by Sable Hunter
“Then 1995 is our starting point.” He walked over to her and leaned over Alivia’s shoulder. “I want to know everything about that first case.” He tapped the screen with a finger. Alivia was overwhelmed by their collective synergy, and her entire body tingled with excitement.
“I agree. I’ll request all information, and call the department. Hopefully, the detective assigned to the case is still on the job.”
“Great!” Saxon beamed, satisfied with their progress. “I’m ready to eat. Do you want anything specific?”
Alivia was already at work collecting data. “Whatever. I’ll eat anything.”
“Pizza it is. Conan’s is your favorite, right?”
She smiled over her shoulder. “Yea, with everything, the more vegetables the better.”
“Sounds good.” He placed the order, paid for it with his credit card, and requested the delivery guy leave the food at the front door. “While we wait, I’ll do some searching of my own.”
“Do you think it’s possible these cases are related to ours?”
“I don’t think we can afford to ignore them.” He whistled low. “And if they are, we’ve stumbled on something huge.”
They set to work, scouring the internet and police databases from all over the state. No talk was needed as they clacked away at their computers. When one of them heard the printer humming beside them, they knew the other had found something of use.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Saxon rose to stretch. “Let’s take a break and compare notes.”
“I need to stretch my legs.” She looked around his office. “I like your spot, but I could use a change of scenery. Why don’t we take our notes to the conference room?”
“Fine by me.” He grabbed a couple of Red Bulls and set out after her.
“Where’s Micah? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Oh, he probably went to check on Madison, his wife.” Saxon didn’t say, but he knew the Wolfe had been preoccupied lately with old demons who’d come back to haunt him. Namely, the Jaguar. “He’s been talking to the detectives on these cases too.”
“In person?”
Saxon cleared his throat. “No.”
Alivia scoffed, “I knew you were just being difficult. At that moment, if I’d said the grass was green, you would’ve sworn it was brown.”
“Well, maybe no one watered it.”
“You’re hopeless.”
Yea, hopelessly attracted to you, he thought. Taking seats in the conference room, they set out to compare notes. “Well, what have you got?” Saxon asked.
Alivia slid a yellow file folder across the big table towards him. “I’m not sure I found anything more than you did.” She hit a button on her laptop, and a picture of a young, smiling brunette appeared on the conference room television. “Delores Fischer. Age twenty. From Port Arthur. She was found naked from the waist down in an irrigation ditch. Cause of death was strangulation. No boyfriend.”
“Right. And no enemies,” Saxon added with exasperation. He closed the folder. “I see you didn’t find anything more relevant than I did.”
“The last place she was seen alive was at a Catholic church, according to witnesses. She seemed to live a pretty ordinary life.” Alivia opened her folder. “Mother worked as a waitress. Father struggled to make ends meet working in the declining oil industry. A couple of the neighbors said he’d gripe about the amount of money they spent on Delores’ pageants.”
Saxon added what he found. “But none of them said he drank, or did drugs, or womanized, or was anything but a hardworking man who doted on his daughter. Damnit! This has got to have something to do with our case. I can just feel it in my bones.”
“Well, this was a long time ago. If the man who killed Mindy and our other victims killed Delores…” she stopped to think, “that would make him or her…”
“Him,” Saxon insisted as he stared out the window at the Austin skyline. “Middle-aged, if he was at least twenty when he killed Delores.”
“I’ll gather this same information on the other murders, but if Delores was his first, we might be able to find what set him off.”
“Yea, and then we’ll better understand him. He’ll have a hard time hiding from us once we know what makes him tick.” Alivia came to stand behind him, gazing at the lights of the city, close enough he could feel her heat. He felt instant comfort at her nearness.
“I think we should get on the road for a few days. Speak with the investigating officer on this cold case. See what he has to say, take a look at his notes and files.”
“I agree. He’s out there. I can feel him. He could strike again at any moment.” He bowed his head and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Alivia. It’s just that ever since Tyson’s sister was…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
“It’s okay.” Alivia kissed him on the back of his shoulder.
Lost in his grief and frustration, Saxon was still unable to miss the unmistakable pressure of her lips against the worn fleece of his familiar grey hoodie. Turning slowly, he locked eyes with the woman before him. Reaching out, he tugged her into his arms, moving his lips slowly toward hers.
Bam!
Saxon and Alivia were jarred out of the moment by a loud banging on the conference room table.
“I damn near lost part of my hand wrestling this away from an armadillo.”
Saxon and Alivia turned their heads to see Micah standing at the conference room table, a big box of Conan’s Pizza on top of the tabletop.
“Shit!” Saxon cursed. “The pizza. I forgot.”
Alivia pulled away from him. Micah had the worst possible timing.
Flipping open the lid, the Wolfe inhaled deeply. “Well, luckily for you, this particular armadillo was a vegetarian. He pilfered the green peppers, onions, mushrooms, black olives and almost all of the jalapenos off your Savage, but the meat is still mostly there.” He pushed the box across the table. “Not sure if you like anchovies, Alivia, but beggars can’t be choosers at this point.” Seeing their deer in the headlight faces, he grinned. “Did I interrupt something? Not breaking up a party, am I?”
