Deadly Abandon

by Kallie Lane

  Next was Reece “Rocket” Morgan, the demolitions expert and civil engineer of their unit, a man who still carried his heart on his sleeve for a woman from his past, according to Sully. Law Logan was their logistics guru, followed by Hunter Ryan, a linguistics expert. And last, but not least, Micah Rivera was an electronics wizard, mechanic, and all around flirt. Sully said Theo was the team’s number one sniper, and all of them could pinch-hit for one another at any given time.

  She learned from the others it was Sully who commanded their missions and took responsibility for the sometimes outrageous antics of the wild bunch. Breeana wasn’t surprised. She might as well face it. He lived for action and adventure.

  Micah took Breeana’s hand and pressed her palm to his lips. “I’m proud to be of service, ma’am. If you feel the need for some quiet conversation, or a few hours away from these idiots, call on me. I’ll help you forget all your troubles.”

  “Whoa, Mom, I think I heard the same line on a television movie last week.” Her son was home from the tournament, dropping his hockey gear with a thud, arriving in time to hear Micah’s remarks. “King Kong was trying to convince the damsel in distress at the top of the Empire State Building he was really a great guy, and not some big hairy ape.”

  “Ah, the kid has a mouth on him just like his mother’s,” Micah drawled.

  “Right, Mic,” Sully said, looking like he wanted to rip Micah’s head off. “Get used to it, because he’s your responsibility. You’re going to spend every hour of every day with Cody. Wherever he goes, you go. Don’t let him out of your sight. Are we clear?”

  “We’re real clear, Sully.”

  “Good. Law, you’re on this detail, too. Cody, I want you to take some time filling these guys in on your schedule. Don’t try to pull any funny stuff with them, because they will mop the floor with you if you do. Understand?”

  “Sweet. Micah can deal the dirt on how to impress the girls with his expertise. Not!”

  Ah, yes, Micah and Cody would get along like cats and dogs, Breeana smiled as she pictured it. Law had his work cut out for him running interference between those two.

  “Hunt, your assignment lives next door, Breeana’s father, Jack Forest. You can settle in over there in a few minutes. The rest of you will guard Breeana. Now, let’s meet for ten minutes before everyone splits up.”

  Breeana asked, “Cody, would you make a pot of coffee and bring it out to the sundeck for us?”

  “Bree, you don’t need to bother with the details. Why don’t you help Cody, or unpack, while I go over a couple of things with the guys?”

  If Sully thought he would delegate her to the kitchen, he had another “think” coming. “Ah, no, I’m as much a part of this as anyone. I have a right to participate in the planning.”

  “Planning? What planning?” he said over his shoulder as he showed the others to seats on the sundeck. “It’s just a simple review to make sure everyone has their orders straight.”

  “Sully?” Hawke interrupted, clearing his throat. “If you’re going to yell, try to keep it down to a dull roar. Okay? Breeana has something to tell you and I don’t think you’re going to like it. There’s no reason to let the entire neighborhood in on our conversation.”

  Oh, oh, Hawke had a strange look on his face which caused Breeana to wonder if he actually could read her mind. Maybe Sully was right about that.

  Sully’s gaze locked on hers while he appeared to brace himself for some unpleasant news. His jaw tightened until she thought his teeth would shatter. “Okay, cookie, spit it out. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, aren’t we cozy?” Breeana picked at her fingernails and took in a deep breath, smiling sweetly. “Now that everyone is here, and I’m so very well protected, I wondered how you can use me to catch the psycho. Because it seems to me, I’m the best chance you’ve got.”

  Sully glared daggers at her. Time ticked by, and Breeana figured she might have time to knit a pair of socks while she waited for him to answer.

  His face a mask of cold fury, he choked out, “The meeting is over.”

  “Hold on a second, bro,” Theo said. “If Breeana is willing to bait the trap, we can control all the angles and minimize the risks. Why not let her take a shot at it?”

