Dangerous Kisses

by Trish Milburn

  Kevin leaned back in his chair. "So basically all we have on our victims is a common physical appearance, somewhat similar ages, they all lived alone and they worked in the same ZIP code."

  It took a moment for the last observation to sink into Jake’s fogged brain. "The post office."

  "We checked with the post offices that deliver to that area as well as the ones that deliver to the victims’ home addresses," Kevin said. "No one at the post offices or the carriers remember anything unusual. They handle thousands of packages a day."

  They’d of course checked all the victims’ mailboxes, but had come up empty. Sydney’s package had been free of fingerprints, but postal workers often wore latex gloves now. And it made sense that the killer would guard against leaving prints. Something didn’t sit right with Jake. Why couldn’t he figure it out?

  The detectives continued to toss out facts, theories, possibilities. Jake concentrated on his own thoughts, digging deeper for whatever was tugging at the back of his brain.

  Had Sydney’s packages even seen the inside of a postal facility? They’d found a similar package in Jess Greene’s apartment, but just because they had postage affixed and were postmarked didn’t mean they’d gone through the normal channels.

  "Have we checked out the carriers?" he asked.

  "Yes," Kevin replied. "I said that already."

  "No, not just interview them. Check their backgrounds. Think about it. Who could postmark and deliver a package without generating suspicion?"

  The guys scrambled to their desks to start background checks. Jake’s heart thumped hard against his chest.

  Please let this be it. Please let us find him before he kills someone else.

  ****

  Sydney’s head throbbed, making it hard to concentrate on the papers strewn across her desk. Even though she had deadlines on other stories, she’d been unable to focus on anything but the serial killer story. For the past hour, she’d examined every bit of evidence in the latest murder.

  Jess Greene, twenty-one, the only daughter in a family of five children, the baby of the family. A lump the size of a lemon lodged in Sydney’s throat. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to call the family. Her own feelings were too raw, she felt too guilty that this beautiful young woman had paid the ultimate price because of her.

  Becky grabbed Sydney’s arm, forcing her to follow as Becky headed toward the restroom. Once inside the fluorescent-lit room, Becky checked all the stalls but didn’t enter any. When Becky turned back toward her, Sydney knew she’d just been ambushed.

  "Okay, out with it," Becky said.

  "What?"

  "Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You take time off, which you never do, and you come back looking like you’ve not slept a wink since you left."

  "Do I really look that bad?"

  "Look for yourself." Becky gestured toward the large mirror on the wall."

  She’d seen herself in her own bathroom mirror earlier that morning, but the bright commercial lights illuminated more clearly just how rough she looked. Bloodshot eyes with dark half moons below them, pale skin, the tight edges of her mouth.

  "Does this have anything to do with Jake, the killer, or both?"

  Suddenly so weary it was difficult to stand, Sydney slid to the floor and covered her face with her cold hands.

  "I love him," she said, angry at the pitiful tone in her voice.

  "Does he know that?"

  "Yes."

  "And he doesn’t feel the same way?"

  "I don’t know. I thought so, but now I don’t know."

  Becky sat down beside her and took Sydney’s hand in her much warmer one. "What happened?"

  Sydney told her everything that had happened from the time she and Jake had stepped on board the boat until his exit from her apartment the night before.

  "He loves you," Becky said with the conviction of a mind reader.

  "Why do you say that?"

  "If a guy doesn’t care, he doesn’t come back to make sure you’re okay. He takes the opportunity and runs."

  "I know he cares, but how do you know it’s love?"

  "Okay, so I don’t know without a doubt, but my instinct tells me he does. He just can’t say it. Hon, he told you himself that he doesn’t want you to get hurt if something happens to him. From most guys, I’d say that’s a line, but Jake Radley doesn’t seem like the kind to rely on cheap lines."

  Sydney wanted to believe Becky was right, but even if Jake did love her, how could she convince him to take a chance?

