The Heart of a Killer

by Jaci Burton

  Anna grimaced.

  "And then of course we have the same crude heart carving over his chest as the previous victim."

  "I need tox-screen results as soon as you can get them to me."

  Richard nodded. "Yeah, he was injected. There's an injection spot on his right bicep. I saw in the file his bedroom had been wrecked and it looked like he'd been taken from there to the dump site. I can tell you for certain he died in the alley, so he was alive when he was taken from his house. By the time he was found in the alley he'd only been dead a few hours. I'll tell the lab to rush the tox results for you."

  "Okay. Thanks, Richard."

  "You have any leads on the killer yet?"

  She shook her head. "Nothing yet. This suspect is so clean he's squeaking right through."

  He patted her shoulder. "You're tough and tenacious, Anna. No killer is that thorough. You'll catch him."

  "I appreciate the confidence. And yes, I will."

  She had to. She would. No one else was going to die.

  Dante met Gabe at his condo and filled him in on everything that had happened last night. And today.

  Gabe leaned over, his forearms on the knees of his jeans.

  "Damn." He shook his head. "I can't believe Jeff's dead." He lifted his head and shot an angry glare at Dante. "The bastard took him from his house?"

  "Yeah. Blood in the bathroom and the bedroom was a mess. Looked like a mean fight."

  "That should yield some evidence. Anna will be happy."

  Dante shrugged. "Maybe. First time he was Mr. Clean. This time, not so much."

  "Good. You don't make a mess like that without leaving something of yourself behind."

  "Spoken by someone who knows something of crime scenes?"

  Gabe lifted his lips and stared down at Dante's badge. "Not saying a thing to the FBI."

  "Sorry about that."

  "Yeah. What the hell, man? Couldn't you have said something?"

  "Not really. Maybe. Fuck, I guess I should have. I'm so used to being undercover I just don't tell people. And I'm never around people I know, so..."

  This lying thing sucked. He was usually really good at it. This time, he was weaving so many lies even he didn't know what he was saying. He should have just told the truth from the beginning.

  Anna was right.

  But then he wouldn't have been able to become FBI guy, and that was going to help the case, so he'd live with it.

  Gabe regarded Dante with something that looked a lot like mistrust. Dante wondered if Gabe was thinking he was the one being investigated. He hoped not. There was already time and distance between them, and he needed to keep Gabe close, for Anna's sake.

  "So you're undercover right now?"

  Dante smiled. "No. I got myself assigned to the local P.D. so I could help investigate George's and Jeff's murder."

  "But you're on the government's payroll."

  That part, at least, wasn't a lie. "Yeah."

  "Huh. Can't see you as a fed."

  "No? What did you see me as?"

  "I dunno. Nothing on the legal side, that's for sure."

  Dante laughed. "Thanks, Gabe."

  "Hey, just call 'em like I see 'em. There's a reason you and me hightailed it out of here as fast as we could after the shit went down all those years ago. And it wasn't because we were saints."

  "You're right about that."

  "So for you to turn out to be FBI after all we've been through--man, you got lucky."

  "I know, right? I cleaned up my act, decided to stay out of trouble for a change. I developed goals and ambitions."

  "I had goals and ambitions, too. Only mine were a little different than yours."

  "Like what?"

  Gabe gave him a knowing look. "Do I look stupid?"

  "I think you can trust me, Gabe. Me of all people."

  Gabe laughed. "You say that like we're supposed to know each other. We don't know shit about each other anymore. I don't trust you any more than you trust me."

  Dante leaned back, realizing Gabe was right. They knew nothing about each other anymore. His perceptions of the guys, and of Anna, were stuck in time--twelve years ago. They were all different people now.

  He couldn't help but be hurt that his onetime best friend and closest brother didn't trust him at all. And that was on him. He'd have to live with that.

  "You're probably right. But you know what? I don't give a damn if you trust me or not. The only thing I care about is keeping you, Roman and Anna safe."

  Gabe nodded. "I think that should top all our lists, especially Anna. Knowing her, she's worried about all of us and not herself."

  "Likely."

  "Then we need to make sure that we all keep watch over her. We have the skills to keep her safe."

  "I'll talk to Roman about it."

  "Okay."

  "In the meantime, I guess I don't have to tell you to watch your back."

  "We said the same thing to Jeff last night. Didn't help him much, did it?"

  Dante frowned. He was beginning to wonder if any of them were safe. And who the killer's ultimate target really was.

  Anna dreaded her next stop, but she knew it had to be done. She didn't bother to knock. Plus, she still had a key in case the door was locked.

  She turned the knob and rolled her eyes. Of course it wasn't locked. Her father still thought that just because he had a house full of weaponry, he was invincible.

  "Dad? You here?"

  "Out back."

  The slider was open to just the screen. She looked around the living room. Needed a good dusting, but he was keeping the clutter under control. Then again, Frank Pallino had always liked order in his environment, whether at work or at home. Minimal knickknacks and still the same furniture that had been here when Mom had been alive, which was why Anna's tension level settled to a reasonably calm state whenever she came home.

