Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3

by Vickie McKeehan

  No wonder he hadn’t been able to reach her on her cell phone when he’d landed. She’d been giving her statement to the cops. “Have you seen her, talked to her? Do you know for a fact she’s okay?”

  “I’ve seen her on the tube but she still isn’t talking to me, certainly not returning my calls. How about you? Have you talked to her?”

  “She hasn’t picked up all evening. But that’s about to change,” Josh assured him, as he turned the volume up on the TV. “Hang on a second, Travis. Harry’s holding a press conference right this second and she’s standing next to him at the podium while he takes questions from the reporters. Are you watching this?”

  “I’m watching. It says the feed is live. I thought they said there was a fight. But Skye doesn’t have a mark on her,” Travis pointed out.

  Josh chuckled. “No, she doesn’t have a mark on her. But one thing you can count on. I’m sure the other guy looks a helluva lot worse.”

  Josh Ander and Travis Nakota were not the only men interested in Skye’s whereabouts or movements. Frank De Palo had tailed her to the gray house with the red trim. She’d been so intent on her own target, the sexual predator known as Perry York, she’d never even sensed his presence nearby.

  Perhaps she wasn’t as clever or as talented as he’d first thought.

  He’d be a fool not to recognize her considerable skills at hand-to-hand combat. Although when the cops had dragged York outside, the man hadn’t looked like much competition on that score.

  And since Frank had waited across the street and watched her enter a man’s home without key or invite, he wondered what she planned to do once she got inside. He stood by fascinated at the turn of events once the cops showed up. Along with the other curious neighbors, Frank had listened. He’d learned from the uniforms and their grumblings what exactly had transpired within that box of a house.

  She had, after all, gone down into the man’s personal torture chamber to rescue a girl. She’d taken down the man in question there in his own kitchen when he unexpectedly returned home. And doing it, she’d been alone without having the gamer in tow for backup.

  An impressive feat to be sure, Frank decided and one that he could not dismiss. So while her intelligence was questionable at best, she might be a worthy opponent when he met up with her face to face.

  And when he surprised her in her own space, when he stood over her in her own bed, he would make certain he’d get the most out of her. It was the only way he could assure she’d challenge him to the max.

  Chapter 12 Book 2

  Even though Skye had tried to talk Josh out of leaving the convention early, assuring him she was just fine, he’d caught the next plane back to Seattle. He’d been pissed he couldn’t get back to SeaTac until morning. And now, according to Josh’s latest text message, his plane had pulled to the gate and was unloading.

  That’s why Skye sat behind the wheel of her Subaru parked at the curb outside the terminal, waiting for him to walk out.

  She knew he’d be angry with her. But she hadn’t considered the Ander wrath lasting for this long. She’d seen him upset before. But they’d never stayed mad at each other overnight. The amazing thing about their relationship so far had been that despite some major obstacles to overcome, they could talk most things out without wanting to walk away from each other. Until this instance, the marriage hot button had been the only thing dividing them. She had a feeling though, that Josh was waiting to explode up close and personal.

  Last night she’d listened as he vented. His anger had gone on and on—over the phone. Over the past twelve hours she’d had time to think about the repercussions of going into York’s home alone. After replaying the situation several times, she could understand why Josh was so furious. But she’d been on her own too long to change for anyone at the drop of a hat. And she realized now that probably wasn’t fair to the person she loved.

  When she spotted him exiting through the sliding glass doors with the suitcase in tow she’d helped him pack only yesterday, she honked the horn and waved.

  He tossed his bag in the backseat and crawled into the front.

  “Did you sleep okay last night?” Skye asked as she pulled out into traffic, not wasting any time trying for damage control. Noting the dark circles under his eyes, she already knew the answer to that. But knowing she had to make amends somehow, she went on, “Because it looks like you’re still pissed and it kept you awake all night.”

  “Don’t try to get on my good side right now, Skye. Okay? I’m still furious with you. And no, I didn’t sleep well at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I must’ve replayed what I saw on the news no less than fifty times. With you here, and me in Denver, it might’ve been a good thing, after all, because I wanted to strangle you myself. At some point I thought I might even be having a heart attack.”

  “Now you’re exaggerating.”

  Slanting her a withering glare from the passenger seat, he was slowly getting to a boil. “It turned out to be a nasty case of indigestion and the fact that I’m hooked up with the most stubborn hardhead I’ve ever known who refuses to give an inch. Since last night, I’ve had time to consider every ‘what if’ in the book. All you had to do was tell me what you suspected, share a little info and you know I would’ve hung around. I’d never have gone to Denver in the first place. But you didn’t do that. Let’s be clear here what’s pissed me off. The fact that you deliberately held back you’d been plagued by dreams again. The fact that you were having dreams again is a big deal. But you went out of your way to make sure I got on that plane. If we’re a team—” He stopped, shook his head. “Oh what’s the point? We’re not much of a team. Maybe you’re right and this, what we have between us, just isn’t meant to be.” He rubbed at his temple, lack of sleep and jet lag beginning to catch up with him. “Anything could’ve gone wrong in York’s house and you might be dead right now. I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “But it didn’t go wrong,” she pointed out. “And I’m still very much alive. And so is Kelly Donahue.”

