by Kylie Brant
But there was no soothing the bubbling rage that was spreading through his veins. A knife. Jesus.
“He never took the mask off?”
“No. He still had it on when I turned and pepper sprayed him. Then I threw open the car door and started running.”
“You pepper sprayed him.” His chest eased infinitesimally and he bumped her shoulder with his approvingly. “Nice job. With that lipstick vial?” She’d balked at his talk of teaching her shoot, and with her wrist still tender from the sprain she’d gotten escaping from Vance, it was going to be a while before that was an option anyway. So he’d bought her several vials of police strength pepper spray. Had been blown away when she’d shown him the pink capsule of spray on her keychain that he’d always thought was a lipstick.
“No. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to free it, so I dug in the side pocket of the door for one you’d put there.”
After she’d come into protective custody at his place, he’d planted the damn things around the home and cars like landmines, and she’d laughed when he’d shown her a map he’d drawn of where to find them. He was grateful for his foresight now, but she’d been lucky. Damn lucky. And the trouble with luck was it had a habit of running out.
“Have you questioned him yet?”
Udall shook his head in response to Cam’s question. “He’s being treated for minor injuries at the hospital first. When Dr. Channing jumped from the car it was still in reverse.” A smile deepened the creases on the man’s face. “Gotta put this one down to poetic justice. The perp was blinded in the car while it continued to roll into the street and got smacked by a cab. Then when the guy did manage to get out of the vehicle and attempt to run, the cab driver tackled him, thinking he was trying to flee the scene of an accident because he didn’t have insurance. Kept him there until a cop arrived.” He let out a chuckle. “Karma’s a bitch.”
“You get an ID?”
Udall pushed a file folder across the table. Flipping it open, Cam studied the mug shot inside. “He’s got a sheet.”
“Aggravated assault, fraud, domestic violence…This guy’s been around the block a few times. We’re going to send him around again.”
Cam handed the mug shot photo to Sophie while he scanned the arrest summary. “Dennis Leslie.” He glanced at her. “Recognize the face or name?”
“Not at all.” She looked at Udall. “How do you think he got into my car?”
“Responding officer didn’t find any broken glass, or tools for illegal entry like a Slim Jim. Other than that…we’ve got a gang of pretty sophisticated car thieves working the area who can actually clone the RFID in car fobs. This guy though,” the detective reached over to thump Leslie’s picture, “is no rocket scientist. I can’t see him having the know-how. Sometimes I’ve heard of them hiding as a Prius pulls up and then just as the driver is getting out, unlatching the hatch before it’s locked.”
Cam’s brows skimmed upward. “Be a pretty hot wait today.”
“Or he somehow got your keys.”
For a moment her mask of composure cracked and Cam glimpsed a flare of panic. “I had them in my purse, in my desk. Usually I lock the drawer, but I was alone there today.”
“Did you see anyone? Talk to anybody else?” Udall asked.
“A colleague of mine. Dr. Redlow.” Her hand in Cam’s trembled just slightly. “I stepped next door to his office and we spoke briefly. Most of the time I spent in the library, which is attached to my reception area.”
Udall exchanged a look with Cam. “I’ll know more when I talk to Leslie. At this rate, it probably won’t be until tomorrow.”
Aware of the slump in Sophie’s shoulders, Cam said, “Is she about done here tonight?”
“I think so.” Udall dug a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Dr. Channing, give us a call if anything else occurs to you. Otherwise, I’ll be in touch.”
“All right.” Sophie took the card, looked around and then gave a little laugh. “It just occurred to me I don’t have my purse.”
“It’s at the front desk,” the detective assured her. His chair scraped the floor as he pushed it back and rose. “Responding officer got it out of your car before it was towed.”
She winced at that as she stood. “I guess I’ll need a ride home tonight. And for the foreseeable future.”
“No problem. I can have one of the uniforms…” The detective looked at Cam, and amended his words. “Something tells me Agent Prescott’s got it from here.”
“I do.” To Sophie Cam said, “Why don’t you go on ahead and collect your things. I’ll be along.” The look she shot him told him she knew exactly what he was up to, but she headed out the door alone.
When she was gone, Cam switched his focus to the detective. “Any chance I can sit in on the interview?”
The man’s faded brown eyes were shrewd. “For professional reasons? Or personal?”
Cam’s smile was sharklike. “Let’s call it both.”
Udall lifted a shoulder as they both followed Sophie out the door. “I’ll give you a heads up when I get it scheduled. I’m guessing Leslie will be lawyered up before he even hits the cell.”