  Becky pulled her to her feet, then set about cleaning up her face with a wet paper towel. "Come on, let’s fix you up a bit. No need for the entire newsroom to read the diary of your private life written across your face."

  Sydney chuckled, but a tear slipped out of her eye. Becky wiped the tear away.

  "No more tears. You’ve cried enough. No matter what happens, you’ve cried enough."

  Sydney reined in her scattered emotions and blinked away the rest of the tears pooled in her burning, itching eyes. Her friend was right. She’d cried enough. If things worked out with Jake, she wouldn’t need those tears. And if they didn’t...well, she had to get on with the business of her life and not dwell on the past or the what-might-have-beens.

  As Becky dug makeup out of her purse and did her best to disguise Sydney’s sadness, she asked about the latest victim. "I assume that’s what you’ve been poring over all morning. Are they any closer to catching this guy?"

  "No."

  Becky stopped applying the blush and stared into Sydney’s eyes. "I’m sure Jake told you this, but it’s not your fault. You have enough on your plate without blaming yourself."

  "I know. At least my brain knows, but my heart’s a different story. She was so young, had her whole life ahead of her."

  "And Jake and the boys will find the man who killed her and make him pay."

  Becky finished playing cosmetologist and stepped back to examine her work. "Not bad if I do say so myself. I may have missed my calling."

  "I don’t think so. Our view of Capitol Hill wouldn’t be the same without you."

  "You’re right. I wouldn’t trade my exciting life of budget hearings and campaign fights for anything." She rolled her eyes.

  Sydney hugged Becky, careful not to smear her new makeup. "Thank you."

  "Wow, a hug for a little blush and eye shadow."

  "No, for being my friend, even when it’s not easy."

  Becky stepped back and flicked the end of Sydney’s nose. "Hon, you don’t realize how good of a friend you are, too. I wouldn’t take the world for you."

  Sydney walked out of the restroom, a bit more confident that somehow things would work out for the best. When she reached her desk, J.D. was placing her mail atop her inbox. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought that her mail might hold a chilling surprise. She shook her head at her paranoia. The killer wasn’t going to do this to her, make her fear something as ordinary as mail.

  Refocusing on work, she picked up the files to give them another look but was interrupted by her phone. She glanced at the display. It was a call from the reception desk.

  "Hey, Francie."

  "Hey, Sydney. I’ve got a delivery for you."

  Sydney’s heart jumped into her throat. "What is it?"

  "Only the biggest, most beautiful bouquet I’ve ever seen. You’re making some man mighty happy for him to be spending this kind of dough."

  Flowers? Had Jake changed his mind about their relationship? She couldn’t help the wide, goofy smile that spread across her face.

  "What are you grinning at?"

  Sydney moved close to Becky and whispered, "I think Jake sent me flowers."

  "Hot damn, I told you so."

  "Geez, can you yell it a little louder? I don’t think they heard you in Brentwood."

  Becky just laughed. "Go on, get them. I want to see what kind of taste Radley has."

  Sydney imagined what the bouquet loo
ked like as she rode the elevator down to the first floor. She would never hear the end of it from Becky, but she didn’t care. If it meant Jake cared about her, she’d take snickers and teasing from the entire newsroom.She passed the pressroom and its normal deafening drone. The paper wasn’t on press yet, but the presses were always busy printing other projects. Even with ear protection, she wondered how the pressmen didn’t go totally deaf.

  She gasped when a hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes opened wide, and she struggled against the arms dragging her backward. The man had...a cloth over...her mouth. Her eyelids began to droop. Oh God, she was going to die.

  ****

  While the other members of the Murder Squad tracked down the other mail carriers, Jake and Kevin went in search of Bart Watkins, the carrier who delivered to the paper and the victims’ places of work.

  "Is Bart Watkins still out on his route? Can we reach him?" Jake asked the postmaster.

  "He called in sick this morning."

