Daniel strode up to the porch and leaned on the doorbell. He was just about ready to do it again when he heard movement inside. She opened the door and gazed at him without any visible emotion.
“What can I do for you, Detective?” she asked after a minute.
“I heard you were suspended.”
“Who told you?”
“Your boss.” He hesitated. “I think she was worried about you.”
“Because I ranted and raved.”
“Yeah, that was probably it.” He nodded toward the door opening. “Can I come in?”
She gave it some thought but finally said, “I suppose,” and backed up.
Until then, he’d kept his gaze above her shoulders, but now he couldn’t resist a look at her spectacular legs revealed beneath cutoff shorts. He liked the effect of the body-clinging tank top, too. She was fine-boned but had ample curves. They were on display right now, which might be one reason she had been reluctant to open the door to him.
“You alone?” he asked, stepping in.
“Yes. I just poured myself a glass of white wine. Can I interest you in one?”
Daniel wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but he said, “Sure, why not. I’m off the clock.”
Her solitary glass of wine sat on an antique kitchen table, so he pulled up a chair opposite it.
Her feet were bare, too, he noticed while she was pouring another glass and putting the wine back in the fridge. Narrow feet, long toes. He moved a little uncomfortably as his gaze traveled upward.
She turned just then and caught him looking. Her eyes narrowed, but she set the wine down in front of him and plopped into a chair without comment.
“What? Did you imagine I’m suicidal, and you had to rush to the rescue?”
He smiled. “Not for a minute. You’re tougher than that.”
“Yes, I am.” She stared at him with defiance, just long enough to make her point, but then she lifted one shoulder and her mouth twisted. “Crappy day, though.”
“Yeah.” He had to clear his throat. Somehow, he saw looking down, he’d reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Told everyone how you really feel, huh?”
She didn’t turn her hand over to clasp his, but she didn’t pull away, either. “Did Sadie tell you what I said?”
“More or less. I want to hear about it from you.” He wished she hadn’t made herself a target if the killer had happened to be there when she let loose. But he also understood that Lindsay wasn’t much for pretending. Her directness was one of many qualities that attracted him. As a cop, he sometimes thought he heard nothing but lies all day, every day.
So she told him, possibly verbatim, what she’d said before stalking out of work.
Daniel snagged on the last part. “You’re sure this Bradley Taubeneck didn’t lock his kid out of the house that night?”
Vivid blue eyes haunted by memories met his. “Without a doubt? No. But… I’m pretty sure. I had suspicions I couldn’t prove, so I left them out of the file. His wife accused him, and it was really unlikely the kid slipped out of the house and got locked out accidentally. Of course that happens, though. If the parents locked up and didn’t bother to check on their kids before they went to bed.”
“What did they say when you asked?”
“The mother claimed she had a migraine.”
“But you didn’t believe her,” he said slowly.
“At first I bought into her story. She was weepy, grieving, even as she darted accusing looks at her husband.” Her eyes appeared unfocused now. “Because of her headache, he was bearing more of the childcare responsibilities than usual, and Max was being really loud and wild. They were starting to wonder if he might be hyperactive. Anyway, the more I spoke with them, the more I saw genuine shock and bewilderment and grief on the dad’s part and something a little off on hers. He seemed…stunned that she’d point a finger at him. Once he started to say, ‘You know I’m always patient with Max. It’s you who—’ He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to.” She sighed and took a swallow of the wine. “It was the kind of investigation I hate the most. They didn’t have any near neighbors, which meant no witnesses.”
“Plus, Max couldn’t have gone to a neighbor’s.”
“Right.” Lindsay shrugged. “I convinced the DA to drop the charges, but I couldn’t prove Bradley was innocent any more than I was able to prove his wife was the one who lost it with her own kid.”
“Did people you worked with know about your doubts?”
She frowned. “I’m sure I expressed some concern, but they may have thought I had to let him off because there was no way to be sure what happened.”
Daniel swore and rubbed a hand over his face. “So our killer thinks Bradley was guilty as hell and got off scot-free.” More slowly, he said, “Or, I guess I should say, he thought Bradley was guilty.” After an even longer pause, he added, “Or else he doesn’t care one way or the other. The victims are just…symbols.”
“That’s even more sickening.”
He looked away for a minute. “Yeah.”
Sounding stricken, Lindsay said, “You really think somebody at CPS is doing this.”
“You have any better ideas?”
She shook her head, gazing into her wineglass as if she’d find answers there.
“Can you tell me who was there to hear your blowup?”
She explained that it had been early enough in the morning, only three coworkers had been missing: Ashley Sheldon, Gayle Schaefer and Ray Hammond. “Well,” she said, “I’m sure Celeste heard every word out at reception, too, and so did Sadie—I guess you already knew that—and Glenn Wilson, my last supervisor.”
Daniel frowned. “What was he doing there?”
“He pops in once a week or so, just kind of keeping a read on our emotional stability, I guess you could say. Truthfully, I think he’s bored.”
“Ms. Culver doesn’t mind? She doesn’t feel like he’s looking over her shoulder?”
