Illusions of Death

by Lauren Linwood

  “I had an awful crush on Logan when he was the star quarterback in high school,” she confided. “I was ten years younger than he was, but I thought he hung the moon.

  “When he moved back, I did my share of flirting with him. He was always nice as pie, but he never bit. Then I saw him with you, and I knew what he’d been waiting for.”

  Mandy hugged her. “And now I’ve found what I’ve been waiting for. Jesse,” she whispered. “I’ve laughed more this past week than I have in my entire life.”

  Karlyn smiled. “I’m glad the two of you have hit it off.”

  “You nudged us together. And I couldn’t be happier. It’s like in that Drew Barrymore movie Never Been Kissed. She tells another girl that penguins wait their whole lives and when they see the one, they just know.” She smiled. “Jesse’s my penguin.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy, Mandy. Let’s all go out to dinner soon.”

  “I’d love that. Or down to Atlanta for a Braves game. We’re both huge baseball fans. That would be a lot of fun. Now I need to go vote and help your fiancé get elected.”

  Logan came over. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mandy so happy. Could a certain single veterinarian have anything to do with her good mood?”

  “We’re double dating with them to a Braves game,” Karlyn informed him.

  “Ah. Then we’ll hit up my favorite Chinese restaurant when we go down. It’s not far from the stadium, and they have these dumplings that rock my world.”

  They were interrupted by Jonas Watkins and Hugo.

  Jonas shook hands with Logan. “I’d say from all the people here, you might have the start of a victory party. If I could only find the beer, I’d kick off the celebration.”

  Hugo barked as if in agreement. Logan scratched the dog’s head. “Between us, I could use a cold beer with or without a victory.”

  Logan finally talked Karlyn into heading home. “There’s nothing more that can be done.”

  She grinned up at him. “I can think of a few things to keep us busy while we’re waiting for the election results.”

  Chapter 34

  Logan glanced around his new office, wondering where everything was. Chief Risedale walked out with next to nothing. What he left behind took up most of the space. An administrative assistant had packed up Logan’s files and desk for him. Now all his stuff lay in opened boxes along the wall.

  He pushed through another pile of papers, trashing some, setting a few files aside. It would take until Christmas to sort through this unholy chaos.

  His phone vibrated. Logan smiled as he answered. “How’s the weather in sunny California?”

  Karlyn laughed. “Wonderful. And I have even better news. Two words. Dakota Smith.”

  He pushed a stack aside and propped his feet on the desk. “That’s a person?”

  “Dakota is a hot hunk. Thirty-two, laid back, but has sharp eyes. Six feet even, rugged, got a Montana Tan with crinkles around his eyes.”

  “Maybe he should go by Montana Smith then.”

  “Oh, Logan, it was such a mess. I don’t think the casting agent ever read a line I’d written about Matt. The actors she’d lined up for us to see were pretty boys or beefy hulks or just way wrong in so many ways. At least Kit Pelham, the director, and Chris agreed with me.”

  “So where did Dakota Smith come from?”

  “Don’t laugh. I found him at a biker shop off PCH. And don’t ask how or why I was there. It was meant to be.”

  “Has he acted any?”

  “Yes. And no. A few school plays in high school. Plus, he admitted he’s delivered some smooth lines with the ladies over the years. Believe me, Logan, women will fall for anything this guy says. But he’s cool and tough and has his act together. I think guys would like him in the part, too.”

  “So he’s the one?”

  “Absolutely. We saw some other prospects read, but he blew them out of the water. He’s a natural. The camera eats him up. He’s a quick study with lines and relaxed when he delivers them. Kit even had him do a few stunts on tape to see how that came out. He’s exactly what I imagined. Dakota Smith is Matt Collins.”

  Logan heard the enthusiasm and pride in her voice. “I’m glad you found the right guy. As long as you remember to come home to the other right guy.”

  “Are you a little jealous?” she teased.

  “Maybe. But I am sitting in my new, messy to the hilt office. I will get a fabulous bump in salary of about five thousand dollars. And I look amazing in and out of clothes, so I think I could give this Dakota Smith a run for the money.”

  He loved the rich laughter that came across the line. “I love you, Logan Warner. In and out of your clothes.” She paused. “How are things on your end?”

  “Quiet, actually. Roy is lying low. Since you’ve been gone, the Springs has been silent as the grave.”

  Brad walked in and handed him a file. He mouthed, “Karlyn?” and Logan nodded.

  “Let me talk to her.”

  Logan handed his partner the phone. “Hey, Karlyn, when are you going to come back and straighten up Logan’s new office? It needs a woman’s touch.”

  “Hi, Brad. I’m waiting at LAX for my flight home now that we’ve cast our lead actor.”

  “You have your Matt. Good for you. Anyone I know?”

  “Nope. He’s totally unknown. Name’s Dakota Smith, and he’s from Montana.”

  “Hey, did you know that Sheriff Bullock of Deadwood, Montana, was a close friend of Teddy Roosevelt’s? He was a Rough Rider and even rode in his inaugural parade. And Teddy named him U.S. marshal of South Dakota. So there’s your Dakota/Montana presidential trivia for the day that you can share with your new star. Here’s Logan again.”

