

  “It varies. There are a lot of things that play into something like that. Sometimes killers fulfill the fantasy and let it go. Sometimes external forces keep them from continuing. And sometimes they change their MO, and so we think they’ve stopped, but in fact they haven’t. Anyway, this guy just dropped off the map after victim number five. And despite our efforts, the trail went cold.”

  “And so you left the FBI.”

  He was surprised that she’d put it together, but then he should have expected it, he supposed. Hannah was nothing if not astute.

  “I’m just following the time line,” she said, by way of explanation, pulling her hand free to hold it up in apology. “And I know you worked for Phoenix, right? John Brighton’s company.”

  “Yes. They were doing cutting-edge stuff with computers. Developing tools and databases for law enforcement agencies at all levels. There was a new program, correlating data on serial killers.”

  “And you thought maybe you’d be able to use it to help identify Brianna’s killer.”

  “That was the plan. But even with that kind of sophisticated analysis, the guy was still a ghost. And then Madison, my old partner at the FBI, called me in to work on the task force.”

  “And you figured there was nothing more you could do at Phoenix so you left. It must have been hard to let go.”

  “Oh, I haven’t let it go. It’s always there with me. Waiting. Look, I’m sorry you had to listen to all of this.” He pulled free and pushed to his feet. “I didn’t mean to dump all my crap on you.”

&n
bsp; “Hey,” she said, coming to stand beside him, “that’s what friends are for.”

  She was inches away from him. So close he could feel the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed. He reached out a hand to cup her face, his gaze moving across the curve of her cheek and the ripe swelling of her lips.

  She really was a beautiful woman. And the amazing thing about her was that she had absolutely no idea. Always hiding behind a pair of glasses and the wild streak of colors in her hair. A mixture of fearless and guarded, she’d intrigued him from the beginning, but it wasn’t until just now that he’d realized how very much he’d come to depend on her.

  She swallowed nervously, the skin on her throat rippling with the action. He wanted to kiss it. To follow the smooth skin to the valley between her breasts. To taste her nipples and feel them bud beneath his tongue. Just the thought made his body grow hard. Desire rose, hot and insistent, as he closed the distance between them, wanting nothing more than to feel her moving beneath him.

  Hannah tilted her head back, her eyes closing as he slanted his mouth over hers, his lips taking possession. His mind emptied, everything that had been bothering him gone in the wake of the heat of her tongue moving against his. All he wanted now was to bury himself inside her and forget—at least for a little while.

  He slid his hands to her hips, pulling her closer and then closer still. She moaned as his fingers began to explore, sliding under her shirt to caress her skin, moving in slow circles as he deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting, each stroke mirroring his rising need.

  Then a harsh insistent buzzing cut through the pheromone-induced haze, breaking the spell, and they sprang apart. Hannah’s gasp for breath a reflection of his own disarray.

  “It’s my computer,” he said, his body still reacting to her nearness. “I was running a program analyzing light patterns and details from the tiny bit of the lake we can see in the video. Comparing it to the topography in the area in the hopes that we might narrow down the search.”

  She nodded, pushing her shirt back into place, color staining her cheeks.

  “Hannah, I—” he started, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

  “It’s okay. It was nothing. We just got lost in the moment. That’s all.” She turned away from him, walking over to the computer. “What we need to do now is concentrate on finding Sara.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that kissing her had been about a lot more than nothing, but the truth was that he wasn’t sure what the hell it had meant. Maybe she was right and it was just a reaction.

  “So did the computer find something?” she asked, her attention planted firmly on the screen, but her breathing still reflected the fallout from their passion.

  “Looks like it,” he said, reaching over to hit a key, pulling his mind away from Hannah and the heat of their kiss.

  There’d be time to deal with the implications later. Right now, Hannah was right, he needed to concentrate on the matter at hand. The computer whirred to life, and a new screen opened displaying the search results.

  “According to this, we’ve got a probable match. An old farmhouse on the northwest edge of the lake.”

  “You said ‘probable.’ ” Hannah lifted her gaze to his. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that right now, it’s the only lead we’ve got. And if we’re right about the connection between the disappearance and the video, then it’s also our best shot at finding Sara.”

  CHAPTER 6

  All right, everyone in place?” Avery asked, the comlink in Hannah’s ear bursting to life. They’d surrounded the farmhouse set deep in the woods on the northwest shore of Sapphire Lake. It was hard to tell from the outside, but the view was right, and the weathered exterior mirrored the wood planked walls in the video.

  Avery, Harrison, and Hannah were coming in from the front, with Drake and Simon taking the back. They’d done this sort of thing a thousand times, and yet somehow, today it felt different. Hannah wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was Harrison’s talk of a serial killer. Or maybe it was just the idea that it was a Sunderland student. Or maybe it was because she was remembering her own past.

  There were certainly parallels.

  “We’re all set,” Simon said, his voice breaking up slightly at the end. “And I’m not seeing any sign of movement from back here.”

