Remi’s low voice tendrilled through the sudden haze of inspiration.
He leaned forward in his chair and tilted the laptop screen closer. None of the background information, profiles and character statements were doing them a damn bit of good because the men who’d been attacked didn’t exist anymore. Not psychologically. They’d been working off the assumption the victims would be the same men coming out the other side of a knife, but trauma had a way of changing people. Damn it. Dylan should’ve seen it before now.
A rush of adrenaline burned in his veins as he logged into the Warrant Information Network federal database. The information he needed didn’t fall under the normal purview of his job as a deputy US marshal. Law enforcement operations, fugitive investigations, warrant administration, threat management, witness security protocols, district investigations—none of that would help him right now but the network did give him access to the National Crime Information Center.
“That was Foster. He said Del Howe’s autopsy report was finalized an hour ago.” Remi closed the distance between her and where he sat at the kitchen table, her voice more tense than a few minutes ago.
Dylan pulled back from the laptop. He didn’t look at her, couldn’t. He knew it would’ve been only a matter of time before the truth came to light. He’d tried to warn her before they’d taken on the case, but now, everything he’d worked for these past three years would tell her exactly what kind of man she’d let into her office, into her bed.
Remi tossed her phone onto the table in front of him, the report on her screen. “You lied to me.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Falling in love was like handing someone a gun pointed at her heart and hoping they’d never pull the trigger.
Dylan had pulled the trigger.
Bits of conversation, whispered secrets and addictive kisses buzzed in her head from the past few days. Over and over, she’d ignored her instincts to keep her emotions locked behind the armor she’d spent most of her life constructing, and now she had to face the consequences. “You told me you’d only been to Del Howe’s cabin once, with permission from the owners and a key to get inside while he was off the premises. But this report details a sample of dried blood that matches your DNA embedded in a wound on the back of his left hand.”
She tried to keep herself from jumping to conclusions, but DNA didn’t lie. Curling her fingers into the centers of her palms, Remi battled to control the tremors fighting up her arms as every minute of the past three days came into question. She’d brought Dylan Cove into her office, depended on him with sensitive material for his investigations, let him into her bed and into her heart, and he’d lied to her.
Color drained from Dylan’s face, his body tensing as though considering his options, but there was no point in denying it. “You’re right. I lied.”
An invisible earthquake rocked through her, and she fought the urge to reach out for the chair. Pure, unadulterated anger exploded in her chest as the pieces of the puzzle she’d been more than willing to ignore from the beginning fit together. “You figured out who the New Castle Killer was, and you trailed his movements from Delaware to Oregon. You used your position as a US marshal to convince the owners of the cabin to let you search the place, but Howe must’ve come back to the property.”
He pushed away from the table, stood and faced her. Regret played across his handsome features, but it wouldn’t save him now. “Remi—”
“The DNA the ME recovered from the body was embedded in a wound across the bridge of Del Howe’s knuckles, Cove.” Emotional self-preservation arced through her, and she increased the space between them. Her weapon weighed heavy in her holster, but she hoped to hell he wouldn’t make her pull it. “You found the man responsible for killing three victims in New Castle, and you couldn’t let him get away with what he’d done. Just as you couldn’t stop looking for that boy all those years ago. Only instead of arresting him, you confronted him.”
“You’re damn right, I did.” A hardness she’d never experienced transformed his expression the moment she’d called him by his last name, and the light she’d come to crave in his gaze died. His attention dipped to her sidearm. “Everything you’ve said up until now is true. He came back before I finished searching the property, but I’d already found his closet of surveillance photos. He walked through the door, and all I saw was a man who’d targeted the one person I couldn’t stand to lose. You.
“We fought. He must’ve gotten a good hit in for that much DNA to be left in his knuckles. After I overpowered him, I warned him I’d kill him if anything happened to you, but I left the son of a bitch alive when I walked out of that house.” He raised his eyes to hers. “Don’t hold back on my account, Chief. You were on a roll.”
This wasn’t the man she’d come to know over these past few days, the one who’d made her mac and cheese, pulled her off the bathroom floor when she hadn’t been able to function and showed her passion beyond her wildest dreams. In that moment, she didn’t recognize the deputy she’d fallen for at all. Battle-ready tension wound through her. She wouldn’t reach for her weapon. Not unless Cove gave her a reason. She’d dealt with criminals every day on the job, but she’d never suspected one of her own.
“Go on, boss. We both know where you’re going with this. Say it.” He took a step toward her, and her fingers tingled for the warmth of steel in her grip. The small muscles in his jaw flexed under pressure, sharpening the angles of his cheekbones. “Accuse me of being the one who gave that bastard everything he deserved.”
“I can’t. There’s not enough evidence to prove what happened between you and Del Howe didn’t happen before his murder or resulted in his death. Yet.” A coldness swept through her as her conversation with Deputy Beckett Foster replayed in her head, and a small bit of emotional control returned. Dylan seemed to relax a fraction, shifting his weight between both legs as she came to terms with the real reason he’d accepted her offer to work in Oregon. “But Gresham PD was able to obtain a warrant using that sample to search your apartment.”
