by Desiree Holt
Cole nodded at his dispatcher. “It’s okay. Miss Moretti doesn’t look too dangerous. I think I can defend my honor.”
“You just let me know if you want me to toss her,” Grace grumbled, heading back to her desk.
Dana forced her mouth into a smile. “I promise not to attack you.”
He wondered how much of her tension had to do with what she wanted today and how much with last night’s kiss. “I’m not being rude, but I’m sure you heard the news. This isn’t the best time for conversation.”
“It’s the lead story on the morning news on television.”
Without waiting for an invitation, she sat down in the chair Tate had vacated earlier.
“Yeah, so I heard.” Cole shook his head. “I really wanted to keep a lid on things, but bad news travels fast.”
“News like this has a way of leaking no matter what you do,” she pointed out. “Especially these days when everyone is overdosed on electronics.” She cleared her throat. “As a matter of fact, I was hoping you could give me a little information about it.”
“What for? It has nothing to do with your book. No relationship to the cases you’re looking into.”
She fiddled nervously with the bracelet on her wrist.
Even as tired and harassed as he was, Cole still managed to appreciate the silken fall of her hair that brushed her shoulders and the bright blue of her eyes that almost matched the color of her shirt. Out of nowhere, the dream from the other morning smacked him again, reminding him of the feel of her breasts in his hands, the taste of her nipples. Of sliding his fingers into her waiting cunt, teasing her sweet spot to bring her to full arousal. Even though none of it had been real.
Jesus! He couldn’t believe himself. A nasty murder, and he was thinking about sexual fantasies. He was either too stressed out or losing his mind. And he didn’t have time to be embarrassed by the hardness of his cock pressing against his jeans, eager to get out and slip into Dana Moretti’s warm, welcoming core.
Welcoming? She’d probably squeeze it to death with a wrench if she knew what he was thinking. Mentally, he shook himself and tried to focus on what she was saying.
When she spoke, he could tell she chose her words carefully.
“I think whatever happens in this town is important to my book. Even this many years later. I’ve learned not to pick and choose what’s significant because you might miss something. Call me an idiot. I’m sure everyone else will. But I have this gut feeling that this is connected to those old child murders.”
Cole studied her, frowning. He’d had the same unwelcome thought, without any rhyme or reason. “I’m not sure what you want from me, Dana. You of all people should know I can’t discuss any of this.”
“I was hoping you’d at least tell me what you told the media. I know you made a statement earlier. The vultures are still clustering outside.”
“Sure. I can give you this.” He plucked a sheet of paper from the In Box on his desk and handed it to her.
She scanned it quickly. “Was the victim…molested in anyway?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I really can’t discuss any details with you. And I’m sorry to be rude, but I have to get back to work.”
As if he’d willed it, the phone on his desk chose that moment to ring.
“Nita Sanchez is here and wants to discuss the post with you,” Grace told him.
“Five minutes,” he said and dropped the receiver into the cradle.
“The other thing I came to tell you is I’ve written about horrific cases like this before. If you need to pick my brain I’m available.” Dana rose from her chair. “And don’t close your mind to the possibility this is related to those old cases. Maybe my looking into them has stirred somebody up.”
“Shit. I hope not.”
“Me, too.” She hitched the strap to her purse over her shoulder “I’ll get out of your hair now.”
Then she was gone, leaving behind a delicate trace of a floral perfume. He wondered what was in the heavy load of baggage she carried around with her. Something had fucked up her mind. Last night, for a brief moment, she’d really been into the kiss. The next second, she’d been terrified.
Well, it was a puzzle he’d have to set aside, at least for now. He went to the door and motioned for Nita to come in.
****
Dana tossed her purse onto the passenger seat of her car and leaned back in the seat. What stupidity had prompted her to come here? She wasn’t a novice in these situations. But all she could think of was a murder had been committed in a town where the last violent death was Kylie’s. She just couldn’t get rid of the sick feeling that her appearance in High Ridge had somehow triggered this latest crime.
The look on Cole’s faced when she asked about the molestation had told her more than words could.
It was him. She just knew it.
She closed her eyes and waited for the racing of her heart to slow. Already nervous about seeing Cole again after last night, she’d acted like a rank amateur, asking him for information she knew he couldn’t release.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. Maybe she’d stop at Harry’s for coffee and toast…and a little eavesdropping. She might pick up a nugget or two. That is if the people gathering there wouldn’t be too bothered by a stranger in their midst.
Which was a fifty-fifty chance at best, but one she couldn’t pass up.
****
He ran his eyes over her in an unhurried fashion, taking in every inch as she entered the diner. She couldn’t be more than five-four, her trim figure looking smart in navy slacks and a blue shirt. Her rich, thick, dark golden hair swung easily across her shoulders, tempting his touch.
She was so much older than he preferred, but she still had a fresh look that appealed to him. Oh, yes. He would enjoy it when he finally had his time with her.
He wondered how she responded to pain these days. He’d never realized, until the first time, how creating it could be such an intoxicating aphrodisiac. One that made his penis swell to enormous size. Oh, how he loved it. He could hardly wait to have to his next victim.
