Shadow of Vengeance

by Kristine Mason

  Rachel shook her head. “We’re not sure of anything. But, everything we’ve seen so far is just too coincidental to ignore. And now Bill’s missing.”

  Owen rubbed the back of his neck. “Because someone didn’t want him to have that tox screen.”

  His biceps flexed, momentarily distracting her, but she refocused. “But why? If you think about it, what difference would it make if we found the drug in his system. That’s no reason to get rid of him.” Realizing she should have thought before she spoke, she touched Joy’s forearm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “It’s okay, Shorty.” Joy gave her a wry, half-smile. “You’re just doing your job. Now keep going. Because if something did happen to my nephew, I want whoever did it to him. My daddy was a hunter and he taught me how to skin a deer. It’s been a while, but I plan on practicing those skills again, if you get my meaning.”

  Oh, I got it, all right.

  “What if the killer started to worry that he left behind some evidence of the kidnapping in Bill’s truck?” Owen asked. “He finds out Bill’s going to be tested, thinks that when they find the Rohypnol in his system, we might start nosing through Bill’s things, his truck included.”

  Rachel took a sip of wine and realized they had a bigger issue than finding Bill. “Someone is watching us.”

  Owen snapped his gaze to hers and caught the frustration and fear in her eyes. “It’s a small town,” he said to help alleviate her fear and maybe a bit of his own. If they had a leak, or the killer had strong ties with the community and this investigation, they could be in danger if they came too close to the truth. The killer had been at it for twenty years, he couldn’t see him stopping now.

  Rachel picked up a pencil and tucked it behind her ear. “Small town or not, the only ones who knew Bill was going for the tox screen were me, you, Dr. Gregory and Jake.”

  “Maybe someone overheard you talking,” Walter suggested.

  Who? Owen drummed his fingers again. They’d specifically asked Bill to not tell anyone, not even his boss with campus security.

  “Joy,” Rachel began, “you said Bill was sweet on a girl. Do you know her name?”

  “I wanna say it was Kaylie.” She frowned. “Or was it Kylie? Anyway, it was something like that. Like I said, she works at the university library, so someone there would probably know her.”

  “If Bill told his girl and she blabbed about it…” Rachel shook her head and reached for the pencil behind her ear. Owen could practically feel the frustration radiating from her, and expected her to bite the pencil in half. “Okay.” She blew out a breath and set the pencil—unbitten—onto the table. “Let’s get back to our notecards. I still have some research to do and we’ve got a search in the morning. By the way, Joy, do you have a printer I could borrow?”

  At this point, Owen would rather suffer the cold and search the woods by the river for Bill. He knew what Rachel wanted with that printer. And by midnight, he’d been right. The short stack of reports she’d printed off sat in front of him. After Joy and Walter went off to bed, he’d gone through them all and had grown tired of sitting hunched over, scanning names, dates and addresses. Hell, he’d grown tired of this no-win investigation, period.

  “One step forward, two steps back,” he muttered, dropped the neon, yellow highlighter, and rubbed his tired eyes.

  “What’s that?” Rachel asked, but kept her focus on the laptop screen.

  “Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. The busywork Rachel had him doing made him restless and edgy. He’d had a hard time focusing on the lists of current and former university faculty and staff that lived in or near Bola. Damn it, he had a hard time focusing because she distracted him. Even in a baggy sweatshirt. Because he knew what was underneath all that fleece. Images of Rachel wearing that skintight tank top she’d had on last night popped into his head—again. Her large breasts practically spilling from the top. Erect nipples piercing the flimsy material.

  He cleared his throat. Focus. On the reports, not on Rachel.

  “Are you at least finding anything useful?” she asked, the glow of the laptop screen reflecting off her pretty face. Off her full, kissable lips.

  Business. Stay focused on business.

  “I don’t know how useful any of it is…” Picking up the stack of reports, he glanced at the top page where he’d made notes. “Going back twenty-five years…nothing. No students, faculty or staff—which includes maintenance, janitorial, security—still live in the area. I didn’t see a cross reference until eighteen years ago.”

