by Addison Fox
“Then you need to stay two steps ahead of them. They missed the clues up on Wicked, too, Trey. That mountain’s face is huge. You can’t assume you’re at fault because you didn’t find anything before today. A few divots in the mud. Who could expect to find that?”
“It nagged at me, you know?” He started in as if he hadn’t heard her. “The late-season avalanche. And the severity of it. I might not know that mountain like Rick or even Decker, but I know Colorado. I know where I live. We don’t get destruction like that so late in the season.”
He shook his head. “I knew it, Aish. But I ignored the signs. I made fighting for my job and pushing off the Feds more important than doing good, solid investigative work. How much further along would we be if we found this six weeks ago after the bodies were found?”
“But you found it now.” She took the seat beside him and laid a hand over his. “You know what you’re dealing with now. That has to be your focus.”
“And if I’m too late? For Skye? For some other poor woman we don’t even know about yet?”
Once again, the weight Trey carried struck Aisha as a visceral, living thing. A mountain of worry that sat on his back as if he were the proverbial Atlas, carrying it all alone.
Only he wasn’t.
“You’re not in this by yourself.” She offered up the support, even as the risk of rejection in the form of his stubborn refusal to share the load posed a threat.
But she was made of sterner stuff.
A harsh laugh escaped his throat, at odds with the stillness that surrounded them. The office had quieted after Trey’s staff meeting and while Aisha knew there were still team members in the building, everyone had hunkered down at their computers or headed out to do some evening fieldwork.
It felt like just the two of them.
Was it wrong she wished it was just the two of them?
“You’re not, Trey. I’m here. Daria is as loyal as they come. And despite today’s bump in the road, your deputies are good and loyal. To you. You’ve trained them well and they’re good at their jobs.”
“What if we don’t make it in time?” He shook his head, the golden-brown depths of his eyes cloudy with worry and what she now realized was fear. “What if there are more?”
The temptation to brush it off was strong, but she knew that wasn’t the answer. Ignoring a threat didn’t make it disappear, nor did it dissuade the one who worried over it. Trey might be struggling in a moment of doubt, but she knew the man could—and would—walk through fire for his job.
“If there are more, then we’ll deal with it. Together.”
“What would I do without you?”
“You’re not going to need to find out.” Her gaze remained firmly on his, but she couldn’t resist a small poke. “Unless you keep criticizing me for my dinner choices.”
“Oh. Well. When you put it that way.” He turned the hand still beneath hers over so their palms met. “What would I do without you?”
He asked the question again, his tone shifting as if the words truly registered in ways they hadn’t before. They’d been a part of each other’s lives for so long, it was easy to assume the other would always be there.
But what if that changed?
Or what if the circumstances between them shifted so irrevocably they could never get back what they had?
“You’re not going to have to find out.”
She said the words as much to convince herself as to reassure him. And then, as if in a dream, his other hand came up and brushed at a few of her curls that had come loose from where she’d clipped back her hair.
With his fingertips, he traced the curve of her cheek, a light, teasing smile playing over his lips. “Unless I refuse the salad.”
“Right. Then,” she said, her voice breathy under the softness of his touch. “A girl’s got to hold the line on something.”
“As I remember, you laid down a pretty firm line on something else.”
Aisha understood his meaning. And even though they’d shared that one kiss, she’d believed herself able to maintain a firm hold on not doing it again.
Oh, how delusional she’d been.
“You think I can’t?”
“I don’t know.” He tilted his head, moving closer, yet staying far enough away his lips hovered just out of reach from hers. “First dinner. Then kissing. I’m asking you to give up an awful lot.”
“Do you hear me arguing?”
He stilled, his dark eyes searching hers. “No.”
The moment seemed to stretch out, a second in time yet an eternity as she waited for him to finally decide. The quiet of the room was broken by the ringing of an office phone at the corner of the conference room table, but it might have been a million miles away for all she heard it.
Or for all the effort either one of them made to reach for it.
And then his lips met hers and the ringing faded. The quiet disappeared. All she heard was Trey. The light groan that echoed from his throat. The soft, matched moan that came from her own. And the lightly delicious sound of skin against skin that whispered between them from the rub of his beard stubble.
The kiss was as wonderful as the first, only this time there was something different. What had seemed like impulse the first time was noticeably absent this go-round. Kissing Trey this time felt purposeful. Determined. And oh so amazing.
Aisha allowed herself to sink into him, meeting his tongue thrust for thrust as his mouth moved over hers, devouring her and any hint of resistance. This was right.
Real.
And so damn tempting she was ready to...
“Trey!”
The heavy slam of the door hitting the wall along with the harsh bark of his name had them pulling apart as if burned. Daria stood in the doorway, her neatly pressed uniform still starched against her stiff frame. Not a hair was out of place and she looked as she always did—cool and competent.
Except for the urgency that nearly had her dancing from foot to foot.
