by Lara Lacombe
Quinn stayed in the parking lot as she drove away, watching her leave with an expression she couldn’t identify. Was she the only one affected by these odd moments, or did he feel the frissons, too?
“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered as she turned on to the main road that led out of the park. She had one job: solve these murders. Then she could go home, back to her normal, comfortable routine and far away from handsome park rangers who stirred her emotions.
The thought should have brought relief. Instead, a vague sense of dissatisfaction settled over her as she drove away from the park. And Quinn.
* * *
Quinn loaded the backpacks into the trunk of his car, his thoughts on Rebecca and the day they’d spent together. He’d finally figured out why he found her so appealing—her mind fascinated him. There was something deeply satisfying about watching her think, seeing the way she worked through a problem or an issue. He’d been distracted by bad memories at the site, but he’d still caught glimpses of the way she’d moved around the area, stooping here, crouching there, even climbing up on rocks to change her vantage point. He’d figured after all the photos and evidence collected by the police there wouldn’t be much in the way for her to find, but apparently she had a different approach.
It seemed to work for her. She’d appeared satisfied as they’d set off for home again. He was glad to have been useful, even indirectly. Leading her to the site had helped relieve the awful sense of helplessness that had plagued him since discovering the first woman. He’d arrived too late to save the first two victims, but hopefully by helping Rebecca he could play a role in stopping the killer before he hurt anyone else.
He slid behind the wheel of the car, his thoughts turning to their conversation along the way. Her ability to compartmentalize things was something he both envied and found totally foreign. Did she put every aspect of her life into a neat little box, or were some things too big, too messy, to pack away like winter clothes? What would it take to break through her emotional insulation, to really reach her soul?
Suddenly, he recalled the feel of her body against his own, her curves pressed to his chest as he’d hugged her. Heat suffused his limbs and his skin tingled at the sense memory. A small tendril of shame sprouted at his body’s response. There had been nothing sexual about the embrace—he’d simply been offering comfort in the wake of her admission about her fiancé. It didn’t seem right for him to appreciate the contact on any kind of physical level. But his hormones didn’t care. He hadn’t deliberately embraced a woman in a long time, and the memory of this hug wasn’t going to fade soon.
Quinn shouldn’t have touched her. But she’d looked so lost, standing in front of him with tears welling in her eyes. Her admission had shocked him and she’d looked just as surprised, as if she couldn’t believe she’d actually told him something so personal. He’d felt the need to do something to help her, so he’d acted on instinct and pulled her into his arms. Now he was paying the price for his mistake.
Of all the times for him to start to feel again... He shook his head as he navigated the dark road toward home. His libido had picked a hell of a time to wake up. Rebecca was here to track a killer, and it was his job to help her in any way he could. Attraction had no place in the equation, and he needed to remember it.
* * *
“Can I buy you a drink?”
The woman turned to face him, the motion nearly sending her off the bar stool. “Whoops,” she giggled, her breath a blast of alcoholic fumes that made his eyes water. “Hi there, s-stranger,” she said, slurring.
He smiled, eyeing her up and down. He’d been watching her from across the bar; she’d started out with a group of friends, but as the hour had grown late, the women had left one by one until she was alone. Her friends had tried to convince her to leave, too, but she’d brushed off their concern. It was plain to everyone she had eyes for the bartender—she was clearly hoping that staying until closing time would result in the offer of a ride home.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Her smile grew wider and she shot the bartender a quick look to see if he had noticed her new suitor. The other man was at the other end of the bar, taking an order. He was paying no attention to the woman, and for a second her lips turned down in a pout. Then she gathered herself and focused on him again.
“What do you want it to be?” she said, trying to sound coy.
“Hmmm...” He pretended to think as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. It was dark, almost purplish-red, not really the right color at all. But it would do for now. “You look like a Crystal to me.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow, you’re good.” Little did she know he’d overheard her friends talking to her earlier. For a split second, he felt a spurt of pity for the woman. She was making it too easy for him—there was little satisfaction in bringing down such easy prey. But it was time to leave Quinn Gallagher another gift, and she was his best prospect right now, so...
“Are you waiting for someone?”
She cast another quick glance at the bartender. The other man was still pointedly ignoring her, apparently not wanting to offer any encouragement. She pursed her lips and turned back. “I was, but not anymore.”
His smile was genuine. “I’m glad to hear it. Wanna get out of here?”
Crystal started to nod, then paused. “Maybe. What’s your name?”
“John,” he responded, lying easily. “I’m in town to do some hiking in Big Bend. It’d be nice to have some company...” He trailed off, the suggestion clear.
Crystal leaned forward, thrusting her breasts out as she trailed a finger down his arm. “Is that all you want to do?”
He dipped his head and nipped at her bottom lip, his hand sliding up her outer thigh. “I can think of other ways to pass the time.”
She hopped off the bar stool, grabbing his shoulders for support as she swayed unsteadily on her heels. “My place,” she declared. “It’s not far. And my bed is nicer than anything in a hotel.”