  Her eyebrows rose, and her tired eyes lit with excitement. “Really? Who?”

  “Xavier Preston, the dean.”

  She visibly deflated. “Oh.”

  They’d both been working hard at pulling together something solid to help with the investigation, and he hated hearing the defeat in voice. “But there’s a dozen guys—maintenance—on the payroll who started working at the university between fifteen and ten years ago,” he said, hoping to lighten her disappointment.

  “No former alumni living in the area?”

  “Sorry, no. But one thing we didn’t consider is the possibility of a visiting professor. Based on the dates I’ve been looking at, it looks like that might be a separate list that we don’t have.”

  “I’ll check the university data base again tomorrow and see what I can come up with on the visiting professor route. That might give us a lead.” She began shutting down her laptop. “Well, we didn’t come up with a whole lot tonight, but we can interview the maintenance guys and see if they fit the pathetic profile we came up with for the killer.”

  “It’s not pathetic,” he said and stood. “Pinning him to be in his late thirties to mid-forties makes sense. So does our thoughts about him living in the area during the winter months.”

  “I suppose.” She shoved the computer into the bag. “What’s pathetic is that I can’t find anything on why Wexman initiated their no hazing policy. I can’t believe—considering the size of the town and university—that no one knows anything about it.”

  “Yeah, but you heard what Walt, Percy and the others said about that.”

  “The dock caught on fire. I remember.” She slung the bag over her shoulder. “I can see where the Townies would be more concerned about that than what was going on at the university. Still…”

  “You’d think there’d be some kind of record,” he finished with a nod.

  When she moved next to him, they began to walk up stairs.

  “You’d think. I’m going to ask Jake if he can do some digging. Maybe he has a list of deputies who used to work with the former sheriff and they remember something.”

  “Good plan,” he said as they made their way into the dimly lit hallway.

  When they reached her door, she let the bag slip from her shoulder and set it on the floor. “He’s coming by in the morning, we can run everything we worked on tonight past him. We can also see what else he remembers about Percy’s grandma. That whole story is a little too coincidental to brush off, even if it sounded like some wannabe spooky campfire story you tell to a bunch of Girl Scouts.”

  Glad Rachel hadn’t lost her sense of humor after they’d spent hours spinning their wheels and coming up empty, he cracked a smile. “So, do you believe what the guys at the bar said about Walter being a Bigfoot expert?” he asked, keeping his voice low. He hadn’t seen any other tenants traipsing through Joy’s and he wasn’t sure which room was Walter’s. He didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing them. Besides, he liked Walt, and didn’t want to have any issues with the man.

  She grinned, and leaned close. Her unique scent teased him, making him want to draw her closer. “After spending two days in Bola, it wouldn’t surprise me,” she whispered. “The people around here are definitely…unconventional. I don’t know how Jake handles it. He’s so normal.”

  Fucking Jake. How many times was she going to mention the man’s name?

  “I feel sorry for the guy,”
she said, keeping her voice low.

  He did, too. But at the moment, he could give two shits about Jake. Right now, his mind was on the woman standing in front of him. Her citrusy sweet scent and the way it made his mouth water for a taste of her lips, her soft skin. How her baggy sweatshirt brushed against him as she leaned in to whisper. Knowing that beneath the sweatshirt was a tiny waist and full hips he could hang on to while his drove himself deep between her sexy thighs. And her breasts…Damn, if he didn’t want to touch them, bury his face in her cleavage, skim his mouth along her nipples.

  “Jake doesn’t seem happy here,” she continued, obviously oblivious to his wicked thoughts and current state of arousal. “Not that I know him, but I just get that feeling…you know, that he’d rather be someplace else.”

