Ties That Bind

by Anne Patrick

  "You two keep this up and we're going to run out of Kleenex," he warned. Neither appeared to be listening to him, though, their eyes glued to the television screen. "You guys are starting to depress me," he tried again but received no response. Giving up, he leaned back against the pillows at the end of the sofa and watched them.

  Perfect strangers less than forty-eight hours ago, the two appeared best of friends. The thought made him smile.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Austin awoke to the smell of fried bacon. He and his daughter had lived alone for three years and not once did he remember her fixing bacon and eggs for breakfast. He was lucky to get pancakes, and that was only when she wanted something. A raise in her allowance, a camping trip into the mountains with Jesse's family, or to go shopping for new clothes. As he walked barefoot to the kitchen, he couldn't help but wonder what bacon and eggs would cost him.

  He stopped in his tracks when he saw Jo standing at the stove instead of Bailey. She wore an apron over a yellow and blue sundress that looked very much like the one he'd bought his daughter for Christmas, and her dark auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He wasn't sure which pleased him more, how comfortable she looked standing there in his kitchen, or how sexy she looked in a dress.

  As he glanced at the plate of bacon on the counter, it dawned on him they didn't even have bacon and eggs in the house. Then he remembered Jo hadn't returned his keys after her trip to the video store. "You know taking a patrol car for a joyride as an adult carries a much stiffer penalty then it does when you're a juvenile."

  "Ah, but I know the sheriff." She turned to greet him with a wicked grin. "And I hear he's a real sap for a home-cooked breakfast."

  "I think I'm going to have to separate you and my daughter." He smiled.

  She brushed past him carrying a heaping plate of bacon and eggs. "Afraid she might tell me all your deep dark secrets?"

  "I have no secrets, I'm an open book." He watched Jo set the plate on the table. His daughter was definitely up to something; he doubted Jo thought of this all on her own. Judging from what she'd told him of her lifestyle, romance wasn't a big part of it. "When Bailey cooks breakfast for me, there is usually a price to be paid. So what's this going to cost me?"

  "This is just my way of saying, 'thank you' for yesterday." She walked to the refrigerator and removed a carton of orange juice. "I must confess, the breakfast was Bailey's idea, though. I was thinking more on the line of dinner, but she said breakfast was your favorite meal."

  "That would depend on what you would have fixed for dinner."

  "I don't know. I hadn't thought that far ahead. Fried chicken maybe, or spaghetti."

  "Fried chicken with mashed potatoes and white country gravy."

  "What's wrong with spaghetti?"

  "Spaghetti's fine, but chicken is better."

  She tossed him a wry smile as she strolled back to the counter. "I'll remember that the next time I want to fix dinner for a man."

  "That's low."

  "And trying to finagle another meal out of me isn't?" she retorted, returning with the salt and pepper.

  "I just wanted you to feel free to practice your culinary skills on Bailey and me if the mood were to strike you again."

  "Go tell your daughter breakfast is ready before it gets cold."

  *****

  Jo accompanied Austin to the office so that he could finish up some paperwork before heading to Portland. Sitting at his desk, he found it very hard to concentrate with Jo sitting directly across from him thumbing through a magazine. His mind kept drifting back to this morning, and the image of her standing in his kitchen.

  During breakfast, Bailey had informed them of a ski trip Jesse and her parents were planning for the weekend after next. Though she hadn't asked to go, Austin suspected she was slowly working up to it. No doubt the breakfast had figured into her manipulation, and he couldn't help but wonder if Jo had voluntarily played along.

  A smile formed at the memory of the two of them sitting in front of the television last night, then this morning, Jo wearing Bailey's clothes. It appeared they were becoming good friends, which was a feat in itself since Bailey didn't make friends easily. She was a lot like him in that sense. But the friendships they did make were usually very close ones.

