If he was overreacting, and surely he was, at least he wouldn’t blow her cover.
As the elevator carried him down to street level, he brought up the recent calls to 911.
Domestic case, nope.
Car accident, nope.
More domestic.
Wait. Assault. The location was only a few blocks from here. And the address was on Kevyn’s route.
The oxygen caught in his lungs.
Please God. Don’t let it be her.
What did he do? Backtrack her route, as was the most logical course of action? Or go straight to the restaurant that phoned in the assault?
Backtrack.
If the assault was unrelated, backtracking assured he wouldn’t miss her along the way. And if it was related to Kevyn’s tardiness, then he’d only get there about a minute later than if he went straight there.
He hit the street at a jog.
In less than two minutes, he turned into the alley running alongside the restaurant that had phoned in the assault.
Yellow police tape blocked his path.
Two police cars and an ambulance were visible at the other end of the alley, where a small crowd of onlookers had gathered.
An officer approached, a cross look on his face. “Sir, this is a crime scene. You need to turn around–”
“FBI.” Dak pulled back his jacket to show the officer his badge. “What’s going on here?”
What he really wanted to do was ask about the victim, but he held back. He couldn’t see the victim from here. Too dark, too many people in the way. He had no way of knowing if the victim might be her. If it wasn’t her, he needed to maintain some separation.
The officer stared at him for a second before responding. “Some jerk attacked a woman. Don’t know exactly what happened ‘cause she’s unresponsive. Restaurant worker stopped the attack and called it in.”
He glanced at the phone in his hand.
Still no response from Kevyn.
How much did he reveal?
“Did you catch the attacker?”
The officer shook his head. “We have teams sweeping the area, but he’s probably long gone.”
Probably. “I have an agent missing. What’s the victim’s name?”
“She didn’t have a badge. Name’s Karen Thompson.”
His stomach clenched and the air thickened.
“That’s my agent.” That statement earned him an open invitation past the tape. He ducked under. “Is she okay?”
The officer shook his head slowly. “No idea. She’s alive but we can’t bring her around. EMTs are checking her out now.”
He jogged down the alley, where two EMTs were strapping a still form onto a stretcher.
Holding his badge high ensured no one tried to stop his approach. Kevyn lay still, her damp blonde hair sticking to her face.
No sign of blood or trauma. What happened?
More important issues right now.
He fell into step beside the EMTs as they wheeled the gurney down the alley. “That’s my agent. Is she okay?”
The EMT closest to him offered a sideways glance. “We think she was drugged. There’s a red spot and a little blood on her neck, possibly from an injection. We’ll know more when we get her to the hospital.”
“Take her to Angel of Mercy.” Not only was it the closest hospital, it had an excellent reputation.
The EMT nodded.
He watched as they loaded her into the back of the ambulance and pulled away.
As much as he wanted to head straight to the hospital, he needed to see to the investigation here. If she’d been drugged, as both the EMTs and he suspected, she wouldn’t wake up to tell him anything for a while anyway.
He headed back into the alley and identified the detective in charge of the case.
The detective’s eyes narrowed into a hard look as Dak showed his badge. “Look, I’m not here to push in on your case, but that woman is an agent on my team. I need to know what happened.”
The detective whipped his head toward the front of the alley, where the ambulance had been moments before. “She’s one of yours?”
Funny how learning the victim was in law enforcement added urgency. “Yeah. Trying to draw out a killer.”
“Looks like she succeeded.” The detective shook his head. “We’re still piecing it together. I was headed inside to question our witness.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
The detective assessed him. “Long as you don’t butt in, sure.”
Dak followed the detective toward an open door and into a brightly lit hallway. The hallway, only about four feet long, emptied into an industrial kitchen with gleaming stainless steel surfaces.
Leaning against the hallway wall was a rounded man in chef’s garb.
The detective pulled out a little recorder, then dictated the date, time and contact information. “Walk me through what happened.”
The chef pulled off his hairnet and rubbed his close-cropped hair. “I was choppin’ veggies right there–”
Dak followed the pointing finger to a counter barely within sight, where a pile of chopped carrots waited beside a knife.
“–Heard something at the door. Normally woulda ignored it ‘cause it ain’t totally uncommon for someone to walk by and knock or somethin’, but this was lots of bangin’. Plus, thought I heard a scream. Figured I oughta make sure everything was okay.”
“I’m sure glad you did.” Dak nodded at the man. “Thank you.”
“Yeah. Well, anyhow. Opened the door and saw this dude in black dragging a chick away. When I confronted him, the dude ran off. Woulda gone after him, but thought she might be dyin’ or something. Then I called 911.”
“So, you didn’t see him do anything to her? Drug her or assault her or anything?” The detective asked, sliding his gaze to Dak briefly.
Probably warning him to keep his mouth shut.
The chef shook his head. “Nah. The chick was out cold by the time I got out there.”
“You happen to get a look at the guy?”
