Skye was almost relieved when Bella did not pick up a scent and acted confused. Even so, Skye quietly urged her to keep trying. Their footsteps were all she heard nearby, although the hum of voices around them kept her aware of all the activity at the scene.
Bella led them around another building before Skye turned to Ron. “I think our suspect got away.”
“Any way for Bella to determine if it was really Marinaro?”
“I can compare her reaction to these items to the items left at scenes where we’re sure he was the suspect. It won’t convict him for this one, but it’ll at least give us more reason to go after him—or not.”
“Sounds good.”
They headed back to the street, which was filled with black-and-whites, other officers and crime scene investigators. They met up with Ron’s partner, Jim Herman, who had accompanied Manny Igoa and Rusty on a similar attempt to pick up the scent. Like Ron, Bella and her, they were still in full protective gear.
“Any luck?” Manny asked Skye, bending his long form to pat his partner’s head.
“None,” she said. “You?”
“No.” Jim reached to remove his helmet. “But if our suspect’s Marinaro, like it looks, his acts are escalating. He’s killing women faster than before and getting less discriminating about his vics. By appearances, this lady’s not a college girl or sweet young thing. We’ll learn more once she’s ID’d, but looks like she’s a drug dealer and maybe a working girl, too.”
“We can’t just judge her by the area where she was found,” Skye said, looking around again at their seedy environment.
“No, but one of the patrol officers who arrived first is assigned here often and thinks he recognized her,” Jim said. “If so, she’s been run in a time or two, charged but released.”
“No matter what she was accused of, she didn’t deserve this,” Skye asserted.
She stopped talking. SWAT hadn’t been called out. The situation involved no hostages or confining of dangerous suspects.
So why did she suddenly see Trevor standing on the street, talking to Captain Franks?
And why did she want to run up to him and have him hold her tight?
Trevor had seen Skye the moment he walked up to the site. The sag to her shoulders was due to more than the burden of her heavy protection equipment. Her dog hadn’t located the suspect. The way Igoa looked, his hadn’t, either.
The SOB had gotten away. Again.
Thanks to his conversation with the chief, Trevor felt certain Marinaro had struck once more.
“Yeah,” Chief Franks was saying, “sure resembles a familiar M.O. Could be a copycat, though.” He looked even older than usual. Tired. His jowls sagged like a bloodhound’s.
“I’m sure the homicide investigators will consider that,” Trevor agreed, his gaze wandering once more toward Skye. “But I suspect we know their conclusion.”
“Which means we need to step up our search for the guy even more.”
Trevor nodded. “Let me know how I can help, Chief,” he said, acting the role of the good subordinate officer he was.
But that was not all he was. He’d do everything necessary to stop Marinaro from hurting, or killing, anyone else.
Anything.
Even…Hell, he still wanted to enlist Skye and Bella, the only K-9 on the force who’d most likely gotten the actual scent of Marinaro. Never mind that. It probably didn’t matter which scent dog was used, as long as he could get it access to items that had definitely been touched by Marinaro. And he’d still need some better leads on where to get a K-9 to search.
“You all right?” The chief shifted his stance in front of Trevor. “You’re looking a little feverish.”
Trevor nodded, attempting to put a cool but interested expression on his face. “Just mad we still don’t have the guy. But we’ll get him.”
The captain looked at him oddly. “Don’t do anything foolish, Owens. No grandstanding or putting any lives in danger, including your own.”
“Yes, sir.” Trevor meant it, at least regarding other lives. As for his own, well, he’d do what he had to.
A couple of investigators joined them, and Trevor left the chief talking to them.
The crowd of law enforcement officers was thinning. The media and other onlookers were being held back by crime scene tape and diligent cops.
But Skye was still talking to the same group of guys. Her presence attracted Trevor like some supercharged magnetic force.
Hell, he didn’t have to believe what she said, or even think her rational, to want to be near her.
Following his instinct, he approached her. Her beautiful blue eyes watched his every step, even as she continued to converse with those around her.
As he drew closer, he noticed a wariness in her gaze, as if she anticipated he would tell the others about their last meeting, or at least their last conversation.
He gave her a smile that he hoped conveyed some reassurance. All that stuff was strictly between them…just like the way he burned for her.
Noticing him as the dogs stood and started wagging their tails, Ron Gollar and Jim Herman moved aside so he could join the group.
“You’re the one here who probably wants more than anyone else to get this guy,” Ron said.
“Assuming it really is Marinaro,” Jim added.
Manny Igoa, his back toward him, turned to see what got Rusty so excited. “It’s gotta be him,” he said. “Right, Owens?”
“Yeah.” Then, looking straight into Skye’s beautiful, concerned face, he asked, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He kept himself from wincing at the chilly ambivalence that tautened her features. “Of course,” she said, with no warmth, or even inflection. “Later.”
She turned back to the others. “We all want to find that bastard Marinaro, but Trevor and I have special reasons—Trevor because he was shot by him, and me because I want Bella to get the credit for finding him. Anyone want to join us for brainstorming when we’re off duty?”
