Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3

by Vickie McKeehan

  She’d walked right into that brick wall she thought now. A tap dance might be required to get around the truth. “I wouldn’t say it’s new, exactly.” She’d have to learn to keep her trap closed from now on around Harry. Unlike the way things had been in the past, full disclosure was not a good idea or an option. She backtracked to purposefully downplay her comment. “Since I first got together with Josh, for some reason, the man’s interested in what I do. But you probably knew that already. Josh is a smart guy with skills you could use. He brings a lot to the table as far as investigative tools are concerned. That’s why he offered up his programming skills to find the whereabouts of all those girls shipped off to foreign destinations. If he could help track down the phony manifests used in human trafficking, the guy’s an asset any day of the week.”

  Harry picked up his cardboard cup, sipped through the opening on the plastic top. “I guess we’ll have trouble getting past this, won’t we?”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. But the ball’s in your court.”

  “Okay, I’ll level with you. I know you have some sort of gift for finding people in trouble. No doubt Josh’s methods are more conventional than yours.” He raised a hand to stop her from responding so quickly.

  But instead of tossing out a pithy reply, Skye offered up a poker face. She’d play out the hand now and let Harry have his false impressions. So she listened as he got to the point.

  “I’ve tried to wave this off. I admit I was skeptical in the beginning. You know that. But…over the last couple of months, I’ve decided to accept the fact you refuse to share how exactly you do whatever it is you do.” He ticked off three names. “Ali Crandon. Hailey Strickland. Erin Prescott. All found alive after a few days of captivity after getting snatched in broad daylight by sexual predators. There’s no way you got that lucky...without some…vibe, some psychic ability…or something else entirely.”

  Skye wasn’t about to admit the “something else entirely” amounted to having a Nez Perce spirit guide in the form of a silver wolf named Kiya. Even though lately, Kiya belonged more to Josh than to her, it didn’t make for a simple conversation over coffee. “Harry—”

  “I’m not finished. Just be quiet a minute and let me finish what I have to say. Because of that and more, I know you have something extra that works. Not sure what it is. Not sure I care. But whatever it is I want to make good use of it. There’s no better time than the present, no better case than this one. I’ve already contacted the FBI about this sick son of a bitch. Their profiler got back to me after the fourth woman. I’ll share what I have from them because I want you onboard with this, Skye, full out with the approval and sanction of the department. We’re slowly getting to the point where we’re grasping at straws on this one.”

  “But you said you have his DNA.”

  Harry nodded. “That we have. But it doesn’t do us a damn bit of good without a hit, which we don’t have…yet. The department isn’t willing to sit back and wait either. You have a knack and I need you to put it to good use to help me catch this guy before he kills twenty. Hell, maybe he’s already reached double digits for all I know and we just haven’t connected the bodies from other jurisdictions yet. If bringing you into this means I also have to deal with Josh Ander, then so be it. But I’m about to stick my neck out with my captain and the department on this entire thing…in a big way. I’ll take some flak for it.” He wouldn’t admit he’d already taken a considerable amount of razzing from the other detectives after what had happened last spring on his own beat.

  The entire incident had haunted him for the better part of three months. It stuck in his craw like a pill that refused to go down right. The fact that Skye Cree and her partner, Josh Ander, had been the ones to pull off a miracle almost caused him to resign from the force. The two of them had managed to put an end to a human-trafficking ring operating in Harry’s own backyard—without any help from him.

  They had found and rescued six young girls ranging in age from ten to sixteen who otherwise would’ve ended up dead or destined to a life of servitude in the sex-trade industry. There were some things better left out of the public domain. In Harry’s opinion, one that he’d spent a considerable amount of time stewing about for the past two months, Skye’s and Josh’s involvement topped that list.

  And when she rolled her eyes at him from across the table, he added, “You have my word, though, that if you use anything out of the ordinary to get results this time, I’ll keep it to myself. That’s a promise.”