Physical pain bolted through her side as she struggled to keep her voice steady. “They found your case files on the New Castle Killer. They can prove you’ve been using USMS resources to investigate Del Howe the moment you graduated from Glynco. That’s why you applied for the marshals service and accepted my offer to work in the Oregon division, isn’t it? Not for the chance you and I’d be working together again, but because you were using me and this job to find him. You knew what you were doing. You knew it would hurt me, but somehow that didn’t stop you.”
The truth pushed through the cracks in her armor and destroyed everything in its path. Her eyes burned, but she wouldn’t let the tears fall. Not here. Not now.
“Am I under arrest?” The veins bulged in his arms.
“No. If it weren’t for you and your obsession with the case, we never would’ve connected Del Howe as the New Castle Killer.” She swallowed past the thickness in her throat but couldn’t stop the pain from spreading. “But as of this moment, you are suspended without pay until Gresham PD’s investigation is complete.”
Surprise softened the edges of his expression. “Remi, don’t do this—”
“You lied to me!” She forced herself to take a deep breath, but she’d already reached her breaking point. “You used my team, you used me, and now Gresham PD has made you their lead suspect in Del Howe’s murder. I can’t trust you.”
She pulled her shoulders back, drawing on the same strength that’d gotten her through the worst years of her life after her family had died. “Dylan Cove, you’re required to turn in your badge, your weapon and any additional notes you’ve collected during the case while Gresham PD continues to investigate Del Howe’s murder.”
He’d lied to her, lied to the team, lied to the police. While his actions had resulted in answering critical questions in the New Castle case, Remi couldn’t trust him. Not o
n her team, and not with her heart. Heat burned up her neck as he solemnly nodded his acceptance of the web he’d caught himself in.
“It was a pleasure, Chief Barton. Every minute.” Turning toward the kitchen table, he unholstered his weapon, released the magazine, cleared the chamber and set everything on the table. Cove unclipped his badge from his belt, stared down at it before he placed it beside his sidearm, and her heart shot into her throat. “Who knows? Maybe this isn’t the end.”
He crossed the room and rounded into the hallway leading to the front door. One breath. Two. Two beeps of the alarm announced his exit.
She forced one foot in front of the other, her legs heavy with grief, disbelief, betrayal. It wasn’t the fact that Dylan had been at the cabin. He’d been honest enough at the beginning of this investigation she’d known there was a possibility Forensics would come back on him. It was that he’d lied to her about confronting Del Howe. Not only that, he’d used her move into the US Marshals Service to advance his own agenda, and he dragged her and her team into the conspiracy. The killer hadn’t left behind much evidence, but now the DNA embedded in the victim’s knuckles proved Dylan had been in that cabin, that he’d struggled with the New Castle Killer. It was only a matter of time before the FBI implicated the rest of the Oregon division.
Remi punched in the code on the alarm panel at the door and armed the system, but her internal walls were already crumbling. From the moment he’d walked through the front door three nights ago, Dylan had chipped at the edges of her armor while simultaneously making her feel as though she had control. The sandwiches, the kisses, the way he’d held her in the shower. It had all been a lie. A ploy to obtain her trust and the resources she commanded. And it had worked. She’d actually believed there could’ve been more to them than the occasional stress relief. She’d believed she was enough. For him, for the victims of their investigations, for the witnesses they’d been assigned to protect.
Tears trailed down her cheeks. “None of it was real.” The words took shape, became real. She didn’t love him. How could she love someone who’d never really existed?
Turning back to the living room, she fought against the ache in the center of her chest. The pain in her side extended across her midsection, and Remi collapsed into the side of the bookcase. The books toppled one after the other onto the floor at her feet. She closed her eyes against the oncoming dizziness, but it never surfaced. No. This wasn’t the familiar gnaw of exhaustion or the loss of adrenaline leaving her empty. A gut-wrenching nausea stole the air from her lungs.
A sob escaped up her throat, and suddenly she was back in that cave, desperate for a single molecule of light to cut through the darkness. She pressed her fingers into the smooth wood, but in her mind, it was as coarse as thousands of tons of rock holding her prisoner, and Remi found herself completely and utterly alone. She heard nothing but the sound of her own breathing, and she hurt at the thought of never seeing the man who’d pulled her from the strangling grip of the past.
It was dark. It was cold. It was lonely.
Only, no one was coming to save her this time.
* * *
HE’D BECOME A SUSPECT.
Dirt and gravel crunched under his boots as he headed toward his SUV. He’d known it would’ve only been a matter of time. It’d been impossible for him to ensure he hadn’t left any trace inside Howe’s cabin after the struggle, but he’d left the killer alive and breathing. Bloody, but alive.
Dylan wrenched the driver’s-side door open and hauled himself inside. Studying the shadows creeping across the main window, he tried to make out movement on the other side of the glass, but he knew better. Remi wouldn’t make herself a target by standing in front of the damn window. She was too smart for that.
Hell, there was no way to prove he hadn’t been the one to kill the New Castle Killer without more evidence, especially without DNA tying another suspect to the murder. But that didn’t compare to the betrayal he’d witnessed in Remi’s features when she’d put his motive together.