  He took his cell back and waved as Brad left. “I swear, Brad knows more useless trivia. I’ve told him he should go on Jeopardy.”

  “I wish I would’ve had Brad as a history teacher. Instead, all I did was memorize stuff. States and their capitals. The preamble. The presidents in order. What each amendment was. At least Brad has interesting facts to share.”

  “Yeah, like John Quincy Adams used to swim naked in the Potomac. Did he tell you that one? Or that Andrew Jackson had a chronic cough from a musket ball in his lung that was never removed? I get a different piece of presidential info daily.”

  “Maybe I can talk him into collaborating on a book for kids that details fun facts about the presidents. I’d love for our kids to read a book like that.”

  Logan went still. “So you really want children,” he said quietly. They hadn’t addressed that elephant in the room.

  He heard the long pause on her end. “Do you think you can go there again? After what happened to Ashley and Alex?”

  “The hurt will never go away. But I loved being a father. I want kids again, Karlyn. With you.”

  Fatherhood came naturally to him. He loved reading bedtime stories and teaching how to tie shoelaces and sharing his love of the outdoors. He couldn’t think of anything more wonderful than seeing Karlyn with a baby in her arms. His baby.

  “Logan, I would never have asked you for children. But now I know you’re open to it . . . it’s wonderful. Maybe we’ll have a boy that’ll follow in your footsteps and be a star quarterback.”

  He lightened the mood. “Or maybe our girl will be the star quarterback and our boy will be a bestselling novelist.”

  Karlyn giggled. “And Brad can teach them all about US history.”

  Logan groaned. “Now there’s a thought. Footloose bachelor Brad with toddlers hanging from each pants leg, spouting trivial trivia.”

  He paused. “Hurry home, baby. I miss you.”

  Karlyn shuffled through her notes again, adding to the different stacks on the dining room table. Alicia had graciously boxed u
p her files and shipped them to Walton Springs. She had different types of research piles. New story ideas. Outlines she’d started and abandoned. In other words, a spread-out mess.

  Her cell rang. Seeing Logan’s name on the Caller ID brought a smile to her face. She was glad he’d proposed. She didn’t care if others thought it too soon. They knew they weren’t rushing into this marriage lightly.

  Once you found the right person, nothing else mattered.

  “How’s my favorite man doing?” she purred, hoping she sounded sexy because she was ready for him to come home. Last night had been an incredible homecoming. Karlyn was hungry for more.

  “Busy. That’s why I’m calling. I’m sending Brad over to collect some file folders I forgot.”

  “The blue ones on the kitchen island?”

  “That’s them. I’ve got a budget meeting at two. I need to review a few things in them.” He chuckled. “Since I didn’t have time last night.”

  “I hope you’ll have time to flip through them and sound prepared and chief-like. Is this the city council meeting?”

  “It is. So expect Brad in a few minutes.”

  “He can join the crowd. Both of our mothers will be here any minute. They’re coming over to map out a wedding strategy.”

  Logan snorted. “Remember what we agreed to. Beach wedding. Family only. Reception in the Springs when we return. Hell, the more I think about it, eloping sounds better and better.”

  “I’ll do my best, but your mom is a force of nature.”

  Logan chuckled. “You’re the boss. Not them. Hang tough. I’ll see you about six. Sooner if I can break away from the paperwork.”

  A loud knock interrupted her goodbye. “I think the moms have arrived. Talk to you later.”

  Karlyn ushered in both mothers. “Let’s meet in the kitchen. I’ve got too much sorting out going on at the dining room table.” She motioned at the stacks as they passed through the dining room.

  Her mother stopped. “You’re worse than your father when he was writing. I didn’t think anyone could make a more jumbled mess than Broderick.”

  “Chris and I discussed several ideas while we were in California. I have printouts of all of our notes plus stacks of what I was working on before I left. And my agent sent me my working files from New York this morning.”

  “I hope buried somewhere is the start of a new Matt Collins book,” Resa said, a hopeful look on her face.

  Karlyn nodded. “That’s also here.” She fingered a few pages. “This group is notes I was working on before I left. I’m still thinking about writing a book on Roy.”

  “Logan’s Roy? The Rainbow Killer?” Resa frowned. “Oh, Karlyn, I know you like to write about crime, but this man has done such unthinkable things. How could you live with that day after day?”

  She shrugged. “I floated the idea to Logan. He’s not in favor of it. But I’ve never attempted a true crime story before. I think it would offer me a huge challenge. I would hope for access to interview him. Get into his mind and see why he did it. And include the trial and its outcome.”

  “That’s if he’s ever caught,” Martha pointed out.

  Resa looked offended. “I have complete faith in Logan and his investigating abilities. This murderer will be off the streets soon.”

  Karlyn smoothed her ponytail, hiding her smile as Logan’s mother came to his defense. “I’m sure Logan and the FBI task force will find Roy. At least according to all this research.”

  Her mother frowned. “What do you mean, honey?”

  “Oh, we don’t have to get into it, Mother. Let’s head to the kitchen and—”

  “No way, missy,” Martha declared. “We’ve got plenty of time to talk wedding. I want to hear about this.”