“Sheriff. I’m sorry to interrupt. I—”
Trey stood to his full height, the move enough to stop her. “What is it?”
“The Avalanche Killer. He’s on line one.”
Chapter 10
Trey picked up the phone and pressed the button for line one. He’d already instructed Daria to capture the call on the station’s recording system but his trusty deputy had already put the details in motion before telling him of the call.
And now he’d face the man who’d been terrorizing Roaring Springs for who knew how long.
“This is Colton.”
“Mr. Colton. Or should I call you Sheriff?”
Trey knew the taunt was nothing more than a ploy for the upper hand and he kept his tone even. Firm. “Sheriff’ll do.”
“Yeah, you enjoy that title while you still have it.”
The voice was muffled by a technology overlay, but the intent was more than clear. Trey recognized the gambit for what it was and fought to ignore the personal jab. Instead, he filed away the fact the killer knew of local politics. “My deputy says you have something you want to talk to me about.”
“You’ve been so far off the mark lately I decided to throw you a leash.”
A leash?
Although Trey knew the FBI had profiled the Avalanche Killer as highly dangerous, the man on the other side of the line could just as easily be a crackpot. He needed to get through the call, but the conversation wasn’t what he’d expected.
“Why don’t you and I set up some time to talk? You can tell me about it. All of it.”
“How stupid do you think I am?”
Since the guy had made a phone call to a law enforcement agency, Trey opted to leave that one alone. “This is about what drives you. I want to understand that.”
“You want to get reelected. Plain and simple.�
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Before Trey could react to that, the man pressed on. “Out front. Just beyond the cameras. I left you a package. Have fun.”
The line went dead and Trey hollered into it, even as he knew it was useless. He’d had no chance to ask about Skye. Or to even probe for clues to where his cousin might be.
“Trey!” Daria shouted down the hall. “Team’s on it.”
Not without him, he thought as he raced out of the room. Aisha still sat in the same seat she’d taken opposite him, but the heat and need that had driven them both only moments before had vanished.
A killer had been within close range of the precinct and they’d all missed it.
Daria had already cleared the front door of the station, her gun drawn with three of his deputies bringing up the rear behind her. All swept the space before them, clearing the perimeter just as their training indicated, in arcs that increased yard by yard.
He followed behind, his own weapon drawn, more than ready to lay down fire should it be needed.
But nothing came.
In moments, another shout went up at the discovery of the package. Trey was prepared to have them call out SWAT to ensure the package wasn’t rigged, but as he narrowed the gap between him and Daria, he saw that there was no need.
The “package” was a plastic bag, full of blood and hair. There was no need to worry about a bomb.
But the evidence suggested he did need to put out an APB for another missing person.
* * *
Aisha stared down at the contents of the envelope, the thickened blood pooled on the hair sample already in an evidence bag. She had pressed Trey to be allowed to stay, her civilian status a risk now that they’d received the call and the new piece of evidence.
But he’d brushed off any concern and told her from that moment on she was a civilian consultant.
Trey’s team had already photographed the evidence, well aware they couldn’t hold off the FBI for much longer. A call of this nature—and the deliberate taunt that came with it—had to be handled by the authorities in charge. And whether Trey liked it or not, that jurisdiction was now owned by the Feds.
Which had only added to the urgency with which Trey’s team went into motion.
The photos, copies of the recording and a transcript had already been generated. Daria was running scenarios through a computer while Trey ordered various hunts for missing persons, widening the search to all of Colorado as well as Wyoming and Utah.
And Aisha sat there, staring at her notes and wondering why she was so bothered by the outreach.
The break in pattern was concerning, but that wasn’t what had her sideways. Nor was it the gruesome package, delivered as casually as a sack of groceries.
It was how the killer had broken pattern.
If there hadn’t been an avalanche, they wouldn’t have even known about the six other women. Suddenly, the killer was seeking attention and taunting the cops?
“I’d say penny for your thoughts, but those look like silver dollars, easy.” Trey sat down next to her, his gaze going unerringly toward the package.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Aisha murmured, struggling to see through the hazy veil that seemed to have covered a part of her thoughts.
She knew something was off, but she was damned if she could find it.
“Why don’t I move that?” Trey gently picked up the sample and moved it to a small box at the end of the table. “Agent Roberts will be here soon to pick it up anyway.”
Aisha waited until Trey resumed his seat, her voice low when she spoke. Several of his deputies still moved in and out of the conference room and there was no use riling up anyone further. “Do you think he’ll shut you out?”
“Probably.” Trey ran a hand over his short hair, cupping the back of his head before massaging his neck.
The desire to move in right then and rub away the tension was palpable, but Aisha held back. The news of their “engagement” might have raced through the station like wildfire but this wasn’t the place to advertise.
Besides, they weren’t engaged. It didn’t matter if she’d shifted a ring to her left hand or answered questions as if she were a glowing bride-to-be—she wasn’t one.
