Footsteps came closer and although she tried not to, she flinched. A delighted laugh at her reaction made her want to pee herself. This woman was more than mean. She was crazy.
Suddenly, her voice was very close to her ear and Briana turned rigid with fear.
“Ever been on television, Briana Thistle?” the voice whispered in her ear. The menace in her voice made Briana swallow hard but she was too scared to answer. A sharp crack across her cheek made her bite her lip before she cried out. “It’s bad manners to ignore someone when they’re talking to you,” the woman said in an almost gentle manner. “Someone ought to teach you how to behave.”
Somehow hearing that soft tone seemed so much scarier.
“I’m sorry,” Briana managed to whisper, though how she did it when her throat felt paralyzed with fear she didn’t know. “Please don’t be mad. I won’t do it again,” she implored, her voice scratchy and raw from thirst.
That seemed to please her. No more slaps rang sharply against her face and when the woman spoke again, there was a satisfied smile in her voice. “Very nice, Briana. Now…let’s get you ready for your big debut. You’re going to be famous. More so than the rest.”
Tears stung Briana’s eyes. Mom…please find me. Pleeeaasse.
Kara looked up when Matthew walked into the room and immediately knew bad news was coming with him. “What happened?” she asked, thinking the old guy must’ve put up a fight. “Bernie’s dead.”
That got everyone’s attention, including Kara’s. “How?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Coroner will have official cause of death tomorrow afternoon. But by the looks of the giant hole in his gut I’d say he was plugged with his own shotgun.”
“Who’d want to kill that old man?” Kara wondered aloud. He wasn’t friendly, to be sure, but around these parts that really wasn’t a reason to shut someone up permanently. She looked at Matthew speculatively. “What’s your instinct say?”
“It says it ain’t no coincidence. I think it has something to do with the case. I think Bernie knew something. Maybe he was getting ready to talk and whoever shot him didn’t much like that idea.”
“Collect any forensics while you were out there?” she asked.
He sighed and rubbed at his eyes before answering. “Just a few spent shotgun shells and the gun itself,” he said.
“Which you say was Bernie’s?” Kara asked, and Matthew nodded. So blatant. Like a nice “Screw you” to the authorities. Sounds like their killer.
“Oren’s checking on Bernie’s next of kin. I guess he was married a long time ago. But I’d say our best lead just got snuffed out.”
He sat heavily in the chair by the wall and she was tempted to go over and wrap her arms around his solid shoulders in comfort. She resisted the urge, however, and returned to the group, which had been listening intently.
“Where do we go from here?” Dillon asked, looking to Kara for suggestions. “Bernie getting whacked puts a crimp in our plans to interrogate him.”
“You don’t say,” Kara said dryly. She sank into a chair near Tana and cracked open a bottled water. “Shit,” she muttered, her tone as bleak as her sense of hope at this point.
A mild pulse of pain sprang to life at her temples and she reached over to grab her purse. She caught Matthew’s gaze as she popped two Excedrin. Their minds seemed to connect and the memory of his ministrations for her earlier headache made her cheeks heat. Her gaze skittered away from his; she was secretly horrified that her hormones were inappropriately charged and ready to go when it came to Matthew Beauchamp.
Zane cracked a giant yawn and soon the rest of the team followed, but no one was going to quit unless Kara gave the okay for them to seek their beds for a few hours. She could see their fatigue as easily as she felt her own. Love and appreciation for her team and their dedication softened the crazed drill sergeant mom inside of her that demanded every moment be used to find her daughter and cut everyone loose for a few hours, seeing as it was nearly two in the morning already.
“Catch a few winks,” Kara said, and it was hard to miss the looks of relief and guilt that warred with each one. She clapped Dillon on the shoulder as he moved to the door. “Don’t worry…I get it. Trust me…I get it. But you’re practically falling down. I need you sharp.” She caught each of their gazes. “I need all of you sharp to bring her back home.”