  She saw curiosity written on both their faces. “Okay, Roy is classified as a serial killer. It takes killing three or more people over more than a thirty day period to be branded as a serial killer. Usually, the victims have something in common—race, gender, maybe occupation.”

  Karlyn pointed to another side of the table. “Here’s the work I’ve amassed on Roy’s victims. I’ve tried to narrow down what they have in common. He’s selected different races, ages, genders, professions, sexual preferences, education levels. But he chose each victim for a reason. I plan to figure it out.”

  She moved to a different stack and pointed at it. “Here’s my research on the various types of serial killers—organized, disorganized, and mixed.”

  Karlyn held up a folder. “Disorganized have below a normal IQ. They’re impulsive. Opportunity driven. Whatever victim is convenient. They kill, leave the body, and go without getting caught for a while because it’s so random. A disorganized is introverted and often has mental problems.”

  “But that’s not Roy?” Resa asked.

  “No. Roy is an organized. He’s above average in intelligence. He possesses a strong knowledge of forensic science, so he can better cover his tracks. He’s more extroverted—has friends, a sexual partner, maybe even a family. He’s also methodical. Think Ted Bundy. He usually abducts his victims, kills them one place, then dumps the body somewhere else. His compulsion drives him, and he’s more than likely following the media coverage about his exploits.”

  “That sounds like Roy. At least what’s been in the papers,” her mother said. “He’s probably got a scrapbook of clippings about the case or records the news reports. Broderick and I watched a movie where the killer did that.”

  “Why do you think he’ll be caught, Karlyn?” asked Resa.

  “The third kind of serial killer is mixed. He usually starts as an organized, but then he becomes careless. He gets caught up in what he’s doing. His success makes him overconfident. He starts making mistakes.”

  “Thus giving law enforcement a chance to catch him.” Brad entered the room. “I think your doorbell’s acting up again. I rang and then knocked, but no one answered. Being a skilled detective, I saw whose cars were parked in front and figured the gossip was flying so fast and furiously that you couldn’t hear me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I hope you’re right, Karlyn. Roy needs to be caught. Soon.”

  Brad glanced around. “All of this is about Roy? Maybe you need to join the task force.” He paused a moment. “So you three ladies are going to solve who the Rainbow Killer is today?”

  Karlyn said, “We were supposed to discuss our wedding and reception. And no, only a small portion is dedicated to Roy. The rest is a hodgepodge of story ideas and previous research on other topics.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “So how did wedding talk turn to serial killers? Surely you aren’t thinking of asking Roy to be the best man?” he joked.

  Karlyn reached for a manila folder. “I was explaining a little bit about serial killers since they were interested in my mess. My third Matt book featured one, so I dug out my research on that. I’ve toyed with the idea of trying to write a true crime book on Roy—his victims, his capture, and his trial. I haven’t decided yet.”

  She opened the folder in her hand. “This is all about motives. Some serial killers think they’re on a mission from God. Or the devil. Say they want to clear their area of prostitutes because God tells them it’s wrong for a woman to sell her body. Some are on a power trip. Those are usually adults who were abused as children, so they want to hold the power over someone.”

  Resa peeked over Karlyn’s shoulder. “What does this mean? That some are hedonistic.”

  Karlyn closed the folder before Resa saw the graphic photographs within. “They thrive on the kill. They take pleasure in the torture that leads up to the kill. They get off on the thrill of doing something beyond society’s codes of conduct. I think that’s Roy.”

  Brad pointed to the DVDs sitting on the table. “And the stack of movies?”

  She blushed. “Don’t di
scount movies. I Netflixed Copycat, Mr. Brooks, and The Silence of the Lambs.” She motioned to a stack of books. “I read all the Dexter books. Darkly Dreaming Dexter was the best as far as getting into the mind of a serial killer.”

  Her mother shivered. “I don’t like this at all. Honey, is this really how you want to spend your time?” Martha’s eyes widened. “Oh! What if Roy found out you were researching him? What if he came after you like he did Mario?”

  Karlyn put an arm around her mother’s shoulder. “Don’t borrow trouble, Mother. Besides, I haven’t decided if I’ll pursue it or not.”

  “Sounds like you’re seriously committed to this project,” Brad noted. “You’ve gone well beyond curiosity.”

  She shrugged. “I’m exploring the idea. If I don’t write Roy’s story, I can use the research in a novel. I’ve been playing with the idea of creating a series with a female detective. Maybe she could have a run-in with a serial killer. Or she could even work for the FBI and specialize in profiling serial killers. Whatever I decide, the research is never in vain.”

  She paused. “I’m sorry. I rarely talk over my story ideas with anyone. I get a little wound up. Let me get what you came for.”

  Karlyn disappeared into the kitchen and scooped up the budget folders Logan needed. She returned and handed them to Brad.

  “I know you need to head back. With your job, you don’t need a lesson on serial killers.”

  He laughed. “Actually, I’d rather hang with you ladies. After I drop these with Logan, I’m heading to the high school. Some teachers have been getting pretty nasty messages on their voice mails.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You know me and kids. Not my favorite combination.”