“Liam is Dorothy’s grandson?” River asked as if he didn’t already know.
“More like a son to her. He’s bent over backward to take care of her these past few years. Gave up his dream of becoming a college professor so that he could be close.”
He obviously had given up the dream.
But was that the real reason?
Charlotte didn’t know, and she told herself it didn’t matter. Liam worked hard. He took care of his grandmother. He treated Anna like she was a queen. When he wasn’t helping with the youth group at church, he did the kinds of things most guys in town did. He hunted and fished, canoed and kayaked.
A few years ago, he’d purchased a piece of property near the lake, a property far off the beaten path and too close to state land to be useful for hunting. Old-timers at church had laughed at him. Liam had taken the ribbing in good stride. He’d even made a joke about it from the pulpit one Sunday, explaining that he’d needed to be that far away to keep the church youth from finding him.
Plenty of people at church had assumed that he’d open the property up to the kids eventually. Maybe bring them all out there for hiking or fishing.
But he never had, and eventually people had stopped talking about it.
Which had maybe been the point.
After all, a property out in the middle of nowhere was exactly the kind of place a predator would take his prey.
She stood abruptly, her chair clattering against the floor.
The room went silent, four sets of eyes staring in her direction. She avoided them all as she turned and ran from the room. She made it to the stairwell, shoving open the door and sprinting down to the second-floor landing before Adam caught up.
He grabbed her arm, tugging her to a stop.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his eyes blazing. She’d seen him angry before, but never like this. He was livid, his jaw tight, his chest heaving.
“I needed some air.”
“Then you should have told me that.” His hand was still on her arm, his grip firm but not painful.
“Why? So you could tell me that it isn’t safe to go outside?”
“It isn’t,” he said, his eyes scanning her face, his expression softening. “What’s wrong, Charlotte?”
“I told you. I needed some air.”
“You didn’t tell me why.”
“Liam bought a cabin a few years back. It’s way out in the middle of nowhere. I think he has lake access, but it’s not on the shore.”
“There’s no record of that on file with the county,” he said.
“I can’t tell you why not, but I know for sure he bought one. I think it was right after Daniel died, and I remember thinking how silly it all was.”
“What was silly?” he asked, his voice gentle, his hand smoothing up her arm and settling on her shoulder.
“People worrying about what a guy like Liam was doing buying a cabin in the woods. I mean, our son was dead and our marriage was falling apart, and I couldn’t have cared less about anything but that. But the world went on, and you left, and people stopped talking about the cabin just like they stopped talking about Daniel.” She sighed, dropping down onto the stairs, her stomach churning. “I should have remembered sooner. Maybe if I had, Bubbles’s house wouldn’t have been destroyed. I don’t even know how to tell her about that, Adam.”
“I’ll tell her. When the time is right.”
“Do you think there is ever a good time for news like that?”
“No, but someone has to give it, and I will.” He dropped down beside her, and she wanted to lean her head against his shoulder and cry for everything they’d lost.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” he said, and she almost thought he’d heard her thoughts.
But, of course, he couldn’t have.
“It’s not your fault the Night Stalker planted explosives in her house, Adam. It’s not your fault any of this happened.” She stared at her shoes, the old scuffed tread on the stairs. She stared at her hand and the finger that had once worn the ring Adam had given her.
“Maybe it is. Or maybe it’s not, but I’m not talking about the Night Stalker or Bubbles’s house.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“I never should have left you, Charlotte. Not when you needed me so much.”
The words were like salt poured in a wound that hadn’t healed. They hurt more than she expected. She didn’t want him to know that, though. She didn’t want him to realize how easily he could wound her.
She’d told him the truth.
None of this was his fault.
None of what had happened after Daniel’s death had been, either.
“You don’t need to apologize,” she managed to say, speaking through the sadness that was clogging her throat. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to stay out of obligation. That would have been the wrong reason.”
“I would have been staying because of love, and that would have been every right reason that ever existed.”
She met his eyes—she couldn’t help herself—and all the love was still there, hidden behind the pain and regret.
“Adam,” she said. Just that, and he was leaning toward her, cupping her jaw the way he had the very first time they’d kissed.
And she was lost in the feel of his lips against hers. She was lost in the raspy slide of his hands down the column of her throat. She was lost in him, and she couldn’t make herself want to be found.
* * *
She tasted like sunshine and summer rain. Like starlight and spring breezes. Mostly, though, she tasted like home. Adam knew he should pull back, end what he’d begun before he’d gone too far and crossed too many lines.
Only, the lines had been crossed the minute his lips had touched hers, and he didn’t see any way back.
He didn’t want any way back.
Her arms slipped around his waist, her body angling so that their knees touched. She felt as familiar as breathing, and his heart beat for her the way it had never beat for anyone else.