  As she walked through the kitchen, she smiled at the gold-and-white curtains over the kitchen sink, and the brick-yellow Formica tabletop with its shiny metal legs that had stood the test of time and who knows how many years. It even still had the matching chairs she remembered sitting at for years. That thing had to be an antique.

  Her dad was out back with Rusty, his golden retriever. Anna had gotten Rusty from a shelter a few years ago after Dad had retired from the force, figuring he'd needed a playmate, someone to keep him active. They'd always had dogs when she was growing up. After the family dog, King, died when Anna was around twenty, Dad hadn't gotten another. He'd insisted he did just fine without having to deal with an animal underfoot all the time. Anna moved out when she joined the force and she knew her father was lonely.

  Plus, he'd put on some weight around his middle, no doubt from spending too many days watching TV and drinking beer. No amount of nagging on her and on her father's physical therapist's part had gotten him out of that damn chair.

  She knew he'd been depressed. His life had been as a cop, and he hadn't known what to do with it after he couldn't be a cop anymore. Having to retire at fifty years old sucked. Her dad still had a lot of life in him, a lot of energy.

  And then she'd gotten Rusty, only a year old and one rambunctious dog.

  Oh, man, had her dad been pissed at her, had yelled at her and told her to take the damn dog away. But she'd refused. She'd moved into the house with her dad and the dog and told her father that the shelter had a strict no-return policy, and furthermore, she was going to give up her job and become his physical therapist if he didn't start cooperating.

  That had gotten his attention. And the dog wriggled his way into her dad's heart fairly quickly. How could he not? Rusty was affectionate and sweet and learned fast once he found a family to love him.

  Since her father wasn't going to allow her to quit her job on the force, he reluctantly straightened up his act, started back on his therapy and welcomed Rusty into his house. Though Anna was certain he secretly fell madly in love with the dog at first sight. They'd been inseparable ever
since and she credited Rusty with her father's amazing recovery.

  Now he took Rusty to the senior center a couple times a week. The older folks loved Rusty. And together Dad and Rusty did safety talks at the local schools.

  Her dad had found things to do to stay busy. He felt useful now, and she was so grateful for that.

  She stood at the door and watched Rusty go after the ball her father tossed. Rusty bounded back, ball in his mouth, making a game of keep away, but his dad grabbed the ball, dog spit and all, and tossed it again.

  She laughed and stepped outside. "He can do that all day long, can't he?"

  Her dad turned to her. "As long as I'm willing to throw it."

  "I see you're bending pretty good."

  "Yeah, the water therapy is helping."

  He came inside and Rusty followed, eager to see Anna, as always. She bent and petted the dog, who then bounded off to his water bowl while she and her dad sat at the kitchen table.

  "What's going on?" he asked, his keen eyes boring into her.

  "How do you know something's wrong?"

  "Because I know you. There are worry lines across your forehead, plus you look like you haven't slept in a week."

  "Good thing I don't come to you seeking compliments about how great I look."

  He laughed and cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand. "You have boyfriends for that."

  "Sure, Dad."

  "So what's going on? Problem case?"

  She hesitated, knowing this was going to be tough. "There's a lot I have to talk to you about."

  He leaned back in the chair. "Start at the beginning. I'll listen."

  "Dante's back in town."

  He frowned. "Since when?"

  "A few days ago. George Clemons was beaten to death in the alley the other night. It was the same spot where I was attacked. A heart was carved on his chest. Here." She placed her fingers where her scar was.

  Her dad pushed his chair back. "Jesus."

  "It gets worse. While we were following up on that murder, Jeff Barrone was beaten to death last night. Same alley. Heart carved on his chest."

  Her dad's eyes filled with tears. He stood. "Oh, shit, baby. Come here."

  She could be the strong, invulnerable detective all she wanted with everyone else, but that never held water with her dad. To him, she would always be his baby girl, and she knew it had destroyed him that night she'd called him from the ice-cream shop. He'd rushed over there and she'd known from the moment he got there that he was more devastated by what had happened than she had been.

  Since her mom had died when she was six years old, she knew he'd felt as if it had been his duty to protect her, and he had failed that night. Not to her. There was no way he could be with her all the time, and no one could have foreseen what could happen. But she had seen the guilt on his face, and she'd have done anything to wipe that away.

  He patted her back and stroked her hair, and somehow, she did feel better.

  He stepped away and they sat again, but he held tight to her hand. She looked down where their fingers were joined.

  Her lifeline. What would she do without him?

  "I've been busy the past few days. Had some school functions with Rusty and some doctor appointments and therapy sessions. Haven't even caught up on the news or read my paper. I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I've been kind of busy myself, but knew you'd want to hear it from me."

  "Are you all right?" He swept his knuckles across her cheek, the concern on his face so deep it made her heart ache.

  "Yes."

  "No one knows about the connection?"

  "Of course not."

  "Maybe you should tell them."

  She cocked her head to the side. "Not gonna happen, and you know why."

  He sighed. "You shouldn't have protected Dante that night."