Tana’s eyes watered and she nodded. “First thing, boss. You get some sleep, too.”
“I’ll try,” she said, but it was unlikely that she’d get much shut-eye. Particularly when strange and scary things tended to happen when she was trying to catch some of that elusive REM time.
Kara and Matthew walked to her room and the silence between them felt oddly comforting yet heavy with expectation. She wanted to invite him in, but for what purpose? What did she want from him? To talk about the case? Go over some of her notes to get a fresh perspective? Grow up, already, she chastised herself as they neared her door. She craved more than his professional opinion. She was too tired to dance around the true reason she wanted him to stay. She craved his solid presence, his arms around her body, cradling her against whatever might go bump in the night, she wanted to close her eyes and breathe, as if there wasn’t a maniac holding her life in his cruel hands. She wanted to sink into blissful sleep with a man who knew her like no other. The father of her child. Maybe it was time to acknowledge that Matthew had always held a special place in her heart even as she protested that Neal—and only Neal—had the right to trespass.
She turned, her hand on the doorknob, and stared into Matthew’s eyes. She whispered one word, laying herself bare and open to rejection, yet instinctively knowing that Matthew would never hurt her.
“Stay.”
Chapter 18
Matthew startled at the implication of the request. His feet were willing and after a moment’s hesitation he realized his heart was equally willing. Her wide gaze, reflected in cool moonlight, showed vulnerability the likes of which he hadn’t seen in Kara since they were kids. The consequence of his acceptance was not lost on him but he couldn’t refuse.
Words weren’t necessary as he followed her into the cold, dark room. It felt oddly natural to do this, even though it was the farthest thing from natural in either of their lives.
She flicked the small tableside light and the room was bathed in a creamy glow. She went to the mini fridge and pulled out two beers. She handed him his and cracked open hers for a long draught. He did the same as he walked to the edge of the bed and sank to the mattress.
She kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes with a satisfied and relieved sigh. She joined him on the bed, sitting close enough that their thighs nearly touched but she didn’t look at him. The fact that she started fiddling with the wrapper on her beer bottle gave Matthew cause to wonder if she’d just come to her senses and realized asking him to stay had been a major mistake. He hoped not.
Aside from the sound of beer being swallowed, silence settled between them until she asked, “Is this weird?”
He chuckled, then swigged the last of his beer. “It should be.” He swiveled to look at her, demanding her gaze and telling her without words that he wouldn’t accept anything but the truth between them at this moment. “But it’s not. Not for me, anyway,” he added quietly.
She swallowed and glanced down at his lips, then back to his eyes. “Why is that?”
“Because I love you, Kara. Always have and always will,” he answered quietly. She inhaled sharply and moisture softened her eyes. A war raged behind those beautiful eyes. The stakes were high and there was bound to be collateral damage if things didn’t work out. He knew that. He accepted the challenge.
“Why?” she asked, dropping her gaze to her empty bottle. “I don’t deserve your love.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” She rose to throw away her bottle, her back to him. He followed and grasped her arms to make her face him and not the wall. She looked at him and
the broken parts inside her called out to him like singing stones. “Don’t drag you down with me? I’m a mess, Matthew. Don’t you understand? Aside from our daughter, I have nothing to offer you. And if we don’t find her in time…” She shuddered at the possibility, her voice dying at the thought. “I’ll have even less to offer you…or anyone.”
Matthew pulled her into his arms, ignoring the fact that she came reluctantly, and just held her. She smelled of the sea breeze and guns. He grinned at the combination and a chuckle escaped. She pulled away, a frown on her face.
“What’s so funny? I’m pouring out my insecurities and you’re laughing?”
The hurt indignation in her voice sobered him quickly but he took the opportunity to seize her mouth with his before she socked him in the gut or just pulled her gun and plugged him full of holes.
She softened against him, melting into his body, and he fed his hunger for her with deep, tongue thrusts into her hot mouth, coaxing a groan so full of wanting from her throat that he nearly buckled at the knees.