“Sounds good,” he agreed. He led her into the parking lot, steering her toward the rental car he’d picked up that morning. He’d been careful to switch cars between victims to ensure there was no evidence left in the vehicle he was driving. He was just getting started, and he didn’t want a silly thing like a strand of hair left behind on a seat cushion to be his undoing.
He poured Crystal into the passenger seat, half-expecting her to pass out on the drive. But she stayed awake and gave surprisingly lucid directions to her apartment complex, which turned out to be close to the bar. She climbed out of the car and led him up a set of stairs, stumbling only a little as she dug in her purse for keys. She dropped them on the mat and bent at the waist, flashing him a view of the pink panties she wore under her short skirt. He couldn’t decide if the action was a deliberate attempt at seduction, or if she was too drunk to know what she was doing.
He had his answer a moment later. She tugged him into the apartment and shut the door, then pushed him up against it and began fumbling at his belt as her mouth found his. He tolerated the attention; he hadn’t actually intended to sleep with her tonight. The plan was to make her think they’d had sex, then convince her to go hiking with him in the morning. But Crystal was determined, and she unfastened his pants with a practiced ease that made it clear she was no stranger to one-night stands. A jolt went through him as she worked her hand, and against his better judgment, he felt himself respond to her touch.
She tore her mouth free, her chest heaving as her breath came fast and hard. “Bedroom is this way.” She set off down the hall, still gripping him. He had no choice but to follow as she led him into a small room strewn with clothes and discarded shoes. Crystal wasted no time stripping down, her shirt and skirt hitting the ground, followed quickly by her bra and panties.
She was a beautiful woman, he could say that objectively. Full-figured and
uninhibited, she was every man’s fantasy. Why not? he thought to himself. He might as well enjoy himself while he was here.
“Condoms?” No way was he going to risk leaving any evidence behind. Crystal didn’t know it, but she had a date with the morgue tomorrow. He was happy to show her a good time tonight, but not at the risk of his own freedom.
She crawled across the mattress, reaching for the drawer of her bedside table. She rummaged inside for a second, then turned back with a long strip of foil packets dangling from her fingertips. “Up for a challenge?”
He smiled and joined her on the bed. “Let’s find out.”
Chapter 5
The morning was clear and bright, the sun sitting high in the sky with no hint of clouds. It was bound to be a scorcher in the afternoon, but for now a light breeze kept the worst of the heat at bay. Rebecca grabbed her water bottle—she’d taken Quinn’s advice to heart last night—and climbed out of the car.
Yesterday had been informative, to say the least. Walking around the site itself had been helpful, but not nearly as much as spending time with Quinn and cataloging his reactions. The more she knew about the man, the more convinced she became that he wasn’t the killer or involved with him. If anything, he seemed to be yet another victim in this whole mess.
Why was I the one who found them? His question had dogged her all evening, running through her mind on a continuous loop. It was something she wanted to know herself. Whoever had killed those women had meant for Quinn to find the bodies. But the killer hadn’t left behind any evidence to try to frame Quinn for the murders. If the murderer intended to frame Quinn, he was probably planning to kill again so he could stage the scene and possibly leave something of Quinn’s behind. Should she warn him to be extra careful with his personal effects? Or would that only serve to make him even more stressed about the situation? Was the killer simply trying to torture Quinn? Or was he working his way up to implicating Quinn in the deaths? The possibility sent a chill down her spine.
One thing was for certain—the killer had a personal connection to the ranger, even if he was only trying to send a message.
She headed for the entrance to the ranger station, hoping that Quinn’s co-worker Sam might be able to shed some light on the investigation. It was probably too much to hope for that the killer had been one of the hikers who’d reported the damage to the fence, but everyone made mistakes...
She walked inside, the blast of cool air making goose bumps pop out on her arms. The young woman behind the desk smiled in recognition and waved her back. “Quinn’s expecting you,” she said.
Rebecca thanked her and walked past the desk, headed for the room beyond. She paused before entering and took a deep breath. Would she still feel that strange pull toward him today? Or had yesterday’s emotions simply been a result of too much physical exertion in the heat?
Quinn was standing with his back toward her, studying the large whiteboard mounted on the wall. Even from this distance she felt a tug, as if someone had tied a rope around her waist and was now gently but insistently pulling her forward.
This isn’t smart, she told herself as she approached him. But telling herself not to feel was like trying to control the weather—it simply wasn’t going to happen. So rather than fight this strange attraction, she let it wash over her. Just because she was drawn to Quinn didn’t mean she had to act on her feelings. She could still control her behavior, at least.
“Morning,” she said.
He turned and flashed a smile. “Hey there.” His voice was a little raspy this early in the morning, and the sound danced along her skin like a caress. He took a sip of coffee. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like the dead,” she said, then winced. “Sorry, poor choice of words.”
He chuckled softly. “That’s okay. I know what you meant. I figured you might be tired from the hike yesterday. Have you been drinking water?”
Rebecca held up her bottle, touched at his concern. “I did take your advice.”