  Jealousy settled in the pit of his stomach. He needed to walk away and go to his room. If she mentioned that man’s name one more time, he swore he was going to give her a reason to forget the sheriff existed. And that could be a colossal mistake. Knowing Rachel had hand-to-hand combat training, he could end up with a broken nose and in the process jeopardize his career with CORE.

  “Yeah, well, Jake’s a big boy,” he said quietly and tried to mask his irritation. “I’m sure he has his reasons for staying in Bola.” Not that he cared.

  She stared at his chest for a second, then looked up at him. “But don’t you think it’s strange that a man with his background would waste his time in a small town? I bet Jake—”

  Owen cupped the back of her head and kissed her, silencing anything else she had to say about the sheriff. He didn’t want to hear his name again. And as she softened her mouth, separating her lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss, he refused to consider the consequences of the kiss and how it could ruin their professional and personal relationship. He refused to think about anything or anyone but Rachel. The way she tasted, faintly like apples and pears. The way her small body and sexy curves melted against him.

  Then she speared her fingers through his hair and gripped his head. Slanted her mouth against his and intensified the kiss. Making sexy throaty moans as she tangled her tongue with his.

  Her aggressiveness, the way she boldly held him, surprised and excited him. The need to strip her naked and kiss every inch of her had his heart pounding and his brain sex-muddled. Sliding his hand beneath her sweatshirt, he gripped her hips, pressed her against his erection. He wanted her to know exactly what was on his mind.

  She broke away. Panting, her breath fanned across his lips. Her eyes were big and round, and held hints of shock and desire. Letting go of him, she pressed the back of her trembling hand against her swollen lips, but kept her eyes locked on his.

  His breathing labored, he tried to tamp down his needs. He’d obviously stunned her. Hell, he’d stunned himself. He’d fantasized plenty about how and when—if there’d even be a when—he’d attempt to seduce Rachel. He hadn’t planned on a hot and heavy make out session, at least not tonight. They were in the middle of an investigation and staying in a boarding house filled with strangers. Still, he couldn’t help the smug satisfaction surging through him at the way she’d responded. He’d always thought of her as a quick-tempered firecracker, but Rachel had just shown him how hot-blooded and explosive things could be should they take their next make out session any further. And he planned on another one.

  She dropped her hand away, then straightened and tilted her chin as if she were unaffected by what had just transpired. With the way her pulse beat hard at the base of her throat, and how her eyes still glittered with sensual excitement, she didn’t fool him. But he could understand her wanting to take things slow. They worked together, and he’d bet that thought was on her mind, just as it had been on his.

  “Well,” she finally said, her tone husky. She cleared her throat and looked over his shoulder. “That was…interesting.”

  Interesting? How about frickin’ amazing?

  She turned toward the door. “On that note…”

  He took her hand before it hit the doorknob and spun her to face him. “That’s all you’ve got to say?” There was no way he could be wrong about what just happened between them. She’d kissed him back with an aggressiveness and eagerness that had matched his own. Maybe she was trying to play it cool. If so, he understood. Again, they worked together. Things could become messy if they moved too fast.

  “I’m sorry, did you want a critique?” she asked.

  Critique? What the hell? He released her hand. “I don’t think that’s necessary considering you seemed to enjoyed it.”

  She sent him an infuriatingly sarcastic smile. “I’ll give you one anyway. It was okay.” Turning the knob, she opened her bedroom door, then slipped inside. “A definite improvement over the last time,” she finished, then shut the door in his face.

  Chapter 13

  WEDNESDAY

  The next morning, Rachel put her head under the shower spray. As the shampoo rinsed from her hair, she closed her eyes and wished she could go back to bed and catch a couple more hours of sleep. But Jake would be there soon and they had a lot on their plate today. Beginning with the search for Bill.

  Metal scraped metal as she whipped open the shower curtain. While she’d love to stand under the hot water for a few more minutes and let the heat work at her tense shoulders, she’d learned yesterday that hot water was a precious commodity at The House of Joy. Either Joy had the hot water tank on some sort of timer—if that were possible—or there were more phantom boarders staying at Joy’s than she’d realized.

