He lifted one brow. “If you say so.”
Pru noticed that rather than start on his own omelet, he watched in amusement while she sampled hers. “Whoa!” She put a hand to her mouth. “You weren’t kidding. That’s some kick.”
He got up and poured her a glass of water. “Too hot?”
“No, perfect,” she croaked as she gulped the water. When her mouth finally cooled down, she tried to eat around the salsa. “This is really good. Where did you learn to cook?”
“I wouldn’t call that cooking,” he said with a shrug. “Omelets are about the only thing I know how to make. I used to whip them up for my daughter and me when I’d get home late from work. She’d wait up, and we’d have dinner together while she told me about her day.”
And just where had Mrs. Cahill been during those dinners? Pru wondered. Given the same opportunity, Pru knew where she’d be.
Cahill paused thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve made omelets since Jessie left for college.”
“You miss her,” Pru said.
He picked up his fork. “It’s crazy. She’s a student at the University of Houston, so she’s actually closer to my apartment now than when she lived with her mother in Champions. But it’s still…different somehow.”
“She’s growing up.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound too happy about the prospect. “She used to come over a lot on weekends, and we’d rent movies, microwave popcorn, just hang out and relax.” He glanced around. “This place seems so quiet now.”
“That’s why they call it the empty-nest syndrome.” Pru sipped her coffee. “My parents went through the same thing when I went off to school. I bet yours did, too.”
“Probably.” He shrugged again. “I just wish she’d call a little more often. I tried her cell phone earlier and couldn’t reach her.”
“Well, it is Friday night,” Pru gently pointed out.
He grimaced. “I know. And the last thing I want to do is come across as an overbearing, overprotective jerk of a dad who thinks he has to keep tabs on his daughter’s whereabouts every minute of the day. But…it’s not like her to turn her cell phone off. She knows her mother and I like to stay in touch with her. Yet she seems to be going out of her way to cut herself off from us.”
Pru studied his profile for a moment. “Are you really that worried about her?”
He turned, and Pru saw the anguish in his eyes even though he tried to shrug away his concern.
He still feels guilty, she thought. After all this time, what happened to his daughter was still eating him up inside.
“I know she’s okay,” he said. “I’ve talked to her roommate, but I can’t seem to shake this feeling that something is wrong.”
Pru didn’t know what to say to that. He did seem to be carrying the overprotective father routine to the extreme, but then, everything considered, he had every right. Pru knew she’d probably be just as concerned.
“I’m sure everything is okay,” she murmured.
“You’re probably right. I think part of my problem is that she’s just so damn young. And she’s been through so much. I’m not sure she was ready for college.”
“Sounds to me as if you’re the one who wasn’t ready,” Pru said frankly.
His smile turned rueful. “Yeah, it does sound that way, doesn’t it?” His gaze dropped to her now-empty plate. “So how was the omelet?”
“I think my plate speaks for itself.”
He got up to clear away the dishes, and Pru rose to help.
“No, don’t do that,” he insisted, taking her plate. “I’ll just stack the dishes in the sink and do them later. Go make yourself comfortable, and I’ll put on more coffee.”
More coffee? Pru was so jittery she was about to start bouncing off the walls, but she wasn’t sure the caffeine was entirely to blame.
While Cahill puttered around in the kitchen, Pru wandered into the living room. It was a masculine space, sparsely furnished with a leather sofa and heavy oak tables.
She walked over to the window to admire the view of the downtown skyline. The only thing she could see from her living room window was an oak tree that had somehow survived the construction. A family of squirrels lived in the branches, and she got a kick out of watching them every morning while she had her orange juice.
An easy chair had been placed near the window and positioned so that Cahill could see both the TV and the view in the evenings. A table with a reading lamp and a stack of files was within easy reach. Pru had a similar arrangement in her own apartment.
She picked up a framed photograph from the table and studied it. The girl in the picture was dressed in a royal blue cap and gown with a gold ribbon draped around her shoulders. So his daughter had been an honor student. Somehow, that wasn’t surprising.
Turning, Pru held up the picture so that Cahill could see it from the kitchen. “Your daughter?”
His whole face lit up. It was like someone had turned on a light inside him. “Yeah, that’s Jessie. Every time I look at that picture, I’m amazed by the passage of time,” he said. “It seems like yesterday that she was still in kindergarten.”
“My mother said the same thing when I graduated from the academy,” Pru said. “I’m not sure she’s convinced to this day that I’m actually an FBI agent.” She returned the picture and picked up another, this one of Jessie and an elderly man who bore a striking resemblance to Cahill. The pair stood on the deck of a boat in Galveston harbor. Pru recognized the scenery in the background.
“Is this your dad?”
Cahill came out of the kitchen and walked over to her. He took the picture and stared down at it for a moment, a look of sadness flickering across his face. “Yeah. He loved taking Jessie out on that boat. She’s a natural sailor, unlike her old man,” he said with a grin. “Dad was so proud of her for that. The two of them would go out for hours. I’ve never seen Jessie so happy as when she’s on the water. She’s been through a lot for a kid her age, and sometimes I think that boat and my dad helped save her life.”
