Profile for Seduction

by Karen Whiddon

  “True. I’ll call him later and explain. What’d Feiney have to say?”

  Taking a deep breath, she continued. “He’s back to his old games.” Briskly, she repeated what her nemesis had said.

  “That scumbag is going to pay,” he ground out. Marc scanned the surrounding area.

  “He’s not here.”

  “Then why were you running?”

  She shrugged. “Not because he was chasing me. I like to run. It helps to relieve tension.”

  Nodding, he appeared to take her statement at face value. All cops had some way to relieve stress. Some chose religion, others hobbies, many alcohol. Lea ran.

  “What’d he want?”

  She thought for a moment before answering. “Me. He claims to believe we’re soul mates.”

  He watched her with narrowed eyes. “And?” he prodded.

  As she was about to speak, her phone rang again. As she raised it to check the caller ID, Marc snatched it from her hand.

  “Talk to me,” he snarled, and then listened. A moment later, with a sheepish look on his handsome face, he handed the cell back to her. “This guy says he’s your brother. His name is Dominic.”

  Unable to keep from grinning, she held the phone to her ear. “Hey, Dom. Did you talk to Mom?”

  “No.” Her brother’s voice vibrated with barely concealed panic. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Yesterday. Why?”

  “She won’t answer the phone. I left a message on the answering machine and then tried the cell.”

  “So? Maybe she’s busy. I’m sure she’ll call you back.”

  Dominic made a sound—part exasperation, part embarrassment. “Yeah. Maybe. But I got impatient. I texted her 811.” Their own private, family code which meant not an emergency, but still urgent. Call immediately.

  “And then?” Lea asked, both dreading his answer and knowing what he was going to say.

  “And then nothing. She never called me back.”

  “I’m sure there are a thousand reasons,” Lea said, managing to sound confident even though her insides had turned to ice. “No way Feiney got her.”

  Beside her, she sensed Marc Kenyon going tense. She ignored him.

  “If he did…” Her brother swore.

  Lea glanced at her watch. “He hasn’t had enough time. It hasn’t been more than a few minutes since I got off the phone with him.”

  “Got off the phone with him?”

  Mentally, she groaned. “Yeah. He called me.”

  “How’d he get your number?”

  “Probably off the Internet. He was really good at that kind of stuff before he went in. A professional hacker, remember? Anyway, my point is that he hasn’t had enough time to call me and then grab Mom.”

  “Unless he called from her house,” Dom said, sounding both pissed and worried.

  Damn. She hadn’t thought of that. Normally, in any other case, she would have. Why she hadn’t this time, she didn’t know. She couldn’t afford any slipups, not with Feiney.

  Fear stabbed her, sharp and sudden. “The house,” she repeated. “I don’t think so, but better safe than sorry. I’ll go there right now and check on her.”

  “No.” Dom sounded adamant. “Not you. Call the police or send some of those other Feebies you work with. You don’t need to be anywhere near where Feiney might be.”

  “It’s my case.”

  “I’ll pull strings. Call your SAC.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “This is my job, my life. I can take care of myself. I don’t want you messing with my career, you hear me?”

  “I hear you. But I can’t help being concerned. I still think you should let someone else handle this one.”

  “Whatever. I’m gonna let you go now. I’ll call you when I find Mom.” Disconnecting the call, Lea glanced at Marc. “Sorry to run, but I’ve got to go check on my mother and make sure she’s all right.”

  “Feiney?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded. “It’s a possibility. He’s targeting me, therefore he’ll target my family.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Marc’s tone left no room for argument.

  “That’s not necessary,” she said stiffly. “You heard what I told my brother. Ditto for you. You’ve got a job to do, a team to keep you briefed.”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “Are you always such a hard-ass?”

  “Go away.” She shooed him with her hand. “Good luck with the case, Kenyon. Nice seeing you again.”