  Hearing that, Skye sent him a dismissive stare. “I need a little more assurance than that, Harry. I don’t want to get blindsided and hung out to dry by the press. If they should catch wind of—”

  Harry didn’t let her finish. “They won’t. I’ll see to that.” But when she continued to bore holes in him with those deep violet eyes, he decided to lay all his cards out on the table and level with her. “Okay, I admit there have been some rumors floating around. But that’s all they are, Skye. The media’s convinced you had something to do with finding those girls and that the department, specifically me, covered up the whole thing.”

  Harry pointed a finger at her. “We both know that isn’t true. And yet, what I do know is this. You and Josh were somehow able to locate the whereabouts of those missing girls in that warehouse. I have no idea how you did it. I’m not sure I care anymore. But I know you two were there that day, Skye. Not for public consumption, I know.” Harry paused to take another sip of the steaming brew, looked at Skye over the rim.

  When he set his cup down, he went on, “I’ve been a good, clean cop for more than twenty-five years, Skye. For the first time in my career you gave me pause to question that. Right or wrong, well, mostly wrong, you took the law into your own hands that day and we both know it. I understand why you did what you did. How you dragged a man like Ander into your ‘cause’ is anyone’s guess.”

  When he saw those violet eyes narrow, the irritation flare, he knew she was about to spit fire at him. So Harry held up his hand. “Don’t bother with that temper of yours. We’re going to start over here, Skye, with a clean slate. You can thank my wife for that the next time you see her. We’re going to do this by the book though. Except for your ability or whatever it is you and Josh bring to the table to get the job done, I don’t want details. I won’t ask troublesome questions and demand answers. What I care about is getting results.”

  Right this moment, he had a serial killer who needed to be his main focus. That was all he cared about now, not some wedge he’d had a difficult time putting behind him. The extraordinary woman sitting across from him was a resource he didn’t intend to disregard any longer, no matter how much his cohorts gave him grief about it. But he needed to make sure there were no slip-ups this time. No misunderstandings about the rules.

  “I admit I should’ve listened to you. You tried to tell me about the human-trafficking problem. There, I said it. Happy now? Whitfield had been in the sex-trade business for years, off my radar in Tacoma—doing God knows what right under my nose for years—I’m not proud of that. I had to come to terms with that, Skye. Or I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

  “You wanted to quit?”

  “I did. And this sick bastard I’m dealing with now is one of the reasons I didn’t. But in order to come to terms with what happened at the warehouse, I choose to think of it like this. You did what you did out of a sense of justice. That day you were my partner when you walked in there to take care of business. I guess maybe you and Ander both were. You got the job done while I—refused to listen—if not for you and Ander those girls might’ve never seen the light of day again. You think that fact hasn’t kept me up nights? Well, think again, because it has. I almost turned in my badge. If you and Ander hadn’t shown up when you did, I shudder to think where those girls might be right now, how they’d be forced to live.”

  “Which I still have no intentions of confirming or denying,” Skye muttered when she finally got a word in.

&nbs
p; “I know you don’t. And it doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Do you mean that, Harry? Because when I looked down at my phone this morning, I’ll be honest, I almost didn’t pick up. I hadn’t heard from you since that day at the cabin. I was pretty sure there was no salvaging our friendship.”

  That’s one of the reasons it was Harry who made the first move. He stretched his arm across the tabletop, patted Skye’s hand. “So how about it? Will you help me catch this son of a bitch, Skye? You’ll get the usual consultation fee from the department.”

  “See to it the money goes to The Artemis Foundation and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Harry nodded. He’d expected no less from Skye Cree. “I’ll be happy to arrange that.”

  She flipped Harry’s hand over and grasped it tightly in hers. “Then you have yourself a couple of consultants. Because Josh is in this thing, too. For the long haul. And trust me, Harry. You won’t be sorry you added Josh to the mix.”

  Chapter 2 Book 2

  The Artemis Foundation had found a home in the same upscale high rise in downtown Seattle where Ander All Games had their corporate offices.