  After toweling off, she zipped through her morning toiletries, then changed into an old pair of jeans and a heavy sweater. Never having participated in a search and rescue, she had no idea how long they’d be out in the cold, and she wanted to be prepared. She turned in front of the mirror and eyed her reflection. These jeans were her favorites, hugging her butt in just the right way so it actually looked sort of firm. The sweater? Well, it wasn’t the most flattering thing she owned. The thick material made her big boobs look even bigger, and hid her waist. But she wasn’t dressed to impress, she was dressed for the elements.

  Liar.

  So what if she was lying to herself? She refused to allow thoughts of Owen and his stupid, sexy kiss to penetrate her brain. He was the reason for the bags under her eyes. He was the reason she’d stayed up late, messing around on her laptop with the hope that she could block him from her mind. Later, she’d tossed and turned, tried to erase the way he’d kissed her and the way she’d kissed him back. What had she been thinking? Shoving her hands through his hair and practically swallowing his tongue.

  “You’re such a dumbass,” she muttered to her reflection as she tried to conceal the dark circles under her eyes. Mortification reddened her cheeks when she thought back—for the umpteenth time—to the way she’d blatantly grabbed Owen’s head and kissed him back like a sex starved crazy woman. In her defense, she hadn’t had sex in a long time. So, technically, she was sex starved and would have probably reacted the same way if some other hot guy kissed her, right?

  Wrong.

  If she couldn’t even lie to herself, how was she going to maintain the “I could care less that you kissed me” attitude once she saw Owen this morning? As she finished messing with her hair, she wondered—also for the umpteenth time—how Owen could have acted shocked over her parting shot last night. The last time he’d kissed her, he’d walked off with another woman. Other than her and Joy, there weren’t any other women around to warm his bed. Was he sex starved? Was he that hard up that he’d think she’d stupidly have sex with him after the way he’d so easily dismissed her last year? He obviously didn’t think much of her.

  What was unfortunate? She couldn’t stop thinking about him. The press of his hard chest, the way his thick arousal tempted her to throw her principles aside. The way he’d glided his tongue against hers, his firm lips demanding, coaxing, igniting something inside of her she couldn’t name, and last night, couldn’t control. His rough hands,
the way he’d gripped her hips, caressed her bare skin, had made her want to do more than throw her principles aside. For a few heartbeats, Owen had made her feel alive, passionate…wanted. But reality had reared its ugly head and thankfully knocked some sense into her before she’d made a monstrous mistake.

  She made a mental note to herself. No more creeping around dim hallways with Owen, especially if a bedroom was only a few feet away. From here on out, she would maintain nothing but a purely professional relationship with him. And when they returned to Chicago, she would make sure they went back to business as usual.

  She frowned at her reflection. Things had never been “business as usual” between them. Of course she gave each CORE agent equal time when it came to whatever they needed during an investigation. But she didn’t talk to the other agents daily, not like she did with Owen. She didn’t look forward to their calls or anticipate their return to Chicago. How did she not notice this before? Well, she knew she spent a ridiculous amount of time on the phone with Owen when he was away on business. Still. Suddenly embarrassed, she closed her eyes. What if the other agents or Ian had noticed, too?

  She packed up her toiletries, telling herself that the late night phone calls would come to an end, too. The favoritism she’d been absentmindedly showing Owen would also stop. She was a professional and needed to act like one, especially if Ian were to give her more opportunities to work in the field.

  After stowing her things back in her room, she grabbed her computer bag, then headed downstairs. When she reached the bottom step, she came to an abrupt halt. Stunned, she stared at the dining room wall. The beautiful painting had been removed and replaced with a dry erase board, along with a corkboard. Taking another step, she realized all of the recipe cards Joy had written on last night were pinned to the corkboard. Next to it, the photos of all the missing students were taped to the wall, Josh Conway at the top of the collage.