by Sharon Sala
He’d spent over an hour last night watching the Weather Channel, trying to second-guess where the next serious storm threat might hit. There were a couple of places he could go and wait for it, but he couldn’t go home—not ever again. Once he would have just grown a beard, changed cars and locations, and disappeared under another name like he’d done after the Louisiana floods. But he had healed with severe facial scars, and the ability to grow a full, healthy beard was gone. He could always go to Mexico and disappear, but that felt too much like running away. If he did that, it would mean they’d won, and that didn’t set well.
He rolled out of his sleeping bag, reached for his jeans and began to get dressed. A few minutes later he was out of the tent and heading for the public bathrooms. Although it was still early, the day was already showing signs of heat. The air was still and muggy. Even the little ground lizards seemed uninterested in his passing, lying motionless beneath the underbrush.
Very few of the other campers were up, and the ones who were seemed occupied with making their breakfast. He saw one camper heading off toward the lake with a rod and reel, possibly to go catch his meal. It seemed like an iffy proposition to Hershel. In a pinch, he would rather rely on bread and peanut butter.
He made quick work of the toilet and washing facilities and was on his way out when he heard voices just outside the doorway. The last thing he wanted was to come face-to-face with someone and have to acknowledge their presence, so he stopped.
A few moments later the voices faded, and he took a quick look to make sure they were gone before heading out, walking with his head down. The next time he looked up he saw a little girl sitting on the picnic table near his tent.
“Hi!” she said. “I’m having breakfast.”
He frowned and kept walking, hoping his silence would deter her. It didn’t.
“My name is Louise. What’s yours?”
He stumbled. What the hell? Was this the universe making fun of him, or was this his Louise trying to communicate?
He turned around and gave her a closer look. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old and didn’t look a thing like his Louise. The moment he thought it, he told himself he was a fool. Of course she didn’t look like Louise, because she wasn’t Louise.
The little girl took another bite of the sweet roll she was eating, then licked her fingers as she waited for him to talk. When he didn’t, she offered up another question.
“What happened to your face?” she asked.
“Go away,” he said shortly, and moved toward his truck.
She got down off the picnic table and followed him, still eating and licking her fingers between bites.
“Does your face hurt? I fell off my bike and skinned my knee. It hurt a lot. Did your mama kiss your face and make it better? My mama kissed my knee and put three Cinderella Band-Aids on it.”
“Get lost, kid,” Hershel muttered, and began unhooking his generator. He needed to get the hell out of here.
The little girl frowned. “Getting lost is dangerous. I’m not supposed to get lost,” she said, and took another bite, chewing while she talked. “You said a mean thing. You shouldn’t be mean to people. It’s not nice. Do you go to church? You should go to church. It might make you nicer.”
Hershel froze. For just a moment he could hear his Louise nagging him, talking about God and changing his ways. He looked back at the kid again, wondered if Louise had somehow sent her, and then shook off the thought.
“Go back to your own campground,” Hershel said, and turned his back on her.
“I’m gonna tell my mama on you! I’m gonna tell her you told me to get lost.”
Hershel spun around, but she was already running back across the campground.
“Damn it.”
He wasn’t into offing kids, but this complicated his situation. This little altercation could bring unwanted attention, which he didn’t need. It was time to leave.
He began loading up the heavier pieces of his camping equipment, and then packed up what was inside the tent. As soon as it was empty, he took it down, as well, working with one eye on the campsites behind him, hoping he didn’t see some irate parent coming his way. Still, it verified what he’d been thinking all along. No more public campgrounds for him.
It’s your own fault.
Hershel groaned. Now Louise decided to show up. If she’d spoken up earlier, he wouldn’t have been so antsy with the kid.
“Well, hell, Louise, of course it’s my fault. You continue to remind me that everything is my fault, including your demise.”
Leave now, Hershel. Stop now and go to Mexico. We talked about it once. You can go there now and disappear.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. I’ll go when I’m ready and not before.”
You are a mean man, Hershel Inman, and you are going straight to Hell.
“Yes, so your little doppelgänger said a few minutes ago…or words to that effect. Now beat it. I need to finish packing.”
You’re going to be sorry…be sorry…be sorry…
Hershel was livid. Louise’s nagging was so off the wall she was beginning to echo. He threw the rest of his things into the truck and took off from the campground without looking back.
Four
“We are beginning our approach into Tulsa International Airport. Please turn off your electronic devices, return your seat backs to the upright position, stow your tray tables and prepare for landing.”
Jo turned off her iPad, handed the flight attendant the rest of her trash and glanced at her watch. She hated to fly and disliked landings most of all, which made the knot already in her belly grow tighter. Between falling out of the sky and coming face-to-face with Wade Luckett, this day was already screwed.
God, help me through this.