  It had not been Skye’s first choice. At first, she had resisted what she termed “palatial digs” inside a “too-fancy” address. She would’ve felt much more comfortable locating The Artemis Foundation in a little bungalow near her current studio apartment. In fact, she preferred it that way.

  But since Josh and his business partner, Todd Graham, owned the building, the two men didn’t actually charge the foundation rent. And once Josh had dangled free space, even forever-frugal Skye Cree had recognized a tipping point. Because she respected a healthy bottom line, especially for her own non-profit organization, free was the one thing she couldn’t ignore.

  So she’d opted for the smallest office space in the posh building and squeezed The Artemis Foundation into a nine-hundred-square-foot afterthought of a suite on the third floor.

  The gaming headquarters might have taken up the proverbial executive floors at the top but the square footage she’d agreed to “lease” was ample room for a one-woman operation. And right now, that’s exactly what it was.

  Skye didn’t have a staff, although her friends had offered to volunteer their time and services whenever the situation called for it. Lena Bowers, a widow and honorary aunt figure Skye had relied on in the past, was the perfect go-to person to direct traffic. Lena was good with people. And the woman had recently taken in a stray off the streets. Lena now had temporary custody of one feisty teenager named, Zoe Hollister. Zoe, a former runaway whom Josh and Skye had encountered living a hand-to-mouth existence now ate regular meals, wore clean clothes, had a roof over her head. If Skye wasn’t mistaken, Zoe even had a trip to the mall planned to shop for new clothes for eighth grade in the fall. Thanks to Lena, Zoe had been given a chance to end her life of living out of a cardboard box.

  Another tried-and-true friend, Velma Gentry, a waitress at the Country Kitchen, where Skye had worked right out of high school, had agreed to help in a pinch. Velma could be counted on to put her considerable customer service skills to work— skills she’d honed for more than thirty years waiting tables. Skye believed Velma would make an excellent coordinator when it came time for the foundation to go into crisis-mode.

  And it would happen. One thing Skye knew for certain: a sexual predator couldn’t change his habits. Sooner or later, he’d go after a kid, either male or female. Sometimes it didn’t matter which. Because of that, the foundation had to be in ready-mode. It was Skye’s job to make sure they had an effective game plan.

  For reinforcements on that score, Skye relied on Travis Nakota, the man who had been like a father figure to her since her own parents had died when she was thirteen. If only she could have spent that time living with Travis instead of in Yakima where she’d been shipped off to live with religiously fanatical Aunt Ginny and Uncle Bob, her only blood relatives.

  Nothing she could do about that now though, she decided as she made her way through the swanky lobby and to the bank of elevators. Looking around at the polish and shine of the impressive thirty-story Breslin Building, as the locals called it, Skye realized Josh had known exactly which buttons to push to get her to sign on the dotted line.

  She might’ve caved about the location and the digs. She might never have thought in a million years she’d have an “office” with a perfect view of the Space Needle and Mount Rainier. But when it came to furnishing the place, she stuck to her belief in keeping everything to a minimum. Sparse would assure that no one mistook their work for anything but what it was.

  The Artemis Foundation located missing children. Period.

  Since they were funded by private donations, Skye Cree intended to make sure every dollar went back into the foundation for just that purpose. Not only would she see to it personally, she would have it no other way.

  Unlocking the door to suite three-hundred, Skye stepped into a barebones operation. Looking around, she knew the furnishings didn’t exactly jibe with the ritzy address. Even though Josh had done his best to talk her into ordering modern, sleek desks and accessories, Skye had refused to give in. On this one thing she wouldn’t budge on principle alone.

  That’s why, at present, a six-foot-long folding table she’d found at a big-box hardware store doubled as a desk. She’d picked up a used but still comfy, ergonomic mesh chair on Craigslist for thirty bucks. Josh provided a credenza from one of the vacant offices upstairs to hold all of the files she’d put together over the years on abducted and still-missing children.