  Austin thought of how easily he could talk to Jo. Man or woman, there were very few people he felt that comfortable around, and he entertained the thought of taking their friendship to a new level. He'd thought of kissing her practically every moment she was near, especially last night after he'd awakened and found her holding his hand. Had it been her presence that made him sleep better than he had in weeks? Come to think of it, he couldn't remember ever sleeping as peacefully as he had last night.

  "Are you about done there?" Jo tossed her magazine in the chair next to hers.

  Apparently, patience wasn't one of her virtues. "Almost."

  She gave a heavy sigh as she stood and walked to the window facing the outer office. Austin's gaze followed her, wishing she had changed her clothes when they'd stopped by her motel room for her laptop. Dress slacks and blazers weren't nearly as distracting as the sleeveless sundress she wore.

  Dragging his attention back to his work, he scanned an accident report that one of his younger deputies had submitted.

  "Do you have anyone checking out the owners of vans in the area?"

  "Pendergrass did," he answered, not bothering to glance up for fear of losing his train of thought.

  "And nothing on the blue tarp?"

  This time, he looked at her. "I would have told you, Jo."

  "I was just asking."

  Her injured expression prompted a twinge of guilt to rise in him. He knew she was bored, that she wasn't used to just sitting around, but judging from the reaction that he'd received from Pendergrass, he didn't want to risk any more unrest by involving her more on the case. He knew he was probably being a coward about it; he was after all the sheriff, but he also knew the importance of teamwork. Right now, the morale of his crew was at an all time low.

  "I sense I'm getting on your nerves. I'll just go bug Slim for a while," she said, starting toward the door.

  "Wait, Jo. We can go now. I'll just bring this stuff with me and read it on the way while you're driving," he said, hoping to keep her boredom at bay.

  *****

  Austin found it even more difficult to concentrate on the road. A half hour into the trip, he finally gave up, placing the paperwork beside him on the seat. Glancing over at Jo, he found her tapping her slim fingers against the steering wheel as she sang along to a popular Eric Clapton tune.

  As if sensing his gaze, she turned with a smile. "Finished already?"

  "Can't concentrate."

  "I can turn down the radio."

  Reaching for the volume at the same time, their hands collided. "Leave it. I like this song," he said, quickly drawing back his hand.

  "I thought you liked country?"

  Figuring she'd come to that conclusion having seen his CD collection, he corrected her. "Bailey's the country music fan. I'm rock and roll through and through."

  As they entered the city, Austin found himself impressed with her driving skills but thought she drove too fast. "You know there is a speed limit," he reminded as she maneuvered from one lane to another, just in front of a semi. The deafening sound of an air horn alerted them of the trucker's annoyance.

  "I'm used to driving in D.C. during rush hour. I know how fast I need to drive. Unless you want to get sideswiped or rear-ended, you drive just as crazy as everyone else."

  "Is that where you live?"

  "In Georgetown."

  "So you don't have that long of a commute to Quantico?"

  "A little over an hour in traffic. The rent is outrageous, but it's convenient."

  "You rent?"

  "Yes. I've thought about buying a place, but I always thought I might transfer back west someday. I miss the warmer weather during the winter months."

  B
efore he knew it, they were at the airport. His apprehensions concerning Jo's speed tripled as he watched her maneuver her way up to the terminal of Global Air. She then flipped on the emergency lights, jumped from the Jeep, flashed her badge at the baggage clerk, and disappeared inside the terminal before he was even out of the car.

  Austin caught up to Jo at the escalator. "What's your hurry?"

  "Sorry, I thought you were right behind me." She slowed her pace, but not by much.

  "No, I was recovering from the near heart attack you gave me when you nearly plowed over the group of tourists exiting the cab you almost rear-ended."

  Jo chuckled as she continued on her way.

  He figured her badge had more clout than his, as she'd already demonstrated downstairs, so he gave her the honors when they approached the bartender in the airport lounge.

