by Terri Reed
“You should find everything you need. Extra blankets and pillows are at the top of the closet.” He pointed to the door across the hall. “Restroom’s there. Towels and washcloths are in the cupboard under the sink.”
Sami gazed up at him. Her blue eyes reflected the hall light, making them glow. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
She pushed her honey-blond hair over her shoulder. “I like your dad. He’s a character.”
A strand of her hair stuck to her black sweater. Her hair looked so silky and soft he wanted to touch it. Instead he jammed his hands into his pockets. “Dad was in rare form tonight. He’s not normally so chatty.”
“I don’t mind chatty,” she said, her voice soft and breathless.
He met her gaze, noticing the lighter ring of blue around the darker pupils. She had pretty eyes. It had been a long time since he’d felt the pull of attraction the way he did with Sami. His pulse quickened, setting his nerves on edge.
He mentally shut down his reaction. He wasn’t looking for a personal relationship with her. Or anyone, for that matter. The last time he’d fallen for a woman, he’d ended up nursing another wound to his battered heart. Not quite as devastating as his mother’s abandonment but close enough to make him even more wary.
He took a step back. “Is Sami short for Samantha?”
She gave an imperceptible nod. “My dad calls me Sami.”
He liked the nickname, more approachable and feisty, like the woman. “It suits you.”
One corner of her mouth lifted, drawing his attention. She had nicely shaped lips. Lips made for kissing. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling as if they were standing under a heat lamp rather than the soft glow of the hallway light.
“Where’s your mom?”
Her question doused the mood like a bucket of ice in his face. What was he thinking? Kissable lips? Silky hair? Dude, get a grip.
He needed to stay focused on the objective. Keep Sami safe and find a killer. Nothing more. Nothing less. Attraction had no place in this high-stakes situation.
“That’s a discussion for another time, another day.” Or never. “Good night, Sami.”
Her head tilted to the side with curiosity and…was that disappointment? The awkward silence stretched. The need to open up tugged at him. Not going to happen. Keep this professional, he chided himself.
He cleared his throat. “Okay. Good night, then.”
The trill of his cell phone echoed through the quiet house. He pulled the device from his pocket. “Inspector Kelley.” As he listened to Blake’s news, a knot formed in his stomach. “Okay. Tomorrow we’ll follow up.” He clicked off.
“Well?”
He met Sami’s expectant gaze. “The victim was an American woman from Kansas. Melinda Watson. She was in town for a job interview.”
Anger and empathy flashed in her blue eyes. “And the credit card? Did they find out anything about the cardholder?”
The knot tightened. “Mr. Clark’s a Canadian. He owns an aviation-parts business and is married with two adult kids. His wife told officers that her husband was at a convention in Las Vegas. He had texted her to say he was extending his stay. That was five days ago. She’s heard nothing from him since but hadn’t panicked, because they were having marital problems and she was thankful for the time away from each other.”
“I’m going to Las Vegas. I could catch a flight out tonight.”
Drew held up a hand. “Slow down. The card was last used in Phoenix, Arizona, two days ago. Mr. Clark registered at a spa resort.”
She gave a sharp nod. “Then I’ll go to Arizona. Cloud Jet Airlines has reasonably priced flights.”
He marveled at her dedication. She traveled on her own dime. He shook his head. “Which may be what the killer wants you to do.”
She shrugged. “I have to catch this guy.”
“Why you?”
Pain flashed in her eyes. “He killed my best friend. I won’t stop until he’s brought to justice.”
Compassion flooded his veins. If anyone had hurt someone he cared about, he’d want to do the same thing. But he’d be cautious enough to know taking on a killer by himself wasn’t a good idea. He couldn’t let her do this alone. The killer had brought his carnage to Drew’s door—Drew planned to repay the favor and help Sami capture the man. He’d have to okay it through his boss, but if that didn’t fly, then he’d take a lesson from Sami and opt to take some vacation time. “I’m going with you.”
Her eyes widened. “I work alone.”
“Not anymore.”
She tucked in her chin and narrowed her gaze. “As much as I appreciate that you saved my bacon twice tonight, I don’t want a partner.”
“You don’t have a choice. This now involves both of our countries.” He could see the protest forming in her eyes. Before she had a chance to speak, he said, “Look, finding and capturing Birdman will go quicker and more smoothly if we combine our resources. There’s no reason for you to do this alone anymore.”
She pressed her lips together and inhaled, then slowly released her breath. “Fine. Just don’t get in my way.”
He grinned. He couldn’t deny he looked forward to catching a killer. But he also looked forward to getting to know more about Special Agent Bennett. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
*
The next morning, after a hurried breakfast of toast and coffee, Drew and Sami piled into Dad’s car with Dad insisting on driving them to the airport.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll let you know when I’m coming back.” Drew shut the door to his dad’s luxury sedan and watched as his father pulled away from the curb outside the terminal at the Vancouver International Airport.
Drew had had to hide his surprise at how taken Dad was with Sami. He must be mellowing in his old age. Normally his father was suspicious of women, especially ones Drew showed interest in. Something that didn’t occur often these days, because he was still smarting from Gretchen’s betrayal.