Quinn nodded approvingly. “Glad to hear it. The last thing you want is to get dehydrated out here.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
He tilted his head to the side. “It’s not uncommon for people to pack too lightly when it comes to water. It’s a heavy thing to carry, and a lot of times people underestimate the amount they need to drink.”
“How difficult is it to get a medical evacuation in the park?” It was a question she should have considered yesterday, but she’d assumed that hiking with Quinn would keep her safe.
“Depends on the location,” he said with a shrug. “But we can’t just snap our fingers and get help. It takes a while, even under good conditions.”
She nodded, mulling over his response. Yesterday’s hike had been strenuous, but she hadn’t felt alone, probably because she’d been with Quinn. Now she realized just how remote the landscape was, how it could be possible for a person to walk for miles and never encounter anyone else. It was probably another reason the killer had chosen this location.
A swell of pity rose in her chest for the women he’d murdered. They’d never stood a chance. Even if they had known what was coming and tried to fight back, they would have been alone in an unforgiving land, probably injured, with no way of contacting anyone for help. Had they screamed at the end, even knowing it was useless to do so?
“Hey.” Quinn touched her arm, drawing her out of her thoughts. She blinked up at him. “Where’d you go?” he asked. “You got a funny look on your face for a minute.”
Rebecca shook her head. “Sorry. I was just thinking about the case. How the fates of the women were sealed as soon as they set off with the killer.”
A shadow crossed Quinn’s face. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s the bit that upsets me the most. He probably walked with them the whole time pretending everything was normal, but he knew he was going to kill them. I don’t understand how someone could do that.”
“Most people like to think that serial killers are pure evil, that they’re not really human. Members of the public feel better if they can find a way to separate themselves from these murderers. But like it or not, we have more in common with these guys than we care to admit.”
“Maybe so,” Quinn said doubtfully. “But I still don’t want to know how his mind works.”
“You don’t need to,” Rebecca assured him. “That’s my job.”
Quinn nodded. “Speaking of jobs, I think I just heard Sam come in. Are you ready to talk to him?”
“Yes.” Anticipation sparked to life in her belly. She glanced around the room, searching for a new face. “Where is he?”
“Whoa there,” Quinn said with a laugh. “Let’s give the man a chance to get a cup of coffee first before you bombard him with questions.”
Rebecca made a face but waited while a white-haired man ambled over to the coffeepot. He seemed to have only one speed—glacial.
Apparently, Quinn sensed her impatience. He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Sam’s been a ranger at Big Bend for almost thirty years. I know he doesn’t look like much, but he’s a pro.”
Quinn’s breath was warm against her skin and smelled of fresh coffee. Rebecca resisted the temptation to lean back against his chest, to feel the solid strength of him against her shoulders and back. Instead she nodded, silently acknowledging his words.
It took Sam a few minutes to fix his morning brew and settle in behind his desk. Quinn led her over and made the introductions. “Morning, Sam. Got a minute?”
Sam glanced up, smiling when he saw Quinn. “For you? Always.”
“This is Rebecca Wade. She’s with the FBI, and she’s working on the case of the two women found in the park. She was hoping to ask you a few questions.”
A shadow crossed Sam’s face at the mention of the victims. “Hell of a thing,” he muttered. “I’m happy to help any way I can.”
“I was hoping you could tell me about the hikers who reported the damaged fence. Do you remember anything about them?”
Sam frowned, clearly trying to dredge up the memory. “That was a couple of weeks ago. Let me think...”
He was silent a moment, pondering. Rebecca’s hope dwindled with each second that ticked by. It was a long shot to think the man would recall two faces out of the hundreds he encountered every week, especially because so much time had since elapsed.
“Well, now. It was two young men,” he said finally. “Both lean and fit—real serious hikers. Probably about twenty-five. Maybe a little older, maybe a little younger—hard to tell, since they spent so much time outdoors.”
“Is there any security footage of them coming into the station?”
Sam shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We don’t keep the footage for that long—not enough storage, I’m afraid.”
Rebecca tried not to let her disappointment show. “Did you happen to get their names?” She didn’t hold out hope, but she had to ask...
Sam’s face cleared. “Now that I did do.” He pushed back from the desk. “Wait right here. I’ll go get the log book.”
Rebecca turned to Quinn, unable to contain a smile. She put her hand on his arm and squeezed. “Cross your fingers this pans out.”
Quinn smiled back, then moved to cover her hand with his own. His palm was large and felt rough against her skin, sending a tingle of sensation up her arm. “I will,” he said quietly.
Oh, no, she chided herself. Why did I touch him? She’d acted impulsively, driven by excitement over the possibility of a break in the investigation. But she couldn’t afford to let down her guard. She was growing more comfortable around Quinn, and it would be all too easy to relax and let her emotions take the wheel. The two dead women deserved better than that.
Sam returned, his nose buried in a large spiral-bound notebook. Rebecca slipped her hand free, her skin still warm from Quinn’s touch. Something flashed in Quinn’s eyes—disappointment? Surely not. But there was no time for her to worry about it.