A chance snippet of conversation this morning had planted the seed for who that would be. Now he just had to scope her out and make his plans.
He watched Carrie choose a counter stool rather than a booth, putting herself right out there for people to see. Guts. She’d be a fighter. God, he could hardly wait.
He’d have her. And then it would be done, his need satisfied and he could fade back into the woodwork.
****
Dana could feel eyes boring holes into her back as she hitched herself up on the counter stool. Conversation had dropped a decibel or two when she walked in. Not enough to make her center stage. Just enough to let her know they’d seen her and she wasn’t winning any popularity contests.
She was certain John Garrett had passed the word. And that Jane Milburn had huddled with her friends about it. Yup. She was certain everyone in High Ridge knew by now she was the bitch who was going to dig into something they’d spent twenty-five years covering up and trying to forget.
The air was redolent with the aroma of bacon and eggs, pancakes, and strong coffee. Even the faint scent of horseflesh—probably from the ranchers in town for business and breakfast after the morning chores at the ranch.
“Coffee?”
Dana looked up, startled at the woman standing in front of her holding a coffee carafe. The look on her face would have rivaled Cole’s for hostility.
“Yes, please. And some toast, if I could.”
The woman dragged a mug out from beneath the counter and filled it. “White or rye.”
“Rye. Thank you.”
“You ought to eat a good breakfast,” the woman told her. “Give you energy when you get on the road.”
“Thanks, but I’m not going anywhere.”
“Pity. Oh, well. I’ll get that toast.” She put the carafe back on the warm
er and pushed through the swinging doors to the kitchen. In a few minutes, she was back, slamming the plate on the counter.
So much for small town hospitality.
Then out of nowhere, Dana felt the thrust of evil, blanketing her like a cloak. Threatening to suffocate her. Choking her. Her coffee threatened to surge back up in her throat. She picked up a piece of toast and nibbled on it, hoping to control the convulsive nausea. As casually as she could, toast in hand, she swiveled on the stool and let her eyes roam over the customers.
Everyone was drinking their coffee, eating their breakfast, chatting with their neighbors. No one seemed to be paying any particular attention to her. No one even looked familiar. Of course, after all these years, people changed physically, so whoever she sensed the feeling from could be anyone.
But she knew he was here, just the same. He was still in his hunting ground. In High Ridge, right here in Harry’s Diner.
Stalking her.
He’d lost her all those years ago. Now he was going to finish the job. Last night had just been a prelude. She felt that inevitable truth straight to the core of her body. But if she said it out loud, no one would believe her.
“I see you’re still here.”
Dana turned her head to see John Garrett sliding onto the stool next to her. “I am. Despite the fact that I’m turning into the town’s Typhoid Mary.”
“Dana, you look like a smart person. I’ve read a couple of your books, and you’re an excellent writer. Intuitive. Sensitive.”
She felt herself blush. In this town, she’d take compliments wherever she could find them. “Thank you.”
“Oh, I’m not here to give you strokes. I’m trying to figure out why someone like you hasn’t gotten the message that High Ridge doesn’t want you to open old wounds. Surely there must be another crime you could chase after. Somewhere else.”
She tightened her hands on her mug. “Let me ask you a question, John. Professional to professional.”
Garrett signaled for the waitress to bring him a full mug. “Lay it on me.”
“Doesn’t anyone think it would arouse my suspicions if they just shut me out? That I might think they have something to hide? Aren’t there people who want to know what really happened? Find out who committed these dreadful crimes?”
He nodded his thanks for the coffee. “See, Dana, it’s like this. The families whose children were victims are still dealing with the shock and grief after all these years. It tore people apart. Destroyed marriages. You think they want to bleed all over again?”
“Maybe it would be good for them. They could finally have some closure.”
“How would you feel if you were in their situation?”
“How do you think they feel with the latest murder?” she asked. “Everyone here operates on the theory that if you don’t acknowledge something, it will go away. But now here’s this new murder. It opens up the possibility that another predator has decided to make High Ridge his feeding ground.”
John blew on the hot coffee, then took a sip. “Jesus, I hope not. It’s bad enough as it is.”
“Or maybe,” she said quietly, “it’s the same killer hunting again.”
John nearly dropped his mug. “You’d be wise not to go around voicing that theory. Everyone knows whoever it was is long gone.”
“That’s what everyone wants to believe,” she corrected.
“It’s the truth,” he said stubbornly.
“So what will you be putting in the paper, John?” She sipped at the hot coffee.
“Not much. There’s not much to tell. But we sure won’t be digging up the past.”
Dana frowned. “Sheriff Landry gave me a copy of the release. If she was taken in the Supermart parking lot, I’m surprised someone didn’t see her.”
“She was parked way over to the side, not too visible, I guess.”
Dana watched his face as she asked the next question. “I assume she was raped?”
“Yeah.” Garrett sighed. “Sheriff’s not giving out any details on that, but scuttlebutt says it was pretty brutal.”