  He didn’t move. “Sorry. I’m going. You need backup. Especially if Feiney is there…”

  The thought terrified her, making her throat close up, which brought another shot of rage that she had to tamp down.

  No one—especially Marc—could know how dangerously close to out of control Feiney made her feel.

  Still… She glanced at Marc’s broad shoulders and well-toned physique. No harm in taking along a little backup. She could hold herself together. After all, she’d been doing nothing but that for the last six months.

  “Fine. Let’s go.” She spun around, heading back, trying to look confident while blinking back a dizzying sense of déjà vu. Her phone started ringing again; Dom calling back. She answered with a terse question. “Did you get ahold of Mom?”

  “Not yet, but about the Feiney case—”

  “I’m on my way to Mom’s. I’ll call you back once I know she’s all right.” She pushed the off button and disconnected the call.

  At Marc’s curious look, she sighed. “My brother, calling to argue. My car’s in the parking garage. Level three.”

  “I’m in level one.”

  This stopped her short. “Are we going to have a pissing contest with every decision? If so, we’d better part ways now.”

  “No.” He gave her a slow once-over. “They issued me a vehicle. On the off chance Feiney knows what you drive, maybe we should take that.”

  Made sense. She felt her face flush. They both knew there was a good possibility Feiney had a complete report on her. Where she lived, the names of her friends and family, what she drove. Any information was obtainable these days, even from inside prison, with the right person and an Internet connection.

  “Sorry. You’re right. Where’s your car?”

  He pointed. “It’s parked at ground level in the garage, near the elevator. Let’s go.”

  Uncomfortable and hating feeling that way, she took off at a jog. Despite his size, Marc easily kept pace with her. When they reached his car, a standard issue, navy-blue sedan that screamed law enforcement, he used the remote to unlock the doors. She slid inside and buckled up without looking at him.

  The odd sense of attraction and uneasiness continued to make her feel both uncomfortable and furious. She spent a lot of time angry these days, something her therapist claimed to be working on. The way she looked at it, resentment was a hundred times better than self-pity. Anger fueled her, kept her going on days when she wondered why she bothered to get out of bed.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “I’d feel better if you’d let me drive.”

  “I’m familiar with the area,” he chided. “Give me the address and I’m sure I can find it.”

  Whatever. Still slightly uncomfortable, she shifted in her seat and rattled off the address.

  Without another word, he pulled out and headed toward the freeway. He had the radio tuned to a local country music station. Telling herself to relax—not easy when her mother might be danger—she concentrated on watching the traffic.

  Only the music filled the car as he drove. Grateful that he didn’t feel the need to engage in pointless chatter, she ran through various scenarios in her head. Having a plan of action always helped, especially when one was as emotionally involved as she.

  Exiting I-635, they pulled up in front of the well-kept, brick ranch house shaded by huge oaks and purple crepe myrtles. The place looked like it always did—immaculately cared for, with a perfectly manicured lawn of lush Saint Augustine
grass. The windows sparkled in the sunlight. Nothing looked out of place.

  She took a deep breath, clearing her mind and trying to look at her childhood home objectively. If Feiney had been here, he could have gone in through the garage or busted out a window in the back. Worse, he could have followed Lillian Cordasic in and, even now, might be inside.

  The idea sent a chill through her.

  “You ready?” Marc looked intent, focused.

  Heart pounding, she nodded. Drawing her weapon, she exited the car and headed to the left side of the garage. He did the same, taking the right. Moving quickly and keeping a low profile, they canvassed the sides of the house. Again, they found nothing out of the ordinary. The grass had been recently mowed and the flower beds were undisturbed. A six-foot-tall cedar fence enclosed the backyard, keeping unwanted intruders out.

  Marc joined her as she tried the gate. Locked.

  “No way anyone got in here.”

  “That’s a good thing,” he murmured.

  “Yes. She always keeps this locked.” Worry coiled tight inside her chest, making breathing difficult. Again she drew upon her simmering irritation, chasing away the fear.