  On the wall behind her workspace, a huge map hung pinpointing each and every child abduction that had taken place within a seventy-five-mile radius of Seattle. Some dated all the way back to 1970. Pictures of each child were tacked to the paper as a reminder.

  While Josh might have pushed her face-first into this foundation business, Skye had to concede that over the summer she’d settled into the role as director. Even though she still didn’t spend a whole lot of time here, she had to admit it was a better place to organize than the cramped four walls of her crappy apartment. Here she could set up her MacBook and devote her time and energy to hunting down Seattle’s missing children along with the predators who had snatched them.

  She’d even come to terms with making the commute into downtown three or four times a week, even dealing with the headaches of finding an available parking place in the packed garage. While Josh had offered her an assigned spot with her name stenciled on it, she had passed on that perk outright. No doubt she’d been tempted. But it didn’t seem right for her to take up someone else’s space when she didn’t always make the drive in, as many of his employees did five days a week. So, once again, she’d opted out.

  When the desk phone rang, she dumped her bag down onto the fake walnut-grain tabletop and all but fell over the metal to answer it. “Artemis Foundation.”

  “Hello, my gorgeous Skye. What are you wearing?” the voice on the other end greeted her.

  Breathless, that familiar voice had her bursting out a laugh. “Josh.” It still made her heart race a little each and every time she heard that sexy way he said her name. She thought of his silver-colored eyes, his black mane of hair that only recently had grown long enough that he had to tie it back in a stubby ponytail. Despite the crime scene she’d visited earlier, a smile formed on her lips.

  “How’d it go with cranky pants?” Josh asked.

  A giggle snaked out. “Harry wants to make up.”

  “Good, I knew he’d come around if you gave him enough time.”

  “Josh, he needs help dealing with a serial killer. I sorta agreed both of us would help him on this case—as consultants. At the moment, he has nothing but DNA matching five crime scenes. So far, no hits in CODIS.”

  “Interesting. And you didn’t puke at the crime scene?” Josh mused.

  “I was a consummate professional.”

  “Good job. What impressions did you get about the guy so far?
”

  Skye gave him a blow-by-blow of Sylvia Waterston’s crime scene, of what she knew firsthand, of what she’d sensed about the killer.

  “Okay. Sure, we’ll give it a shot. But you never answered my question. What are you wearing?”

  Another laugh escaped. After months together, Skye had yet to perfect the art of flirting. Even with Josh it didn’t come easy for her. She’d lived too many painful years—between thirteen and eighteen shy and reticent after her kidnapping ordeal—before she’d decided to leave that part of herself in the dust for good. Josh had made that transition possible.

  So she gave the flirting thing her best shot. “I’ll tell you what I’m wearing. But you have to go first, share a few deets.” She should’ve known better than to try to one-up Josh Ander, who always seemed primed to take it to the next level.

  “There’s this thong. You could come up here and take it off. I’d let you.”

  Once again, that had her breaking out in laughter. “You could come down here.”

  “If only I could ditch all these pesky marketing people and software engineers who want to make my life more difficult.”

  “The gamers want updates. They made Hidden Cities of Mars a greater success than Mines.”

  “That they did. And I’m grateful, not saying I’m not. That’s one of the reasons I’m stuck here today. It seems we have a few bugs to work out if we intend to make our deadline, which we always do even if it involves cracking the whip over my very dedicated staff and making them put in overtime. But you and I could go to lunch around one if we make it quick.”

  “Josh, I’d love to, but I promised Harry I’d put together some data for him.”

  “What kind of data?”

  “This guy likes to spend an inordinate amount of time with his victims. Hours in fact.”

  “So Harry needs to contact a profiler at the FBI. That’s what they do.”

  “He’s done that already. But I suggested he might look into other serial sexual homicides, the facts and figures, specifically what’s called need-driven behavior. I’m pretty sure it’s this guy’s signature, some kind of fantasy he’s playing out each time.”