by Jordan Dane
She tugged down my pants until they dropped at my feet and I yanked off my FBI polo shirt. After she slid her fingers into the waistband of my boxers, she pulled them down my thighs, touching my skin all the way. My body reacted and she smiled when she noticed.
“Go run the shower. Make it steamy,” she said.
Billows of steam fogged the mirror of the bathroom by the time she joined me. I pulled her naked body into mine and held her. I wanted and needed sex and Lucinda knew how to push my buttons.
But tonight I needed more.
“I love you, Lucinda.”
I caressed her and let the hot spray sluice down our skin as I buried my face in her neck and kissed her. Lucinda knew my secret and accepted me the way I was. She didn’t judge me as a freak.
“I love you, too,” she whispered. “Just hold me for a little while, okay?”
As hot water rushed down our bodies, I closed my eyes and cradled her in my arms. It scared me, sometimes, how much I needed her.
***
Travelodge
Big Bear Lake
6:20 a.m.
Ryker Townsend
A loud knock on my motel room door jolted me awake.
“What the hell—?”
I sat bolt upright in bed, still in the fog of twilight sleep. Through the murky shadows I found the digital clock on my nightstand—twenty past too damned early. I looked for Lucinda. She wasn’t in my bed or in my bathroom. Before I went for the door, I searched for any note she might’ve left me and found one on my nightstand.
She’d slipped out of my room before dawn, but she’d been thoughtful enough to leave her perfume on my pillow and the scent of her lingered. That made my body react with a half-mast salute, but when my door rattled on its hinges from another pounding fist, any thought of making love to Lucinda wilted.
“Just a minute. I’m coming.”
I ran a hand through my hair and grabbed my boxers off the floor, the ones Lucinda had tossed there from last night, and put on a fresh pair. After I flipped on lights, I saw the handcuffs dangling from a bedpost, and I tossed a blanket over them before I looked through the peephole. It took only a minute to place the face on the other side of the door. Sinead Royce, my research wrangler, had provided me the man’s dossier.
Well, this should be interesting, I thought, as I opened the door. Before I uttered a word, my early morning visitor got down to business.
“My name’s Sam Reed, but everyone calls me Mozart.” A tall man, dressed in khaki BDU pants and a black T-shirt, carried a box of Starbucks coffee and a stack of disposable cups. “Are you Ryker Townsend, FBI?”
“Yeah, today I am.
“Don’t expect an apology for the early morning wake-up call. I brought coffee instead.” He held out his peace offering.
“That works. Thanks.”
I took the coffee and cups from his hands and shut the door on him. Apparently I was in one of my moods.
“Very funny, smart ass.” Reed yelled through the door. “Open up. We have to talk.”
“Sorry. I mistook you for room service.” I opened the door and waved him in. “You care for some coffee?”
Mozart Reed grabbed the Starbucks coffee from my hands and put it on the table in my room. He poured us both a steaming cup and handed me one, before he took a seat.
“Thanks.” I had a sip and set the cup down. “Do you mind if I put some clothes on? I don’t want to intimidate you.”
Mozart cocked his head but didn’t crack a smile. I worked out as a distance runner. The exhaustion of a long run settled my mind, especially after a particularly wicked nightmare. But Navy SEAL Mozart would force any man back into the gym. I slid into a pair of jeans and pulled on a fresh FBI polo shirt before I grabbed my coffee and settled on the edge of my bed.
“You found me. Talk,” I said.
I’d read about Reed in his dossier and knew he would’ve driven from his home in Riverton, an eight-hour trip. To make the trek, he’d probably left behind Summer and April, his wife and baby girl. Whatever he came to say, I needed to listen. No more payback games for the early morning rousting.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Big Bear Lake isn’t the big city. Summer and I still have friends here. They watch our six. What does your investigation have to do with my sister, Avery? Her case is closed.”
“Not any more. My team is here investigating another murder, but something came up that could link to your sister’s case.”