She leaned as far back against the headrest as she could go, clutching the iPad against her chest as if it was a protective shield. The man in the seat beside her coughed. Again. He had been sharing that ongoing hack with the other passengers ever since they boarded the plane, and she hoped to God it wasn’t something contagious. She’d been sick on location before, and she couldn’t afford to be sick now. She was going to need all her resources to get through this assignment.
Her overwhelming fear of showing weakness was a holdover from her days as a rookie with the Bureau. If you were tough, they called you a bitch. If you had a pretty face or showed weakness, then you couldn’t possibly do a good job.
A few minutes later she both heard and felt the jarring thumps as the landing gear went down. She tightened her grip on the iPad, not realizing she was also holding her breath until her seatmate coughed again, at which point she exhaled in sheer disgust.
When she began feeling the drag of the wind against the flaps she knew they were on approach. She planted her feet beneath the seat in front of her and leaned back, as if by sheer will alone she would stop the plane and get them on the ground. First there was the screech of tires on the tarmac, then a slight bounce, and then another thump as the tires made final contact and began to roll. Finally they were down. As they began to taxi toward the terminal she opened her eyes.
And here we go.
* * *
Tate Benton was in Baggage Claim, waiting for the newest member of their team to show up. He hadn’t seen her in years, probably since right before she and Wade divorced. He and Cameron used to have dinner at Wade and Jo’s home at least once a month. Then everything went to hell after she lost the baby. They knew grief split up just as many couples as it brought closer, and assumed that was it. Wade hadn’t volunteered any information, and it wasn’t something he felt comfortable asking about.
He glanced at his watch, then back up at the people filing into the area, suddenly curious to see her again. She’d been with the agency for twelve ye
ars and had a good reputation. He knew her well enough to know that she would be forthright and competent, despite her past with Wade. Then he saw her coming and took a step forward.
At five feet nine inches tall, she had a commanding presence. Her stride was long, her shoulders military-straight. Her dark, shoulder-length hair swayed in opposition with her stride, a subtle hint to the stubbornness of her spirit. But as she came within speaking distance, he saw something else that he hadn’t expected. The look on her face was the same look he’d seen on soldiers coming back from combat. He wasn’t prepared for the shadows in her eyes or the grim set to her lips. When she saw him, the relief on her face was obvious, which told him she was probably as unhappy about having to work with Wade as he was about working with her.
“Good morning, Tate. It’s been a while,” Jo said.
He smiled and lightly touched her shoulder in greeting.
“Hello, Jo, and yes, it has been a while, but I’m really glad to have you on board with this case.”
She smiled briefly. “Thanks. I only have one suitcase. Give me a few minutes to retrieve it and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Sure thing,” Tate said. “Want to leave your carry-on with me?”
She started to say no and then realized that was silly. He wasn’t showing preference to her because she was female. He was just being helpful so she would have both hands free to get her other bag.
“Yes, sure. That would be great.” She slipped the bag off her shoulder, handed it to him and then moved toward the carousel.
Tate wasn’t a profiler for nothing. He knew it wasn’t easy for women in high-profile jobs and guessed she’d been burned enough to be touchy about accepting help of any kind. A few minutes later the carousel began turning. After snagging her bag, she pulled the handle up and rolled it toward him.
“I’m ready,” she said.
He led the way out of the terminal and across the drive to the parking garage, with Jo coming along behind him. They loaded her luggage, and then got in the SUV and drove away.
“It’s sure hot here in Oklahoma,” she said.
Tate nodded. “Part of why the thunderstorms get so severe when a cool front comes in.” Then he grimaced. “This case has been a tough one. Chasing down a serial killer whose urge is triggered by natural disasters has been crazy.”
Finally, something Jo felt comfortable discussing.
“I read all the reports your team filed, along with everything else I could get my hands on regarding this man. So his wife’s death made him crazy and he compensates by killing. I understand the death-and-grief-can-make-you-crazy part, but I don’t quite get how murder fixes his problem.”
Tate heard a personal note in what she’d just said and wondered if she realized how much she’d admitted, then shook it off.
“His killing is pure retribution against the authorities who didn’t come to her aid soon enough to save her. He wants them embarrassed by their inability to catch him, and that’s where we come in. It has nothing to do with the victims. They’re as random as they could possibly be. The only thing they had in common was surviving the storms.”
“But he doesn’t kill children,” Jo said.
“So far,” Tate agreed.
“Do you think he would?” she asked.
“I can’t predict what this man will do. As you know, he’s changed his mode of killing. No guns this time around.”
“Why do you think he did that?”
“I’d say part of it had to do with locations and noise, but it’s hard to be positive. Last year, when his killing spree began, he did kill tornado victims with a gun, then he moved on to the flood victims, which made it easier.” He tapped the brakes, and then turned off the street and into a parking area. “Home sweet home,” he said.
Jo glanced at the hotel and grounds.