  Hannah swallowed, automatically looking over at Harrison. If they were in the right place, no movement could be construed as a bad thing.

  “It only means there’s no one coming, and no obvious threat from inside,” Harrison said, his voice reassuring, but his face reflected her concern.

  Hannah nodded and pulled her gun from beneath her Kevlar vest. If it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation, the moment would be almost comical. Just a couple of hours ago she’d been kissing Harrison in her kitchen. If his computer hadn’t intervened, she’d probably have given in to the pleasure. And that would have changed everything. And not in a good way.

  “All right, people,” Avery said, and Hannah felt her face go hot as she pulled her attention back to the situation at hand. “We’re silent from here on out. We have no idea what we’re going to find in there so move quickly and stay alert.”

  Harrison nodded. And Hannah tightened her hold on her gun, moving into place as they started toward the house, using the trees for cover. She could just see the lake in the distance, the angle eerily like the photograph Harrison had pulled from the video. Heart pounding, she inched forward, leading with her gun, Harrison flanking her, Avery on point.

  The house was dilapidated, with peeling paint and broken window glass. It was hard to believe anyone could be inside, and Hannah felt hope slipping away. They moved quietly to the edge of the porch. The forest had already reclaimed parts of it, a sapling actually springing up through broken boards.

  Avery motioned Hannah to one side and Harrison to the other as they climbed the steps, guns drawn. Backs to the wall, Avery reached out to try the doorknob. Surprisingly, it swung inward. He motioned them forward again, and they stepped into the living room. Harrison went first, turning in a slow circle, pointing his weapon.

  “It’s clear,” he said, motioning them forward. Avery took the hallway leading off to the right, while Hannah moved into the one on the left, Harrison staying behind them to watch their backs.

  Leading with her gun, Hannah moved slowly. The hallway was dark, the walls rough and bare. The rug beneath her feet was stained and torn, and in places missing completely, exposing a subflooring composed of the same wooden panels as the walls. There were three doors leading off of the hall. One to the right, another to the left, and at the end, swathed in shadows, the final opening.

  Heart pounding, she opened the first door—an empty bathroom. From the looks of the place, it hadn’t been used any time recently. She edged back into the hallway, heading for the second door, this one open. From somewhere behind and to the right, she heard Avery call “clear” as she swung into the doorway, holding her position as her gaze traveled across the room.

  It was empty except for a table and a couple of chairs. The window was broken, and the wind whistled through it. The breeze had deposited a fine layer of dust on everything—including the floor. Which meant that no one had been inside the room in a very long time. She could hear Simon now, as he, too, called “clear.” And then more voices as the men moved into the living room.

  On an exhalation of breath, she moved back into the hallway and headed for the doorway at the end. Last stop. She hit the switch on her handgun’s tac-light, aiming the resulting beam toward the door. It was closed, and the first thing she noticed was that, unlike the rest of the house, the door was new.

  She heard movement behind her and signaled the team quiet with her hand. She pressed flat against the wall, straining for any sound. But there was only a soft rustling as Harrison came up behind her, moving to the opposite wall.

  She pointed toward the doorknob, and he nodded—lifting his gun, ready
to intercept whatever the hell they might find inside.

  On a silent count of three, she reached for the knob. Turning it slowly, she pushed the door open, and Harrison rushed into the room, gun leveled as she followed, her weapon ready as well. But there was no need. Whoever had been here was gone.

  Leaving behind the scene of the crime.

  It looked exactly as it had in the video, right down to the view from the window. It was all there. The bed. The torn T-shirt. There was rope still tied to the headboard, and the wall behind it was stained a muddy brown.

  Blood.

  There were stains, too, on the mattress, a deeper brown than the spatter on the wall. Hannah reached out to touch one with a fingertip.

  “It’s still wet,” she whispered, as her mind tried to process the scene. Beyond the ropes and the blood, there was no other sign of violence. No overturned furniture or broken glass. The windows in the room were intact. And the headboard and mattress, though damaged now, appeared to be new.

  “Son of a bitch.” Simon stopped just inside the doorway, his eyes on the bed. “I don’t think this is going to have a happy ending.”

  Avery moved past Simon into the room, his gaze taking in the scene. “Everything’s new,” he said. “Someone definitely planned this.”

  “So where the hell are they now?” Hannah asked, wiping the blood off her finger. “You think the killer knew we were coming?”

  “I don’t see how.” Avery frowned. “We took every precaution.”

  “Could be he just wanted to move to a new location,” Drake offered, as he joined Simon at the doorway. “These guys get off on playing out a fantasy. Maybe his included alternate locations.”

  “Look for a cellar,” Harrison said, speaking for the first time, a tiny muscle in his jaw ticking.

  “There isn’t one.” Simon shook his head. “We checked the whole back of the house.”

  “How about outside?” Harrison walked over to the window, peering out the grimy glass. “Anyone check there?”