Crime Scene Connection

by Deena Alexander

  He caught her hand, plucked the key from it and shoved it into his pocket. “Why would your agent buy you a cabin?”

  Her delicate shoulder lifted in a shrug and she shot him a glare. “It was a mutually beneficial business arrangement. I wanted a place I could lose myself and be left alone in, and he got to enjoy weekends away with his friends, hunting, fishing, whatever else they do up here.”

  He couldn’t blame her. The other cops had given her a rough time—a really rough time—throughout the entire investigation, but he had stayed out of it, even though, at that time, he’d still believed her ex was innocent.

  “I gave Ron the money, and he bought it in his name. He gets the tax write-off and can use the cabin whenever he wants.”

  “Sounds like a win-win for him.”

  “It was worth it.”

  “He won’t show up, will he?”

  “No. He’s not due to come up again for a few weeks, at least.”

  “Will he figure you came here?”

  She shrugged. “I doubt it. But even if he does, I don’t think he’ll tell anyone. It would only hurt him, since I have a signed agreement with him stating the terms of the arrangement. It says very clearly that if he reveals the details of our arrangement to anyone, the deal is off, and the cabin is mine.”

  He wasn’t about to argue with her, so he let the matter drop. He waited for Phoenix to enter, then closed and locked the door behind them. “No dead bolt?”

  “No need.”

  Before now. She didn’t add it, but he could read the hesitation in her eyes.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Phoenix would alert him if anyone approached the cabin. He started to stretch, but the stabbing pain in his side stopped him. “Do you have a first aid kit here?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  He followed her past a huge pit couch covered in throw pillows that took up most of the living room. He ignored the longing to lie down and close his eyes and maybe crawl beneath one of the soft-looking blankets she’d thrown over the back. He tore his attention from the couch before the urge overwhelmed him and he gave in.

  An archway opened to a cozy, rustic kitchen.

  Addison grabbed a bowl from a bottom cabinet, filled it with water and set it on the floor for Phoenix. “Here you go, boy.” She petted his head before turning to Jace.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” She gestured to one of the four high-backed barstools pushed beneath a breakfast bar, then pulled open a small wood cabinet above the stainless steel refrigerator. Standing on her tiptoes, she stretched to reach into the cabinet. Her pajama shirt rode up, revealing a long, thin scar across her lower back.

  Jace averted his gaze when she started to turn with the first aid kit. He pulled one of the stools from beneath the counter, slid his windbreaker off, hung it over the back of the stool and perched on the edge. Careful to pry his T-shirt from the dried blood first, he slowly rolled it up past the gouge in his side.

  Addison gasped. She pressed a hand to her mouth as her face paled and she swayed a little. “Oh...”

  “Are you okay?” He stood, unsure whether to reach for her or give her a minute to get her bearings.

  Grabbing the counter, she steadied herself. “Yes. I’m sorry, I...I just didn’t realize how badly you were injured... How did that happen?”

  “I was hit while we were running.”

  “Hit?” Her eyes widened.

  He’d never seen eyes like hers. Jade with a burst of gold surrounding the pupils.

  “Shot? You were shot?”

  “It’s not that bad.” He held out a hand for the first aid kit. “Is there a bathroom down here?”

  Sucking in a deep, shaky breath, she shook her head. “I’ll help you.”

  “I can—”

  “Follow me.” She turned with the first aid kit and left the room without looking back.

  With no real choice, he followed her to a large bathroom at the top of the stairs.

  She set the first aid kit on the counter, but didn’t shift to face him. “Do you want to take a shower first?”

  He definitely wanted a shower, and the oversize walk-in shower stall with multiple showerheads was extremely inviting, but he wasn’t leaving her alone. Not with that skittish look in her eyes. She might just bolt if he gave her the chance. Not that he blamed her. She had to be terrified. Of course, he could cuff her again, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t go over too well. Besides, he couldn’t be 100 percent sure their pursuer couldn’t find them, so no way could he leave her alone and unprotected. “Not right now, thanks.”

  She shot him a scowl.

  He couldn’t help the small bit of laughter that escaped. “I’ll just clean up in the sink.”

  She held his gaze a moment longer than necessary. “There are washcloths and towels in the tall cabinet. I’ll go see if Ron has a shirt that’ll fit you.”

  Her footsteps receded down the hallway. He listened to be sure she didn’t go downstairs before he grabbed a washcloth and turned on the water. He clenched his teeth and started to clean the wound. The last thing he needed was an infection. At least he didn’t have to dig a bullet out. Thankfully, it had only grazed his side, though that didn’t lessen the pain. When he got his hands on Connor—

  Connor should have given him more information when he’d called, shouldn’t have let him go in blind. Thankfully, he’d been able to get Addison to safety, but that didn’t change the fact things could have gone much differently.

  “Here. This should fit.” She hung a light blue, long-sleeved T-shirt over the towel rack and opened the first aid kit. “Ron is quite a bit shorter than you, so his jeans won’t fit, but the shirt should work okay if you push the sleeves up.”