Remi had been right. The notes he’d kept in his apartment, the surveillance photos he’d taken of Howe over the past year—he’d used her and her position within the marshals service to track the serial killer they hadn’t been able to apprehend in Delaware.
While he’d convinced himself his reasons had been justified at the time, he felt as though he was treading water as the hollowness in his chest grew more determined to pull him under. Because this time, his choices had put more than one life at risk. This wasn’t about catching one killer anymore. This was about keeping Remi alive.
He considered turning back, but Dylan started the vehicle and put the safe house and Remi in the rearview mirror. He’d made a mistake by not listening to Tad Marrow all those years ago. He wasn’t going to let this mistake define the rest of his life. Not when he could do something about it.
Suburban houses blurred in his vision as he sped across downtown Gresham. The hikers who’d claimed they’d noticed Howe’s body through the window had lied. If he tracked down the woman—Annabell Ross—to get a description of her hiking partner that day, he might be able to narrow down which of the New Castle Killer’s victims had attacked Remi or eliminate them from suspicion completely. Only trouble was finding her. Gresham PD hadn’t been able to make contact after the duo had given their statements. No answer on her cell phone. No response at her residence. They hadn’t been able to enter without a warrant, permission or signs of a struggle, but that didn’t mean Annabell couldn’t help.
The pain in his side flared as he filled his lungs. No amount of calm breaths would settle the pounding of his pulse behind his ears. Not when the cracks in Remi’s expression after she’d learned the truth replayed over and over in his head.
Now I know I’m never going to be...good enough for you. Her slurred confession undid him, and he strengthened his hand on the steering wheel. Wasn’t good enough for him? Hell, Remington Barton was better than he could ever be. She challenged him. Gave his life meaning. She exemplified strength. And he’d hurt her. Worse. He’d betrayed her after she’d trusted him with her deepest vulnerabilities and let him see her at her weakest. He pressed his free hand down his face. She was the best investigator he’d had the pleasure of working with, and he’d taken advantage of her for his own revenge. Not good enough for him? That wasn’t possible. Remi was everything to him. “Damn it.”
He’d fix this. He’d find the missing hiker to get more information on her partner, and he’d end the sick game closing in around them. At least then, Remi would be safe. He followed the GPS on his phone to the address given by the witness in her statement to Gresham PD and pulled up in front of the house when his phone chirped with his arrival.
A sprinkling of hot summer rain streaked down the passenger-side window as he surveyed the witness’s property. The ranch-style, light blue home stood out among the others in the neighborhood, its cheery bright yellow door hung with a wreath. The well-manicured lawn and flowerbeds had been kept in pristine shape. That, combined with his knowledge that Annabell Ross obviously enjoyed the outdoors, had led Dylan to believe the owner took great care of nature and went out of her way to preserve it. The recycle bin positioned near the garage only added to her profile point.
Dylan turned off the engine and reached for the glove box. Remi had taken his duty weapon back at the safe house, but it wasn’t his only firearm. Holstering the 9mm Smith & Wesson, he shouldered out of the vehicle. The rain was starting to pick up as he headed up the driveway. Corner lot, exposed to the street from the south and west, fence to the east between Annabell’s home and the neighbors, trees in the backyard. Good location. A lot of vantage points.
He hit the front porch and rang the doorbell once followed by quick knocks to ensure she’d heard him. Seconds ticked by, a minute. No answer. “Annabell Ross, it’s Deputy—” No. He wasn’t a marshal anymore. “It’s Dylan Cove. I was one of the
officers at the scene a few days ago. Wonder if I might ask you some questions.”
The rain picked up, as though sensing the distress coiling in his gut. Gresham PD had advised Ms. Ross to stay in touch until they concluded their investigation into Del Howe’s death. Apparently, her respect for the community didn’t extend to those responsible for keeping it safe. He hopped off the cement porch and peered through the nearest pane of a small bay window. White curtains shifted inside, blowing this way and that with the help of what looked like an overhead fan.
He shielded his eyes from the glare of a nearby streetlamp to get a better look inside. Conservationists didn’t usually leave their fans on when they were away. Minimalist furniture and décor had been expertly placed throughout the living room and dining room. No television. No personal effects aside from a few photos on a bookshelf in the back. His heels sank into the soil as he repositioned himself for a better view. This was a woman who could pick up and go at a moment’s notice. Hell, maybe she had just gone on another adventure with her small group of cavers as Captain Paulson believed. But his instincts told him if Annabell’s hiking partner had been the one to kill Del Howe as the evidence suggested, then she hadn’t lived long after giving her statement.
Dylan followed the flowerbed around the side of the house, senses at an all-time high. Water fell from his hair and collected around his collar. The backyard was as well manicured as the front. Healthy grass, fresh flowers, a large line of trees leading into pure wilderness beyond the property line. Old wood protested under his weight as he climbed the back stairs and tried the sliding-glass door. The heavy pane screeched along the track. He froze, holding his breath. “Annabell?”
Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 32