However, Drew was his father’s son, after all, and had suffered the same hurt and heartache as his dad when Colleen Kelley walked out of their lives. And again when Drew’s marriage fell apart. But his past had nothing to do with the present. His association with Sami was strictly business. He would keep things professional despite his growing interest in her.
He and Sami checked in with airport security, presenting their IDs, filling out the necessary paperwork and having their weapons inspected. Once they were cleared, they made their way to the gate, where they filed onto the Cloud Jet airplane with the rest of the passengers.
Drew wouldn’t have guessed so many people would head willingly to one of the hottest places in the summer. He wasn’t looking forward to the heat of Arizona in July.
It had taken some fancy talking on his part to convince his boss the trip was warranted. The deputy commissioner had granted him permission but wanted to be kept apprised of the situation. Not a problem, Drew had assured him. He didn’t want to jeopardize his standing with IBETs.
“That’s us,” Sami said from behind him. “Thirteen A and B.”
He moved past their row of seats so she could step in and have the window seat. She set her suitcase on the floor, then opened the overhead compartment. Before Drew could reach for the suitcase, the man coming in behind her picked up the case and tucked it into the luggage space with quick efficiency.
“There you go,” the man said with a polite smile.
“Thank you,” Sami murmured, and slipped into her seat. Drew nodded his thanks to the stranger, then settled into his seat beside Sami. His knees hit the fold-down table attached to the back of the seat in front of him.
In the cramped space, his shoulder and upper arm bumped against Sami. The little sparks each connection created unnerved him. It was hard to stay professional when she set his blood on fire. He shifted away, but short of sitting in the aisle, there was nowhere to go.
As she fiddled with her seat belt,
he took in her appearance. She wore a flowery blouse and light-colored cargo pants. She carried no purse today. Her ID and gun were stashed in the deep pockets of her pants, and the knife she’d used to free herself was hidden away. Most likely in a boot. Big and clunky, they were in stark contrast to the feminine top. Yet the ensemble worked for her. Very Portlandian.
Her blond hair was held back by a barrette at the nape of her slender neck and smelled like his shampoo. He could tell she’d applied a touch of mascara to the black lashes framing her pretty eyes, and her lips shone with gloss.
She looked so different from the woman dressed like a ninja last night. However, both sides of the lady appealed to him, despite his need to stay detached emotionally. She was brave and spunky when she needed to be but didn’t flaunt those traits as if needing to prove her toughness.
He waited until after takeoff to ask, “Tell me how you became involved in this case. You said your friend was a victim?”
Her lips pressed together for a moment. She nodded. “Lisa and I were like sisters. The Westovers lived next door. Seaside isn’t a big community. At least not for those who live there year-round. Our families became close.”
“When was Lisa killed?”
“Six months ago. Her case went cold quickly.” She told him in graphic detail how similar Lisa’s murder was to the crime scene from last night. “Birdman is clever and knows how to not leave behind trace evidence.”
“Except for bird drawings and writing on the wall,” he remarked drily.
“Done without leaving fibers or DNA.”
“How did you connect this Birdman to Lisa’s murder?”
She frowned. “I didn’t at first. I searched for similar crimes in the metro Portland area and came up empty. Then I spread out from there via the FBI’s ViCAP.”
The Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, a searchable database to collect and analyze crime, was the model that the Canadian government followed for their own version, ViCLAS—Violent Crime Linkage System. Both automated systems were invaluable to IBETs and all law enforcement in both countries. “We have something similar.”
She gripped the armrests as the plane bounced through turbulence. “I found comparable crimes across the US but never in the same city. By then my boss realized what I was doing and wasn’t pleased, despite the fact I was investigating on my own time.”
She shrugged. “There wasn’t much he could say, though. He definitely wasn’t okay with me leaving Portland to investigate crimes outside our field office assignments. But I couldn’t stop. I had to know. I had to see if there were any connections to Lisa’s murder.”
“So this trip to Vancouver…?”
“Technically I’m on vacation. The special agent in charge has given me some rope.” Her mouth tipped up at the corners. “Probably enough to hang myself with.”
Not if he could help it. She’d been targeted twice now. She obviously wasn’t safe alone. Not that he saw her as a damsel in distress. Far from it. She’d shown bravery and smarts. And the drive to do what was necessary to stop a criminal. “Your dedication is admirable.”
“Thanks.” She shrugged. “I made a promise to Lisa’s parents that I’d find her killer. I always keep my promises.”
The flight attendant stopped to offer them drinks and the opportunity to purchase a snack from the cart.
They each ordered a drink and a snack plate of fruit, cheese and nuts. While the attendant poured their drinks and handed over their plates, Drew contemplated Sami’s statement.
Did she truly honor her promises? Or were her words just that—words?
Gretchen had made promises to love and honor and cherish him. But she’d broken those promises so easily. Drew was wary of any woman’s promises.
Once the flight attendant had moved on and they’d opened their refreshments, he said, “I don’t know many people who would go to such lengths to pursue justice for their friend.”
“I don’t know many people who would leave their country to help a stranger pursue justice for her friend.”