  “We need to go inside.”

  “Let me try calling her again.” Digging her phone from her pocket, she hit redial. The call went straight to voice mail. “Her cell is still off.”

  “Try the house.”

  She did, hearing the sound of the phone ringing inside. Finally, the answering machine picked up and she disconnected the call.

  “No answer. Where the hell is she?”

  He gave her a long look. “Do you want to call for backup?”

  “No. I don’t want to get the locals all riled up unless we have to.” Digging in her pocket, she produced a key. “This is to the front door. Are you ready?”

  “Of course.” As she met his blue eyes, a jolt went through her. Damnedest thing.

  “You know, if Feiney was here, he’ll have left something to let us know.”

  That was something she didn’t want to see, or even think about. Again she had to tamp back the emotions. “So help me, if that bastard has touched one hair on my mother’s head…” Though prayers had never helped her in the past, she found herself muttering a quick one under her breath, too low for Marc to hear.

  At least he didn’t give her any of the usual platitudes. If he’d told her everything was going to be all right, in that particularly low, level voice men sometimes used to talk to hysterical women, she would have had no choice but to hit him.

  Unlocking the front door, she leaned in. “Mom?” No answer. But then she hadn’t really been expecting one.

  Once inside, she and Marc checked out every room, side by side, guns still drawn. Like partners. A weird feeling she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on. Instead, she viewed everything with an impartial eye, trying for the professional detachment she’d once been so good at invoking. Elegant furnishings, polished wood. Quiet and perfect. Everything looked normal, impossibly neat and as unlike her own chaotic apartment as it could possibly get.

  Nothing. Not one single item appeared out of place.

  “She’s not here.” Marc touched her arm and she jerked away. Purely reflex.

  “Sorry.” Though he’d no doubt meant to be reassuring, physical touch was the last thing she needed right now.

  Except her mother’s, of course. She wanted her mother. Tragically, Lea knew intimately what Feiney would do if he’d captured her. The Cowtown Killer didn’t believe in quick and merciful killings. No, he liked to drag out his torture, along with cruel, humiliating sex.

  Wincing, she closed her eyes, trying to will away the images, allowing the familiar—and oddly comforting—anger to fill her instead.

  “Hey.” Marc touched her again, this time ignoring her resistance and slinging his arm across her shoulder to pull her into his side. “Take it easy, Cordasic. She’s not here and there’s no sign of forced entry. None of Feiney’s glaring clues. The place looks completely normal. Don’t torture yourself.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. There’s no sense in imagining anything when I don’t know for sure what happened.”

  “Exactly. Deal with what you do know for now. That’s the best way you can help your mom.”

  Clenching her jaw, she nodded. Though she knew she should, this time she didn’t pull away. He saw her as fragile, which she hated. The only time she’d ever been like that was when Feiney had kept her bound and brutalized. She’d sworn never to be anything even remotely resembling fragile ever again.

  “Feiney is dangerous,” she said, stating the obvious.

  “I know. That’s why we’re going to catch him.”

  His choice of wording got her attention. “We’re? I still haven’t decided on this whole working together thing.”

  “Later.” Releasing her, he crossed to the bay window and peered out. “Let’s locate your mother first. Call her again.”

  Without comment, she hit redial. Again, the call immediately went to voice mail. “Nothing. Still no answer.”

  “She must have turned off her phone.”

  “She never does that.” Meeting his gaze, she let him see the fury in her own. “I’ll reiterate. If that madman took my mom, all bets are off.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Sugar, all bets are already off.”

  Sugar? For a moment she stood frozen, staring. Then, shaking her head, she did one more hopeless check of her phone, just in case her mother had left a voice mail or something and she’d missed it. Nothing.

  She went to the laundry room and opened the door to the garage. Empty. Relief flooded her. Slowly, she turned to look at him. “Her car’s gone.”