Dak tried not to hold his breath as he waited for the chef to answer the detective’s question.
“It was dark, man. And raining. Dude was wearin’ a black hoodie, but I could see he was white.” The chef rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. That’s all I got.”
“Was he tall? Skinny? Ripped?” Dak couldn’t stop the questions from popping out. Often witnesses picked up on more details than they thought and simply needed a little prodding.
The chef scrunched his forehead. “Uh…”
“Take your time.” The detective shot Dak another look before taking over again. “Let’s walk through this together. You’re chopping vegetables. You hear a scream and banging.”
The chef looked back at the abandoned vegetables, then at the back door. “Yeah. I came over like this.”
The chef walked to the door, which was still propped open, and pretended to push on the crash bar.
Dak followed the detective so he could see anything the chef might point out.
“First thing I saw was this girl. Wearing a blue raincoat. She was on the ground. There.” The chef pointed to the asphalt about five feet from the door’s opening. “This dude was holdin’ her arms and dragging her. I said somethin’ to him… don’t ‘member exactly what. He looked up at me…”
The chef’s eyes widened. “Yeah. He looked at me. He was white. Couldn’t see his hair or nothin’ but he didn’t have a beard.”
White and clean shaven. Didn’t do much to narrow it down, but every detail helped.
“When he stood up straight, he looked taller ‘n me.”
The chef probably topped out at five eight, so the unsub being taller wasn’t a huge lead.
The detective nodded. “You’re doing great. When you say taller, was he only a little taller? A lot taller?”
“Nah. Few inches, maybe.” The chef pulled his shoulders back as if trying to accentuate his height.
Or lack thereof
.
“Good, good.” The detective stepped into the alley. “So, the lady was right about here? And the attacker was about here?”
The detective stepped a little further into the shadows from the neighboring building.
“Yeah. ‘Bout there.” The chef nodded enthusiastically. “That’s why I couldn’t see him good.”
“It’s pretty dark.” The detective agreed. “Did he look strong? Or like he was packing a little extra weight?”
The chef chuckled. “Dude was smaller ‘n me, that’s for sure. I guess I like my own cooking too much.”
Would this guy ever get to the point? Dak tried to mask his frustration. He was itching to get to the hospital, but he needed to hear whatever this guy had to say.
“So he was skinny?” The detective prodded in a much nicer manner than Dak wanted to.
“Nah. Wasn’t fat or skinny. Dude looked like he was one of those healthy types, you know? Ran like he was one anyway. Don’t know that I coulda caught him if I’d tried.”
“Could you tell if he was muscular?” The detective rejoined them inside, out of the moisture that still drizzled from the sky.
“That black hoodie didn’t do me no favors. Couldn’t see much.”
The fact that Dak fully expected the response didn’t make it any less frustrating. This was the closest they’d gotten to the unsub! And the witness couldn’t tell them much beyond the fact that the guy was white.
Maybe Kevyn had gotten a better look.
Seemed like a long shot, but he could hope.
“Could you come down to the station and work with a sketch artist? Give him the details you remember?”
The chef nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Yeah, I could do that.”
The guy probably felt like he was in one of those TV police dramas. Well, as long as it got them the help and cooperation they needed, let the guy have his moment.
Dak pulled the detective aside. “I’m headed to check on my agent. Would you mind keeping me informed?”
The detective assessed him for half a second longer than necessary. “Sure. I’ll send that sketch along once it’s ready, too.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
Dak stepped back into the alley and looked around briefly, but didn’t see anything that the police had missed. Not that he’d really thought they would miss something, but he wanted answers. Desperately.
An agent had been attacked on his watch. His agent. It was unacceptable.
He retraced his steps down the alley and jogged back to the federal building, prayers filtering through his mind.
He hoped Kevyn was okay.
He hoped she’d seen something that would help.
More than that, he hoped the unsub wouldn’t try again.
Thirteen
His mood hadn’t improved any in the forty-eight minutes it’d taken him to get home.
Jax slammed the door of his SUV and armed the alarm.
The rain, which had steadily increased as he’d driven home, pelted his head and bare arms. By the time he reached the door, his short-sleeve shirt was nearly drenched.
Blasted weather! Blasted chef! Blasted woman!
Why couldn’t she have been more compliant, like the others?
Well, she’d missed her chance.
He wanted to go back and finish her off, to let everyone know how unworthy she was, but the risk was too great. No doubt the police would be watching her now, expecting him to do something stupid like try to take her again.
But he wasn’t that dumb. Or that desperate.
There were plenty of other lonely people out there. She may need him, but he sure didn’t need her.
Ebony greeted him in the hallway, wearing the black nightgown he’d picked out for her. The first one he’d given her.
It was still his favorite.
The black satin accented her narrow waist and the blue lace trim highlighted her curves.
Ugly purple bruises marred her arms from his anger the other night. Yellow tinged the edges, but the darn things weren’t going away fast enough.
He’d never meant to physically hurt her. She was simply more fragile than he’d imagined.