“We were just working on something.” Saxon zipped his hoodie up halfway against the growing chill of the evening. “What’s up?”
“I guess you didn’t get the update over the task force line.”
Alivia took a seat at the table. “What update?” The smell of the pizza made her realize how hungry she was, and she peered into the box to analyze what remained of their dinner.
Despite the pizza’s mangled state, her stomach rumbled at the sight of it. Alivia considered taking a slice, until Saxon slammed the lid shut, making the decision for her.
“Don’t eat that. We’ll get something else.” He turned to Micah. “You heard the lady. What update? Out with it, Wolfe.”
“The police in Amarillo are questioning a suspect in the murder of Amanda Syrian.”
“Really? How did they find him? Does he have a record? How old is he?” Saxon fired the questions quickly.
Micah held up his hand. “I don’t have all the answers, but I can tell you he walked into the police station and turned himself in.”
“Son-of-a-bitch.” Saxon shook his head. “I was not expecting this.”
Alivia pulled up a map on her computer. “Is he confessing to all of the murders?”
“I haven’t heard, yet,” Micah said. “I’ll stay on top of the situation.”
“If you get to interview him, ask about Port Arthur.”
Micah froze in his tracks while he was fishing a bottle of water out of the bar fridge in the room. “Who said anything about Port Arthur?”
Saxon handed him the file folder he’d been looking at a few minutes ago. “Have a seat, buddy. You need to see this.”
Saxon left the room to order another pizza, leaving Alivia with her hunger and frustration, and Micah to see what they’d found.
“What does this have to do with our case?” Micah asked once he was do
ne reading.
“Saxon thinks this is our killer’s first victim.”
“1995! Damn! What proof do you have?”
Saxon walked back into the room and took a seat. “We don’t have any proof…right now. But when you consider the woman was a beauty contestant, and she was strangled, it’s too big of a coincidence not to look more closely.”
Micah turned to Alivia. “What do you think?”
“We need to see the files on all these cases. In addition to the three current murders, there are at least ten others spread over the last fifteen years, all the same cause of death, and all the victims were involved in beauty pageants. I’d be interested to know the age of the guy who confessed, and if he can account for his whereabouts when Mindy and Mona were killed,” Alivia responded as she rubbed her arms, where chill bumps had arisen.
“Fuck.” Sitting back in his chair, Micah looked through the file again. “Are you telling me we could have a long-term, goddamn serial killer on our hands, Sax?”
“Could be.” Saxon folded his arms across his broad chest. “Looks like someone has been busy killing Texas beauty queens and nobody noticed.”
“Does this mean I don’t have to compete?” Alivia asked, hopefully.
Micah looked out the window at the lights of Austin. “No. We have to be sure this is the guy. Even if it is, it’ll take a while to build a case against him. We can’t afford to let our guard down until we have proof he’s the killer. In the meantime, you two need to investigate these cold cases to see if they’re connected.” When he turned to face them, Saxon could see Micah’s eyes were clouded with fatigue and worry. “And God help us, if this isn’t our man, we’ll need to be there to set a trap, just in case he shows up.”
Alivia threw her hands in the air. “And I guess I’m the bait!”
Micah stared at his feet. “Yes…you are. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Even though Victoria’s going all out to make you a winning candidate, we’re going to need you to come across as…”
“As what?”
Raking his hand through his hair, Micah blew out a long breath. “I want you to present yourself as…available.”
“Available?” Alivia gritted her teeth together.
“Just hold your fuckin’ horses, Wolfe.” Saxon stepped closer to Micah. He was finding it hard to speak. “I didn’t agree to this. I knew Alivia would be our eyes and ears among the contestants, but I never realized you intended to use her to lure the killer.”
Micah tried to touch Saxon’s arm, but Saxon jerked out of the way. “We’ll do our best to keep her safe.” Glancing at Alivia, he tried to pour oil on troubled waters. “Look, I know it’s risky as hell, but Saxon is ex-special forces, and he’ll be glued to your hip the entire time – like white on rice.” When they both gave him a strange look, he waved his hand dismissively. “I know. Bad analogy. Cut me some slack. I’m dealing with a lot of stuff right now, and I’m not as sharp as usual.”
“I don’t care what you’re going through, Alivia didn’t sign up for this. She’s a computer genius, not a soldier. Would you bring Madison into something like this?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Micah answered quickly enough. “As much as I love Madison, she isn’t Alivia. This is Alivia’s area of expertise.”
Saxon just stood there huffing his breath, but Alivia had calmed down. After hearing what Micah thought of her, she felt ready to tackle the task. “It’s okay, Saxon. I knew this was what Micah intended all along…except for the slut part.”
“You’re not a slut. You could never be a slut.” Saxon was still seeing red, he rubbed an ache in his chest with a trembling hand.
“No, of course she’s not a slut,” Micah said, trying to salvage the situation. “We’ll handle this with finesse, the only men she’ll interact with will be you and Titus.”
“Titus!” Saxon growled the word. “I don’t think so.”
Alivia looked across the room to her sexy would-be bodyguard. “It’s okay, Saxon, don’t make a big deal about this. I want to do it, but…if I’m going to be bait, I want something.”
