Though he scanned the road, there was no way to tell if a sniper still crouched in the trees. He popped the trunk, took out the jack and tried to keep his attention focused everywhere as he changed the tire with a giant bull’s-eye on his back.
SIX
As soon as they returned to the cabin, Jace ushered Addison inside, cleaned and bandaged her shoulder—which turned out to be nothing more than a nick—and headed out to secure the property with Phoenix, leaving Addison alone with her thoughts.
She watched through the window above the sink as Jace ran along the edge of the tree line with the big dog at his side. It would have seemed such a normal, everyday activity, if not for the scowl he wore while he continuously scanned the woods and yard, stopping every now and then to study something closer.
Tearing her gaze from the window, she took a glass of water to the living room and settled at the computer. She hit a random key to bring up the screen.
Ron’s response to her earlier message waited. Let’s be reasonable, Addison. I spoke to the powers that be, and we’ve decided to hold off for now and see what happens. Who knows? Maybe it’s all a coincidence.
She closed the message box. It didn’t matter. There was no guarantee pulling the book would have stopped the killer anyway. All that mattered now was finding a way to stop him from killing anyone else—from killing Maris.
Maris. She and her sister had once been so close. Massaging her temples, Addison searched for calm. How had things between them gone so wrong? Oh, right. Maris had taken it upon herself to write a story about Addison’s husband without even giving her any advance warning. Apparently, a lot of the information had hit close enough to home for Brandon to think it had come from Addison. And he’d tormented her for betraying him.
She pulled up her email. There had to be a clue to who the killer was, something she’d overlooked.
She sensed Jace hovering and looked up from the list of email messages.
With one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the desk, he leaned over her right shoulder. “Anything?”
Phoenix dropped his head onto her left leg.
She twined her fingers through his shaggy coat, his warmth bringing a sense of companionship, leaving her feeling a little less alone. “No. I went through the list three times, and that was after I ran a search that came up with nothing. None of the email addresses match.”
When this was all over, she was definitely getting a dog. She’d go to the shelter. Maybe the dog she rescued would also rescue her, save her from the solitude she’d been hiding in for the past five years. Who was she kidding? She’d been hiding in solitude a lot longer than five years, had hidden alone throughout most of her marriage. No, not alone. God had been with her, had helped her through the worst of her past, probably would have helped more if she had reached out more.
Phoenix glanced up, catching Addison’s gaze, and tilted his head into her palm.
Who knew? Maybe there was still room in her heart for love. If she could find a way to forgive herself for the past.
“Do you believe in God, Jace?”
He straightened and looked down into her eyes.
She wasn’t sure why she’d asked, or why his answer mattered so much, but it did. Had God truly sent him to save her? Could Jace really have been the answer to her plea for help? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask something so personal.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just... I want to be sure I answer honestly.” After another moment, he took a deep breath, then spoke quietly. “I think somewhere in my heart I always believed, but I turned away for a long time, through the Internal Affairs investigation, then losing my wife. I was so angry. It was only later...”
He moved to crouch beside Phoenix and lay a hand on the dog’s head. “After I found Phoenix on my doorstep, I realized maybe God hadn’t given up on me, even though I’d pretty much given up on myself. Phoenix had a collar and a tag with his name on it, so I put an ad in the local paper and in a few social media groups. When no one claimed him, I accepted God was giving me a second chance. So, I prayed for the first time in a long time, begged for forgiveness, for help, for strength, for guidance. And He answered. I was finally able to quit drinking and focus on searching for Jennifer’s killer. Though I still haven’t found him, I’m confident one day I will.”
“Do you think you’ll ever go back to the police force?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’d like to, love to, actually, but not with Brandon Carlisle and his buddies in charge. That wouldn’t bode well for me.”
That was certainly an understatement.
Jace returned to his spot at her side, leaning over to see the laptop screen. Apparently, their heart-to-heart had ended. “Did you open each email and check the signature lines, see if he signed them in any way, even just to taunt?”
She froze. She hadn’t thought of that, couldn’t even recall if there was a signature line on either of the messages from the killer. She could envision the passage from her book, and the images of the victims were seared into her brain, tormenting her every time she closed her eyes, but she couldn’t recall a signature. Stupid mistake. “No.”
“If he did take some sort of credit, it might give us an idea how he’s thinking, and we desperately need that to get into his head.”
She pulled up the first message from the killer, avoiding studying the pictures too closely, ignoring the pang of grief for the stranger who’d died by her hand, and scrolled to the bottom. Nothing. She checked the second and third emails. “No signatures.”
There really was no need to tell him. He could see clearly enough from his position over her shoulder, leaning close to see the screen, heat emanating from him. A line of sweat dripped down her back. Claustrophobia overwhelmed her, the need to escape his hovering presence a physical ache.