None did, which didn’t seem to make Skye happy.
Maybe she didn’t want to be alone with him later.
Or ever again.
That sent a pang of hurt through him, which was nearly as painful as the stab in his side from Edinger.
Skye would be off duty long before him, since he didn’t officially start his day for another couple of hours. But they set up a time to meet. And a place. In public.
Skye was grateful, in a way, that Trevor chose this particular coffee shop. It was close to her home and that gave her a good reason not to encourage Trevor to pick her up. She didn’t want their meeting to seem like a date.
She walked over with Bella. Since they arrived first, Skye chose a quiet table on the fringes of the patron area on the sidewalk and left Bella guarding it while she went inside.
Though she usually preferred strong, black coffee, it was late enough that she didn’t want too much caffeine hype. Plus she already felt wired about this meeting.
Instead, she chose a sweet, icy cinnamon mocha. The summer evening was warm enough that it seemed appropriate. When she saw Trevor striding toward the shop in his tight jeans and tighter red knit shirt that spotlighted his chest and bare biceps, her shiver had nothing to do with the coldness of her drink.
He looked so…well, tasty. Especially when he smiled as he saw her.
He bent to pat Bella’s head as the K-9 stood and wagged her tail eagerly.
“Hi,” Skye said, irritated at herself for wanting to greet him as effusively as Bella just did. She apologized for not getting him anything. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want at seven o’clock at night, and something hot might have cooled off by now.”
“What I generally want at this hour isn’t different from any other time of the day.” His words were vague enough, but the way his brown eyes skimmed over her made them a whole lot more suggestive.
No matter what else happened between them, he still seemed to want her. Maybe as much as she wante
d him….
She watched his back as he went inside. Especially his tight butt.
Oh, heavens, she had it bad. But she had to concentrate on business—on figuring out how to handle him now that she had revealed the secret of her heritage, which was never to be disclosed to an outsider.
Only…she didn’t believe Trevor was a full outsider, especially not now. And if he really did have the power she feared he did, she couldn’t avoid talking to him. Being with him. Watching him.
And, if necessary, finding a way to control him.
Yeah, right.
He returned with a large cup with a sleeve and top and pulled the other metal chair from under the small, round table. He lowered himself into it and just looked, for a moment, toward Skye. Then he spoke. “I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me, Skye. I figured it would be awkward to get together tonight. But whatever you think…I mean, if you really believe you can do what you said you do with dying people, or that I can kill by just…Aw, hell. I thought all day about how I’d just be cool and get beyond this belief of yours, but it’s not something I can just ignore.”
“I don’t want you to ignore it, Trevor,” Skye said sadly. “And it doesn’t even matter if you believe I’m wrong about how Edinger really died and your involvement. But in case I’m right, we need to stay…” Skye paused for a moment as she groped for the right words. “We need to stay friendly.” But she wanted more. “If you get into a situation like that again, you have to be careful,” she continued. “Maybe even get guidance about how to control your new abilities.”
“Guidance from someone who thinks she can either waltz a dying guy over some kind of bridge, or twitch her nose and bring him back to life?” His tone had turned scoffing, though something in his eyes told her he didn’t completely disbelieve her. But his attitude hurt.
“Exactly.” She forced a smile.
He pulled his gaze away, and when he again looked at her over the table his expression was unreadable. “Look, Skye, maybe there is something to what you said. I realize that my surviving, after being shot the way Marinaro got me, was amazing. You were there. I had hallucinations about seeing Wes Danver after he was shot, too, and a bridge and stuff. And you. But it’s all just so, well, weird. Incredible. You have to grant me that.”
Skye nodded. He was right. This had to be awfully difficult to buy into for any person who’d never heard of it.
Trevor reached over the table and touched her chin. “I’m sorry, Skye,” he said. “If I could fully believe what you said, I would. But I just can’t.”
“I understand.”
“You know how important it is to me to capture Marinaro,” he continued. “That’s why I’d wanted to enlist Bella and her scenting ability to help me in an investigation separate from the official one.”
“Yes, I know.” Skye’s heart plummeted to her toes. She heard the “but” in his voice. Not that she’d truly believed Bella and she would be able to do much, not without more information on where to track Marinaro. But at least that would give her some reason to stay in close contact with Trevor. She had to be sure he didn’t abuse the power she had accidentally given him.
But she knew she was lying to herself. She wanted to be with Trevor, period.
“But—” he said, reaching across the table and taking her hand in his warm grasp. “I need some time to think about all this. It’ll be better if I look for Marinaro on my own. Although I’m open to ideas from you.”
Bella put her head on Trevor’s lap, and he stroked her with the hand not holding Skye’s.
He looked back at Skye. “You understand, don’t you?”
“Sure.” She withdrew her hand and stood up. It felt like she was severing a connection with an irreplaceable part of her life. Nevertheless, she spoke brightly. “Well, it’s been a long day. See you around the station.”
“Skye—” Trevor was standing now, too, and the expression on his gorgeous features was clearly troubled.
