Chapter 21
Washington, D. C.
Saturday morning
The man sat outside the gourmet coffee shop on Wisconsin Avenue, sipping his iced latte. Despite the heat, humidity, and scattered rain, he wasn’t alone at the chic metal tables with their canvas umbrellas. He’d been playing with the latte for half an hour. In that time he’d seen Marie Claire’s redheaded friend enter the building with bags from a local grocery store. Little Olivia.
He’d traced her name through the license plate on her car last week, which had also given him her full address. The fifth-floor apartment facing the street was hers. Right now she was going through the room opening blinds. No sign of his target yet, but he was confident Marie Claire would appear soon.
He thought about his little surprise and wished he could be there to see how she reacted. Impossible, really, so he’d just have to imagine what she would do. That was almost as good.
He was prepared to sit outside for the rest of the day if necessary, camouflaged with his massive book on the history of Western civilization and his Georgetown University baseball cap. Just another grad student nursing a latte and eating biscotti while he crammed for summer finals.
He smiled at the thought.
Chapter 22
Washington, D.C.
Saturday morning
Sean and Aidan sat at a scarred table in the precinct coffee room, their chairs tipped back as each topped off on scalding coffee despite the sultry heat of the day and the room.
“The more we dig into Mendes, the less we find,” Sean said.
“Everything we’ve found out about Claire indicates that she’s a law-abiding citizen from New Orleans, working as a white-collar professional in D.C. for the last eight years. She’s trustworthy, mentally stable, financially solvent, and an all-around good citizen who would be happy to work with the police to lure—”
“No,” Sean said stubbornly. “I found four more murders within a two-hundred-and-fifty-mile radius that remain unsolved, all involving Hispanic prostitutes or semi-pros stabbed with a large blade. The cases span the last ten years, with the most recent murder committed two years ago.”
“If they really are connected to our guy, he’s been at this for some time. I’m surprised the FBI hasn’t picked up on the case yet.”
Sean shook his head. “Different jurisdictions, large geographical area, and a long break between murders. Plus the victims were all turning tricks—not the type of victim who’s going to inspire shock and outrage in the community. It’s not surprising that no one has put the pieces together.”
“But now the killer is escalating,” Aidan said.
“Yeah. At first there were years between the killings. Now we’re talking six months between Renata Mendes and Cristina Herrera,” Sean said grimly.
Aidan shook his head. “Not good.” And it would just make Captain Michaels more determined to solve the case before another agency could step in, which Aidan didn’t need to point out.
“What did you come up with on Afton and Camelot?” Sean asked.
“Camelot is a legitimate operation, running at a decent profit. No outstanding debts, no lawsuits. Seems solid. Afton was registered as the owner just under three months ago, shortly before her sister’s death.”
“What about Afton herself?”
“Up until about ten months ago she lived outside of Boulder, Colorado. She taught theater and literature at a fancy boarding school for gifted teenagers. I guess she moved here when her sister was diagnosed with leukemia.”
“What about the father of her kids?” Sean asked.
“They were never married. Apparently the guy was murdered on a business trip to South America. Neither her coworkers nor her neighbors had ever met the man, though the neighbor across the street had seen him a couple of times.”
“Murdered? What happened?”
“I don’t have any details. Afton’s former colleagues reported that she missed a month of school just over a year ago. All the principal could tell me was that Afton’s boyfriend had been murdered on a trip to Ecuador or something, and she took some personal time afterward. She moved to D.C. to be near her sister within a couple months of that, selling everything she had in Boulder.”
“Poor kid.” Sean shook his head, wishing he could shield Afton from a homicide case that would doubtless bring up bad memories. He liked her straightforward approach and admired anyone who took on family responsibilities without complaint.
“Yeah. She’s been through a lot already. The last thing she needs is to be involved in a murder investigation.”
The door swung open and Teresa leaned in. “I knew I’d find you hiding in here,” she said to Sean. “Claire Lambert is here to see you.”
The front legs of his chair came down with a bang. “She out front?”
“No, I showed her where you and Burke sit. She’s waiting for you.”
“Thanks. We’ll be right there,” Sean said.
“Think she’s still mad at you for kicking her out of Camelot yesterday?” Aidan asked slyly as they walked to their desks.
“She wasn’t really mad, she’s just one of those people who needs to understand the why of any situation. I think now she realizes what we’re trying to do and will leave the job to us.”
Laughing, Aidan shook his head. “Put down the crack pipe, buddy.”
Aidan was still smiling when he walked through the doorway and saw Claire with an open file folder in front of her.
“Tell me that file isn’t what I think it is,” Sean said softly.
“Shit,” was all Aidan said.
“This is why you asked me for one more day?” Claire asked calmly, without looking up from the file. “So you could have me investigated?”
“You want me to explain?” Aidan asked softly.
“I’ll take care of it,” Sean said. “Give us a minute.”
Aidan grabbed his keys and left without a word.