Micah leaned against the wall. “And that would be?”
“There’s a little over two weeks until the contest. I want to go on the road and talk to police departments about these cases, especially in Port Arthur.”
Micah considered her request for a moment. “I spoke to Victoria before I came tonight, and you’re going to need to be in Lufkin on Saturday. When you finish there, Port Arthur is less than two hours south.”
“Maybe by that time we’ll know if the guy who confessed to Amanda’s murder is our killer or not,” Saxon said. “And you said I need to be glued to her hip, so I’m going with her.”
“Done.” Micah couldn’t agree fast enough. “Now, I’m outta here. There’s a beautiful woman at home waiting for me.”
The air in the room returned to its previous heaviness once Micah was gone, and Alivia had to exit the room to escape it. Returning to Saxon’s workspace, Alivia busied herself, packing her things. The day had been long, and full of ups and downs. She’d slept with Saxon again. Another girl had been murdered. A man had confessed to that murder.
Alivia stopped to rub her eyes, this was almost more than she could deal with at one time.
Going to her, Saxon took the bag out of her hands and pulled Alivia close, bringing his lips to hers.
Placing both hands on his wide chest, Alivia pushed him away. “Saxon, no. Stop.”
He let her drift from him, respecting her wishes, but not liking it one bit. “What do you mean no?” He looked at her with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This isn’t how it should be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know it’s been a long day, but let me take you out. On a real date. Let’s spend some time together and get to know each other.”
Alivia panicked at his words. She stepped back to him and initiated a kiss of her own. “No date, but if you lock the door, we can…”
Saxon was tempted. Saints above, how he was tempted. “No.”
Alivia recoiled as if she’d been slapped.
“It’s not a no because I don’t want you. Fuck me, do I want you,” he growled. “So bad. But I don’t want casual with you. I want to get to know you.”
His words shocked Alivia. Scared her. She couldn’t deal with this, not now. Choosing flight as her defense, she shrugged at his words. “Your loss.”
As he watched Alivia walk out, Saxon knew she was right, for he felt the loss deep down in his heart. “This isn’t over, Alivia.” Right then and there, Saxon William Abbott set a course. He would go on a quest. A quest to change Alivia Gertrude Hart’s mind and make her his.
* * *
Meanwhile…the room was dark. He needed the dark. The curtains on the window were heavy, and he preferred to keep them drawn shut all day and all night. The air stank of disinfectant, for he tolerated no dirt, no germs, no blemish. No filth.
Feeling the pressure build in his head, he paced around his apartment, letting the hunger grow. A hunger for righteousness. As he passed through the kitchen, he reached to stroke the leather cover on the old Bible that sat on the counter. It was tattered, full of missing pages with scriptures he didn’t think belonged, and dog-eared pages marking passages he would read over and over again.
“Never forget, always remember, never forget, always remember…” He kept repeating to himself as he moved frantically about the space. He kept glancing over to the stark coffee table, empty except for a bulging scrapbook. Going to it, as if drawn by an unseen web, he sank down on the couch in front of another book, almost as revered as the Holy Scripture in the other room.
“Go back to the beginning.” He picked up the scrapbook and carefully turned to a particular page, a page turned and touched so many times that the spine remembered, so it fell easily open to the likeness of Delores Fisher.
He caught a glimpse of her beautiful face, and then slammed the book closed again befor
e looking back up toward the ceiling. “Lord, Heavenly Father, why did she do it?” His whispered voice was hoarse with regret.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the scrapbook once more. This was their manifesto, a detailed recording of the Acts of the Just. His eyes were used to the darkness, so he could see the page clearly. There she was again, Delores Fisher, as beautiful and innocent looking as ever.
“But you weren’t, were you?” He ran one thick finger across the picture, stroking her face. “You weren’t innocent. You weren’t pure. Why did you do it? You could have been saved. Saved!” His hand rose and then fell in a fist down to the book with a thud. “But you wouldn’t listen!”
He picked the book up and rubbed his face against her. “What an angel…” he moaned. “What an angel you could have been if you’d only listened.”
Laying the book aside, he paced another lap around the room, staring down at her face every time he came near. “Stupid, stupid beauty contests. Just displays of hedonism. They turn angels into whores. Horrible, filthy, worldly whores.”
He flung himself back onto the plastic covered white couch and closed his eyes. From memory, he replayed in his mind the day of the first testing. He knew the story so well, it was like he could go back in time.
He could see the small house where she lived, the short flight of stairs one had to climb to gain admittance to her dwelling place. He knew how her home appeared that day, he knew it by heart. Bright. Well-kept. Clean. Like she should’ve been. The mental picture blinded him a bit, but his mind’s eye adjusted the way real ones do.
He saw her door and breathed deeply. He knocked and then returned his hand to compulsively rub the cross that hung from his necklace. She came to the door and opened it.
Delores saw who it was and appeared surprised. That’s the way it had happened.
“Umm, hi…” her words trailed off.
“Hello.” He would respond, with a higher pitch than he intended. Her beauty did that to him. “May I, umm” he choked a little, “may I come, in please?”