It’s him. I know it’s him.
She had to get out of here. Dropping the half-eaten toast back on her plate, she fished some singles out of her purse and dropped them on the counter.
“Thanks, John. I think.” She made a show of looking at her watch. “I need to get going.”
“Leave the people alone, Dana,” he repeated.
“We’ll see.”
She escaped before anyone else could add their two cents and locked herself in her car, shaking, watching through her sunglasses to see who came out of Harry’s after she did. But no one seemed particularly interested in her or where she’d gone. And the feeling of evil didn’t reach out to grip her again.
Did he know who she was? Had he somehow, after all these years, recognized her? For a minute there, she had been back in that barn, consumed with fear and pain.
No. This was ridiculous.
Yet somehow she’d picked up on his thoughts and they related to her. Dana. Not Carrie. That was even scarier.
She sat for a full five minutes, deep breathing and pulling herself together. She hadn’t felt this much fear since she was seven years old and made the worst decision of her life.
Finally, she checked her makeup in the mirror on her sun visor, applied fresh lipstick, and turned on her PDA. By the time she got to the first family on her list, she’d better be in full control of herself.
Chapter Fourteen
He could tell by the sudden paleness of Dana’s face and the way she’d tried to sweep her eyes casually over the room that she’d sensed him. He’d been thinking about her, planning for their eventual meeting. Somehow he must have sent off unconscious vibrations she’d picked up on.
Careful. Don’t want to spook her.
He’d have to learn to keep his thoughts to himself when she was around. But who knew she’d be so sensitive to him? So susceptible?
Susceptible. That was a good word. She’d make an excellent victim with her susceptibility.
He’d been so hard this morning just remembering Leanne, he’d had to take a cold shower just so he could leave the house. Tonight he’d meet Tony and pluck one of the delightful little flowers from the big van.
And tomorrow, victim number two. He already had her picked out and his plan in place. This, too, took some careful maneuvering. And if it didn’t work tomorrow, there was always the next day. But he had a time limit. If one plan failed, he’d have to figure out another.
****
Cole was sure the coffee had eaten a hole in his stomach, yet here he was, sipping at yet another mug of the venomous brew. But Nita Sanchez sat in front of him with her completed autopsy report, a copy of which he held in his hands, and he needed all the fortification he could get to deal with it.
“I’ve seen vicious,” Nita told him, “and I’ve seen sadistic. I won’t say you get used to it, but you learn to protect your emotions after a while. But to see what someone’s done to a young girl like this…” She rubbed her eyes. “There’s a terrible evil out there, Cole. You’ve got to find him before he does this again.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“I cannot imagine the pain Leanne went through. This attack was…depraved.”
“Jesus. God. “ Cole had to force himself to keep reading. “He bit her?”
Nita nodded, gripping the arms of her chair to control her obvious rage.
Cole had to swallow hard against the vitriol rising in his throat. “Were you able to get any impressions?”
She shook her head. “No. I think he used something over his teeth, too. He was well prepared.”
“And the massive bruising on her thighs and buttocks?”
“That’s where he pinched her.”
“What about DNA?”
“I doubt we’ll get any. I found traces of latex, which means he wore gloves.”
Cole dropped the report back on his desk and forked his fingers through his
hair. “It also means he was prepared. This was a premeditated act.”
Nita’s eyes were filled with a volatile combination of misery and rage. Most of the bodies she worked on died of natural causes or were accident victims of some kind. While the latter could be badly injured and often mangled, he knew nothing compared to what had been done to sixteen-year-old Leanne Pritchard.
Meeting with her parents had been the worst hour of his day. He had no answers for them, no explanation. No assurance that this man would be caught in a hurry. But catch him he would. That was for damn sure. This was his town now, his county, and he wasn’t about to allow this evil to linger.
His only problem was, he had no idea how to get rid of it. This was one smart son of a bitch. He left no clues, no traces, nothing. Absolutely nothing.
And to add to his shitty day, sickened by the crime and dreading the visit with the parents, he’d been more abrupt than he needed to be with Dana Moretti. Sure, she should know better than to pry information out of him with a case this fresh, but he could have been a little nicer about showing her the door, especially when she volunteered to help. God knows, he could used every bit he could get.
And then there was that crazy theory she floated.
Damn.
“Earth to Cole.” Nita’s voice broke into his reverie.
“What? Sorry, Nita.”
“I said the tox screen should be back later today. There was a faint odor of something on her face. I’m assuming it’s whatever he used to subdue her. Maybe that will help us.”
“God, I hope so.” He studied her for a moment. “Nita, you’ve lived here a long time. Got a sense for the rhythm of this place. Do you think there’s a remote chance that this cold be in any way connected to those child murders from twenty-five years ago?”
“What?” She glared at him. “No, and I don’t think you should be passing that around, either.”
“Just do me a favor. Please? Check your report against the old autopsies and see if anything compares.”
She pushed her chair back and reared to her feet. “I’ll do it, but it’s a waste of my time. Whoever did those killings twenty-five years ago is long gone.”