“You talk about him in the past tense,” Pru said. “He’s gone?”
Cahill nodded. “He died a couple of weeks after that picture was taken. That was the last time he and Jessie were together.”
“I’m sorry,” Pru said. “It sounds like you and he were really close.”
“I guess we were. It was just the two of us when I was growing up, so you learn to depend on one another.”
“What about your mother?” Pru asked.
“She died when I was born. Complications after a C-section,” he said grimly.
“Oh, my God,” Pru said, stricken. She couldn’t imagine growing up without her own mother. Her heart went out to Cahill. His daughter wasn’t the only one who’d been through a lot.
“I never knew her so I can’t really say I suffered from the loss. My dad, though…” He turned and set the picture aside. “I don’t think he ever got over it.”
“He never remarried?”
“I don’t even remember that he dated very much,” Cahill said. “I think he was still in love with my mother until the day he died.”
“My dad is the same way,” Pru said with a pang. “My parents divorced a year ago, but I know he’s still crazy about my mother. She’s this ultrachic, ultrasophisticated fashion icon who looks just like Grace Kelly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without her hair done or her makeup on. And my dad…well, you’ve seen him.”
“He’s a good man,” Cahill said.
Pru nodded. “The best. They’re both wonderful people in their own way, but they couldn’t be more different. They’re like night and day, but somehow they made it work. When I was growing up, I always knew they genuinely loved and respected one another. Then my dad retired and everything changed. It was like their differences suddenly became insurmountable. I still don’t get it,” she said sadly. “I know they still love each other, but they can’t seem to live together anymore.”
“It happens.” Cah
ill glanced out the window, his expression gloomy. “People change…grow apart.”
“Is that what happened to you?” Pru hadn’t meant to pry, but somehow the question just popped out before she had time to think how it might sound. “Did you and your wife…grow apart?”
If he was offended, he didn’t let on. He studied the view for a moment before turning to face her. “Some people were never meant to be together.”
The look on his face stunned her. It was as if, for one split second, she had been given a glimpse into all the pain, guilt and disappointment caused by the dissolution of his marriage, and she didn’t quite know what to say. How to react.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. That he had shared something so personal, even inadvertently, left her at a loss. She wanted to say something to comfort him. Wanted to offer him a consoling hand, but that would be crossing a line into forbidden territory.
And Pru had a feeling that once that line was blurred, there would be no turning back. At least not for her.
A LITTLE WHILE LATER, Cahill walked Pru to her car even though she insisted it wasn’t necessary.
“It’s a nice night,” he said as they headed down the steps of his building. “I could use some fresh air.”
It was a nice night. By day, the temperature still hovered in the high eighties, but the evenings were noticeably cooler. And tonight there was a breeze blowing in from the south. Pru could almost smell the tang of salt from the Gulf.
As they walked across the parking lot to her car, she used the remote to unlock her door, but she didn’t open it. Instead she turned to glance up at Cahill. “Can I ask you a question?”
He shrugged. “Shoot.”
He seemed so tall tonight, Pru noticed. He was probably no more than five or six inches taller than her, so he certainly didn’t hover over her. But he seemed to, so much so that she found herself catching her breath every time she gazed up at him.
“I saw you earlier in the bar,” she said.
“That’s not a question.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he leaned against the car. He seemed completely relaxed for a change, and Pru suspected few people ever saw him that way. It made her heart pound even harder.
“You were with Janet Stryker,” she stated.
He shrugged again. “What of it?”
“Earlier, you were adamant that I not question her.” Pru tried not to sound accusatory, but the shock of see ing them together still put an edge in her voice. “I can’t help wondering—”
“If I’m hiding something?” he asked. “If I’m trying to protect her?” When Pru didn’t answer, he said, “My meeting with Sgt. Stryker was strictly professional. And I happen to agree with you. Her relationship with Danny Costello is an angle worth pursuing.”
“Then why did you tell me earlier to back off?”
“Because I’ve dealt with cops like Stryker before. You get on the wrong side of their egos, and they’ll do everything they can to shut you out of the investigation.”
“I…see.” Pru paused, not as convinced as she wanted to be. “So did she tell you anything tonight? Anything useful about the case, I mean.” Was she babbling? Pru couldn’t really tell.
“She told me who hired Tripp’s agency to investigate Clare McDonald.”
Pru’s brows shot up in surprise. “But Costello told me he had to sign a confidentiality agreement not to reveal the identity of the agency’s clients.”
“I never said Costello was the one who told her.”
“Then who—”
“Max Tripp himself. It seems they have a bit of history, as well.”
That didn’t surprise Pru. A woman like Janet Stryker had probably left a string of broken relationships behind her on her climb to the top. Pru just hoped Cahill wasn’t destined to become another of the woman’s conquests.
“Please don’t keep me in suspense,” she said. “Who’s the client?”
“Sid Zellman.”
Pru gasped. She was surprised, and then again, she wasn’t. She’d met the creepy little man, and nothing about him could shock her any more than his appearance had. “That fits, I guess. Clare even suspected him. Only, he wasn’t the one who actually followed her, was he? It was his—”
“Surrogate.”