That ‘something’ was Avery herself, but I couldn’t tell him that.
“What do you mean the FBI is reopening her case? Hurst is dead. End of story.”
“I’m not at liberty to talk about this investigation, but since you’re here, I’d like to ask you a few questions about Avery.”
“Not so fast, fed. You can’t shut me out. She’s my family. I’m not exactly an outsider. I have a right to know what’s going on.”
Mozart bristled as he stood and approached me with an unrelenting stare. I reacted and stood too. Anyone else might have been intimidated by his physical presence—especially given the angry scar on his face—but I knew plenty about him. Any outer scars he had were nothing compared to the ones he would always carry inside. The gaping internal wounds in his life would never truly heal—something we had in common.
At my height of six-foot five, I rarely had opportunities to look another man or woman in the eye, but when Mozart stared back at me in hurtful silence, I sensed the maelstrom of conflicting emotions in the fifteen-year-old boy who had lost a beloved sister to violence. Life changing trauma at a young age always created arrested development in anyone, trapping the man in the shocked and grief-stricken boy forever.
That suffering fifteen-year-old collided with the man Mozart had become. A Navy SEAL fixed things. They defended their country honorably and protected the safety of people, but today Mozart was a victim, a survivor of a terrible tragedy. Whatever posturing he exhibited with me wasn’t about intimidation. It came from a deep hurt that would never go away. I would give him latitude.
“Sit down, Mozart. Please.”
“You wouldn’t be here asking about Avery unless—” Mozart swallowed, hard, and did as I asked. “Hurst was a killer. We caught him in the act.”
I had read the case file and understood Mozart’s SEAL team rescued two women. Elizabeth Parkins and someone very special to him at the time—his future wife, Summer. The two women would’ve been Hurst’s last victims if Mozart and his team hadn’t intervened. In the process, Ben Hurst was killed. It closed an agonizing book for Mozart, but his sister Avery had appeared to me for a reason. I had to trust her, even if it meant the case was far from closed.
But I’d be treading on thin ice by pursuing a case solely on the merit of a precious and brave little dead girl.
“Hurst was the main suspect in my sister’s murder,” Mozart said. “Detectives swore he was the guy. Are you telling me there’s doubt that he killed Avery?”
His voice cracked when he said the name of his sister.
“You deserve answers,” I said. “Believe me, I understand.”
Mozart clenched his jaw, not backing off. He glared at me as if I were something stuck to the bottom of his boot. I didn’t take it personally.
The day I lost my parents will never stop haunting me. I hadn’t been as young as Mozart when his family splintered after the tragedy, but my parent’s car accident—the way it happened and the part my sister and I played in it—shook me to the core.
With my own grief, I had to find a way to endure and make a different life than the one defined by a mother and father’s love. It’d taken a long time to duct tape what had been left of my broken relationship with my sister, Sarah. Blame can be an overwhelming barrier to overcome, whether the accusation came from the only family I had left or from the guy staring back at me in the mirror every morning.
Even now my sister and I have our struggles, centered on my gift and what could’ve happened that day. If she ha
d believed my disturbing vision that foreshadowed their deaths, or if I had found another way to warn them, they may not have died.
The word ‘regret’ doesn’t begin to describe the agony Sarah and I still share. We would never get a ‘do over.’ I held kinship with Mozart Reed, but I wouldn’t have time to explore our common ground and work for his trust. The investigator in me had to stay focused.
I sensed a shift in topic might make him curious and garner his cooperation.
“Did Avery ever own a Care Bear?” I asked.
“What kind of question is that?” He grimaced. Eventually his stern expression softened. “Yeah, she did. I bought it for her in fact, one Christmas. Her last Christmas to be exact.”
“Was it a Tenderheart bear, the one with a red heart on its belly?”
Reed narrowed his eyes, his face burdened with suspicion.