Behind them, the stairwell door opened, but even then, he didn’t want to let her go.
“Good. I’ve found you both in one place. That will make discussing the plan for tomorrow a lot easier.” Wren’s voice was like a splash of cold water in the face, but he didn’t jerk away and he didn’t jump to his feet.
He released his hold slowly, his hands sliding away from Charlotte as she stared into his eyes.
“What was that about?” she murmured, and then she must have realized that Wren was standing on the landing above them. She glanced up, her cheeks pink. “Never mind. Don’t answer that now.”
“Not now, but I will eventually. When we have more time.” He stood, pulling her to her feet and turning to face his boss.
She didn’t look nearly as upset as he’d expected.
But then, Wren was like that. She adjusted to new situations, new information and new people easily.
“Well,” she said, her dark gaze jumping from Adam to Charlotte and back again. “This is an interesting turn of events.”
“I’m not going to apologize or make excuses,” he said, and she frowned.
“I said it was interesting, not wrong. As long as it doesn’t mess up my plans for tomorrow, I’ve got no problem with two people who are so deeply in love finding a way back to each other.”
“We’re not—” Charlotte began, but Wren held up a hand and shook her head.
“Don’t say something you’ll regret later. Come on. We’ve got some things to discuss. I’d like to do that before the sun comes up.”
“What things?” Adam asked as she led the way out of the stairwell.
“Things that you’re not going to like,” she replied. “There’s a conference room at the end of the hall that the hospital has agreed to let us use.
The rest of the team is already there.”
“What about Bubbles?” Charlotte asked. “Who’s with her?”
“An ambulance crew and three members of the state police.”
“An ambulance crew?” Adam wasn’t sure what was happening, but it was going down fast.
“They’re transporting her to another facility.”
“What facility?” Charlotte demanded. “Who decided that?”
“Bubbles was given the option of staying here or going somewhere safer. She chose to go. Until the Night Stalker is found, her location is need-to-know.”
“I’m one of her closest friends. I need to know,” Charlotte argued.
“No. You don’t, because you’re in just as much danger as she is.”
“I don’t hear you giving her the option of going with Bubbles,” Adam said. He didn’t like the way things were shaping up. He knew how Wren worked. He knew she planned and executed things carefully. He also knew that she was willing to take risks if necessary. Her goal was and always had been getting predators off the streets. If that meant playing a little Russian roulette, she was sometimes willing to do it.
“I sent Savannah with her. The girl’s story checked out, by the way. She ran away three years ago. She’s been on the streets ever since. No record, though. She’s kept her nose clean. There were no drugs in the shack or on her, and no weapons besides the utility knives. I could have let her go, but things are happening fast, and I don’t want the Night Stalker to have any pawns that he can use to manipulate us.”
“You also didn’t want her to spend any more time on the street,” Adam guessed.
“Also true. She has a little money now, but that won’t last long. I’ve been thinking about her situation, and I have an idea that might help her secure a future, but first we need to tighten the rope around the Night Stalker’s neck.”
“You’re talking as if we’ve already lassoed him.”
“He lassoed himself. We’re just going to pull him in.” She pushed open a door and led them into a large room. Sam, Honor and River were all there, sitting around a long table that stretched nearly the length of the room. All three looked up as they entered. Honor’s gaze dropped immediately, though, her focus returning to a laptop that sat in front of her.
“Go ahead and take a seat,” Wren suggested. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we can end.”
Adam glanced around the room. There were chairs everywhere—around the table, tucked into corners, stacked one on top of each other.
“Looks like they were expecting a big crowd,” he said, pulling out a chair so that Charlotte could take a seat.
She did so tentatively, as if fear were making her muscles tense and her movements stiff.
“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning in close and whispering in her ear. “None of them bite.”
“I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about the Night Stalker,” she replied. “And Bubbles, and Savannah.”
“And yourself?”
“I’m sitting in a room filled with people who are committed to keeping me safe. So, no. I’m not worried about myself.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Wren said, taking a seat at the head of the table and pulling a laptop from a bag that was sitting beside the chair. “Because what I have in mind isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“No,” Adam said, and she frowned.
“I haven’t even outlined the plan.”
“You don’t need to. I know how you work. I know how you think, and I know exactly what you’re going to suggest.”
“That was a little dramatic,” Honor said, typing something into the computer that sat in front of her. “I’m writing it verbatim, so that we can laugh about it later.”
“Dramatic, but possible,” River commented, reaching for a cup and pouring coffee into it. “He is a profiler. He’s probably got us all pegged.”
“Then maybe he should make this presentation,” Wren suggested mildly. “Because the plan will be outlined and presented, and Charlotte will have a choice about whether or not she participates.”