“No, she says that when she first started, he was really generous when she had questions. I’ve seen them go out for coffee together, even.”
“Does he still have access to the database?”
Her surprise was obvious. “Of course not! You aren’t thinking he could be—”
“It’s going to turn out to be somebody you know, Lindsay.”
“Lovely thought.”
They looked at each other in silence for what had to be a minute. Damn, she was beautiful. He wanted to stand up, go around the table and pull her to her feet. Hold her—although he was too likely to kiss her once she was in his arms.
What he ought to do was go home. Daniel already knew he wouldn’t be doing that. Not until he had no other choice.
“Listen,” he said, “what if I order a pizza? Or that Thai place delivers.”
Her chin lifted in an all-too familiar gesture of independence. “I’m okay by myself. Don’t feel you have to stay to, I don’t know, prop me up.”
“I want to stay.”
She searched his face again, finally nodding. “Then pizza sounds good. Can I have my half veggie?”
“You don’t eat meat?”
“Sometimes. It just sounds good. Less greasy.”
“Works for me, too.” He had the number in his phone and dialed immediately. While he was talking to some kid at the pizza joint, her phone rang. He turned to see her eyeing the caller’s number with puzzlement.
She answered anyway. “Hello?”
Color drained from her face.
“‘I THOUGHT YOU, of all people, would understand.’”
Daniel crouched next to her chair at the table. “That’s all he said?”
“No. Then he said, ‘It’s not like you’ve never made a mistake.’ It was a whisper.” Lindsay’s voice shook. So did her hand,
she saw distantly, as she reached for her wineglass. “I think it was a man, but I’m not positive.”
“Damn.”
“Damn?” That suddenly struck her as almost funny. “A serial killer knows my phone number? He thought I’d understand? ‘Damn’ doesn’t seem to cover it.” She shuddered.
“I know some worse words.”
His eyes were steady on her face, but sharp, too, as if seeing more than she wanted to give away. One of his big, warm hands rested on her thigh, the other on her lower back. His touch felt so good, it took all she had to hold her spine straight, refuse to succumb to such temptation.
“Not sure those words would help,” he added.
“No.”
“Lindsay, you know you have to tell me what he meant about you making mistakes.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Truly. I think we’re all afraid a child will die because we didn’t act or maybe thought counseling would be enough. Or didn’t do an adequate background check, like me with Martin Ramsey. As bad in a different way would be taking a child from a parent who was innocent but you hadn’t done a thorough enough investigation. Bradley Taubeneck is an example of someone who suffered even though we didn’t charge him.”
Daniel’s knees must hurt, as long as he’d crouched there beside her, but he didn’t move. “Maybe that’s the kind of thing this guy thinks was a ‘mistake.’ You didn’t nail the guy when you had the chance.”
She shivered. “So he took care of it.”
“Yeah.”
She went for what had to be a pathetic smile. “Did you get the pizza ordered?”
“Yeah.” The expression on his angular face hardened, and he rose to his feet, looking down at her. “You’re too vulnerable here. I think it really is time for a vacation, preferably far, far away. A cruise. Norwegian fjords. The Caribbean. Even Alaska would do for the short-term.”
For a moment she imagined it. She’d lie back on a deck chair and sip some fruity drink to try to mute her worries. Dolphins would frolic beside the ship. She wouldn’t turn on her phone at all. She’d go to glitzy shows every night, stuff her face, read all the books she never found time to get to.
Assuming she could concentrate, what with the fruity drinks and the fear gnawing at her belly and constricting her heart.
“I can’t,” she heard herself blurt before she’d really made a decision. “I’m in the middle of this. You know I am.”
“I want to take you out of the middle.” He looked and sounded grim.
“I know. I understand. It’s just…none of it is my fault, but I still feel responsible, in a way.” She held up a hand to stop the comeback rising to his lips. “No, listen. Somehow, I must have given the impression that I wished abusers would die. Of course, it’s not something I can do, but I must have given off the idea that I wouldn’t mind if someone else did it for me.”
Daniel swore. “Have you ever felt that way?”
She swallowed. “As mad as I sometimes get, no. No. But maybe I complained too much. All I know is that I can’t run away now. It’s better if he focuses on me instead of…whoever he might already be stalking.”
He swung away, paced the length of the kitchen then back, his expression dark. “You infuriated him today. He can’t kid himself anymore that you’re secretly grateful to him for having the guts to do what no one else will, that you’d throw yourself into his arms in gratitude if he revealed himself to you.”
The idea made Lindsay’s stomach lurch. “I know,” she said softly. Her fingernails bit into her palms.
“You saw one of the bodies. You think you know what he’s capable of, but you don’t,” he said harshly. “Monster is the right word for him. Can you imagine finding yourself locked in a freezer? It’s dark and hopeless and you get colder and colder until ice forms in your nostrils and eyes and lungs?” He planted his hands on the table and bent forward, eyes dark and boring into hers. “How do you think he’d kill you, Lindsay, now that you’ve violated his worldview?”
Her throat closed. Her teeth wanted to chatter.