  “Have you lost your freaking mind?” Sully barked. “Can you guarantee we can eliminate the danger to her and her family? You know the odds, Theo, and they aren’t in our favor. The killer is a maniac. He is not going to stick to our schedule, he’s not going to fall into a trap and give up without a goddamn fight. I will not—repeat, not—allow her to be one of his victims. I’ve already seen what the madman can do, first hand.”

  Reece added his say to the mix. “I think she’s right, boss. We’ve done this before and we’ve been successful. Can’t we at least think about it?”

  “Hell, no, not this time. I’m not willing to risk her life.”

  “But, Sully—”

  “You have my answer, Bree. It isn’t open for discussion.”

  Breeana shook her head, anger flaming her cheeks. “And, if you don’t catch him? Then what? Are you going to keep me surrounded by your people for the rest of my life?”

  “Damn straight I am, if that’s what it takes to keep you safe. I’ll do whatever needs to be done, cookie. So get any thoughts of playing the heroine out of your obstinate brain.”

  ****

  “So…that went well.” Breeana sat on the deck with Hawke watching the sun set over the lake, while Reece and Theo fired up the barbeque. Cody was at the arena with Micah and Law, but would be back soon. Sully had stormed out after their impromptu meeting earlier. He had called an emergency meeting at the office with his task force. She had no idea when he would return.

  “Breeana, you have to move inside while I put a call in to the alarm company and a locksmith. We need to have your security system upgraded.”

  “No, Hawke. You are not going to touch my alarm system. I want it left exactly as is, the locks on the doors, too.”

  He shot her an incredulous look. Ah-ha. Maybe the mind-meld thing doesn’t work as well as he thought.

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I want this to be over. If we don’t beef up security, my stalker will have an easier time breaking in. Then you guys can catch him in the act.”

  “Come on, I thought you agreed to let us do our jobs?” Hawke ran a hand over his raspy jaw and frowned. “Sully expects us to protect you and that’s what we’re going to do. It isn’t open for discussion.”

  “Can’t you bend the rules a little?”

  “No. Not in this instance. Not anytime, as a matter of fact. What Sully says, goes. Don’t think you can divide and conquer because it won’t work. Not with any of us. Now get off the chair and come inside where I can keep an eye on you. Please.”

  Breeana swung her legs over the side of the chaise longue and marched into the house under Hawke’s watchful gaze. He’d made his point; her idea of swaying the troops to her way of thinking wouldn’t work.

  Crap!

  She was terrified of being attacked by the psycho again and that was the real issue. She knew living a life of fear would destroy her and obliterate any hope she had for a future with Sully. She didn’t want him thinking of her as a victim, someone to be protected and handled with kid gloves. This was the reason she refused to hide under the bed until the killer was caught. And the sooner Sully understood how she felt, the better.

  ****

  “Quiet down, people. Take your seats. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

  Sully’s detectives, Marie Matisse, and eight uniforms grabbed their coffees and notepads, before gathering around the conference table. “It’s been over a week since the last attack on Dr. McGill at the arena. What do we have on the van used to transport the rats?”

  “Not much that’s worth anything,” Millette muttered. “We were able to get the plate number off the dock security video but the plate was stolen. However, we did manage to loca
te the van. It was abandoned in a quarry near Ormstown, a late model white Econoline. It was stolen the same night as the fire at the veterinary clinic, from a rental agency near Magog.”

  “That’s only an hour from here. What about the logos on the van, Millette? He must have had the van painted somewhere.”

  “It’s a no go, Lieutenant. The Pest Control insignias were magnetic strips. They were also pilfered, came from a legitimate extermination company’s van. Our guy went to their lot and ripped the signs off the same night he took the van from the rental agency. He couldn’t steal the extermination company’s vehicle because the security gates were locked. He scaled the fence to grab the signs, and then made do by stealing the rental.”

  Vince Marshall, a seasoned cop with more than ten years on the force, added, “The van was sanitized, Lieutenant, except for rodent droppings. No prints, candy bar wrappers, used tissues, crumpled bits of paper, pens, drinking cups…nothing. Our perp was careful not to leave any evidence behind.”