“He was caught in the act. He’s going to need more than a lawyer to make this go away,” Cam said grimly. “He’s going to need a damn magician.”
* * * *
“How long will it take for the credit card company to come through with the information on Baxter’s card?”
Cam slid a glance across the car’s darkened interior toward Sophia. “We don’t have to talk about the case now.”
Touched by the concern she heard in his voice, she reached over to rest her hand lightly on his arm. She could feel the muscles clenched tightly there. And realized she wasn’t the only one affected by her recent ordeal. “It’s okay. It’ll distract me.”
He was silent for a few moments, as if unconvinced. Finally he said, “The information should come through tomorrow. The card was issued in the name of Greta Talbot. Address is a PO box in Ames. We’ve already filed a warrant request with the credit card company.”
“I thought maybe it might match one of the victims we’ve identified. But I suppose you’ve already run the name.”
“Yeah, I did. There’s no record of a Greta Talbot in the state or federal databases for missing persons. But the magnetic strip on the back of credit cards carries all kinds of personal information. Maybe we’ll hit something with the phone number and home address. It’s a long shot,” he added, “but it’s something.”
Mulling that over she said, “So now what? You void her key so she has to go to the front desk so they can alert you? Or place an agent in the room until she comes back?”
Cam passed a livestock semi and took the exit leading to his home. The smell would have given away the truck’s cargo, even without the squealing that split the air. “You’re on the right track. Voiding her key might tip her off, but I left Boggs there for the time being to rig up our own surveillance camera. Feed will come directly to my computer.”
“She almost certainly would use more than one motel.” Sophia leaned her head against the headrest, exhaustion sweeping over her. “She’s too careful for do otherwise. And if she’s using motels, that makes it less likely that she has a safe house somewhere, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe.” His tone was non-committal. Cam had never been one to draw speedy conclusions. A faint smile curved her lips. He was the king of empirical evidence. Her smile faded as she recalled that his difficulty accepting things at face value splashed over to his personal life, as well as his professional. And he still didn’t seem quite convinced that her feelings for him were of the lasting variety.
Understandable, perhaps. It had been she who’d called it quits in May when they’d started the affair that had represented a huge variation from her usual cautious choices. She’d been a coward then, she admitted with a mental sigh. Running from something that had hit her way too hard and way too fast.
They ha
d that in common. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. Both of them were wary of any aspect of their lives outside their control. Which seemed supremely ironic given her brushes with danger in the last month. It was as if the fates were trying to show her how little control she really had.
She was content to finish the ride in silence, his companionship comforting in the confines of the car. Following him into the house, she set her purse on the counter and slipped off her sandals. And then stood, gripping the back of a breakfast stool. Sleep held no temptation for her. After the day she’d had it was a given that dreaming would be vivid and nightmarish. Another woman might relax with a long hot bath, but Sophia had never been a soaker. And since Vance had snatched her, naked, dripping and terrified from the shower stall weeks ago, a hot shower right was the last thing that would ease the tension from the day.
Cam disappeared into the bedroom and returned without suit jacket or weapon holster. He went to the kitchen and after a few moments pressed a too-full glass of wine into her hand.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she began.
“I am.” Taking her free hand he led her to the recliner, sat and then drew her down into his lap. “Drink. All of it. It’ll relax you.”
Obediently she sipped. “Not like that,” he chided. “Didn’t you ever have chugging contests in college?” He lifted a finger to tip the glass to her lips. “A real drink.”
She drank again, more deeply this time. And when he only cocked a brow once she’d lowered the glass, she took another drink. And then another. “Somehow I think you and I had very different college experiences.”
“I don’t doubt it. Someday I’ll explain to you the charms of a keg stand.”
Under his watchful gaze she drained the glass. A sacrilegious way to treat
her favorite Pinot Noir. But she couldn’t deny the pleasant warmth spreading through her veins was going a long way toward relaxing her.
When he set her now empty glass on the end table and drew up her foot to massage it, he accomplished what neither a long bath or hot shower could have. Boneless, she snuggled against his chest. The light from the adjoining kitchen spilled into the front of the room, but they sat in shadows.
His thumb rubbed rhythmically across the ball of her foot. “I can’t imagine how bad that was for you today.” The words were a husky rumble. “On top of what you went through with Vance…how bad were the flashbacks?”
“They were there,” Sophia admitted. “I was jumpy all day. From speaking to Courtney last night. And then seeing the place where Vickie spent a few years. I strongly suspect she set the fire that killed her relatives. I know it will probably never be proven,” she added, stemming his response. “But it fits with what Karen Denholt told me about her behavior at the time. With the profile I’ve constructed. That would make the Coates family her first victims.”