“What is it you think you can do by staying in town?”
“I…” He was right, in a way. She had no idea why she felt such certainty. Was she trying to prove something to herself? “Maybe he’ll stop now, since he knows it’s not what I want.”
Daniel’s laugh was incredulous. “Get real. You were only peripheral. Nobody does what he has been doing unless they enjoy it. He’s had more than a taste now. He’ll keep killing. If you were one of his victims—” He shook his head and turned his back.
Suddenly angry, she said, “Do I stay away forever? How are you going to catch him? If he does focus on me, that might give you a chance.”
A growled obscenity expressed his opinion of that as he turned back to glare at her. “If I thought I could get away with it, I’d take you into protective custody.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“No, but by God you aren’t going to be alone for a minute from now on. Do you hear me?”
“Isn’t that protective custody?”
“The kind that doesn’t involve a jail cell. Count your blessings.”
She did. A sudden realization of how petrified she’d be if he walked out on her cracked the wall that she hid behind. She hadn’t needed anyone since she was a child, but now she needed this man, and not only to keep her safe.
“I’ll definitely count my blessings,” she managed.
His expression changed. Whatever she saw on his face was unfamiliar, made her weak, vulnerable.
“Damn it, Lindsay.” He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and lifted her to her feet. “Do you know how much I want to kiss you?”
Panicked, she shook her head. Sex, she could do. But with Daniel, it would be more, and she didn’t dare.
He muttered something she couldn’t make out and pulled her close, tucked her head against his shoulder and held her against him. His body radiated heat. For an instant, she stood stiffly, fighting against the pure seduction of powerful arms, hard thighs and a muscular chest. Then a hitch of breath escaped her and she couldn’t do anything but wrap her arms around his torso and quiver with tension even as she tried to soak in some of his strength.
“You’ll be okay,” he murmured in her ear. “We’ll catch this vile excuse for a human being. I swear we will.”
Lindsay actually believed him. She might not later, when she was alone in bed, but right now, she did. Her head bobbed. At least she wasn’t crying.
He rubbed his cheek on her hair, or maybe it was his lips. If she lifted her face to his…
No, no, no! What a horrible time to start anything with him. It was classic; little woman desperate to please the man who gave her the best chance of survival. Later…maybe. Now, she breathed in his scent and gathered herself to pull away.
DANIEL LAY STRETCHED out on Lindsay’s sleeper sofa, which was both too short for him and ribbed with what felt like steel girders. He’d given up trying to find a comfortable position; there wasn’t one.
Hell, he couldn’t sleep anyway. Either he was thinking about how to catch this killer, or he brooded about Lindsay. In between, he remembered how she’d felt in his arms, actually allowing herself a minute or two of human contact, of physical support. Probably just as well she’d retreated when she did, because he’d been getting aroused and she’d have noticed any moment. He loved every lush curve on her body along with the taut muscles and a strength so much a part of her; he worried about why she was so wary of him, not to mention every other man. Maybe women, too. The concept of trust didn’t seem to be in her frame of reference. Her kind of strength was born out of necessity.
He clasped his hands behind his head and stared up at the dark ceiling. He could be patient. He thought he’d made some inroads already. Tonight, she’d clutched him with fierce strength. She’d let him hold her hand.
The situation gave him some proximity, too. Harder for her to resist him when they were all but living together.
Any satisfaction sank under the weight of the real-life situation. He had a deeply bad feeling about that whispered reprimand from the killer. Lindsay was right to be scared that he had her personal phone number—and the confirmation that part of his motivation had been pleasing her. No surprise, Daniel had confirmed that the killer had called from a burner phone, probably already in a dumpster.
Would he come after her? Daniel considered the possibility realistic enough that he intended to provide protection for her twenty-four-seven. Tomorrow, he’d talk to his lieutenant and the police chief if necessary. In the meantime, he had already lined up Melinda to stay with her tomorrow, although it was the detective’s day off. As dedicated as she was to her job, she hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d spend nights here. He couldn’t opt out of a callout, but he’d worry about it when it came. If he had to, he’d take Lindsay with him. Maybe drop her at one of his other cop friends’ houses. They’d manage.
She obviously had some idea of being bait, but that wasn’t happening unless he could come up with a foolproof plan. Something else to worry about tomorrow.
He listened hard, but heard only sounds that ought to be there. A car passing several blocks away, the refrigerator humming, the gurgle of the toilet flushing down the hall.
Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was having trouble sleeping.
He lay rigid, listening for footsteps, but he heard nothing until a faint creaking told him she’d crawled back into bed.
Daniel groaned, wishing he was in that bed with her.
LINDSAY HADN’T FALLEN asleep until at least four in the morning. There was so much to think about, from the whispering, angry caller to the fact that Daniel was there, and not because he had an urgent need for answers. That thought warmed her. Still, she circled on to her state of unemployment, and then back to Daniel staying the night so she didn’t have to be alone. Around and around and around…until she dropped into a deep, dark hole and didn’t surface until strong beams of sunlight made their way into the room through the window blinds.
The Hunting Season Page 11