by Desiree Holt
“But you did once, didn’t you?” she shot at him.
His face tightened and all traces of the smile disappeared. “You’re talking about the pedophile cases, which happened a very long time ago. Folks aren’t happy about the fact you want to dig it all up again. May I ask why all this interest in a case that’s been dead for twenty-five years?”
Dana took a deep breath to center herself. “It’s what I do, Sheriff. Researching old, unsolved cases. It’s how I make my living.”
His lips thinned. “Raking through other people’s misery?”
“Isn’t that what you do?” she shot back at him.
“I investigate crimes as an officer of the law.” His voice had gone from being polite to hostile. “I’m not in it for the publicity.”
“Publicity is a byproduct that helps me sell the books,” she snapped. “I examine old, mostly unsolved crimes. Look for new angles. Try to form a psychological profile of the killer or killers. Put it all into a book. Let people know we let the monsters out of the closet and destroy them with enough work.”
He was holding her card in his fingers, tapping it lightly against one hand. “You know, I’ve actually read some of your books.”
Dana lifted an eyebrow. Was that grudging admiration in his voice? “I’m surprised.”
“That I can read or that your books would interest me? I hate to admit it, but you do a pretty good job with unpleasant subjects.” He leaned forward, his eyes pinning her. “But I don’t understand how you can go back years later, when people have finally come to terms with tragedy, and rip them open again. Doesn’t that bother you?”
Dana sat straight in the chair, her posture matching the aggressive line of Cole’s body. Now she was in familiar territory, where the tension wasn’t sexual. “If you’ve read my work, you should already know that people are usually happy to cooperate with me. They see it as a way to get closure. I would think the people involved here would be more bothered by the unanswered questions.”
“Really.” His face was carefully expressionless. The man was doing his best to press all the wrong buttons.
She forced herself to speak calmly. “Doesn’t anyone want to know who did such terrible things to those children? Don’t they care that a pedophile got away with terrorizing and killing children? Don’t you all want answers?”
I certainly do. Hell, if I don’t get them, I might as well crawl in bed, pull the covers over my head, and call it a life because I won’t have one left to go back to.
He stared at her for a long moment. “That was twenty-five years ago. It’s over and done. There’s nothing left to investigate.”
Dana tightened her hands into fists. “I’m getting the feeling there’s some kind of conspiracy here to keep the lid on this. As if you all know who it was and no one wants to admit it.”
That thought had plagued her ever since she’d made herself face the truth of that terrible night. Was it really possible? Could it have been someone they were all familiar with and an entire town had bonded together in a conspiracy of silence? Her stomach roiled at the thought, and she swallowed hard.
Cole Landry’s eyes blazed now, the corded muscles in his neck evidence of his effort at control.
“Don’t toss that kind of crap at me, Miss Moretti. If we knew who it was, he’d have been skinned alive long before this. That’s a shitty thing to say.”
Not as shitty as having to live with the nightmare all these years.
“Then let me do what I’m here for. I’ve had success before in finding evidence that slipped through the cracks. Flushing people out who thought they were home free.”
His eyes narrowed as he held her gaze. “You think this is going to be another one like Clyde Montauk? You nearly bought the farm on that one, I heard.”
Clyde Montauk was a man who preyed on lonely women for years. After wooing them, he took them to a secluded place and raped them before cutting them up and leaving their body parts all over Palmetto County, Florida. No one had a clue who he was until she came along. Dana dug hard enough and brought enough things to light that he’d come after her and walked right into a trap.
She shuddered as the memory swept over her. Not something she wanted to do every day. But she’d do whatever it took to get the answers here.
“Having second thoughts?” His voice was mocking.
Dana stiffened. “Not at all. I came here, hoping for some cooperation, but I can work without it. I have before.”
He studied her for a long moment. “Exactly what is it you want of us? Of me?”
“To start with, I’d like to look through the reports on each of the crimes. Make copies of them if you’ll let me. Talk to any of the deputies who were working then. See what they still remember.”
“And I suppose visit the families and question them.” His voice was flat and a muscle twitched in his cheek as he studied her. Okay, so he didn’t like her or what she wanted to do. Well, too bad. She wasn’t here for a popularity contest.
When he leaned forward again, she felt the room shrinking and his presence growing and enveloping her. She’d been through this before. Men who tried to intimidate her. Make her back off. Who unknowingly lit a fire under the fear always lurking near the surface.
But there was something else in the room that unsettled her, an unfamiliar feeling of awareness. Something that skittered over the surface of her skin and made her pulse unexpectedly ramp up. Something that stunned her, that she couldn’t afford to acknowledge and didn’t want to. She swallowed a hysterical laugh. After all this time, sexual awareness of a man had decided to jump up and smack her at the most inopportune time?
She wet her lips, reaching for her usual and familiar control, unwilling to let him know he rattled her. “No one has ever complained that I acted insensitively or disrespectfully on my other projects. I can assure you it will be the same here.”