  After the introductions, Austin pulled out the photos he'd brought along of the victims. The bartender studied each one of them carefully. Austin pointed to Margaret Miller's photo. "She used her credit card in here a little over two weeks ago. She may have been with a man similar in age, probably well dressed, maybe in a business suit." Then turning to see if Jo wanted to add anything, he found she was no longer at his side. Searching the lounge, he caught sight of her sitting at a table near the back of the room.

  *****

  Jo leaned back in her chair and concentrated on her surroundings. The killer had been here with the victims, she knew it. She felt it. The mixture of voices she'd heard in her vision had come from here. Why at the airport lounge, though? Why not at a club or bar in the city? Jo looked around the room cluttered with round tables and barstools. The lounge was half full of patrons, many wearing business suits, and carrying briefcases, while others were dressed more casually. She strained to hear the conversations going on around her, catching only bits and pieces of dialogue. Some were waiting to board a flight; others were killing time waiting to make a connection to another destination. Though the banter was friendly, no one seemed to know the other person that well. Then it dawned on her; that was why he chose this place. No one was likely to remember him. Consumed with their own lives, he was liable to go unnoticed.

  Why was he choosing women with strong personalities instead of passive ones, though? Was he drawn to them because of someone in his past?

  Austin joined her and offered the information he'd gathered from the bartender. "He identified Miller and Bradshaw and was pretty sure Miller was with someone when she came in, but couldn't remember what they looked like or even if it was a man or woman. The waitress is due in any minute, maybe she can be of more help."

  "She was with our man, they probably came in here together," Jo said numbly. "Let me see the photos." He handed them over and Jo placed them down on the table and studied each of them. Though she'd looked at them several dozen times, their images permanently imprinted in her mind, she hoped a visual aid would get her started.

  "Don't do this, Jo."

  Jo ignored his plea. She glanced up from the photos and looked toward the entrance of the lounge. Chill bumps rose on her arms and her heart began to beat faster as the image of Margaret Miller began to flash in her mind. Smiling, he glanced across the table at the woman, listening attentively as she told him about her plans to open a second clothing store in Houston. Her face practically glowed as she beamed with pride of her accomplishments. He'd known she was the one on the plane, when she'd announced she was proudly divorced, telling him marriage was the last thing on her mind. The fact she was estranged from her family had sealed her fate. Didn't anyone believe in the family unit anymore? People were supposed to fall in love, get married, and have children. That is what life was all about, finding the one person made just for you and living the rest of your life with them.

  He smiled and stood as she excused herself to go to the restroom. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out the small brown bottle. Shaking out one of the ivory and red capsules, he glanced around to make sure no one was looking then emptied the capsule into her scotch and water, thankful she was on her second. It wouldn't take as long for the drug to kick in. Using his index finger, he stirred the drink, then leaned back and waited for her to return.

  "Jo!"

  The image shattered. Jo glanced around at her surroundings. It took a few seconds to remember where she was and why she was there.

  "Are you even listening to me?" Austin asked.

  "I'll be back." She stood, determined to learn what the killer's next move was.

  Austin grabbed her hand. "Please, Jo, you promised you wouldn't do this."

  "I have to." She jerked her hand free. "You talk to the waitress, and I'll be back in a few minutes."

  Adrenaline rushed through Jo's veins as she hurried through the airport, her mind working frantically to initiate another vision. She went down the escalator, glanced at the entrance of the airport, and calculated the distance back to the lounge. She recalled Lindsey's description of the drug's effects. They would have felt dizzy first, and then became disoriented.

  Having gained the woman's trust over a couple of drinks, he slipped them the drug, then offered to give them a lift somewhere, Jo surmised. But where?

  The last victim worked for Global Air, Jo recalled, an idea forming in her mind as to how to catch him. If he was a frequent flyer, there was a good possibility that he used the same airline when he traveled. She stepped to the check-in counter, presented her badge, and asked to see the woman's supervisor.