  “Thanks.”

  She handed him a towel, and he patted his side dry while she opened a couple of bandages and tape, then held up a bottle of something. She soaked a gauze pad with the liquid from the bottle. “Stay still. This might sting.”

  “Agh...” He clamped his teeth tight, biting back the scream.

  “Sorry.” She winced and spread the bandages over the wound, her hands shaking. “Hold this.”

  He held the bandages in place while she smoothed tape along the edges. Her featherlight touch sent a shiver through him. He averted his gaze. It had definitely been too long since he’d been in the company of a beautiful woman. Or any woman. Or anyone, for that matter, unless you counted the customers at the clubs he provided security for, which he didn’t, since he didn’t interact with them.

  And he planned to keep it that way. As soon as Connor showed up, he’d be out of there. After he’d failed to keep Jennifer safe, no way would he ever get involved with another woman, especially another woman he might not be able to protect. He couldn’t live with two deaths on his conscience. One was enough to batter him for a lifetime.

  “Would you like a couple of ibuprofen?” She held out a bottle from the first aid kit. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything stronger.”

  “Thanks.” He shook three caplets into his hand and handed back the bottle, barely resisting the urge to tame her tangled mess of hair behind her ear. Keeping himself from reaching out to comfort her was getting harder. He shoved the small glimmer of attraction aside. This woman was nothing but trouble. She was definitely off-limits, even if he was looking for a relationship, which he wasn’t. If he wasn’t exhausted, in pain and aggravated, he’d never even have noticed her delicate features or those big green eyes so filled with strength and determination. Despite any other feelings he might have harbored from the past, her courage touched him.

  “What time will Connor be here?”

  The question ripped him from his reverie. “He said they’d get here sometime after six.”

  Her eyes widened. “They?”

  “I assume him and Maris.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t ask.”


  She caught her lower lip between her teeth as the color drained from her face.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “I’m going to take a shower.” She shot him a pointed gaze. “I’ll meet you downstairs when I’m done.”

  Jace watched her go. Clearly, she didn’t trust him, but what could he do to change that? And why did he so badly want to?

  FOUR

  Addison pulled on her softest, highly faded, beat-up jeans and a hunter green sweater, the need for comfort and familiarity outweighing everything else. A hot shower and two more ibuprofen had helped ease some of the tension from her muscles, but exhaustion still weighed heavily. She toweled her hair dry, ignoring the blow-dryer, even though it would mean having to tame a mass of waves and frizz later. She’d already wasted enough time—and conditioner—in the shower trying to comb through the tangled mess. More pressing problems demanded her attention.

  She tossed the towel onto a small dresser in the walk-in-closet, slid the dresser aside and opened the safe. Addison never left the house without her laptop, but she knew that in the event of an emergency, it might not always be possible to keep it with her. Thankfully, she was fanatical about backing up her work and could access it from anywhere. She pulled out the slim black laptop case, locked the safe and returned the dresser to its previous position. Satisfied no one, not even Ron, could see any part of the safe built into the closet wall, which hid not only her laptop but a small amount of cash and the agreement she and Ron had signed, she turned and headed downstairs with her spare laptop.

  The scent of bacon hit her before she left the landing. She pressed a hand to her growling stomach as she strode toward the kitchen.

  “There you are. I was getting ready to come check on you.” Jace turned from the stove, fork in hand.

  She stopped short in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

  He looked at the pan on the stove, then back at her and lifted a brow. “Making breakfast. Hungry?”

  Her traitorous stomach growled again, and she frowned, the sight of him moving so comfortably around her kitchen making her uneasy. “Starved, actually.”

  He laid the fork on a spoon rest and pulled a chair from the table where he’d already set two places, then gestured toward her laptop. “If you plan on working, why don’t you set it aside for now and sit?”

  “I have to...um...” The need to check her email hammered her, but she wasn’t ready to share that with him, not until she knew what awaited her. If past experience was any indication, she’d need at least a few minutes to come to terms with whatever awaited her before she’d be able to discuss it with anyone. Giving in to her hunger, she sat and pulled the chair in. The email could wait a few more minutes. “Thanks.”

  “I found bacon in the freezer and a box of ready-mix pancakes in the pantry, so that’s the best I could do. But there’s coffee.” He grinned and filled the mug he’d already placed on the table.

  Spooning French vanilla–flavored powdered creamer into her mug, she worked to steady her shaky hands. She’d kept the cabin fairly well stocked since buying it, just in case she needed to disappear for a while. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any dog food.”

  Phoenix lay sleeping beside the back door, seemingly content.

  “No problem. I already fed him a couple of cups of dog food I’d tossed into a small bag in case we were gone longer than expected. Connor was pretty vague when he first called.”

  She nodded, still not ready to deal with Connor. Or Maris. Though she was going to have to think about her sister sometime, probably soon.