Their gazes locked for what seemed an interminable length of time. Dana was damn determined she wouldn’t break first, and she didn’t.
Cole leaned back in his chair, fighting a grin. “Feisty, aren’t you?” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “No offense. That’s a compliment, okay? I like feisty women.”
Dana felt a tickle at the base of her spine and her nipples hardened instantly.
Damn. Okay. I can handle this. I think.
“I think whether you like me or not isn’t the question, Sheriff. What’s important to me is whether you decide to help me.”
His whiskey-colored eyes darkened. The hard look was back on his face and every trace of humor disappeared. “I’m guessing it would save me a lot of trouble if I just give you what you want instead of hassling with a court order. Which I’m sure you’d get.” He stood up, his body ramrod stiff. “But you’ll have to work on the files here. They don’t leave my office. No copies.”
She swallowed a sigh of relief. At least she would get to see them. “I understand. And thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m not doing this because I want to. The files are so old we had them stored over in the archives. After I talked to John Garrett yesterday, I figured you’d be knocking at my door. To save us both some time, I had them lugged over here this morning and set up a place for you to work. Let’s go.”
Chapter Five
He sat in his den, pouring another shot of his favorite, aged whiskey, hoping it would calm his nerves. His hand trembled slightly as he lifted the glass to his lips again.
The whiskey burned as it slid down his throat, but it was a good sensation of heat. Comforting. Settling his jittery nerves. Last night’s little…adventure…had soothed him for a while but seeing her again this morning had jacked him up again. Brought all those tiny lovelies back again.
She had returned, his elusive little flower. This morning, he’d seen her entering Cole Landry’s office. So sweet, just like he remembered.
He’d Googled Dana Moretti last night on the computer, and the face looking back at him made his blood run
hot all over again. He’d never forgotten his little Carrie. She’d been special. The only one who hadn’t cried out. The only one who’d struggled against him, turning him on with her odd sense of bravery. Now she was back. Finally. After all these years. She wasn’t getting away from him again. Not this time.
He leaned back in his comfortable chair and closed his eyes, letting the images from those first two years drift through his brain. His body jerked with pleasure as he remembered them one by one. So young. So sweet. Flesh barely touched. Like flowers not yet ready to bud.
But he’d opened those petals. Oh, yes. And those little flowers had been so sweetly delicious.
Until it was time to shut them up. The ultimate pleasure had been snapping their necks.
If only those stinking teenagers hadn’t stumbled onto his cozy little nest. He’d barely gotten away. Good thing he’d left his car where he could roll it to the road without headlights. God, he could still remember pulling into a grove of trees and sitting for hours, shaking and sweating at the close call. Of course, after that, everyone was on such high alert he’d had to call a halt to his little hobby.
It was a damn good thing DNA testing hadn’t been around all those years ago. He’d covered his tracks easily enough over the two years, but DNA would have screwed him royally.
Then Fate visited him, and very quietly, he found another game to play. Oh, yes. This one wasn’t quite as delicious but it was a lot less risky and still gave him pleasure. And again, no one suspected a thing.
She was meeting with the sheriff now, his Carrie, probably hoping to twist his arm so she could see all the case reports. Good. Let her take all the time she needed to do her research. She wouldn’t find out a thing, and he’d have time to finesse his plan. Figure out a way to accomplish it that wouldn’t identify the girls he chose as anything more than random victims. Everyone would panic, thinking another predator had invaded their precious slice of heaven. For damn sure, it wouldn’t lead back to him.
He was smart. Oh, yes. He’d outfoxed everyone more than once. He could do it again.
He tossed back the last of his drink and poured another. Unzipping his pants, he pulled out his semi-erect penis and thought of Carrie/Dana as he stroked himself, a satisfied smile on his face.
Chapter Six
Dana closed the last file folder and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. Her shoulders ached, her eyes were gritty, and her stomach felt as if she’d poured acid into it. Well, maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth. Cole Landry made sure someone brought her coffee on a regular basis, probably hoping it would poison her, as bad as it was.
If she’d had trouble sleeping before, she wondered now if she’d ever close her eyes again after forcing herself to read every horrific detail of every crime, every autopsy. She didn’t know how the sheriff’s deputies who found the bodies had managed to deal with it. Here were all the details that never made it into the news reports.
But with all that, there was still no clue to be found to identify the pedophile. Nothing. All she had, besides the reports and articles, were vague memories and the song.
The damn song. Surely it had to have some significance, maybe something that would click in someone else’s mind if she told them.
If she told them.
She really didn’t know why she never mentioned it to anyone, not even the police or her parents. Maybe subconsciously, she was afraid the killer would know, find her, and finish the job.
And isn’t that just so stupid.
“I give you credit.” The deep voice behind her startled her, and she jumped. “I figured you’d quit long before this.”
When she turned in her chair, she found Cole Landry standing almost directly behind her. That same sensation of heat and sizzle—the one she’d given up hoping she’d ever feel—pounded through her. Her breasts tingled and the pulse between her thighs rocked with an unfamiliar throbbing. Over the years, she’d schooled herself not to panic when men she didn’t know well came too close. Except this wasn’t panic.