  A few minutes later a distinguished looking gentleman, with graying hair, in his late forties greeted her. "May I help you?"

  "I hope so." Jo showed her badge. "Special Agent McDaniels. I'm investigating a series of murders that have taken place over the past two and a half weeks and am going to need the passenger manifest of all flights coming into Portland this past weekend. Starting at noon Saturday and ending around two a.m. Monday morning," she said, giving herself plenty of leeway.

  "Does this have anything to do with our missing flight attendant?"

  "It's possible. But I need you to be very discreet." Jo figured the killer could just as easily be employed by the airline. She picked up a pen from the counter. "Do you have a piece of paper?" He tore off a piece from a pad behind the counter and handed it to her. Jo jotted down her name and the address of her motel in Claremont and then handed it to him. "I'd like it sent here, Federal Express as soon as possible. And remember, be very discreet."

  After glancing briefly at the paper, he looked back at Jo, his expression hardened. "These are the murders I read about in the paper a week or so ago, where the women were decapitated?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  "How can anyone even conceive something so horrible?"

  "I don't know. That's one of the questions I intend to ask the monster once I catch him."

  Interviewing the killer after apprehension was a form of closure for Jo, a part of the process she had to go through in order to put the case to rest. It was also a teaching aid in the apprehension of other serial killers.

  "I'll get right to work on this." He started to walk off but then turned back around. "Good luck in catching this guy, Agent McDaniels."

  "Thank you." Jo walked toward the terminal exit, concentrating on her early images. Okay, how did he take them from the airport?

  Jo stepped out into the warm sunlight and pulled her sunglasses from atop her head, shielding her eyes as she watched a crowd of people scurry into a shuttle bus, its destination, satellite parking. Too risky. She knew the odds of grabbing a parking place near the bus stops; there'd be too big a chance the victim could get away from him en route to his car. She noticed the long line of cabs waiting to transport departing passengers coming out of the terminal. Could he have taken a cab?

  Something wasn't fitting into place, though. If he slipped them the drug here at the airport, took a cab to wherever he had stashed his vehicle, the drug's effects would wear off long before he rea
ched Claremont. Meticulous in nature, she doubted he'd take the risk of the victim waking up en route.

  'He has to live here in Portland.'

  Her heart pounded in her chest. Forcing herself to take slow even breaths, she began to concentrate again, trying to force another vision. If he lives here in Portland, why does he take the bodies to Claremont?

  Jo's heart felt like it was going to burst and her head felt like it had a jackhammer inside it, pounding away at every nerve. She swallowed hard. All of the bodies were placed in the open; he didn't try to hide them. They were all found in a relatively short period of time after they'd been staged for discovery, their locations frequently traveled. He wanted them to be found, why?

  Her thoughts were shattered as she was thrust into another vision. He hugged the woman against his side, conscious of the driver's stare in the rearview mirror. "We had a bumpy flight, she had to take a sedative. I keep telling her that the chance of her having a car accident far exceeds dying in a plane crash." The driver smiled then returned his attention to the road. Peering down at the sleeping woman, he thought of the moment she would regain consciousness. Would she be as frightened as the first?

  She too had trusted him.

  If she had only said yes.

  If only she'd placed his love for her above her precious career.

  It hadn't been the first time his heart had been broken. He thought of the first time, she too had chosen her career over him. And she too would die. But not yet. She would be the last, his final conquest. In the weeks to come there'd be others just like her, and he'd bring them home to her, placing them in her own backyard. He thought of the irony and smiled.

  Someone grabbed Jo's arm. Her fist doubled, she turned sharply in alarm and met Austin's worried expression. Seemingly conscious of her exhausted state he opened his arms to her and she didn't hesitate stepping into them, seeking their warmth and security. "Listen to me, Jo. We aren't going to do it this way. We're going to catch this guy the old-fashioned way, with good old detective work." His words echoed against her ear as it lay against his chest.