“Investigating you wasn’t my choice,” Sean said to Claire. “Captain Michaels insisted that we have a full profile of you as a way of judging your reliability as a witness.”
When Claire raised her eyes from the folder and looked directly at him, he was jolted by the emotions he saw in her black gaze.
“You asked for my trust, and then you investigated me. God, you talked to my neighbors and coworkers about my sex life.”
Or lack thereof.
The thought of Sean reading the contents of the file made her want to curl up and die of humiliation. Instead, she drew on years of hard-won poise and got to her feet.
Sean had expected temper, even a shouting match, but she had just shut down. It made him nervous.
“Where are you going?” Sean asked.
“To Livvie’s place.” Claire gathered her purse and raincoat.
“Why did you stop by to see me? Did you have something new?”
“I wanted a report on what you’ve been doing for my case. I got it.” She closed the folder with her name on it and handed it to Sean. “Trust me.”
“Goddamn it.” He looked around the room, which was scattered with cops who made their living shoving their nose in other people’s business. “We can’t talk here. I’ll drive you to Olivia’s.”
“That’s too kind of you, Detective. I couldn’t put you to so much trouble.” She headed for the door.
He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and said in a low, angry tone, “Lose the attitude. I’ll be damned if you’re going to make me feel guilty for doing my job.”
Without waiting for an answer he steered her down the hall toward the back parking lot. When he stopped at the passenger side of a police-issue unmarked sedan, she pulled away.
“I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to get in a car with you right now, Detective. Too many weapons within reach.”
“The weapons are locked up.”
“The radio cord isn’t.”
“Keep it up and I’ll put you in back behind the cage,�
�� he said.
“This is called kidnapping.”
“This is called getting you to listen long enough to calm down.” He crowded her into the passenger side, locked the door, and closed it hard.
When he got behind the wheel, she didn’t look at him. He leaned over and fastened her seat belt, telling himself that it wasn’t another excuse to touch her.
Claire hung onto her temper because it made her feel less like a victim. The rational part of her mind knew that she wasn’t being reasonable, but nothing about the last few days had been reasonable.
She noticed that Sean turned onto the route that would lead straight to Olivia’s apartment. Undoubtedly it was just one more fact he’d dug up in his investigation of Claire Lambert, victim.
“Are you going to talk to me?” Sean asked after several minutes of silence.
She turned toward him. “Maybe I can understand why you did this, but it’s the way you did it that pisses me off. You said ‘Trust me’ and then you violated my privacy. Next time you want to investigate my money situation, or old boyfriends and lovers, you come to me. Don’t go talking about my private life to anyone who ever looked out their living room window and thought they saw a car parked in front of my place for the night!”
“There’s no need to make this personal.”
“It’s pretty damned personal to me.”
“All right, but don’t ask us to conduct an investigation with our hands tied. Look at it this way—if you were being stalked, we’d be talking to everyone who ever knew you, because you wouldn’t be able to give us objective answers. You might not see an ex-boyfriend or date as a threat, but with our experience we can catch things you’d miss.”
“As I’m sure your little file shows, there’s no one in my past who cares enough to stalk me. I don’t affect men like that.”
“And that’s a fine example of why we don’t ask you about your life,” Sean said.
“What does that mean?”
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Don’t you have any mirrors? Of course you affect men like that. You’re fucking gorgeous.”
Claire stared out the windshield and didn’t say a word. She was too busy trying to see herself as gorgeous, much less fucking gorgeous. Unconsciously she shook her head. She couldn’t see it.
Sean tried a different tack. “When you prepare a bid for a client, don’t you thoroughly research a number of different alternatives, then present all the options, along with your recommendation for the best approach?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s the same thing in police work, only it’s more important for us to be thorough because if we screw up someone could die.”
“Then why are you ignoring the dating service connection? It could be a big lead and you’re just blowing it off! For all we know Renata Mendes could have been a member.”
“Are you saying that the dating service fields sex workers?” Sean asked. “That’s what the other victims were—Hispanic prostitutes. Mendes wasn’t a hooker, but she was Hispanic and in the wrong place at the wrong time. As for being a client of Camelot, that was one of the first things we checked after we talked with you. She wasn’t.”
“You could have told me sooner.”
“The fewer people who know, the better chance there is to keep it out of the headlines.” Sean turned into the driveway of Olivia’s apartment building, released Claire’s door lock, and faced her. “This asshole cuts up women for fun. I want to catch him so bad I can taste it.”
So much for fucking gorgeous, Claire thought as she undid her seat belt. When Sean looked at her, what he really saw was a case to be solved.
“I believe you, Detective. Thank you for the ride.” She opened the door and bolted.
Sean opened his own door and shot out to follow her.
“Hey, buddy,” yelled the doorman as Claire trotted by him. “Move the car before I call the cops!”
Claire quickly crossed the lobby and pushed into a loaded elevator just as the doors were closing. The elevator stopped at every floor to exchange passengers. When the doors finally slid open on the fifth floor, she stepped out into the hall and kept walking while she looked through her purse for the key Olivia had loaned her.