“Take care of yourself, Trevor,” Skye said. She pulled on Bella’s leash and they quickly walked away.
Chapter 17
A lthough Skye was exhausted that night, she couldn’t sleep. Her beautiful black Bella sensed her sadness and snuggled up with her in bed, but even that didn’t help.
Just as she was getting off duty the next night, there was a call-out similar to the one the night before. Yet another young woman had been assaulted and murdered in one of Angeles Beach’s less savory neighborhoods. The dispatcher sent officers to the crime scene.
It was not a hostage situation, or other circumstance where SWAT would be involved. Still, even without official SWAT involvement, Skye knew Trevor would be there.
She sped to the crime scene with Bella. When they arrived, Trevor was already deep in conversation with crime scene techs. He nodded a cool greeting to her from down the block. Her insides warmed at the sight of him, even as the distance between them—created by more than how far apart they stood—made her eyes misty.
“You okay, Skye?” Ron Gollar asked. He’d been summoned to work crowd control again.
She pretended that the breeze from the nearby ocean had blown something into her eyes. “Of course,” she said briskly. “Any sign of the suspect here?”
“Same calling cards that Marinaro’s getting famous for,” Ron told her, shaking his head. “You’d think the bastard would do something different.”
“At least the last couple of times he hasn’t hung around to shoot anyone else,” Skye reminded him, giving a tiny tug on Bella’s lead. They headed to where her fellow K-9 officers congregated.
This time, most K-9s were present, not just Bella and Rusty. But after being released to carry out their orders, not even one dog picked up a good scent trail, despite sniffing the shell casings and rubber gloves left on the scene.
There were no witnesses, and the crime had been called in by someone uninvolved—a hysterical woman who’d heard shots about an hour ago. She lived in another unit in the seedy apartment complex that was filled with small passageways and innumerable exits.
And Skye arrived much too late to utilize any of her Valkyrie powers to save the victim or help her cross over. She was frustrated and immeasurably sad. So what if the woman’s initial ID revealed that she had been arrested for prostitution and drug dealing numerous times? Even had a trial pending. She had been a person. Even if the accusations were true, she hadn’t deserved to die this way.
Word traveled fast among members of the Angeles Beach Police Department that investigators were considering that this situation, like the last one, could be a copycat crime. But there was no good evidence to support that.
Once more, it appeared, Marinaro had gotten away with murder…for now.
For the next week, Skye went to work, trained with Bella, met with her friends from home for coffee a couple of times and—whenever possible—stalked Trevor.
Oh, it wasn’t exactly stalking. Stalking generally involved someone who was either crazy or who wanted to do the victim harm.
And she wasn’t crazy, despite what Trevor thought. Nor did she wish him harm.
But she kept him in sight whenever possible. She did practice workouts with Bella in the fenced yard while the SWAT guys did maneuvers. She hung around the station when she knew Trevor would arrive after her. She came in early when he did.
She also came to know the area where he’d bought a condo—a pleasant, midscale area of Angeles Beach that was half a mile from the beach, with plenty of nice shops and restaurants, which he didn’t seem to frequent. She sometimes watched him come and go from his place.
Best of all, she kept up with the assignments for which SWAT was called out—or where killers whose crimes might interest Trevor were sought, even if their arrests did not require the extra assistance of SWAT.
Fortunately, there was no indication that Trevor was doing anything more than his duty as one sexy, healthy, skilled SWAT officer. One who always greeted her politely when they got near each ot
her—occurrences that made Skye sad with their infrequency and coolness.
In the meantime, the media reported excitedly on the latest murders as the department dug into the investigations and released enough information to make it clear who their primary suspect was.
Then, early one morning, before all officers were to convene in the roll call room, Trevor came up to her in the hallway as she prepared to enter with Bella.
“Good morning,” he said with no inflection. But just the fact that he was talking to her at all made Skye’s heart race.
“Hello, Trevor.” She hoped she only imagined the tremor in her voice as she looked up into the chiseled, perfect features of his face.
“How’ve you been, Skye?” he asked.
“Fine, and you?” How mundane a conversation—especially when what she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and hold on.
“Well enough. Look—” But whatever he’d intended to say was lost as the mob of officers around them expanded, carrying them along in the crowd as the time to start approached.
Skye and Bella were separated from Trevor. After grabbing a seat, Skye looked around. As always, Trevor was in the midst of fellow SWAT officers at the back of the room. Skye sighed as she sat and Ron Gollar joined her.
“Any idea what’s going on today?” he asked. “I heard rumors that the captain has something big to talk about.”
Which he did. In fact, what Captain Boyd Franks reported that morning made Skye shudder.
Trevor’s hands curled into tight fists as he listened to the captain.
“We’re still looking into the authenticity of the message,” Captain Franks said into the microphone at the front of the crowded, silent room. The anger on his face made him appear even older than his early sixties. “But Adrian Dellos forwarded the e-mail to us.” Dellos was the TV reporter who was always critical of the ABPD. “It purported to be from Marinaro. Here, let me read it.”
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