“Yeah, it was. I bought it because it reminded me of her. She always had a big heart and kept us in line, like Tenderheart.” Reed slouched in his chair and looked lost. “Why are you dredging this up again? My wife almost died because of Hurst. None of this is easy to—”
He couldn’t finish.
“I understand. Please indulge me. This won’t take long.” I watched him intently. “What happened to her bear? Did Avery do anything special with it?”
“Why are you asking about that damned bear? Are you starting a collection?”
“Tempting, but no.” I forced a smile. “Did she take off the heart belly badge and sew it onto a tank top, maybe attaching the bear’s ears to the heart?”
Mozart’s nostrils flared.
“How in the hell did you know that?” he asked. “That wasn’t released to the papers. Whoever killed her, took it. The local Sheriff’s office thought it was Hurst’s trophy, but—”
“But what?”
“They never found that red heart in his things.” His eyes watered and his expression went slack.
Recrimination brewed behind those eyes. I’d begun to see why Avery wanted to show me her Care Bear. It could be the link to prove who killed her. If we found her bear heart, we could tie her murder to the real killer with physical evidence.
But that heart also held another special connection. Mozart had given it to her on the last Christmas they had together. Little Avery knew I’d have to seek him out for answers—clever girl—but I sensed she had unfinished business with her brother. She hadn’t appeared to me solely for the sake of justice.
She’d come for her brother, Sam, the man I had come to know as Mozart.
“No one knew about the bear except for a short list of folks.” He crossed his arms. “I’m done answering questions. Tell me how you know about the bear ears and the heart. Now.”
Chapter 6
Travelodge
Big Bear Lake, California
Dawn
Ryker Townsend
“I know about your sister’s bear ears and red heart because I read it in her case file,” I said.
Mozart narrowed his eyes.
“Even if I didn’t think that was complete bullshit, why are you fixated on that heart? Why do you think someone else killed my—” He lowered his chin and let silence wash over him. “I’ve replayed what happened to her in my mind, over and over. I should’ve done something.”
Guilt had stripped Mozart of his childhood and now stood the chance of ravaging the rest of his life if Avery’s case was reopened because the true UNSUB had never been caught.
“You were fifteen,” I said. “You didn’t know evil like that would touch her…or you and your family. If you did, with perfect hindsight, you would’ve done what SEALs do. They protect.”
Mozart slumped deeper into his chair and shook his head.
“Don’t paint me as a hero. When it comes to anything connected to Avery, I’m anything but that. I failed her. Not a day goes by that I don’t remember how much I let her down. Now Summer and I have a little girl and I—”
“Don’t go there. Whoever killed Avery is the bad guy, not you.”
It pained me to witness his self-inflicted beating and not see the way I’d sabotaged myself after my parents died—and time hadn’t solved the vicious cycle of condemnation. I had my bad days and my worse days. No doubt Mozart dealt with similar demons.
“Your SEAL team ended Hurst, but my instinct tells me there’s another serial killer, far more cunning, in Big Bear Lake. I don’t know how this is linked to your sister’s case, but I’m not giving up until I do. You have my word.”
“I want in on your investigation, even if it’s just as back-up. I can handle myself.”
“I have no doubt about that, but no. I have all the help I need.”
“You don’t understand. I have to do something. If Hurst didn’t kill Avery, the past will eat away at everything I thought I knew about who I am.”
I nodded and thought over what Mozart had shared.
I didn’t need his cooperation. He’d told me a great deal already, enough to jumpstart my hunt for Avery’s killer and find physical evidence to do it. But because of Avery, my case would be far from routine—and I had to trust my gut about giving this little girl peace. Avery and Mozart both needed closure.
“Grief is the price we pay for love.”
“What?” he asked.
I didn’t realize I had said the words of Queen Elizabeth II aloud. God save the Queen.
“You must’ve loved your sister very much.” I drank my coffee and took comfort in his quiet company until a thought made my brain itch. “I have a question, but you don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Go ahead. I’ve already had the door slammed in my face once this morning.”