And Trey had spoken to a killer.
Bone-deep fear rattled through her and for the first time, the severe magnitude of what he was up against hit her. Oh, she’d understood the problem. The photos of the dead women had already tainted her dreams and, she well knew, would for years to come.
But even as real as those details were, something had struck her about that phone call. The taunting voice. The bloody package. And the fact the killer had been in plain view of the station at some point that day.
How easy would it have been for him to stand at a distance, a gun trained on Trey or Daria or any member of his team?
“Trey. I need you to promise me you’ll be careful.”
He looked over at her. “Of course I will.”
“No, I mean you have to promise me.” Aisha heard the desperation in her voice and prayed she was getting through. That he understood the gravity of the situation.
“Aish.” Trey moved closer and tugged on the arm of her rolling chair, pulling her close. “I am careful.”
“I just can’t lose you.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”
“Just promise—”
Before she could finish the words, he’d leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. It was gentle and full of promise and she wanted to cling to him right there. Maybe would have if not for the audience in close proximity.
For several long moments they stayed just like that. Although she could feel heat behind the kiss, it was more designed to comfort and ease her fear than it was some sort of carnal feast.
And while she had enjoyed every moment of that kiss, it was humbling to realize how something so simple as their touch of lips could so quickly calm her roiling thoughts.
Trey lifted his head. “We’re going to find him. Take him down.”
“But he’s out there. And so close.” Her gaze drifted of its own volition toward the end of the table and what she knew still lay there. “He got so close.”
“Which is why we’ll catch him. I have to believe that.” He ran his fingertips over her cheek. “So do you.”
Aisha nodded. Fear could be overwhelming if you allowed it room to breathe and grow, taking shape and form. She saw it in her patients and understood how debilitating it would become if left unchecked.
While she’d never diminish her patients’ needs or consider them less for accepting the help she could provide, Aisha also knew that much of what consumed them were fears that overtook their better judgment. Whether it was unchecked anxiety or the unfortunate consequences of mental illness, as a professional she could help them find coping mechanisms and ways of managing.
This was different.
There was a killer on the loose. Not a figment of her imagination, but a man who’d stolen the lives of at least six women, now a seventh. A deranged killer who now had Trey Colton in his sights. No matter how hard she tried to find a bright spot, there wasn’t one.
And she had no idea how to ensure the safety of the man she loved.
* * *
Trey watched the emotions play across Aisha’s beautiful face, each thought she battled taking shape and form. In her eyes, pressed upon her lips, setting firm in her chin. He watched each one—fear, determination, even a subtle thread of resignation—before her gaze returned to his.
“You will catch him.” Conviction lay beneath her words and once again, that determination returned to her gaze.
“We will.”
Trey wanted to stay like that a bit longer, but the quiet buzz of activity that had hummed through his station since they’d all returned from the parking lot had shifted. Trey stood, turning to fin
d Agent Stefan Roberts at the door.
“Colton.” Agent Roberts nodded.
“Roberts.”
Trey was more than willing to give the man his due, but he wasn’t a pushover. And he was still the sheriff of Bradford County. He deserved to be spoken to as such.
“Guy’s got some brass balls.” Roberts’s gaze softened. “Deputy Bloom said you and your team handled it like champs.”
Trey’s gaze shifted to Daria, who sat quietly at the edge of the table, her bearing proud and tall. He’d deliberately put her as the liaison with the Feds, hoping her stoic nature and apparent by-the-book approach would win them over.
Or at least make the way between them smooth and even.
For all her seeming agreement, Trey had the additional knowledge of how good Daria was. The woman was indefatigable, digging until she found answers. And she had a way of doing it that was complementary to the situation instead of intrusive. Hell, Trey acknowledged to himself, Daria would solve the crime and still make the FBI think they’d won the round.
“As soon as Deputy Bloom knew who we were dealing with, she had the team moving. We got a full recording.”
Agent Roberts gestured to the room at large. “Why don’t you walk me through it after you make introductions.”
Although Aisha spent a fair amount of time around the station, she’d been absent each time he’d interfaced with the Feds. Clearly, that time was at an end.
“Agent Stefan Roberts. Let me introduce you to Aisha Allen, civilian consultant.”
“Consultant?” Roberts’s eyebrows rose.
“Ms. Allen is a clinical psychologist. Her insights have been invaluable to us.” Trey nearly held his tongue but decided it would seem more conspicuous should Roberts find out later. “She’s also my fiancée.”
Those eyebrows rose a few more notches, but other than that the agent conveyed little else. “When did you get engaged?”
“This past weekend.”
Aisha moved in, extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent Roberts.”
Although she stopped short of flirting, Trey didn’t miss the subtle thread of deference she showed. A very un-Aisha-like trait, but one that served her well when Roberts’s features relaxed a fraction.