  If only Maris had come to Addison, at least warned her before writing the article accusing Brandon of a multitude of illegal activities and of having numerous affairs, things might have been different. If Addison hadn’t found out about his crimes and indiscretions along with the rest of the world, maybe she’d have been more able to understand, more prepared to forgive.

  Would it really have mattered, though? Would Addison have believed her if Maris had come to her? Was her anger at Maris really because she hadn’t asked Addison’s permission or given her a heads-up before writing her article? Or was it the fact that she’d shattered Addison’s illusions, destroyed her relationship with her husband—a relationship that had apparently existed only in Addison’s mind and heart—and sent her world crashing into ruins?

  It didn’t matter. Although Addison had come to believe every last word Maris had written about him, Maris hadn’t had enough proof, and Brandon had walked away a free man. But Maris hadn’t stopped with Brandon. She’d implicated a number of his associates, as well, Jace included.

  Addison had struggled to forgive her sister for years, despite knowing in her heart that it was the right thing to do. On some level, she supposed she had forgiven her, mostly, though the pain Maris had caused wasn’t easy to forget.

  She shoved thoughts of the past away. She had enough to worry about in the present. “How’s your side?”

  Jace shrugged and flipped the pancakes. “I’ll live.”

  Abruptly running out of conversation, Addison sipped her coffee before pulling the charger and computer from the bag. She plugged it in and set it up on the table beside her.

  “When you said a cabin in the mountains, I have to admit, this isn’t what I pictured.” He grinned, a sparkle lighting his blue eyes. Something about his smile was contagious—maybe the dimple denting his right cheek—and she couldn’t help but join him.

  “I wanted something cozy.” The two-bedroom cabin definitely fit the bill. She’d spent many nights tucked away here, the living room fireplace fighting back the cold, bringing a sense of serenity that had eluded her over most of the past few years. She signed into her email, then shifted the computer aside as Jace placed a serving platter in the center of the table.

  “Dig in.” He sat across from her and pulled his chair closer to the table, then forked three pancakes onto his plate and added syrup.

  She watched him.

  He frowned, a forkful of pancake stopping halfway to his mouth. “Don’t you like pancakes?”

  She shook her head.

  He lowered his fork to his plate and slid his chair back. “I can make you something else.”

  “No, it’s not that. I mean... I like pancakes just fine. It’s just...well...” She shook her head again, not really knowing where to go with him. She didn’t trust him. How could she, when there was a chance he’d been involved in any illegal activities with her ex? How could she trust anyone, when the one person she had trusted had hidden his true nature from her throughout their entire marriage?

  She propped her elbows on the table and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Crying wouldn’t help anything.

  And to be honest, Jace had never harassed her, as the other cops had. She’d have remembered him instantly if he had.

  Maybe Brandon had fooled Jace just as much as he’d fooled her, and maybe Maris had been wrong about him. What did the Bible say? Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven.

  She blew out a breath and folded her arms on the table. She’d do well to remember those lessons, not only pertaining to Jace, but to Maris, too. “If he stays true to the time line in the book, I only have a week to find him.”

  “Whoa.” He held his hands up, palms toward her in a gesture of surrender. “What do you mean I?”

  Heat blossomed in her cheeks. “I meant I only have one week to find him before he kills someone else.”

  “You can’t possibly think you’re going searching for a killer on your own.”

  She caught his gaze and held it. “Don’t you get it? I can’t be responsible for another murder. I can’t stand the thought of another woman dying because I chose her, because I brought her to the attention of some serial killer.”

  “Addison, you’r
e not responsible for the actions of a killer.”

  “Aren’t I?”

  Jace raked a hand through his hair in what was becoming a familiar gesture. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, then closed it again and studied her.

  She shoved her empty plate away, the roiling in her stomach no longer from hunger, and pulled the laptop closer. Ignoring him, she opened her email. Over a hundred new messages since she’d last checked. She skimmed through the subject lines, knowing exactly what she was looking for, and found it halfway through the list. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed she was wrong. The familiar words—The Final Victim—floated in her mind. The few sips of coffee she’d swallowed threatened to come back up.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her hand shook convulsively as she lifted the coffee cup to her mouth just so she’d have something to do, something to distract her from the new message glaring at her from the screen. Coffee sloshed over the side of the mug and onto the table. She lowered it without taking a sip. No way she’d get it past the lump in her throat anyway. “Working on something.”

  “Listen, Addison, I know you’ve had your problems with the police, and Connor was very clear that I shouldn’t involve them, but once he gets here...”

  She snorted, the sound not very ladylike, but it summed up her feelings for the police.

  “There are probably still some good men on the force...” Something about the statement seemed off, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her. “Besides, no one wants a killer on the loose. Even the crooked cops will work to stop him.”

  “Really? And how do you know that? Because you would have tried to stop him?” She slammed the computer closed, fully aware she was being a class A jerk—even after he’d gone through the trouble of making breakfast and coffee...and saving her life—but unable to stop herself. Her emotions were too all over the place, bubbling up within her with nowhere to go, no way to vent.