  “You’re missing something there. Did you check the outside? Maybe the guy pumped gas and got his fingerprints on the gas cap? He must have filled up somewhere, hauling the rats to the arena and then driving to Ormstown to dump the van. He also might have checked under the hood for oil or other fluid levels. His prints could be on a dipstick, for Pete’s sake. Do I need to tell you how to do your job?”

  “No way,” Vince said, visibly shaken by the reprimand. “I’ll notify the lab to go over it again.”

  “Good thinking, Marshall, and make sure you’re there when they do it. Do we have a picture of the guy on the surveillance videos?”

  “No, at least nothing we can use.” Clemente offered. “He kept his head down and his face hidden under a ball cap. With those bulky coveralls the guy wore, it’s impossible to even get an accurate take on his body type.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Sully bit back a frustrated groan. “He knew the cameras were rolling, and he knows police procedure. Small wonder he’s gotten away with murder for so many years.”

  “You’re right.” Clemente agreed. “There are so many forensics shows on television these days, almost anyone can figure out how to cover their tracks.”

  “Wrong answer, Sal. I want you to go back to the docks and pull every security tape they’ve got. Our guy knew the cameras were there because he had already scoped out the location. I want every license plate number off every vehicle down at the docks between the date of the clinic fire and the rat attack. Check with the guards at the gates for their records and get started on screening those videos. Our killer showed his face sometime, unless he’s invisible.”

  “I’m on it, Loot.”

  “Good. I also want some of you tracking down the crates he used to haul the rats. Where did he get them? What about the coveralls and ball cap he wore? Did he buy them at a uniform store? Come on, people. We need answers.”

  “Lieutenant, we’re doing our best,” Millette challenged.

  “Sergeant, if you want sympathy—you’ll find it between shit and syphilis in the dictionary. That’s the only sympathy you’ll get from me. A woman’s life hangs in the balance here. The creep has already gotten to her twice. If I were an insurance salesman, I sure as hell wouldn’t be selling Dr. McGill life insurance policies for the foreseeable future. Let’s get our act together.”

  Sully called a ten-minute break and got himself back under control. The whole thing made him crazy, more so since Breeana insisted on setting herself up as bait. No bloody way is that going to happen. He noticed the detectives shooting wary glances his way as they filed back into the room after the break. He couldn’t blame them.

  “Okay, let’s move on. What about the rosaries? Have we got a hit on those yet?”

  “Yes, we caught a break there. A shipment of rosaries was stolen from St. Patrick’s Cathedral fifteen years ago,” Millette said. “You won’t believe it, but the church secretary is still the same woman who placed the order, an old doll named Hannah Grimes. She remembers the twenty-five rosaries being delivered by parcel post. They disappeared from the rectory on the same night. The break-in was blamed on some local thugs working the area. They were known to police for home invasions and stealing electronic equipment.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, Jacques. There’s a huge difference between stealing stereos and televisions, that are easy to unload, and a shipment of rosaries with no street value. I want you to get over to St. Pat’s and have another talk with the secretary.”

  “Sure thing, Lieutenant. The church office is closed for the night, but I’ll be there when it opens tomorrow. Is there something specific you want me to ask her?”

  “Get a list of parishioners for the time when those rosaries were taken. My gut says the theft was an inside job.”

  “You’re thinking our perp had a score to settle with the church and that’s why he stole the rosaries and started killing women?” Sal asked.

  “Nope, not our guy. I believe he’s a predator who can only achieve sexual gratification by killing his victims. I think he’s impotent.”

  Marie smacked her palm on the table. “Of course. That would explain why no semen was present on Rainey Dubé or Miranda Greene, or any of the other women in the cold case files, according to their autopsies.”