  “See?” Holstering his gun, he nodded. “She’s out somewhere. Now all we need to do is locate her.”

  “Yeah. But I won’t feel better until I see her for myself and make sure she’s all right. She always has her cell with her and it’s always on.” Once again, she hit redial, listening as the call again went directly to voice mail.

  “Still no answer.” They both were aware that Feiney could have snatched her while she was out shopping.

  “I’m sure she’s fine.” Expression inscrutable, he crossed to the window. “I’m thinking Feiney couldn’t have resisted bragging if he actually had her. You would have heard from him by now.”

  Oddly enough, this reassured her. She let out a breath she hadn’t even been aware of holding and nodded. To keep herself busy, she began a second search of the house, focusing on the kitchen and the master bedroom. This time, she hoped to find some clue as to where her mother had gone.

  The sound of the garage door going up made her freeze. She hurried back to the living room.

  “Is that her car?” Marc pointed out the bay window as a red Mini Cooper pulled into the driveway.

  “Yes!” She ran to the garage, impatiently waiting for her mother to finish pulling in.

  The car door opened and Lillian Cordasic climbed out, a broad smile on her face. “Lea, what are you doing here?”

  “Where were you? I called your cell several times and you didn’t answer.”

  Slowly, Lillian’s smile faded. “I was working out at the gym.” She frowned. Lea realized her mother wore workout clothes and had her normally well-coifed hair in a ponytail.

  Lillian cocked her head. “What’s going on?”

  Glancing at Marc, Lea took a deep breath. “You’re going to hear about this on the news anyway. I’m surprised you haven’t already. Feiney’s out.”

  “Out? What do you mean? How is that possible?”

  Marc stepped forward. “He escaped Huntsville. Both the FBI and the sheriff’s office are looking for him.”

  “And you are?”

  Marc held out his hand. “Marc Kenyon, Tarrant County Sheriff’s Office.”

  Shaking it, Lillian met his eyes. “You’re the one who rescued my daughter.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re protecting her now.”<
br />
  “Not protecting, Mom,” Lea cut in. “We’re working together to recapture Feiney.”

  Marc shot her a look, but didn’t comment.

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” More than anyone, her mom realized what a toll the kidnapping and subsequent medical leave had taken on Lea. And she didn’t even know the half of it.

  “I have to, Mom. Let’s leave it at that.”

  After a long pause, Lillian nodded. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  No, they wouldn’t. Lea meant to make certain of that. “I talked to Dom. He wants you to go to Vegas to visit him and Rachel.”

  “I won’t leave you alone. Especially not now.”

  Knowing how much her mother detested scenes in front of strangers, Lea sighed. “Somehow I knew you’d say that.”

  “Mrs. Cordasic…” Marc focused his baby blues on her mother. “We have reason to believe your life is in danger.”

  Coolly, Lillian looked back. “I’m more worried about my daughter. That lunatic will go after her.”

  “Mom.” Lea put her arm around her mother’s slender shoulders. “Feiney’s not above using you to get to me. If I have to worry about you, I won’t be nearly as effective.”

  “I don’t care about effective. I’ll go to Vegas if you’ll go with me.”

  “I can’t do that.” Frustrated, Lea moved away. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “I know nothing of the sort.”

  “Mom, Dominic will be calling at any moment to invite you. Please give his invitation to visit Vegas some serious thought.”

  “Dominic wanted to come here, too, didn’t he?” Her mother was very perceptive where her children were concerned.

  Frustrated, all Lea could do was nod.

  “That settles it. I’m staying.” Glancing at Marc, Lillian gave a determined smile. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee maybe? I baked one of my favorite cakes for the bridge game tomorrow, but I can always bake another. Would you like some?”

  “We can’t stay, Mom,” Lea said, not giving Marc a chance to answer. She shook her head for emphasis as Lillian started toward the door. “We’ve got to get back to the office.”

  “I understand. Will you promise to come have supper within the next week? The sooner the better.”