Head down, she ran smack into a large male body. She knew without looking up that it would be Sean.
“Most people would be out of breath after running up five flights of stairs,” she said, stepping around him.
“Guess I’m not most people,” Sean replied, falling in step with her.
Claire rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”
Progress, he thought cautiously. She was no longer calling him “Detective” in that cuttingly polite voice. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay. You haven’t been out of the hospital all that long.”
Claire stopped by Livvie’s door. He was right, which only made the headache that was always lingering in the back of her brain worse. “I’m thirty years old—but then, you know that, don’t you?—and I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, which you also know from reading my file. I’m just fine, thank you.”
“You’ve never been the potential target of a serial killer before.” Sean felt an angry tic begin in his left cheek.
Claire saw the telltale tic and the fact that his icy blue eyes had turned silver with temper. “Cher, I’ve survived Mardi Gras in New Orleans every year of my life. This is a piece of cake.”
“Mardi Gras? Jesus Christ.”
She clucked her tongue and tapped his left cheek. “You’re going to rupture something if you don’t calm down.” She smiled slightly, feeling much better for his loss of control. She turned and slid the key in the door. “If I’m that frustrating, why don’t you stop fighting and work with me instead?”
It was her smile that did it. His hand shot out, captured hers, and pulled it toward his mouth.
“This is why,” he said, pressing a hot kiss into her palm. He didn’t take his eyes off hers as he parted his lips and gently stroked her flesh with his tongue.
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a soft sound of comprehension. With her heart pounding, she felt his warm tongue make a second leisurely slide across the suddenly hypersensitive skin of her palm. She moved closer, instinctively pressing her body against his as she came up on her tiptoes. Without conscious thought, she slid her free hand around his neck.
She only had to tug once before he bent his head down to her, stopping with his mouth a breath away from her parted lips.
“Hell,” he said softly, and kissed her.
Claire shut her eyes and savored Sean. As he captured her closed lips in a teasing nip, she decided he tasted like spearmint and coffee. When he stroked the line between her lips with his tongue, her toes curled inside her shoes and she opened her mouth to let him in. A flash of heat shot through her body, bringing with it a restlessness she tried to soothe by pressing against him. She struggled to get closer, but he was too tall to reach the way she wanted to.
Sean felt her arching against him and stopped thinking at all. He wrapped his arms around her back and straightened, lifting Claire off her feet. Unable to believe she was actually kissing him back, he stroked repeatedly into her mouth with his tongue. Her responding moan made him tighten. He shifted his hold, trying to lift one of her legs around him so he could get as close as they both wanted, but he was frustrated by her knee-length skirt. He wrapped his hand around her hip instead, squeezing and releasing the supple flesh.
When he heard a small thump echo in the hallway, he thought it might be one of her shoes falling off, but was too far gone to care. He pressed her into the wall and continued the drugging kisses, concentrating on her taste, on the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest and her hips arching against his erection.
The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall finally got through to him. He couldn’t believe he had lost his head so quickly. Breathing unsteadily, he stepped back and lowered her feet to the floor. He held her shoulders when she stumbled, thrown off
balance by the missing shoe.
The change from being kissed senseless to being set aside was like a shock of cold water. Claire took several deep breaths and grabbed for composure. Rather than look at Sean, she glanced around for her missing shoe, giving herself some time to steady. He took an arm to offer support while she slipped her foot into the pump.
“Thanks,” she murmured, and wondered if she looked as shell-shocked as she felt. What do you say after your world has been tilted on its axis with a single kiss?
“That was really stupid,” Sean said, straightening his shirt and studying the top of her bent head. “I’m sorry.”
Okay, those weren’t the words she was looking for. Annoyed, she gave him a sideways look and spoke without thinking. “Never apologize for kissing a woman like that, cher. It makes her look foolish and you look like a pig.” She heard the cutting words and winced. “Damn. I didn’t mean the pig part. I guess I’m sorry, too. I, ah, got a little carried away.” She fiddled with the gold hoop in her right ear.
“You didn’t do anything. I’m the one who practically nailed you against your best friend’s front door.” He rubbed his neck in frustration. He’d never felt so out of control in his life. “Look, we’ve been taking shots at each other for the last two days, it’s only natural that there would be some built-up tension between us. But I never should have kissed you,” he said roughly. “It won’t happen again.”
Claire narrowed her eyes at his tone. “Did I just stand there like an inflatable doll while your tongue was in my mouth? You didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to.”
“Claire, the last week has been very stressful for you. Your emotions are all over the place. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”
The look she gave Sean made him shift uncomfortably. “Protecting me again, Detective? Or are you protecting yourself?” She shrugged as if she didn’t care. “Thanks anyway, but I’m a big believer in free will. You didn’t take advantage of anything.”
“I don’t normally lose control like that.”
When the Storm Breaks Page 11