  Jake went cold. He might be jumping to conclusions about Watkins, but he was calling Sydney before he got to the door. He found her away from her desk, so he asked for Becky Griffith.

  "Becky, this is Detective Jake Radley. I need you to find Sydney for me."

  "Curious about how she likes the flowers? She just went down to get them."

  "I didn’t send any flowers."

  Fear welled up like floodwater, grasping at him and trying to drag him under.

  He turned toward Kevin. "He’s at Sydney’s office."

  Would he ever see her alive again? He balled his fists, the need to kill frightening him. He had to reach the paper before Watkins got out of the building with her.

  Kevin’s cell phone rang. "O’Malley." After listening for about thirty seconds, he hung up. "Come on"

  "Where?"

  "That was dispatch. An older couple out at your marina saw a man they’d never seen before getting on your boat, and he had a blond woman with him."

  "Call the office and tell them to get everything they can on Bart Watkins," Jake said as he rushed toward the car. "Send all available units to the marina. No sirens." He slid behind the steering wheel before Kevin could stop him.

  "Let me drive, man."

  "Like hell."

  And that’s how he drove, like a bat out of hell, honking the horn and running red lights. He had to get to her before that filthy bastard touched her, squeezed the life from her pretty throat.

  Lord, let me get there in time, he prayed, hoping God would remember the sound of his pleas and have mercy. Let me save her, and I’ll tell her I love her.

  He nearly slammed the accelerator through the floor in case God didn’t hear him.

  ****

  Sydney watched the waves lap against the boat as Bart anchored off the island where she and Jake had such a short time ago. Only Bart chose the opposite end of the island, out of sight of the marina and the traffic crossing the dam.

  She thought about jumping into the water, but with the air temperature in the low fifties, she’d succumb to hypothermia before she made it to shore. Even if it’d been the middle of summer, she wasn’t positive she’d be able to swim that far – especially not with the queasy after-effect of being drugged still lingering.

  She scanned the faraway shore, the empty surface of the lake. If she screamed, would anyone even hear her? And if someone did hear, would it be too late by the time they reached her?

  Instead, she was forced to pray for some miracle, that somehow Jake would figure out where Bart had taken her. Considering Jake didn’t know who had taken her, escape was probably totally up to her.

  "I thought this spot was appropriate," Bart said. "You seemed to like it before."

  Her skin crawled. He’d been out there watching them. Thank goodness he hadn’t been able to see into the cabin. The thought of him watching what she’d shared with Jake sickened her.

  His voice, his eyes, his expression – none of them matched the friendly, teasing postal carrier she’d spoken to a few times while he delivered mail to the paper’s mailroom. Now he sounded condescending and superior.

  His eyes bore into hers, devoid of anything remotely warm. The eyes of a man who could kill without compunction.

  "Why are you doing this?"

  He moved next to her. "Because you all never learn," he whispered in her ear.

  "Learn what?" She could barely get the words past the bile rising in her throat.

  "Don’t pretend you don’t know, Sydney. You’re like all the others. You use your beauty to get what you want. You don’t even look at people like me." His voice, while still low, hardened. "I refuse to be ignored."

  Sydney’s heart thundered in her ears, and her mind scrambled for some means of escape.

  She fought the panic rising in her. She had to keep a clear head so she’d see the opportunity for escape when it presented itself. There had to be one. She wasn’t ready to die, not at the hands of a coward like her mother had.

  She watched Bart as he circled her. His twisted reasoning for killing women must have something to do with being rejected by a woman. He wasn’t ugly, but his average looks didn’t make him attractive either. He’d always seemed so nice. But he fit the profile. Had she overlooked something that should have warned her?

  As he continued to circle, eyeing her, she wondered how a seemingly nice personality could harbor such a monster. Were she and his other victims substitutes for a woman in his past or did he simply hate women? So many questions, but would she live long enough to discern the answers?

  Bart stopped circling and stepped so close she could feel his warm breath. But it only made her colder. He forced her into the cabin, and her hope for rescue spiraled downward.

