“There it is right there, 3005 River Road, just like she said.”
I look through the sea of vehicles that have already arrived. Cops, the medical examiner, and the FBI have already shown up. We get out and make our way up to the federal agents.
“Good to see you, Agent Turner,” I say to my old friend.
He sticks his hand out to shake mine. “I wish it was under different circumstances but such is the nature of the beast. Oh, this is Sergeant Marie Lassiter, local PD. She’s been assisting at the crime scene.” The willowy brunette extends her hand with a slow smile.
“Officer Lassiter, good to see you. Thanks for the help on this one,” I say as we shake hands cordially. She arches a brow, amused at my formality. The sultry gleam in her eye reminds me of our brief history from a couple years ago, a one-night stand that took the edge off during a difficult case. As casual fucks go, it was satisfying in the superficial way that only a one-night stand can be. Marie leaves her hand in my grip a second or two longer than necessary, her steady eye contact conveying to me that she is very available and interested to take up where we left off.
Not interested. Maybe Harley will benefit from this turn of events, if he’s not already off the market. He and Melissa have been circling each other for days now. Do something about it already...
“Well, let’s get down to business,” Agent Turner directs. He turns in my direction as we’re making our way down to the dock. “Your girlfriend works with the suspect’s attending physician, correct?”
Marie’s head jerks up at the words and I know she gets the message. “Yeah, there they are right now,” I say as I wave Windy and Johnnie over.
We weave our way through the workers and the damp grass until we’re standing on the dock next to a Starcraft Crossover. Agent Turner’s voice rings out, “Find out if the people who live here own this boat.”
“Already talked to em’, boss,” one of the uniformed officers answers. “That lady right over there.” I look over to view a brunette woman with a cardigan on that she’s pulling in close to her body; her arms are crossed like she’s been out in this cold wind for a while. “Says it’s their boat and they took it out yesterday by themselves with no…unexpected guests. Your suspect must have dumped the body in there last night while everyone was sleeping.”
“That’s a lot of weight for a woman to manage,” I say, looking at the agents.
“Well, that guard she’s got with her could still be alive and helping her out,” Turner says.
“Poor sap,” Harley mutters.
Turner casts an impatient look Harley’s way before continuing, “A man of average height and build could lift a body like that. I’m certain she’s the one who did the torture job on the poor guy though. Never seen anything like it.”
“That’s our Georgia,” Windy mutters, catching the attention of Marie, who looks from Windy to me with interest before jumping into the discussion herself.
Marie echoes Harley’s less articulate sentiments, saying, “Yeah, it’s just a matter of time before she kills him. When he’s of no use to her, she’ll do away with him.” She gives me a pointed stare before continuing, “She’ll toss him out with the trash, just like she has all the others.”
Now Windy’s looking from Marie to me and frowning. I need to shut this shit down, like now. I turn to view my girlfriend’s boss, who surprises me with what appears to be a genuine look of anguish on his face. It’s clear he believes this is his fault. But there isn’t a cure for the brand of crazy that woman’s got going on; no doctor can fix her. She likes to kill but more than that she loves tormenting Brinkley, it gives her some sick sense of control. I don’t have any doubts about her twisted, dysfunctional devotion to him; I am, however, beginning to doubt whether he’ll be able to escape her grip unscathed.
Chapter Forty Two
Windy
This is the first crime scene with a dead body I’ve ever seen and it’s a lot to take in. I know by looking at the victim’s injuries that my profile of Georgia being a sadist is correct. The man has numerous cuts on his body. He has been stabbed in his chest and by the amount of wounds the poor man has on his body, she took her time. Though he’s wearing his shirt it has been left unbuttoned to expose the cuts and abrasions on his body.
After seeing what she’s capable of I’m more determined than ever that she won’t get her hands on me. This is enough to scare the most seasoned of law enforcement officials – except perhaps for the police officer who looks like a centerfold in sensible shoes. She’s a little too interested in Thorn, and he’s trying a little too hard to remain neutral. The history between them couldn’t be more obvious. That woman has had my man, knows what it’s like to be touched by him. I close my eyes briefly, reminding myself that Thorn has done nothing to give me any reason to be concerned. But I can feel jealousy coursing through my veins like snake venom.
“We’ve got to catch this woman,” I say, needing to say something even if I’m just stating the obvious. I’ve got to keep my head in the game. “She’ll continue to kill, Thorn. She enjoys what she’s doing to these men.”
“We’ll find her, baby, don’t you worry,” he says softly, pulling me close to his side and kissing the top of my head. I look up to see Officer “Marie” staring at us with a frown. After a long moment, she nods subtly at Thorn and I glance up at his face to see that he is returning her look with a cool, neutral stare of his own. A look of understanding passes between them before she turns away and engages one of the police detectives in a conversation about the boat owner’s statement.
As I open my mouth to speak, Thorn pulls me in close to his body, wrapping me in his arms nice and snug as he nuzzles my neck. Then he whispers for my ears only, “It’s you, girl. Always been you. I may not have understood that completely until recently -- and I will confess to wasting a lot of time along the way – but,” he raises his head to meet my eyes, “there’s only you.”