Darkness assailed her, closing in from both sides, tunneling her vision. Walls closed in on her, squeezing. She clamped her teeth until her jaw ached, but didn’t dare scream. She had to hide. Blackness threatened to suffocate her. She had to help. She had to escape the smell, the same smell as when she’d fallen and bloodied her nose. She curled into a ball, making herself smaller. She had to hide. She had to help...had to hide...to help...she had to see—“No!”
She lurched to her feet, startling the big dog from her lap and toppling her chair.
Jace jumped back, hands raised in front of him, eyes wide.
“Sorry. I...uh...” How could she explain the sense of panic that rushed over her at the feeling of being trapped? She couldn’t. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, grateful for the slight chill that evening brought to the cabin.
Jace frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She nodded, the ache in her chest easing now that she had some space and the past had stopped battering her. “I’m sorry. I’m extremely claustrophobic.”
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to crowd you.” He shoved a hand through his hair and righted the chair. “Please, sit. I promise I’ll give you some breathing room.”
She offered a shaky smile and returned to her seat, then took a deep breath and wiped the tears she only just realized had spilled over.
As promised, he kept his distance, leaning against the back of the couch. “Did you do what I suggested before? Try to get into the killer’s head, anticipate what he might do next?”
“Not yet.” She caught his gaze with hers, silently pleading for him to let her momentary anxiety go. “But if you leave me alone for a little while, I think I might know a way.”
“Of course.” He paused, his blue eyes intense as they studied her. A small smile shimmered in the depths of his gaze. “If you’re sure you’re okay.”
“I am, thank you.” She turned away from the sincerity in his eyes, had to if she was going to immerse herself in her killer’s mind the only way she knew how.
Time to start book three.
How did he choose his victims? She grabbed a spiral notebook from the top of the stack in her drawer to make notes and pulled her computer closer. She opened a new Word document and titled it Book Three.
Chapter One. He stood watching her. She’d change the first line later, make it something catchier, more memorable. For now, it helped give her a visual of him, watching, stalking, needing... This was her first attempt to get inside her killer’s head. The first and second books had been written entirely from the heroine’s point of view.
Addison closed her eyes and envisioned the woman through the killer’s eyes. Why her? What drew him? What was it about her that touched some deep part of him and made him want her? Specifically her, not any other woman. The slim build? Maybe. The big smile? Perhaps. Auburn highlights reflecting the sunlight shining on her long dark hair? Bingo.
The hair. That was it. It was definitely the long dark hair. The image of that hair fanned around the victim’s head had haunted Addison’s nightmares for years before she’d ever started writing.
* * *
Jace stopped at the edge of the woods behind the house after running the perimeter with Phoenix, breathing a little harder than he’d like to admit. He should have kept himself in better shape over the past years. If not for running every day with Phoenix, he wouldn’t have bothered exercising at all. Actually, if not for having to care for the pup who’d shown up on his doorstep not long after Jennifer’s death, Jace would probably have spiraled into an even worse depression. The need to take care of Phoenix was the only thing that had dragged him out of bed some days and given him reason to pull himself out of the dull haze brought on by the alcohol. The pup had restored some of his long-lost faith and helped him to move forward.
Phoenix nudged his leg, pulling his focus away from the memories Addison had stirred, memories better left in the past.
The sun had already begun to sink past the horizon, painting the wall of windows at the back of the house in a dazzling array of colors. Once darkness fell, he’d have a perfect view of the living room from the forest. A security nightmare.
If anyone figured out where they were, he’d have a tough time protecting her. But he would protect her, no matter what it took. As long as he could stand, he’d stand in front of her. Her strength, her courage, her desire to save whomever she could, even at her own personal expense, touched him in a way he didn’t understand. But he wanted to. He wanted to learn everything he could about Addison Keller.
He shook off the thought. Even if he had forgiven her for whatever role she might have played in Maris’s story, even if he had wanted to pull her into his arms and shelter her from whatever nightmares haunted her, even if he was searching for a relationship, which he most definitely was not, his only concern right now should be how to keep her safe and how to stop this killer from harming anyone else.
Only one road wound up the mountain, continuing on past her cabin and stopping in a dead end with a scenic overlook a few miles up. He’d only seen one house past hers, though a small development stood toward the beginning of the road, which meant it wouldn’t take the killer too long to find them now that he had an idea what direction they’d come from. The cover of the coming darkness should keep them safe for the night, but they’d have to leave by first light, before their stalker had too much of a chance to search the area.
The sun sank farther below the trees, streaking the sky in deep shades of orange and yellow and bringing Jace a sense of unease. Connor should have been there by now.
Phoenix stiffened at his side, his posture rigid, ears erect.
Jace scanned the woods, keeping some of his attention on Phoenix, waiting for any sign of danger.
After a few seconds, Phoenix shook himself and looked at Jace, whatever had alerted him apparently forgotten. No immediate threat, then. But no Connor, either.
“Come on, boy.” He jogged toward the house with Phoenix at his side.