Just those words were enough to make his blood run cold.
“You’re not using her as bait,” he said.
“Who said that’s what I planned?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. It’s not.” She tugged a ream of paper from the bag and passed stapled sections to everyone.
Including Charlotte.
Adam glanced at his copy, eyeing the photos of two men that were plastered across it.
“These gentlemen,” Wren said, holding up the page, “are our primary suspects. Mackey Sheridan is to the right. Liam Jeffers is to the left.”
“I thought Jeffers was our guy,” Sam said, studying the paper as if he were committing both images to memory.
“The evidence is pointing to him, but I don’t like closing doors before I make very sure there’s nothing interesting on the other side of them.” Wren tapped Mackey’s image. “Mackey owns the butcher shop in town. According to the local police, he’s gotten into a couple verbal skirmishes with patrons. He doesn’t enjoy the company of others nearly as much as he seems to enjoy the company of money. He’s got a lot of that. Honor obtained a warrant and accessed his tax records for the last five years. He’s a millionaire several times over.”
“You make that much money selling meat in a small town?” River asked. “Because if you do, I want in.”
“His money is from investments. He worked on Wall Street for a few years. Ask anyone who knows anything about him, and you’ll hear that he’s smart. That’s about all you’ll hear. Most people don’t know much about what he does when he’s not running his shop.”
“That’s a lot of information in a short amount of time. You work fast,” Adam said, studying the picture of the man and comparing it to the boy he remembered. Mackey had been skinny and prone to acne, his thick glasses making his eyes look huge. The man in the picture looked well put together. No glasses. No too-big suit. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t scowling, either. “Was this taken at the butcher shop?”
“Yes. The day he opened it. The local paper ran an article.”
“You’d think he would have smiled,” Honor said, still typing.
“Maybe he has bad teeth,” Sam suggested, turning to the next page and skimming what was written there. “This is interesting,” he said. “When did we find out Jeffers had a cabin out in the woods?”
“Are you skipping ahead, Sam?” Wren asked.
“Just trying to prepare. The clock is ticking. Tomorrow is coming, and I want the Night Stalker caught.”
“We got the information from public records. He paid cash and put the title in his mother’s name. She’d been dead for nearly a decade by the time he bought the property, so we’re going to go ahead and assume he bought it for himself. Good find on that, Honor.”
“He definitely bought and used the cabin,” Charlotte cut in, staring at Liam’s image, her skin whiter than the paper it was printed on.
“You were out there?” Wren glanced up from her notes.
“No, but everyone in town was talking about it. No one could understand why someone would want the property. It’s too close to state land to be used for hunting and there’s no lake access for fishing.”
“But there’s plenty of solitude. No prying eyes. No one to hear if a woman happened to scream.” Honor had stopped typing and lifted the page. “He could play house with his prisoner until he got tired of her, and then he could throw her away.”
“Exactly,” Wren agreed. “So, of the two suspects, we all agree that Liam is the one we should take a closer look at.”
“How close of a look?” Adam asked, because he had a feeling they were about to get to the part of the plan he wasn’t going to like.
“I think today would be a great day for
Charlotte and Clover to visit the center,” Wren said cheerfully as if she were announcing a field trip to the local zoo.
He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t going to happen, but he kept his mouth shut and listened.
“I’m sure that Liam’s girlfriend would be happy to make the arrangements. His grandmother is the one who’s been requesting the therapy dog come visit again.”
“How do you know that?” Charlotte asked, and Wren smiled.
“I had Bubbles call Anna to let her know that she wouldn’t be able to visit Dorothy for a while. One thing led to another, and the subject of therapy work came up.”
“I’m assuming you were the one thing that led to another?” River said dryly, and she grinned.
“You’re assuming right. I asked Sam to coach Bubbles, and it worked out well. Anna said that Liam has been worried about his grandmother. He’s also reminded her many times of how happy Dorothy was when the therapy dog visited.”
“He manipulated Anna to try to get to me,” Charlotte said, and Wren nodded.
“That’s how it seems. Since he’s so eager to get you to the center, I think we should give him what he wants.”
“I disagree.” Adam finally spoke. He’d heard her out. He understood her point, but there were other ways to accomplish the goal.
“Do you have a better plan?”
“We get a warrant for his arrest, and we bring him in for questioning. While he’s being interviewed, we get a warrant to search his cabin.”
“That was my original plan. It’s easier and has a lot less inherent risk. There’s only one problem,” Wren said. “He’s already disappeared.”
“What!” Charlotte looked stricken, her face pale.
“We were rushing to get a federal warrant issued. I think he got wind of it. Either that, or he’s just worried we’re onto him. A state police officer has been sitting outside his house for twelve hours, and he hasn’t returned home.”
Night Stalker Page 14