  Once inside, he ran his fingers down her arm. "You were the most challenging of all."

  She shrank away from him.

  "Now, don’t be so shy. You and I both know it’s a lie. Why, right here on this very boat, in that very bed, you whored yourself to that cop. Why don’t you learn?"

  She forced herself to speak, hoping that the longer she kept him talking the more likely it was she’d be found. "Learn what?"

  "That men like him don’t ever give you what you deserve."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  He pinned her against the wall and ran his hand over her hair. "You pretty girls. You never look at the real men. No, you always wanted the jocks, the men with bigger egos than brains. You women are always griping because men don’t look farther than your physical appearance when you all do the same thing."

  "I’m not like that."

  "Aren’t you? It didn’t take you long to hop into bed with the big, handsome cop."

  She hated how he twisted what she and Jake had shared into something ugly, but she’d die before she explained to him that it was love that had led her to Jake’s bed and not his good looks.

  "So, you see, I have no choice but to teach you a lesson, that you should look at the man beneath the physical appearance."

  "Is that what happened? Did some girl dump you for another man?"

  He laughed, a mirthless, faintly evil laugh that made her skin crawl in an attempt to get away from him. "No, no one dumped me. They never even looked at me. But they do now. They look at me and know that I hold their lives in my hands."

  His hands, the ones with which he’d killed poor Stephanie, Maggie and Jess, slipped into his pockets, pulled on latex gloves. She struggled against him until his hands locked around her throat. But he didn’t squeeze, just emphasized his point by pushing upward.

  "I’m going to enjoy taking you in this bed where he defiled you. I’ll make you wish it’d been me all along."

  She might die, but by God she was going to die fighting. She shoved against him and lunged for the stairway, but he caught her by her hair and threw her on the bed. Before she regained her breath, he was on top of her, pawing at her clothes. She fought each invasion until he backhanded her.

  When the stars cleared from he
r vision, she noticed him placing a silver-wrapped chocolate candy on the battered nightstand. Blinding fear sliced through her and she struggled even harder against him.

  "That’s it, fight me. I’ll enjoy it more."

  She didn’t let him bait her. Her only hope was to get away. She’d jump in the lake and take her chances. If she drowned, at least she’d wash away the scent of him as she floated downward.

  Even when he pinned her arms above her head, she tried to kick herself free.

  "I can’t wait to see Radley’s face when he finds your body on this island, this place where he thought you were his."

  Unable to free herself, she inhaled deeply and did the only thing left that might save her. She screamed.

  ****

  Jake crept through the brush and trees, careful to make as little noise as possible. The fact that Watkins had taken Sydney in broad daylight announced he was tired of waiting, and that made him even more dangerous. Jake and Kevin had borrowed a canoe and paddled to the opposite end of the island, keeping the trees between them and his boat the entire time. If Watkins saw or heard them coming, he would kill Sydney and flee.

  The other officers standing by on shore might catch Watkins, but Jake would have failed to protect Sydney, failed to tell her how much she meant to him and how big an idiot he’d been.

  When his boat came into sight, he turned and held his index finger to his lips. Kevin nodded. But Jake forgot stealth when the scream pierced the air.

  That son of a bitch!

  Jake nearly flew to the boat, Kevin only a couple of steps behind him. Jake launched himself onto the deck and down the stairs, barely making contact with half of them. Behind him, he heard Kevin yelling into his handheld radio, "Move in, move in!"

  When Jake reached the cabin, Watkins had Sydney pinned on the bed, his hand on her throat. Her eyes were impossibly wide, her mouth open and gasping. Blinding rage propelled him toward her attacker. He threw Watkins halfway across the room, then stalked over to punish him for what he’d done to Sydney, to all those other innocent women. He punched and punched until Kevin managed to pull him off. Jake’s rage still beat like a living thing, willing to rid the world of the beast before him.