He mirrored her earlier shrug and collected a small handful of cashews and almonds. “It became my business when we discovered the man we’re going to see is Canadian.”
Not to mention, Drew had decided to take it upon himself to be Sami’s protector. Twice now she could have been killed. Silently he vowed he wasn’t going to let that happen. The woman needed help whether she wanted it or not.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she said, her tone intense.
He gave her a half smile. “Careful is my middle name.”
He popped a chunk of cheese and an apple slice into his mouth.
“I’m serious. I have enough to contend with bringing down Birdman. I don’t need you being a hotshot and taking unnecessary chances.”
“Where’s this anxious fretting coming from? I’ll be careful.”
She breathed in and slowly exhaled. “Sorry. I haven’t worked with a partner on this.” She dropped her gaze and concentrated on her food.
“I see.” She was a lone wolf taking down a predator. But not anymore. “Tell me about the bird symbol.”
She visibly collected herself, took a drink of her pop. “When I was digging through the various case files I noticed bagged evidence that was incongruent with the crime scenes. Things that had appeared irrelevant or unimportant at the time. No fingerprints, no DNA showed up, so the clues lay dormant in musty files of cold cases. A playing card here. A postcard there.”
She drummed her fingers on her knee. “At Lisa’s murder scene a business card was found tucked into her handbag. Nothing unusual about that, since she was in sales. Which was why she was staying at the hotel by the airport the night she was killed. She had an early morning flight.” Sami’s voice broke. “I would have driven her in the morning if she’d only asked.”
He covered her hand with his, stilling the nervous drumming. She turned her hand over so their palms met. Her fingers laced through his. He refused to read anything romantic in the gesture. Talking about her friend upset her. He was merely offering the only comfort he could. Holding her hand meant nothing, even if her small hand fit snugly within his as if they were made for each other.
“There was a little stamp on the back corner of the business card,” she continued, apparently unaware of the turmoil going on inside him. “I didn’t think much of it at first. But then I noticed the bird on other pieces of evidence and realized he was leaving his signature.”
Keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the other passengers, he said, “And all the women were strangled, and then their bodies were mutilated.”
“Yes.” She lowered her voice, as well. “He used his hands to crush their larynxes and then desecrated them. He never uses the same knife. Different styles of cutting instruments. No discernible pattern. But there’s one thing all the deaths do have in common. The women met their attacker at a hotel or airport bar and restaurant.”
“Sexual assault?”
“No. There’s no apparent motive for the deaths that I can tell. Only the killer knows what drives him.”
“And you’re sure it’s a male perpetrator?”
“Yes.”
“He was caught on camera?”
She gave a mirthless laugh. “Not in any discernible way. He’s too savvy for that. Knows where surveillance cameras are located or, like at my hotel, knocks out the system. He never looks the same in what footage I do have. And witness statements run the gamut of short and round to tall and muscular. Blond, dark, ginger. Large nose, crooked nose. Eye color is all over the board.”
“So it could be a woman in disguise.”
Her keen eyes lit up with a hint of success. “The one thing he didn’t think to hide was his hands. Big knuckles, strong hands.” She lifted their joined hands between them. “A man’s hands.”
The guy who’d been in her hotel room had had on black gloves. “But if he didn’t hide his hands then, why were there no prints?”
Her
lip curled. “That’s the million-dollar question.” She shrugged. “I have a few theories. He could have worn thin flesh-colored gloves. He could have dipped his hand in sealant or glue, for that matter.” The frustration in her voice was unmistakable.
She extracted her hand from his and turned to stare at the passing clouds outside the window. She was something special, this FBI special agent. He’d never met anyone like her. Courageous and assertive, yet he’d caught glimpses of vulnerability.
Funny how life turned out sometimes. God’s sense of humor at work?
Drew had been content with his life after the turmoil of his divorce. He’d made inspector by thirty. He’d been asked to join and then lead an IBETs team. He shared a bachelor pad with his dad and had no plans to change that anytime soon.
He hadn’t been looking for a cause or a partner, yet here he was flying south over the United States with a woman on a mission—to stop a serial killer before he struck again.
And Drew couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.
FOUR
Consulting the map app on her phone, Sami read the directions to the spa resort to Drew rather than having the annoying voice of the system direct them. Though if truth be told, Sami liked to be in control and not leave her fate to some technological device. She could look at the map and gauge for herself the most direct route.
She wished she had equal control of the car. Drew drove the rental through the fast and furious Phoenix traffic as if he’d been doing so his whole life, causing her to grasp the door handle more than a few times.
“So, Royal Canadian Mounted Police don’t ride horses anymore or wear red-and-black uniforms?” she teased.
He’d be handsome in his uniform. Not that he wasn’t handsome in cotton slacks, a white dress shirt and polished Allen Edmonds shoes. He looked more like a banker than a cop. Except for the holster at his waist and the gold badge attached to his belt.
He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves the moment they’d stepped off the plane. She didn’t blame him. Over a hundred degrees, the Arizona heat sucked the moisture from her lungs while a sweat broke out on her back and brow.