He had to search for something to feed Phoenix, just in case Connor hadn’t gotten his message or didn’t show up. Besides, Addison might not have eaten anything since he’d been with her. Of course, that shouldn’t matter to him. Feeding her had nothing to do with security, which was all he’d agreed to provide.
In the kitchen, he washed his hands, then searched through the cabinets. Finding a large skillet, he set it on the stove. He enjoyed cooking. It relaxed him in a way nothing else did.
Addison seemed to have equipped the kitchen surprisingly well for someone who didn’t seem to have much interest in eating anything. He poured a little olive oil in the bottom of the pan to heat, then added garlic from a jar in the fridge. He’d have preferred fresh garlic, along with an onion and a few diced tomatoes, but with no fresh ingredients in the house, he’d have to make do.
He wanted to get back to Addison’s book. Even though he was dissecting it while reading, searching for any clue to who the next victim might be, he was also enjoying it. Probably more than he’d like to admit. She was a strong writer. Her characters had depth and her heroine was likable but with flaws, the kind of woman you’d want to see win.
He opened the package of sausage he’d taken out of the freezer to thaw that morning. Using a small knife, he slit the sausage casings and emptied the meat into the sizzling oil and garlic. He then cleaned up and started toward the pantry to search for spices. The aroma of cooking sausage filled the kitchen, making his mouth water.
Phoenix lifted his head from where he lay by the back door, alerting Jace to Addison’s presence before she spoke.
“What are you doing?”
He stopped and turned to face her. “Making dinner. Some of us have to eat, you know.”
She shrugged, crossed the kitchen and set her empty water glass on the counter, then lifted a mug of tea she must have made earlier and forgotten. She kept her gaze averted. “It smells good.”
“Thanks.”
Something about her, a certain sense of vulnerability, maybe, touched him. Not that she was weak; inner strength radiated from her, but something...
“How did your readers take you killing off the main character’s sister at the end of the book?” He hadn’t reached that part yet, but he was already dreading it. He had no doubt Addison’s descriptive writing would touch the reader and make them feel as if a beloved friend had died.
Her hands shook as she lifted the tea bag out and dropped it into the garbage pail. She stuck the mug in the microwave and turned it on, then turned to face him, her smile tentative. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get my fair share of hate mail.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Yup. People threatened me with everything from boycotting my books to inflicting bodily harm.”
“No, not about the hate mail. I meant you can’t be serious about heating that old tea in the microwave.”
She stared at him a moment, then laughed a little and shook her head. “My eyes are burning. Probably partly from being on the computer, but I’m tired, too. Since we don’t have coffee, I thought the tea might help.”
He took her mug out of the microwave, dumped the contents and filled the kettle with water. If he had to stay awake much longer, he was going to need the caffeine. “Where are the letters?”
“What letters?”
“You said you got your fair share of hate mail. What did you do with it? Did you report it to the police?”
She held his gaze and lifted a brow but said nothing.
Oh, right. For a moment he forgot who he was talking to. “Can I ask you something?”
She shrugged, the smile dancing in the gold depths of her green eyes a quick glimpse of who she might be without the stress of a killer battering her. “Sure, but I can’t promise I’ll answer.”
“Fair enough. Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business.” He was a bit sorry he’d brought it up, knowing t
he brief flicker of happiness would disappear in an instant. “What made you turn on Brandon? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you told Maris what was going on, but I just wondered, after being married to him for some time, what made you speak up when you did?”
She stared at the floor and shook her head. “I didn’t.”
He barely heard her response. “I’m sorry?”
“I didn’t tell Maris anything. I didn’t know.”
That actually made more sense. Addison struck him as too loyal to betray someone she cared about. Yet, her sense of responsibility wouldn’t have allowed her to turn a blind eye if she knew what Brandon had been guilty of.
He grinned, propped a finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Don’t beat yourself up. I was his partner, probably spent more time with him than you did, and I didn’t know, either.”
She shot him a grateful smile, and he changed the subject.
“Did you keep them? The letters from your less than adoring fans?”
“Most of it came by email.”
Jace stilled.
“I put it in a folder and saved it.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I—”
“Did any of the email addresses match?”
“What?”
“The email addresses from the hate mail. Did any of them match the email addresses the killer used?” His tone was harsher than intended. He didn’t mean it to sound so blunt, but this might be their first real clue.
Her eyes widened. “I...uh... I don’t know. I never thought to check.”
He worked to soften some of the anger in his voice. He wasn’t angry with her, but if her ex hadn’t bullied her continuously, she might have been able to call the police and figure this whole thing out sooner. “Can you pull it up?”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and nodded, lowering her gaze. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
His heart ached for her. It wasn’t her fault. None of this was, despite the guilt obviously weighing her down. “Truthfully, it’s probably a long shot. If the killer sent the messages from three different email addresses, chances are he wouldn’t have used any of them to send hate mail. But it still has to be checked.”
Crime Scene Connection Page 8