Well. As far as I’m concerned, that’s that. “That was some speech,” I say softly.
“You know it,” he says solemnly.
To our left, Harley rolls his eyes and mutters, “Timber….” He shoots me his signature wink before strolling away in the direction of the boat. I do my best to suppress a grin but fail miserably when I see Thorn narrow his eyes at his friend. Then he looks down at me with soft eyes, before murmuring, “Damn straight.”
We step apart, our tender moment over for now. He turns to Dr. Brinkley and is immediately all business. “We need to look back in her past and see if she has any old vendettas or grudges. Maybe we can anticipate her next move and catch her before she kills someone else.”
I look at the doctor as I speak. “The only thing we know for sure is that she’s coming after you. It isn’t a matter of if, but when.”
Chapter Forty Three
Dr. Brinkley
Once again, sleep eludes me. It’s unacceptable for Georgia to be loose like this, for her to be out from under my control, my…protection. She must be apprehended and if my plan is going to work, I’m going to have to work alone. I’m the only person she responds to—the only one who ‘gets’ her—the only one who understands her.
I’ve spent my entire career studying the minds of the mentally ill, and she has spent the last five years studying mine. I know her next kill is only moments away so I feel a sickness in my gut when my cell phone rings. I have that same sense of unexplainable certainty that it’s her, but – no, it can’t be; instead, I see a number that I deleted from my Contacts months ago and never thought to see again. I answer with a snarl, “Deana, why the hell are you calling me?”
“Oh, darling, trouble in paradise?” Georgia’s silky voice is the last thing I expect to hear. My mind was bracing for a different conversation entirely. She continues in a gloating voice, “I’m so very concerned. You see, the longer you avoid me, the more people will die.”
“What, no cooling off period?” I ask in a biting tone.
“No sense
getting snippy with me, this is your fault, not mine. You know as well as I do, any power you have is because I’ve given it to you. Meet me somewhere alone.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Very well,” she says dismissively. “As I said, the choice is yours.” I can hear a woman in the background who has evidently been gagged up until this point, screaming. I already know who it is, but hearing Deana’s voice as she screams my name only confirms that Georgia is leading us in a new, horrific direction in this nightmare.
“Don’t do this, Georgia,” I plead.
“Oh, you recognize her screams, do you?” Georgia asks lazily, as if preoccupied. “I wonder, is that how a woman sounds screaming your name during a hard fuck? I’ve always wondered about that, you know. Anywhoo, I heard all about your unexpected visitor the other day so I decided to pay her a little visit to make sure she understands that her services are no longer needed.”
Sweat rolls down my temple to my jawline as this new reality sinks in. Deana is at the mercy of a psychopath. Because of me. Much like a shard of glass slicing into my skin, I feel…something. Regret? Compassion? I’m not even sure what name to put to it, but it bursts out of me as I yell into the phone, “I’ll meet you! I’ll meet you! Just stop--”
But she lays the phone down and I listen, frozen in place, my hand extended out in front of me as if I can somehow stop her. As I listen to Deana shriek in agony, it’s all quite clear: Georgia is on an epic, bloody rampage…but she needs to make this my fault. Narcissists don’t take responsibility for their offenses. I really should have seen this coming.
Georgia’s voice turns nasty, the coquettish seductress long gone as she torments her victim for my ears alone, every sentence interrupted by Deana’s agony. “I can’t stand looking at your face. What shall I do with this pretty, pretty face, hmm? You’re not worthy of him!” Her voice turns pouty as she taunts her, “Did you break his heart?” Another scream, then another. Georgia’s voice becomes dull, almost monotone, as she follows her unique behavioral arc I’ve studied for years. She’s drawing her energy inward…preparing for the death blow. She sounds almost bored. “That’s not what I heard. I heard you were a boring fuck who didn’t know. When. To. Leave!” Now, the crescendo, her voice shrieking dementedly as I picture her hand raising her weapon high, about to strike. “Stupid bitch, don’t you know I hold his heart in my hand?!”
I’m on my knees on the floor, clutching the phone to my ear as Deana’s screams of agony reach a fever pitch before fading to a series of gurgles, then…nothing. The abrupt silence would suggest a relatively quick death. She’s making her point—give myself up to her, or more people will die. The only question is…will she kill me, too?
Chapter Forty Four
Windy
“I don’t like the idea of you going into work while this woman’s on the loose,” my man says as he walks into the bedroom, fresh from a shower. I pause mid-stroke as I brush my hair, just looking at all the pretty. His biceps bulge as dries his hair with a towel, another towel hanging precariously just below the delicious “V” of muscle that cradles his lower abs. He wears the second towel in deference to Melissa, even though she hasn’t been around much in the last few days.
He catches me checking him out and my cheeks heat as I lay the brush down on the dresser top. I look in the mirror and watch him prowl up behind me, that slow, sexy smile spreading across his rugged features. He slides his arms around me from behind, smiling against my neck as he whispers seductively while planting kisses there, “Maybe I should…persuade you…to stay home. Because…mmmm…I can be quite persuasive when I set my mind to it.” His voice is a throaty rumble as he reaches down for the towel at his hip – right when my phone rings.