I smiled. Mozart Reed had the potential of growing on me.
“I read in the Hurst file that you spearheaded the search for your sister’s killer for nineteen years. That’s a long time to dedicate your life.”
“And you want to know why I wasn’t in on the kill. My SEAL team put him down.”
“Yeah. Like I said, if this is too personal, you don’t have to—”
Mozart never let me finish.
“In that moment, I didn’t want Hurst dead. He wasn’t even close to being on my radar anymore.” Mozart’s gaze drifted toward the coffee cup in his hand. “I only wanted to protect Summer and save the other woman, too. Summer was the only one on my mind. I had to keep her safe.”
Mozart’s answer rang true and made clear that he had his head on straight. If I had any doubts about bringing on a hot-headed SEAL out for revenge onto my team, those doubts faded to nothing.
“I’d lived my life obsessed over the past. Hell, I had no idea how to move on. As far as I was concerned, the future didn’t exist, until I met Summer.”
Mozart shook his head with a faint smile.
“Now we have April.” The smile turned into a grin. “I have a daughter, man. I have someone to love as much as I still love my kid sister. It feels good to have a family again.”
Yes, Mozart Reed had indeed grown on me. Many men would’ve buckled under the weight of the tragedy that struck him and his family. Reed must’ve made a personal vow to hunt his sister’s killer and found justice nineteen years later, but at that moment of truth—when it came to ending a life or saving one—he chose life.
“Thanks for the Starbucks, Mozart. Leave your phone number. There’s a pen and notepad on the table. I’ll be in touch.”
“How do I know you’ll—?”
I didn’t let him finish. Mozart didn’t trust me. I hadn’t given him any reason to—yet.
“You don’t, but what do you have to lose? This could be the start of a beautiful relationship.”
“You gotta earn your way onto my Christmas card list, Townsend. Don’t disappoint me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Mozart left my motel room, burdening me with more than one dilemma.
If he pressed me for details—asking me about how I knew the things I did about Avery—h
ow much would I tell him about my ‘encounters’ with his sister or how she died? Much of my gift depended upon trusting my instincts and interpreting the fragments that the victim allowed me to see, usually while I slept.
I walked over to the windows and yanked back the drapes to gaze upon a drab day. I wanted to hold Lucinda—to remember I wasn’t alone as I wrestled with my quandary—but she wasn’t here. I missed her.
My eyes took in the dark clouds that had nestled over the mountains and choked out the sun. Rain purged the small vacation town, gushing from gutters and through city sewers, but I felt the taint of the UNSUB’s undeniable presence. Nothing would wash away the evil I sensed to my bones.
I’d learned to rely on my instincts, but how could I explain my gift to someone as grounded in reality as Mozart Reed?
Perhaps an even bigger worry came from how my mind worked, without a socially acceptable filter. I could say the wrong thing and Mozart would pay the price. No matter how strong and resilient this Navy SEAL appeared to be, some things a grieving brother should never hear. Using the wrong word to explain things to him, I could plant the seed of a never-ending nightmare into his life, creating a mental image of his sister that would haunt him forever.
I wouldn’t do that to him, or to anyone. That was my fate to bear—to see what the dead see—no one else should have to. I couldn’t share even a fragment of Avery’s horror with him. Something made me sure she wouldn’t want him to know the intimate details of how she died—the abuse and torture that a little girl had no reason to understand at her age.
But an even bigger problem was that I couldn’t risk Mozart finding out my secret. Trusting my gift to a stranger wasn’t about the threat to my career. There was much more at play. If it became public knowledge that I relied on visions to solve cases, every investigation I ever touched would be called into question, in court. The guilty could be set free.
Logic screamed at me to keep Mozart out of the investigation and hold tightly to my secret. That would’ve been the prudent thing to do, except for one thing. Avery’s face haunted me as if she were my own sister. Whatever my decision would be, I knew in my heart that logic would have nothing to do with it.