They tumbled to the bed and their kisses became more frenzied and wild. He couldn’t get enough of her. His mouth followed wherever his hands roamed and explored; she twisted and arched, her hands buried in his hair or clutching at the bedsheets. A panting moan and whimper, the telltale shake of her knees as an orgasm built to a crescendo in her body—both fueled and buoyed him beyond reasonable thought. All that mattered was this woman under him, giving herself to him in the most primal way possible.
She tensed and her breath caught in her throat, then she exhaled on a guttural cry as she came so hard she could barely breathe. Rock hard and aching, Matthew slowly slid inside her slick heat, gritting his teeth as he tried to go slowly. When she smiled up at him with that sweetly sated expression and then locked her legs around him to drive his cock deeper inside her, he lost all sense of anything but the moment.
And that moment…was so worth it.
Kara traced a slow imaginary line across the expanse of Matthew’s chest as it rose with his slow and steady breathing. So much had changed in so little time yet she couldn’t find it in herself to regret their actions. It was as if a piece of herself had broken off and shattered when she’d run away from Lantern Cove and she’d been trying to fix it with little success ever since. But one touch from Matthew and the jagged shards of whatever had broken slowly started to mend.
“What are you thinking?” Matthew asked, the deep rumble of his voice tickling her ear. “Nothing bad, I hope.”
“Nothing bad,” she assured him, then frowned. “Confusing thoughts…but not necessarily bad ones.”
He scooted up the headboard until he was sitting up and Kara was forced to do the same. She withheld a sigh, wondering if she should’ve been less honest. Sometimes the truth was overrated, she grumbled privately. Especially when feelings could be hurt by careless words or musings. She truly didn’t want to heap more misery onto Matthew than she already had, but it seemed that was one thing she excelled at.
“Tell me what you find confusing,” he said, his voice gentle. She risked a smile, tempted to lie and smooth everything over, but as he watched her closely, she couldn’t give him anything but the naked truth even if it was uncomplimentary or harsh.
“Why are you in my bed? We both know it’s not going to work out in the long run. I live in San Francisco, you live here. Neither of us are going to move and I don’t have the time or the energy for a long-distance thing. Then, there’s Briana…what about her? I know you’re going to want to make up for lost time—which I don’t begrudge you—but frankly, I can’t imagine feeling safe enough to let her out of my sight once this nightmare is over.”
“I could come to San Francisco for visits until you feel more comfortable,” he suggested.
It was a nice solution, kind and generous even, considering the gas prices right now, but Kara wasn’t accustomed to giving someone else consideration when it came to her daughter. She wasn’t sure she would adapt well at all to the change, no matter the circumstances.
“And my job…makes it difficult to maintain any kind of relationship,” Kara said, drawing a deep breath, hating that she was so logical these days. “So, that brings me back to my original question. What are we doing? Aside from delaying the inevitable?”
He couldn’t answer her, which she knew wasn’t because he didn’t know the answer but because he wasn’t willing or ready to acknowledge what she’d already processed. And frankly, she was grateful for his silence. She didn’t want to hear that he agreed with her, even if it was the right thing and the most sensible course of action. She lived her life by the dictates of grim reality, but once in a while she just wanted to see life on the other side. The side that didn’t peruse crime scene photos over a hastily microwaved dinner, or pay someone else to tuck their child into bed at night, to make sure she said her prayers and brushed her teeth. Yet…she loved her job, so how screwed up was she that she was wasting everyone’s time with her crybaby angst routine?
Mood dampened, she moved to get dressed and was startled by Matthew’s strong hand catching hers and pulling her down.
“Too much thinking,” he said softly, settling her head comfortably under his chin. Her arms wound around his torso as if they were meant to go there. The warmth of his breath played with the hair at her crown. “For tonight…just let it go. I don’t have the answers. I don’t know how it will work. I just know that I’ve missed you and I want to enjoy whatever time I have with you.”