  “Luck,” Josh tossed back. “Don’t throw the fifteen-year-old girl into the mix either. You know exactly why I’m upset. Don’t sit there and deny it. If not for your deliberate deception, I’d have been right there to go in that house with you.”

  She tried for patience knowing she deserved some degree of hostility. But then she shifted gears. “Harry thinks this Perry York guy might be responsible for several other girls in the area who went missing since 2006, the year his mother died.”

  Josh cocked a brow. “And you think this helps your case? How? That you went up against another serial killer alone? Trust me, it doesn’t.”

  “Speaking of which, I’m beginning to think our sicko has indeed moved on to another, more fertile, hunting ground.” To her credit, she kept up the barrage and did her best to change the subject. “What do your dreams tell you?”

  “You know it’s been almost two weeks or more since I’ve seen anything. Don’t try to placate me. Without fresh crime scenes, without new victims, it’s as if the images are blocked to me now. And since we don’t want new victims—”

  “So no news is good news as far as the dreams go.” She paused before adding, “I’m sorry I didn’t share what was going on. You’re absolutely right. I should’ve told you the dreams were back. But try to understand, this wasn’t like in the past. I barely got a clear view.”

  “You expect me to buy that?”

  “This partner thing is new to me. I’m still working on the kinks.”

  “Then try harder,” Josh suggested as he leaned over the console to plant a kiss on her cheek. “All I’m asking, Skye, is for you to show a little confidence in me. I’m your partner. Try acting like it.”

  She sucked in a breath. “You really know how to get to me.”

  “Yeah? Good to know. Then I need to get to you a lot more often.”

  After working a twelve-hour shift at the hospital the first thing thirty-eight-year-old nurse B
etty Triplett noticed when she got to the door of her bedroom was that someone had been there.

  Dresser drawers had been pulled out. Her panties and bras and various other lingerie were left dumped on the bed. Whoever had been there had carefully gone through the contents of her jewelry box. Earrings, necklaces, and bracelets were lined up neatly in an orderly fashion on the dresser, as if the person had wanted them arranged item by item in a particular way.

  An eerie feeling crept up her spine. Betty went down the hallway to check on her teenage daughter Gina’s bedroom. Even though she knew for a fact Gina had spent the day with her father at her grandmother’s house, Betty still needed to make sure Gina wasn’t in the house.

  But in a teenager’s room where disarray was the norm, here someone had taken the time to tidy up Gina’s mess, not make one. He gone through Gina’s things the same way he had Betty’s.

  Instinctively Betty reached for her cell phone to text her daughter. After sending the message, a frightening thought occurred to her. The intruder might still be in the house.

  As fast as she could, Betty backtracked to the front door the way she’d come in. But as she darted past the kitchen, she saw the refrigerator door standing ajar. She took two steps and glanced at the back door leading to the yard. It too, stood open. It was as if someone had heard her come in through the front door and disappeared out the back in a hurry.

  No way did Betty intend to stay in the house. Instead, she headed out to her car parked in the driveway to call nine-one-one.

  About the time Betty reached her Buick, Gina returned the text, saying she was okay. Breathing a sigh of relief, Betty hit the numbers on her phone. At this point, even though she wasn’t sure the prowler had taken anything of value, she still thought the cops needed to know—because someone had violated her home, her personal space.

  With all the murders she’d heard about on the news, the ones occurring a few streets over, Betty wasn’t taking any chances. She wanted a member of law enforcement to do a walk-thru with her. She wanted the violation logged into public record. She wanted them to document the fact that there had been some type of break-in. It might have nothing to do with the serial killer stalking Seattle women, but Betty wanted the cops to be the ones to make that determination. Even if it turned out to be nothing more than a teenager in the neighborhood, Betty wanted some assurance that her safe haven was still just that, if not for her sake, for her daughter’s.

  Frank was still standing down the street from Betty’s house when a patrol car pulled up at the curb. It pissed him off. How dare she call the cops. After all, he hadn’t taken anything. He’d show Betty. He’d come back. Even though she was too old, too chunky, and didn’t fit his target range, he’d come back. He’d pay her another visit when Betty Triplett least expected it.

  The woman didn’t need to know he’d gone in there to check out her fifteen-year-old daughter. Of course, he hadn’t known at the time the girl was so young. When he’d first spotted her at the mall she looked eighteen. So he’d followed her home. And now the cops were planted inside taking some kind of report—about him.

  The whole thing had him considering changing whom he marked. Maybe it was time to go for the younger crowd and teach them something about life before they became bitter old hags like Betty. He’d use this period to reflect, to open up his mind to newer and better prospects. Maybe increase his surveillance to include a wider range. The drawback, and there was always a downside, is that the younger teens wouldn’t provide much of a challenge. They were too submissive, too eager to please.

  If he were getting bored now, it was his own fault. How did he feel about taking all the same risks but getting so little in return?

  He could hardly rest on his laurels. He had to take it up a notch some way, somehow.

  And he thought he knew just the place to start.