Although it probably should be.
She tried to conceal how shaky she was as she gathered her things.
“I thought it would be easier if I just plowed through it all in one day,” she told him. “Then I wouldn’t have to bother you again.”
“And you could start on the next phase of your work.”
“Something like that.” She still hadn’t looked directly at him.
“Let me get these folders out of your way.” He moved to stand next to her, almost touching her as he reached for the pile on the table.
Without thinking Dana flinched.
The sheriff took a step back, a look of curiosity flashing briefly across his face. “Sorry.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just a little jumpy from reading these files.”
It wasn’t so much the touch of a man as it was this man’s touch. The unfamiliar heat. The heaviness in her breasts. Dampness at her crotch. God, she never got wet for anyone. That was part of her problem. Did it have to be this macho asshole who woke up her pheromones? She drew in a deep, steadying breath.
“I can understand.” But his eyes, studying her face, were filled with questions.
She snapped her briefcase shut, hitched the strap of her purse over her shoulder, and hurried toward the door. She had to get out of here. Quickly.
“Thank you for letting me see the files,” she called over her shoulder and literally ran down the hall to the front doors.
Gasping, she shoved them open and hurried to her car, slid inside, and slammed the door shut behind her. Leaning her head back against the seat, she closed her eyes and drew in long cleansing breaths. When she ran shaking hands over her face, she discovered a fine sheen of perspiration had formed on her skin.
Taking another deep breath, she managed to get the key in the ignition and glanced up through the windshield. Cole Landry stood at the entrance to the building, watching her. A breeze dusted over the parking lot and lifted the edges of his dark hair. Even at this distance, the aura of sensuality he projected was obvious and the irrational fear coiled around her again.
Fear of what, Dana? That you don’t want him to touch you? Or that you do?
She managed to back out of the parking space without banging into anything, then pulled onto the street. She’d go home and lock herself in the house and manage to swallow some food. No jogging tonight. No exercises. No thinking of Cole Landry.
Especially no thinking about Cole Landry.
Hot tea with brandy, a steaming shower, and her warm, snuggly bathrobe—that’s what the doctor ordered. Once her nerves were back to normal she’d sort through her notes from today and the articles she’d copied, and try to get an outline started.
Focus. Focus on the project.
Chapter Seven
“The boss says we have to cool your fringe benefits for a while.”
The younger man known as Tony looked at him from across the table in the highway diner as he delivered his message. The remnants of their meal were scattered across the table, and Tony was on his third soft drink.
“How can you drink that crap with breakfast?” he asked. “Why can’t you drink coffee like normal people?”
Tony grinned, as if the kid knew it irritated the crap out of him. “It’s just cold caffeine, old man. Try it sometime.”
“No, thanks.” He finished the coffee in his cup and signaled for a refill. “And tell your boss we don’t need to make any changes just yet.”
Tony cocked an eyebrow, another mannerism that irritated him. “Are you kidding me? The word’s out everywhere about this Dana Moretti broad and it’s only been a couple of days. She’s too nosy for her own good. And ours.”
He waited until the waitress had poured his coffee before he spoke again. “I think you need to let me worry about that.”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong, old man. We all need to worry.. The boss is getting itchy. She’s
digging around in old shit that could get people looking around in places we don’t want them looking. It could even lead to you. And ruin a good thing for all of us.”
“Tell your boss to pay no attention,” he said in a flat voice, pushing back the surge of anger. “She’ll be gone before long.”
“But—”
“I’m telling you, no one will want to help her. Trust me on that. They’ll blow her off.” He swallowed some coffee and made a face at its bitter taste. Probably the bottom of the pot. “Besides. I plan to see that she doesn’t hang around too long.”
“How are you going to do that without attracting attention?” Tony crunched an ice cube. “We’ve got a good thing going here, you know. Everyone’s making good money. Including you. We don’t want to screw that up.”
“And we’re not going to. We’ll just continue with business as usual. No one’s looking our way, and with what I’ve got planned, they’ll be too busy to pay attention.”
“You better not be doing something to get us all in trouble.” His lips twisted in a nasty replica of a smile. “Anyway, like I’m sayin’, how about laying off for a little while on the extras, or are you so far gone you can’t take a breather?”
He frowned at the little shit. “My business is my business. Your boss gets paid plenty and so do you. I don’t think you want to take a cut in your income.”
“I don’t want to lose a nice source of money, either,” Tony said. “The top man says he don’t want no more little side trips for a while. That’s that.”
“You tell the top man to let me worry about my end of the deal. I’ll take care of that nosy bitch, you can count on it. We’re not changing anything.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him, but he ain’t gonna like it.” Tony picked up his check and slid out of the booth.
“Just be sure we meet up as usual this week or there will be trouble.”
Tony stared at him. “You threatening me, old man?”