His declaration stunned her into silence. She remained that way, tucked into his side, for a long while. Then, she started telling the story of their daughter’s birth. It was the only thing she could give him at that moment that was honest and pure and beautiful—and should have been his a long time ago.
“Fourteen hours of labor…” he mused when she’d finished.
“Hard labor,” she added with a nod. “But she came out, screaming at the world. The minute I saw her red little face, all scrunched up and wet, her fists clenched and waving in the air as if she were trying to punch the doctor who delivered her, I fell in love.” She twisted to look at Matthew. “She’s the most amazing person you’ll ever happen to meet,” she said, her eyes watering, her voice breaking. “We have to find her.”
Matthew pressed a fierce kiss to her lips that lingered as he whispered a solemn vow that she took to her heart as a balm for her battered soul. “We will.”
The next morning, as the team was gulping down scalding coffee and chowing down on powdered doughnuts Matthew had brought to distract everyone from the fact that he and Kara had walked in together, D’Marcus’s strangled shout had everyone rushing to his side. He was staring at an mpeg video that started to play when he opened the attachment from an unknown e-mail.
Kara gasped and her knees collapsed as an anguished cry escaped her lips. She hardly noticed Matthew’s strong hands catching her, for she stumbled forward, demanding D’Marcus make the screen larger.
A grainy video of Briana, bound hand and foot, blindfolded and gagged, sent quivers of dread and rage spiking through her body. “Oh, baby,” she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Oh, my baby…”
“What the hell is this?” Matthew demanded, his voice strained. Kara shushed him as a singsong voice filled the room from tinny computer speakers.
“’Round and ’round the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel…such a fun nursery rhyme. Don’t you agree, Agent Thistle? You’re probably wondering why I’m doing this…well, if you were smart enough, you’d know. But seeing as you’ve not figured it out yet…and so many poor little victims have already died on your watch…I don’t hold out much hope for this little monkey.”
The disembodied female voice was off-camera with the lens focused on Briana, her little body heartbreakingly still as she cocked her head to the side as if she were trying to figure out some way to communicate her whereabouts. Kara wanted to reach out to Briana, touch her, grab her and run out of that dingy room
with her.
“I’m so disappointed in you, Kara Thistle. Aren’t you supposed to be the best? I beg to differ when I have to leave bigger and bigger bread crumbs for you to follow. What kind of standards are they keeping over at the FBI these days? Can’t say I think much of what they consider the best.”
There was awful silence and Kara’s heart thundered in her chest with pure fear that the killer would do something to Briana on camera but instead, the psycho continued on in a pseudo-sweet tone that set Kara’s teeth on edge.
“Be a good girl and say goodbye to your mother, Briana Thistle. Oh, wait, you can’t. Your mouth is full of dirty bandana. Oh, well. Life sucks, doesn’t it? You know what else sucks? Being misunderstood. Abused by the system. And being locked up. That ranks high on my list of unpleasant. But payback…is nice.”
And then the video ended.
The woman said “locked up.” It had to be Bernice Walz. “D’Marcus, find where that e-mail originated,” Kara said in a low voice that broke and cracked as panic and fear roiled in her stomach so much that she thought she was going to vomit. “Do it now. Get me a location. NOW.”
“I’m on it, boss,” D’Marcus said. Vowing in a dark tone, he added, “I’ll find it. I swear.”
Matthew tried not to pace but his nerves were jangled raw. Seeing his daughter for the first time, tied up like that, nearly sent him to his knees. If he hadn’t had to catch Kara, he might’ve joined her on the floor. He hadn’t been prepared for the mental anguish that followed, nor the sense of impotence he felt as the clock ticked with the odds against them.
It seemed a lifetime before D’Marcus had any kind of success. “It’s an ISP registered to an Internet café in Garberville,” he shouted. A few keystrokes later, he had an address. “At 765 Hoover Lane, a place called Hot Spot.”
To Catch a Killer Page 14