“But she didn’t burn numbers to mark them.”
“No.” She thought for a few moments. It would take the efforts of Lucy Benally, a Polk County Medical Examiner and forensic anthropologist Gavin Connerly to age the remains of the discovered victims. They were still waiting for the final results. But they already knew some of the bodies predated the entry of Vance to the killing trio. He’d been incarcerated in Nebraska at the time of some of the preliminary estimates of victim deaths. So either Baxter had had another male accomplice prior to Vance, or she and Sonny were responsible for the others.
“The corpse of Gladys Stewart didn’t bear a number. Neither did that of Curt Traer. They didn’t warrant them. Only the victims that were sexually and physically assaulted in a manner similar to what Vickie went through were part of that…sequence, I guess you’d call it. She only numbers them if the kills reflect her signature.”
He switched his ministrations to her other foot. “This is the last thing you need to be thinking about right now. Sleep might be your best distraction. Tomorrow is time enough to deal with it.”
But the turn the conversation had taken didn’t summon a spiral of nerves. And the reason for that had less to do with the wine she’d consumed and more with the man she was curled up against. “I was terrified,” she admitted lowly. “More so because of the memories of almost being Vance’s victim. At first it was like in those dreams. You know, the ones where you’re in danger but can’t scream or run or think.”
He tipped her chin up with one crooked finger. “But you did. Even with a knife to your throat, you showed brains and courage.” Releasing her, he traced a light finger over the long ugly scratch that was a testament to what she’d gone through that day. “You don’t lack guts, Sophie. You need to give yourself more credit.”
“That’s what I held on to the whole time I was going over my statement with Udall.” She could admit it now, surrounded by him, the sound of his heart thudding reassuringly in her ears. “I’d been so annoyed with myself for being spooked the whole time I was at the office. Every little noise rattled me. I fought through the fear and acted. Knowing that…it helps.”
She didn’t try to fool herself into believing it would completely counter the nightmares or assuage the guilt she felt over Courtney Van Wheton. But battling a past trauma required tools and fortitude. Realizing she’d been able to use her wits to escape what Leslie had in store for her today provided her with both.
Sitting with him like this brought comfort. With her head resting against his chest she could hear the reassuring steady thump of his heart. There had been a time when she would have been afraid to lean on the man—on any man—in case the moment came when his support wasn’t there. She’d hedged her emotional bets by restricting what she’d offered to other men, in an effort to shield herself from the possibility of future pain. She’d done that all her life, even with her ex-husband, and he with her. She could see it so clearly now in hindsight. Other than her career path every choice she’d ever made had been dutiful. Safe. Boring.
Cam Prescott could never be described by either word. Which made loving him an unprecedented risk. She shifted position to twine her arms around his neck.
It had taken the events of the last few weeks for her to realize that some risks were worth taking.
Sophia cupped his face in her hands and brought it closer. And when her lips closed over his it felt like coming home.
His reluctance was easy to taste. Though his mouth moved under hers, there was no answering pressure. She could sense his restraint; a restraint summoned by a misguided need to protect. But it wasn’t his protection she needed tonight. Sophia set out to prove that to him.
Taking his bottom lip between her teeth, she worried it not quite gently with her teeth as she lowered a hand to unknot his tie. She traced the seam of his mouth with the tip of her tongue, enjoying the opportunity to take the lead. To break through his famed control. Free it.
As she turned her attention to the buttons on his shirt, she plunged her tongue between his lips and went in search of his. His mouth twisted against hers and she smiled as she slipped her hand inside his shirt. His heartbeat was no longer steady. Not quite calm.
The wine-induced warmth in her veins changed temperature. Became little balls of heat that snapped through her bloodstream and spread throughout her body. She slid her hand over the portion of his chest that she’d bared, and felt a sudden uncharacteristic need to have him naked. Immediately.
Later that need might embarrass her, but right now it made her desperate. Without releasing his mouth, Sophia wiggled around to change positions until her knees straddled his hips. Impatient, she paused long enough to allow him to tug her jacket down her arms before resuming the task of freeing his shirt from the waistband and unbuttoning it completely.
Only then did she release his mouth to map his chest with her lips. With her tongue she traced the line where bone bisected muscle, creating intriguing hollows and angles that tempted her to linger. She sipped from one them, tasted the salty musk of his skin and the flavor ignited her pulse. Powered her quest.
&n
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