  "And we've been over this a hundred times. Let it go, Dad."

  He shrugged. "Fine. So it's obvious someone else was there that night. Someone saw the whole thing and identified all of you, and now he's playing this sick game of cat and mouse and murder."

  She nodded. She wasn't going to tell him about the note and flowers. Knowing her dad, he'd camp out at her house with his gun, putting himself at risk.

  "Got any thoughts on who it might be?"

  "I have no idea. Someone who was with Maclin, or maybe somebody he was meeting. Maybe it was even a person walking through the alley that wasn't connected to him at all. Though they wouldn't have known who we were."

  "Easy enough to find out if you try hard enough."

  "I suppose." She'd pondered all the angles until her head throbbed.

  "Why wait twelve years, though? Why file it away all this time?"

  "That's what's bugging me, too. The only thing I can come up with is Dante. Gabe was gone for a while, and he came back. Now Dante's back, which means we're all here now."

  His father nodded and dragged his fingers through his hair. "That's the only goddamn thing that makes sense. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, this is a mess. And you can't tell anyone at the precinct about it."

  "I know."

  He lifted his gaze to hers. "Though you can if you need to."

  "No, Dad. I can't and I won't. Too many people could be hurt if I did. The guys...you. I'll never tell what happened twelve years ago."

  He shook his head. "We should have never played it that way. I shouldn't have let you talk me into keeping that secret."

  "We had to protect them. They saved my life."

  "And now someone's trying to take theirs. We have to figure out why."

  "No. I have to figure out why."

  He took her hand. "You're not in this alone, girlie. I might be retired but my cop brain isn't. Go back to the beginning."

  "The Maclin case?"

  "Yeah."

  "Dad, I've been over the case time and time again. Mainly because I wanted to know what had been done as far as investigating it. They'd developed no leads and after a while it went cold. And we know why."

  "So reopen it. Do some investigation into similar crimes, and lo and behold the Maclin case is gonna come up. He was beaten to death in the same alley, so you'll have a legit reason for being in his file."

  She pondered his line of reasoning. "I was also working in one of the buildings then, so I was interviewed as a potential witness for his case."

  Her dad crossed his arms. "Convenient, huh? That's why you'll suddenly remember Maclin's case from twelve years ago."

  She laid her head in her hands. "Lying sucks."

  "Yes, it does. But use it to your advantage now and bring in the Maclin kid's file into your current investigation."

  She sighed. "I guess so. But there were no witnesses. I remember that much. And I lied and said I closed up shop and was out of there before he died."

  "It never hurts to look again, see if there's anything you missed."

  "Okay. I need to get back to work."

  He stood and hugged her again, then held her out at arm's length. "You get to the point you need to spill your guts about that night, you do it. You don't worry about me or the guys, you just do it, okay?"

  "I'm not going to tell anyone about that night. You'd lose everything. They'd be arrested."

  "They were juveniles then, honey. That was a long time ago and I doubt anything would stick now. They were defending you. And now they're being targeted by a murderer. As for me... You don't worry about me."

  She kissed his cheek. "You're my father. I love you. I'm always going to worry about you."

  Fourteen

  "What's all this stuff?" Dante asked.

  Anna looked up at him. He'd just taken a shower, his hair still damp as he pulled up a seat at her kitchen table.

  He smelled like soap--something with a fresh pine smell. Whatever it was, it slid into her senses and made her want to lean over and shove her nose in his neck. Between his scent and the sleeveless shirt that showed off all his tanned muscle, it brought back last night,
before she'd gotten the call about Jeff.

  They'd started something hot together and hadn't finished it.

  Probably for the best anyway.

  Yeah, right. She needed to keep reminding herself of that, because her libido was pinging so loud she was surprised Dante couldn't hear it.

  He swept some of her loose hairs behind one ear, then gave her a dark, dangerous look. The kind of look that made her swallow, hard. She couldn't help but stare at him. His face had the kind of physical beauty that made her just want to sit and stare at him, just like it had been with those women on the street. It had been like that when they were younger, too. Girls were jealous she'd landed him as a boyfriend. She'd been damn smug about it. She knew how lucky she had been to have Dante. Tall, dark and handsome fit him to a tee then--even more so now, only one could add dangerous and devastating to the mix.

  And a mysterious element that seemed to cling to him no matter how much he told her of his past.

  "You keep staring at me like that and I'm going to get you naked and spread you on top of all these files on the kitchen table."

  Now, there was a fantasy she could spend hours imagining.

  Forcing herself to blink, she said, "You don't want to do that."

  His lips curled. "Yeah, I do."

  "I have work."

  He seemed to ponder whether he was going to let her do her work, or pick her up and toss her on the kitchen table. If he chose the latter, she wasn't certain she'd have the will to put up much of an objection.

  "Okay, tell me what all these files are."

  Admittedly, she regretted his choice, but she turned to the folders. "They're the files from the Tony Maclin case."

  He arched a brow. "How did you get those?"

  "Remember I told you they interviewed me on his murder case because I worked at one of the businesses that fronted the alley that night?"