“Dammit,” he complains as I reach for the phone, check the screen and immediately put it on speaker. It’s Dr. Brinkley, telling us that Georgia has killed again. The anguish in his voice lets me know there is more to the story.
“She killed Deana. Brutally. And she made me listen over the phone while she did it. I have no idea where she called from. I’ve made a decision. I think it might be in our best interests for Thorn to bug my house. No doubt she’ll come for me; this way, when she does you’ll be aware of what’s going on.”
“It makes sense, Thorn,” I interject; ready to do anything that will stop the senseless killing.
He nods slowly, considering Brinkley’s idea. Finally, he says, “You know, Doc…you know better than to blame yourself for what she’s doing. It isn’t your fault she’s obsessed with you. It isn’t your fault she’s a killing machine.”
“I’m trying to remember that,” Dr. Brinkley says with a sigh. “But Deana’s screams, they’ll haunt me for the rest of my life. So if Georgia wants to use me as her excuse to kill, then I want to use her plan against her to catch her.”
Chapter Forty Five
Dr. Brinkley
Guilt is a funny thing, unless you’re the one being tormented by it, and then there is nothing humorous about it in the least. It has a way of wrapping its talons around your mind and forcing you to listen to its accusations. The only way to rid myself of the relentless self-recriminations that fill my head is to help catch a killer.
I’m not a man given to allowing my private life to be monitored by outsiders but these are extenuating circumstances and the need to do so goes far beyond this being about just me. Even I can see through the haze of my obsession that society cannot tolerate having Georgia running loose. As badly as she wants to be near me, she has sealed her fate. Her latest crimes will most likely land her in a maximum security prison. She’ll probably try to persuade the courts she isn’t mentally stable enough to stand trial or be placed in prison, but it will never work.
The doorbell cuts through my thoughts and I do a once over, making certain everything is in place before I answer the door to Thorn and Windy. In another irony, I find myself feeling grateful for Windy’s connection to Thorn. Undercover Elite may be the only option I have to restore the balance of power in my world and to find redemption from the voices of guilt chipping away relentlessly at my soul.
Windy
I’m not surprised when we enter the doctor’s home to see everything is neatly in order. The décor is a contemporary mix of black leather and chrome. A bookshelf lines the wall with all of the latest psychiatry journals and medical books.
Thorn sets a box on the counter and gets right to the point. “I know this is difficult for you and that you’re protective of your privacy, but I think you would agree that the steps we’re about to take are for the greater good. It’s necessary for us to track your calls and record them. I wouldn’t be surprised if she shows up on your doorstep. Now, I know you don’t believe she’ll kill you, but the alternative isn’t pretty either. Nothing is certain when dealing with a fugitive. Georgia will do anything to remain free.”
Though the doctor is nodding his head in agreement with Thorn, the dark circles under his eyes give testimony to the fact he won’t sleep peacefully again until she’s safely behind bars.
Though I doubt I’ll understand what he’s doing I follow behind Thorn as he makes his way through the house and begins setting up surveillance that will hopefully help us catch a killer. His expertise is impressive and I love seeing him digging in and doing field work like this. It’s probably a lot more interesting for him than following me around. But when he smacks my ass and winks as he passes me in the hall, I don’t think he minds.
“I’m going to make some coffee,” Dr. Brinkley calls from the kitchen. I know it’s just his way of getting away from us as we work. If he doesn’t have to see us intruding on his privacy then maybe it won’t be real.
Chapter Forty Six
Dr. Brinkley
I manage to make it through the process of my home being wired with the latest security system. Thorn is also going to follow up with the police about setting up periodic patrols by my house. He and Windy have been gone for a while now and I relish b
eing alone with my thoughts.
I don’t think I’ve ever before been this conflicted over any one incident. I want her captured, and I want her caged; I want her. She is the first woman I’ve ever felt a connection with on a deeper level than just sex. I’ve never touched her and yet she holds my body captive. It refuses to engage in sex with another woman unless I close my eyes and imagine it’s her body I’m sinking into. I guess when it’s all said and done, I’m just as sick as she is.
I make my way to the bar and pour a bourbon three fingers deep, tossing it back and reveling in the warm numbness it provides. I contemplate taking something to help me sleep and decide against it, opting for another drink instead.
I disrobe and get into bed, but I have no illusions of sleeping tonight. I’ll need all my faculties if I’m forced to encounter my patient tonight. It isn’t a matter of if, but when.
Chapter Forty Seven
Thorn
I hate situations like this where you’re just a sitting duck awaiting the enemy. I pull Windy’s body in close to mine, breathing in her scent and feeling good about the fact I have been able to keep her safe up until now. I can only hope Georgia realizes her obsession has no interest in my woman. The threat that hangs over her has my hackles up in a big way, and I need to feel her tonight, inside and out.
“Come here,” I murmur as I pull her nude body on top of mine, taking in the beautiful curves that belong to me. She sits up, straddling me. I cup her breasts and massage them, watching her eyelids grow heavier with every stroke. Her tits really are magnificent; I can’t get enough of them. Hell, everything about her is perfect for me.
Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2) Page 16