The very word drew a deep shiver from Pru. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly chilled. “Zellman is one strange guy. He told me that he suffers from a condition similar to agoraphobia. He lives in the same building where he works, and he hasn’t left the premises in over fifteen years. His assistant delivers everything he needs right to his door.”
“Including the woman of his dreams,” Cahill said.
“Oh, my God,” Pru breathed. She was deeply disturbed by the visions suddenly playing out in her head. Sid Zellman…and Clare. “Have the police been able to connect him to Ellie Markham and Tina Kerr?”
Cahill shook his head. “No. And there’s nothing tying him to Clare McDonald, other than the fact that he was having her followed by a licensed P.I. firm. Tripp Investigations may cross a few ethical lines, but they don’t break any laws.”
“Zellman knew about the posing of the bodies,” Pru said. “He knew about the roses.”
“Stiles could have told him once Zellman took on his case.” Cahill paused. “Look, being weird isn’t a crime. He may be guilty as hell for all we know, but as of right now, there isn’t a shred of evidence linking him to any of these murders.”
“So you think it’s a dead end? A coincidence that he was having Clare followed?”
“I don’t know about coincidence. I have a feeling they’re all connected somehow…Stiles, Zellman, Tripp Investigations. I just can’t figure out how. Sometimes I think…”
“What?”
“You said something the other day about the killer manipulating the MO, the crime scenes, even his own personality to throw us off track. What if we aren’t dealing with a serial killer at all, Agent Dunlop? What if someone very clever wants us to think that we are?”
“Danny Costello implied the same thing tonight. He said we should go back to the basics. Look for means, motive and opportunity. Who has the most to gain from these women’s deaths?”
“Maybe it’s time we reevaluate,” Cahill muttered.
“And in the meantime, another body could turn up.” Pru bit her lip. “I don’t think we’re wrong about this. I think we are looking for a serial killer, a surrogate. Someone who kills to satisfy another’s compulsions. Tiffany told me earlier about a club that she and Clare used to go to. A place called Acceleration on Montrose. She said she’d seen Janet Stryker there once. Maybe that’s the reason Stryker was so forthcoming with information about Tripp Investigations. She knows that lead won’t go anywhere because she’s figured out who the killer is. Or at least, where and how he targets his victims. Maybe she’s somehow trying to smoke him out on her own.”
“That’s a pretty wild leap, Agent Dunlop. Besides, in case you hadn’t noticed, Janet Stryker hardly matches the killer’s criteria.”
“I realize it’s a long shot,” Pru said. “But I think we should check out that club. Show the victims’ pictures around and see if anyone remembers them.”
“Let’s discuss it in the morning,” he suggested. “We don’t want to step on any HPD toes if we can help it. Right now, I think we should call it a night. We’ve both had a long day, and from here on out, they’ll only get longer.”
Pru nodded. “I’ll get to the office as early as I can, but I’m meeting Tiffany at Clare’s town house at ten to pack up some of her things.” She started to open her car door, then turned back to Cahill. “Sir?”
His expression was inscrutable in the darkness. “What is it, Agent Dunlop?”
“I’m not exactly sure how to say this, but…” She decided to plunge right in. “I apologize for jumping to the wrong conclusions earlier. When I saw you in that bar with Janet Stryker after you’d told me to back off, I…well, I made some assumptions. I should have known better. Y
ou’re too much of a professional to ever let personal feelings get in the way of an investigation.”
He would never let personal feelings get in the way of an investigation, and neither should she. And yet at that moment, Pru had the wildest urge to kiss him until he had no choice but to respond.
She imagined the two of them in bed together, arms and legs entwined, bodies straining for release. She shivered at the image, but she pretended it was the breeze.
And he pretended not to notice. “I’m a professional, but I make mistakes just like everyone else,” he said.
His voice deepened Pru’s awareness. “I find that hard to believe. Not with your track record. You’ve broken some of the biggest cases in the country.” She paused. “You are a legend, you know. Whether you believe it or not.”
He straightened from the car and said gruffly, “You have to stop that, Agent Dunlop.”
“Stop…what?”
“Looking at me that way. You and I both know it can’t happen.”
Pru almost gasped. She’d let down her guard for one split second, and he’d seen right through her. He knew. “What can’t happen?” she tried to bluff.
“You know what I’m talking about.” His tone re mained stern, his expression implacable. “I saw it in your eyes just now. I felt it in the car yesterday when we were driving back from Huntsville. I’ll admit, I’m attracted to you, too, but I repeat, it can’t happen. It wouldn’t do either of our careers any good.”
He was attracted to her, too? Since when?
Oh, my God.
He was attracted to her, too! That was huge news. Wow news.
Pru fought the smile that tugged at her lips. The exhilaration that threatened to lift her right off the ground and into his arms.
“I…don’t know what to say,” she murmured.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know where I stand.”
“I, uh…okay. So…what do…?” She had no idea what she’d been about to ask him. Her mind was like mush. John Cahill was attracted to her. The impossible had happened, and Pru couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought. She was almost grateful when he interrupted her, even if it was to smack her down again.
Matters of Seduction Page 13