  Chapter 13 Book 2

  If it was true that their serial killer had moved on, then it meant they could both sit back and finally enjoy going out to the night’s celebration when the Warrior Society would add one new member to its roster.

  This evening Skye would take her place among the all-male leaders of her tribe in an event designed to showcase the woman who had taken centuries-old traditions and turned them upside down. A female warrior among an all-male cast was change in any society. In the Native culture it was the equivalent of shattering the glass ceiling.

  As they got ready to attend the formal sit-down dinner that also promised a host of local celebrities, Josh stood at the mirror in the bedroom looping his black tie around his neck. But when he caught sight of Skye behind him coming out of the walk-in closet, he let the ends dangle as he turned to gape.

  His eyes lit on the long legs, perused upward, beginning first with the five-inch Sergio Rossi open-toed mermaid pumps on her feet. The champagne dress set off her cinnamon skin and left little to the imagination. With the wrap-style top, the classic V-neckline, and the form-fitting pleats at the waist, it all came together to give her a red-carpet, sophisticated look.

  Skye Cree might be a woman who routinely wore military-style boots on her nightly rounds but tonight’s outfit showed she could rock an evening gown when the situation called for it.

  She’d left her hair down to drape at her shoulders in that straight-angled cut he loved.

  “Holy Christ, you look good enough to eat.”

  She tilted her head. “I’m pretty sure you did that already. About an hour ago as a matter of fact.”

  “So I did.” With one finger he motioned for her to twirl around so he could get a look at her bare back. He laid a hand on his heart. “You take my breath away, Skye. You look amazing.”

  “It isn’t too much, is it? I feel kinda silly. But Lena suggested I should go for classy. She and Zoe helped me pick it out at this store in the mall that specializes in evening wear. I picked this one out because the three-quarter sleeves were perfect so I wouldn’t have to mess with a jacket or a wrap tonight.”

  That brought a laugh from him. “The sleeves? Oh yeah, the dress has sleeves. I see them now. Trust me, baby, no one will be looking at the sleeves.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs as she gathered up some of the skirt in her fist and lifted it off the floor. “There’s more fabric here than I know what to do with. I hope I don’t trip on the long gown.”

  “I’ve seen you wear a dress, Skye. You won’t trip. By any chance are you nervous?”

  “A little. Okay, a lot. But I have to make a speech. Everyone gets nervous when they have to get up in front of a lot of people. I don’t like being the center of attention, especially when they’re all staring at me. Why do you suppose they decided to let in a woman at this late date?”

  He turned back to the mirror to finish the knot on his tie. “You’re a smart woman. Think about this for a minute. Do you really think they did this without someone prodding them into it?” From his reflection he watched her eyes grow wide before her shoulders slumped.

  “Travis. I should’ve known. With everything going on, I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “It isn’t too late to call him, Skye.”

  She thought about that for a minute and went another way. “There’s a roomful of local people expecting me or I’d back out of this whole thing right now.”

  Josh recognized the tactic and knew which buttons would get her going. “No need to back out. All the press involved will be good for the foundation. What’s good for the foundation helps every kid who has the misfortune to go missing.”

  “That’s just it. I’m doing this because of the foundation. I don’t need to actually belong to this warrior thing to make an impact. And I don’t need Travis to put in an appearance,” she finally snapped out with some heat. “Now let’s get a move on. We don’t want to be late.”

  As they boarded the elevator, a thought occurred to Josh. Just because Skye didn’t want to speak to Travis didn’t mean there was no a solution. Josh could and would act as a go-between. In his
mind, it was bad enough for two longtime friends to be on the outs with each other, but when that “friend” had morphed into “family,” it was a sad state. Not only that, but it left Josh squarely in the middle of the mess. And he didn’t like it.

  That’s why as they headed toward the Belmont Hotel hosting the event, Josh decided to use his formidable powers of reasoning, the same he’d used to get banks to loan him seed money when they had to be convinced a game was a good return on their money. After all, he was a businessman who persuaded people to do things five days a week. With that thought at the forefront, he stepped his toe into icy water. “I know you still care about Travis, right?”

  “Of course, I do. But…that’s beside the point.”

  “No, not really. That is the point. It’s the basic element of your tribe, its history, where you came from. I did my homework, remember? Family has always been a huge part of the Nez Perce. They care what happens to their own. How often will this event take place, Skye? Think about it. Once. Skye Cree won’t be up there on that stage becoming a part of the elder council ever again after tonight. Do you really want Travis to miss out on this? Can you live with that if the answer is yes?”

  He took his eyes off the road a split second to glance at her face, to see if his words had made any type of impact. He thought he knew Skye and the woman was big on doing the right thing. When he saw his opening, he offered, “How about this? I make the call. You don’t even have to talk to the man. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Skye chewed at her bottom lip. “It might be awkward. You know, seeing him there,” she finally said while checking the digital clock on the car’s dash. “And look at the time. He couldn’t possibly get dressed and make it from Everett to the hotel.”

  Josh wouldn’t want to bet against Travis Nakota making the trip in record time. Seeing the opening he wanted, Josh handed his cell phone to Skye. “Scroll through my contacts and hit the screen for me, will you?”