Her large eyes took him in, never once straying behind him to see if he’d brought anyone with him. He was her focus. As he should be. It was what he liked best about her.
He went to her and held her tight, welcoming the kisses she pressed into his neck.
“We don’t need her.” Her whispered words tickled his cheek.
Bold words, especially for her. She almost never spoke her mind.
But in this case, she was right.
She pulled back slightly to look at him, her light blue eyes roving his face. “Do–do we really need anyone else? Aren’t the four of us enough for you?”
“But I have an empty room.” Weak! How could he sound so stupid?
Besides, technically there were two. But once he moved Ava from the small room he had her in to the more permanent dwelling, there would only be one.
“It’s okay if we have space to grow, right? Maybe we should get the others settled first? Then try to fill it?”
Who did she think she was?
He dropped his hands and stepped back, his eyes narrowing on her.
“No, Jax, please.” Her chin wobbled and she reached shaking fingers to land softly on his bicep. “Don’t be angry. I’m not questioning you. I just hate seeing you so upset.”
He had every reason to be upset!
First, that disaster with the girl earlier. Then the lack of gratitude from the people he took care of here. And now Ebony, his Ebony, questioning his judgement?
Tears flooded her eyes, making them sparkle like the Puget Sound on a sunny day. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! You know I’ll do whatever you say.”
Yes, he did know that.
It wasn’t her fault everything had fallen apart tonight. He forced himself to relax and willed the tension away. “Maybe you’re right.”
She sniffled. “I thought that maybe once the others are settled and happy, it would help a new person adjust quicker.”
Too bad not everyone could adjust as quickly as Ebony had.
A shiver rocked her body.
Moisture glistened on her exposed skin. No doubt the satin nightgown was wet, too, thanks to him.
“Change and go to bed.”
She nodded, but didn’t move. As she stared at him, she caught her lip between her teeth and twirled a clump of silky hair in her fingers.
That look could only mean she had something on her mind.
Did he care right now?
He had no doubt that if he turned and walked away, she’d do what he’d told her to do.
He was tired. And wet.
It’d been a long day and he wanted to change into dry clothes and pound away at the ivory keys upstairs.
But it might be important. It might be something he really cared about.
She didn’t usually bother him with inane things because she knew how he hated that.
“What is it?” He tried not to sound irritated.
Tears trailed down both her cheeks. She quickly swiped them away and forced a wobbly smile. “I, uh, have something to tell you.”
Could she get on with it? He was leaving water all over the floor.
He gestured with one hand for her to continue.
She exhaled a long breath. “I think I’m pregnant.”
Pregnant.
The word hung in the air.
“Are…” He was going to be a father? “Are you sure?”
She shrugged. “Well, no, but I’m two months late. And I feel funny.”
Two months! Could it really be true?
He hurried to her and pulled her close, more gently this time. “I’ll buy a test tomorrow. We’ll find out for sure.”
Now that he knew this, he knew she was right. They didn’t need that other woman. Or anyone else. Not if they were going to build a family of their own.
Blood t
ies were stronger.
After this baby, there’d be more. Soon, they’d have a whole house full of family.
And if the family he’d already acquired didn’t like it, he’d get rid of them, like he had Susan.
₪ ₪ ₪
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Why wouldn’t that alarm stop making noise?
Her head pounded. Her eyes felt like lead. And her arms seemed powerless to move.
Kevyn forced her eyes open, wincing at the bright light streaming in from the window beside her.
Beside her? She didn’t have a window beside her bed.
She looked around.
Everything was warped. She blinked several times, trying to clear her vision, but the colors blended and the room swirled.
What was wrong with her?
She strained to make out the surroundings.
White walls. A small TV mounted by the ceiling straight in front of her.
The beeping, which came from a machine by her bed, sped up. Tubes ran from the machine to her arm.
A hospital. Why was she in a hospital?
Her heart pounded and her already light head felt like it might spin off.
What was going on? And why couldn’t she remember any of it?
Movement in her peripheral! She gasped and whipped her head around to see Dak.
Dak?
He unfolded his long limbs from a barely padded chair and stretched as he approached. Black hair stuck out at odd angles and his rumpled clothes spoke of a night sleeping in the chair.
Why was he here?
His image fluctuated and wavered, as though looking through a wall of water.
Was he even here?
Or was she hallucinating?
“Kev. You okay?” His voice reached her at the same moment that she felt warm pressure on her arm.
Yes, he was here. The hand resting on her arm was proof.
“What happened?” Her voice came out hoarse, the words slurred.
“You need something to drink?” He picked up a water cup from the tray beside her bed and offered it. The straw lolled to the side and he pinched it, angling it toward her lips.
Taking the cup, she sipped slowly and tried to quell the panic rising in her throat.
He wasn’t telling her what had happened! This must be really bad.
Focus. The command in her head carried half the strength it usually did.
Nameless (Sinister Secrets Book 1) Page 16