  “Exactly. His religious beliefs are only the excuse he uses for committing the crimes. If he thinks of these women as whores, they become fair game.” Sully drummed his fingers on the tabletop and leaned back in his chair to ruminate. “But I’m betting he attended services at the parish he stole those rosaries from. And he may have stood out in the congregation. Millette, take Sanchez and some uniforms with you and see what you can find out. Canvas the neighborhood. Talk with the church secretary, the priests, and anyone else from the parish who was a member fifteen years ago.”

  “It’s too late to go door-to-door now.” Millette said, after glancing at his watch. “We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

  “You and Sal can spend some time tonight with Lemieux and Bruno. Fill them in on your other cases, since they’ll pick up the slack until we catch the guy.” Sully turned his attention to the coroner. “Marie, what about the autopsy report on the tournament official? Please tell me you’ve found something to point us in the right direction.”

  “I wish I could. Serge Lacroix’s throat was slashed before he hit the river, and that’s about all I can tell you.”

  “Let me guess, there’s no trace evidence on his body.”

  “If there was anything to be found, it washed away in the water. His pockets were empty, other than a booze flask and a wallet containing five hundred dollars. Only the vic’s fingerprints were on the flask. Forensics is trying to retrieve prints from the money, but the bills were reduced to a soggy pulp. I’ll let you know if they find anything.”

  Sully nodded, shut his laptop, and stood up. “There’s a buffet set out for everyone in the cafeteria—pizza and salads. Grab some dinner and then get started on your assignments. Millette, make sure everyone knows what they’re working on. I’m out of here. You can reach me on my cell phone anytime, day or night. Be sure to keep me updated on your progress.”

  As if on cue, his cell phone chimed the opening anthem of Hockey Night in Canada. Caller ID registered the call as coming from the hospital in Mallard Bay.

  What now?

  Chapter Eleven

  Sully paced the corridor outside of the emergency room while he waited to see his brother. According to the EMTs who’d brought Theo in, he had plowed his Corvette into a telephone pole. The EMTs recognized Sully from other crime scenes and provided a quick rundown on his condition.

  Their diagnosis included possible cracked ribs, bruised sternum, and a nasty cut over an eye. There was also damage to his larynx from impacting the steering wheel. Nothing life threatening as far as they could tell, but an ER doctor would have to make that evaluation.

  Shit. This could keep Theo on the injured list for a while.

 
Stopping at a vending machine, Sully inserted enough coins for a cup of coffee then moved to a bank of windows. It was pitch dark outside, his reflection staring back at him from the glass. He stood motionless, his jaw clenched tight while the wheels spun in his head. Flipping his cell open, he hit Hawke’s number on speed dial. It was answered on the first ring.

  “Where are you?”

  “At the hospital. Theo smashed up his car.”

  “That doesn’t sound like him. How is he?”

  “From what the EMTs tell me, lots of bruises, contusions, and possible cracked ribs.” Sully exited the hospital and walked a few paces from the electronic doors. “Listen, it might not be an accident, Hawke. Alert the other guys and keep them on their toes tonight. But don’t say anything to Bree and Cody. They have enough to worry about.”

  “I’ll take care of it. I’ll see you when you get back.” Hawke disconnected the call.

  Sully pocketed his phone and returned to the ER. He wanted to evaluate his brother’s condition for himself before sounding unnecessary alarm bells for his own family. San Antonio and Houston were a long way off for his folks and sister to travel if Theo would be back on his feet in a day or two.

  Hell, he had survived JTF2 with some harrowing experiences under his belt. He had the scars to prove it. He was more than tough, and Sully predicted a fight with a telephone pole wouldn’t slow his brother down for very long. Of course, when he saw him, it was difficult not to flinch and show any signs of sympathy. The man looked like crap with his forehead bandaged and his eyes blackened. He lay on a gurney in the ER, a curtain separating him from a pregnant woman in the next bed.

  “Hey, bro, it’s about time you got here.” Theo’s voice was little more than a croak. He struggled to get his legs over the side of the gurney. A blue hospital gown slid from his shoulders and landed in a puddle on the floor. The only thing saving his modesty was a pair of black silk underwear.