“Fancy.”
“The storms have destroyed so many homes that a lot of the hotels are full up. We took what we could get.”
He found an empty space and parked. They exited the SUV at the same time. Jo grabbed her suitcase, pulled up the handle, dropped the carry-on strap over it and followed Tate inside.
* * *
Wade and Cameron were still going through security footage, although Wade kept glancing at the time and losing focus. Jo was afraid of flying, and by the time she got here she would be on edge. It wouldn’t make their reunion any easier, but he doubted there was anything that would ease that moment.
In an effort to be cordial he’d ordered a couple bottles of Diet Dr Pepper sent to the room, along with some packages of peanut butter crackers. She wasn’t big on sweets, but she loved savory. The suite they were in didn’t have another bed, but Tate had managed to get the adjoining room for her. Beyond that, Wade couldn’t imagine how this was going to play out.
When he heard a key in the door, he jumped up.
“Easy, partner,” Cameron said quietly.
“Shit,” Wade muttered, and then the door opened.
She came in pulling a suitcase and talking on the phone. She glanced up just long enough to give everyone a quick nod and then kept talking.
Tate closed the door behind them, glanced at Wade and shrugged.
Wade sighed. The tense moment had just been put on hold, which gave him a few moments to look at her unobserved.
She looked good—damn good. He’d been concentrating on being angry and had forgotten about the sexy part. She shed her jacket as she talked, then tossed it on the back of a chair, revealing even more of her curves.
Wade headed for the wet bar to get something cold to drink. He needed something to cool his thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” Jo said as she ended her call. “That was my cleaning lady. She said there’s a leak in my bathroom. I told her to call the landlord. This stuff always happens when I’m gone.”
“Last time something like that happened at my place I was asleep. I woke up with half the ceiling in bed with me,” Cameron said.
“What in the world caused that?” she asked.
“Was that the wild party where the girl got high and wanted to swim, so she locked herself in the bathroom and tried to flood the room?” Tate asked.
Cameron nodded.
“That’s horrible,” Jo said, then laughed. “I’m sorry, but the image is pretty funny.”
Cameron grinned. “It was a mess for sure.”
Wade was standing on the other side of the sofa, determined to wait her out, but he might as well have been invisible. Tate was showing her the door that connected to their suite and giving her the room key. She smiled, grabbed her bags and started toward the door, and Wade’s patience ended.
“I lost a couple of pounds last month, but I’m sure that didn’t make me invisible. Hello, Jolene. Yes, I’m fine, and it’s just great to see you, too. I trust you had a safe flight, since you’re here. There’s Diet Dr Pepper and peanut butter crackers at the wet bar with your name on them, and you’re welcome.”
He glared, turned on one heel and strode out of the room without looking back.
Jolene felt like crying, but it was the last damn thing she would do in front of them, so she smiled, instead.
“I think that went well, don’t you?” she said, then went into her room and shut the door.
Tate sighed.
Cameron rolled his eyes.
They could hear Wade cursing and banging drawers in the adjoining bedroom, and then a short while later they heard the door slam.
“Did he just leave? Where the heck did he go?” Cameron asked.
“Knowing Wade, he’s gone to the gym. He’ll come back in about an hour all hot, sweaty and hungry,” Tate said.
Moments later they heard the outer door to the adjoining room open and close.
“Did she just leave, too?�
�� Tate asked.
Cameron shrugged. “I seem to remember that habit of working out when they were bothered was true of both of them. What are the odds of them ending up in the gym at the same time?”
Tate sighed. “Hell if I know. I just hope whatever they’re doing, they get all the crap out of their systems before they come back.”
* * *
Wade was at the weight bench when Jolene walked in. She saw him and almost walked out again, then realized he wasn’t looking at her and didn’t know she’d come in, which was fine. She paused at the desk to pick up a towel and a bottle of water, and then went to the opposite side of the room, chose a treadmill and started walking. As soon as she was warmed up, she increased the speed, then increased it some more until she was running full-out.
More than one man in the gym turned to watch in quiet awe, but Wade wasn’t one of them. He was concentrating on his lifts, while one of the employees spotted for him. He worked at the weights until the muscles in his arms were burning and then he stopped and for the first time sat up. That was when he saw her, bathed in sweat with an expression on her face that made him ache. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she was crying.
He got up, grabbed a towel and, without giving himself time to change his mind, walked over to her treadmill and stopped squarely in front of her.
She blinked, almost stumbled, and then hit Stop. The track rolled to a halt. Now they were standing face-to-face, sweat rolling out of their hair and down their faces.
Jolene couldn’t move. This was the closest she’d been to him since the day of their divorce, and it still hurt to know she no longer had the right to touch him.
He wanted to hug her but handed her a towel instead, then wiped his face with his own.
“It’s good to see you,” he said.
“It’s good to see you, too.”
