Hunting Gorgeous: A Romantic Suspense

by B. B. Hamel

  “You don’t have to. There are other ways.” She reached out to touch my hand.

  I pulled back. “This is my house, and if Nick wants to stay, he can stay.”

  Detective Starch’s face fell. She turned from me and I felt like a door slammed in my face.

  “You’d better not fuck this up,” she said, then walked down the steps and climbed into the black sedan. We stood in silence as she started the car and pulled away.

  “I told you to do this by the book,” Cal said, sounding more tired than angry.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “This isn’t regulation.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re explaining it to Head. I’m going back to the room.” He walked down the porch slowly.

  Nick turned to me and nodded. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Those cops in there will stay with you for tonight. I need to write up a report and get my shit together, but I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “That’s good.” I didn’t know what else to say. I never lived with a man before, let alone a handsome federal agent.

  He looked at me for another piercing second then followed his partner. They pulled away, following the detective, and as their car disappeared down my gravel driveway, I thought about the mistake I was making, the stupid, reckless, headfirst plunge into danger, and for the first time since Delia was killed, I felt like I had a purpose, and it made me smile as I walked back into the house.

  3

  Nick

  The Foylestown Inn really was nice. Set right in the heart of the small downtown, the rooms were neat and clean with free Wi-Fi, decent showers, and enough towels to dry off an entire monster truck rally.

  “You shouldn’t do this.” Cal sat in a small wooden chair with his back against the window. He’d come to my room earlier than I expected. Outside, cars rolled down Main Street toward bars, restaurants, and the old high school.

  “Shouldn’t do what?” I cracked my knuckles, an ugly old habit. Two empty coffee cups sat next to me on the floor as I stretched my legs out along the freshly made bed. I stared at the email I’d typed out to Head.

  He was going to be pissed. Head didn’t like it when people made decisions without him in the field, especially decisions that landed one of his agents in the house of a potential victim. But shit, it was the perfect opportunity. I couldn’t turn away, even if I wanted.

  “I get it, you’re obsessed with the girl. But you still don’t have to do it.”

  I shot him a sharp look. “I’m not obsessed with anything.”

  “Come on. You’ve been going over and over that case file for weeks.”

  “I’ve been going over all the files.”

  “Great, so you’re obsessed with CGK then. Not much better.”

  I hit send and instantly regretted it, but what was done was done. Couldn’t fry a fish twice. Or maybe I couldn’t unbake a pie. Didn’t matter. “We both know CGK’s going to come out into the open sooner or later, and he’s going to do it here. Rose is the closest we’ll get before he goes to ground.”

  “Not worth the risk to you or the girl. Let’s get her in protective custody and sweep the area.”

  “If we do that, it’ll spook him, and the game’s up.”

  Cal looked away. He knew I was right, but he was so obsessed with the book and all the rules Head kept feeding us, over and over again, that he couldn’t see sometimes a risk was worth taking.

  It nagged at me though. Not my own risk; I was happy to throw myself in front of the train if it meant getting CGK off the streets and finding some measure of justice for all those dead girls.

  But Rose’s risk bothered me. Some part of me thought I might’ve manipulated her into it, or at least floated the suggestion in such a way she couldn’t refuse. Made me feel like hell, and maybe I did need to try to talk her out of it.

  I’d try, but later. For now, I had to get back. I closed my laptop, tossed it back into my bag, and stood up. Cal eyed me from the chair and the silence spread out between us.

  Our partnership never took. We were friendly, sometimes grabbed a beer after work, sometimes told jokes, but we weren’t close. He didn’t like the way I went about things, and I didn’t like the way he saw the world. We were cats and dogs.

  “I’ll take an Uber.”

  He shook his head. “Probably none out here. Let me give you a lift.”

  “You’re going to lecture me all the way over. I’d rather skip that.”

  “Won’t lecture.” He stood up. “Not too much, anyway.”

  I smiled a little and sighed. “All right. Let’s go then.”

  Back out in the car, Cal kept his promise. He stuck to the minimum amount of guilt and pressure possible. It annoyed me but I kept my mouth shut until we rolled down that bumpy gravel driveway as early morning light slanted sideways, nice and long and pretty. He parked behind a police cruiser.

  “Last chance,” he said.

  “Why don’t you come in and talk to her? Might be a good idea.”

  He squinted at the house then shook his head. “Nah. I’ll go talk to Detective Starch, since someone’s got to interface with the locals, and it sure as hell shouldn’t be you.”

  “Fair enough.” I gave him a tight smile, hesitated only half a second, then stepped out of the car. I fished my bag from the trunk and walked up the porch.

  A young cop I didn’t recognize answered the door. “You’re the FBI agent?” he asked.

  “The only and only.” I shook his hand. “Call me Nick.”

  “I’m Ted. Glad you’re here. It’s been a boring night.”

  “When did you take over?” I followed him into the kitchen where a second cop sat at the table drinking coffee.

  “Midnight last night,” Ted said. “The girl’s upstairs.”

  “Thanks, fellas. You two can take off. I’ll handle it from here.”

  Ted and his partner exchanged looks, but didn’t argue. Once they were gone and the house was wreathed in quiet, I made more coffee. I heard her come down the stairs a few minutes later as I poured my first cup.

  “Want some?” I asked as she stepped into the kitchen.

  “Thanks.” She sat down at the table.

  I put a mug down in front of her. She wore an oversized faded crewneck sweatshirt and a pair of black jeans. She smiled, lopsided and cute, sipped her coffee, and threw one elbow over the back of the chair.

  I sat across from her. “Looks like it’s just the two of us now.”

  She glanced at my bag like she wasn’t sure what to make of it. “There’s an extra room upstairs. That’s all you.”

  “I’m guessing we’ll share the bathroom?”

  She shrugged. “Unless you want to dig a hole out back.”

  “Tempting, but I’ll pass.”

  She tapped a nail against the porcelain mug. “You said we needed to talk.”

  I felt an overwhelming sense of grief wash over me as we sat in her small kitchen, drinking cheap, bitter coffee. Outside, birds sang in the overgrown forest, and somewhere nearby a psychopathic serial killer wanted to murder her—just like he’d murdered her sister. And there I was trying to use her as bait.

  “I need you to understand what you’re getting into.”

  She smiled a little. “I’m putting myself in danger. I understand the risk.”

  “No, you don’t.” I pushed my chair back and stood. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  She watched me, but got up and followed. She put boots on at her back door and together we stomped through the long grass, following the same general route I took with Starch the day before, but instead of cutting short and heading back to the house, she took me into the woods along a very thin, nearly covered path. It snaked between the trees then widened when it reached another dirt trail.

  “Guys bike back here,” she said. “Someone built jumps up over there. I heard some kid got hurt a few weeks back. I hope he’s okay.”

  We walked alo
ng passing ferns, wild daisies, hawkweed, sow thistle, goldenrod. Riverbank grape climbed along a young maple, strangling it out. The jumps were up ahead, large rolling mounds built from packed earth and plywood.

  “CGK’s been active for a while,” I said, speaking softly like someone might be listening from the trees. “Your sister was the fourth victim, spread out over a few years.”

  “That’s awful.” She stared down at her footing as she stepped over a root and walked up on top of a jump. “How many girls now?”

  “Too many. This past year, he’s stepped his game up. Nine in total.”

  She clenched her jaw. “Nine dead girls.”

  “All cam girls. You’re the first non-cam girl he’s gone after.”

  “Are you sure it’s him then?”

  “I’m sure.” I looked away, out into the trees. “He wrote a letter, sent it to my office. He’s also left notes at some of the kill sites. I know his handwriting, and he wrote on your mirror.”

  “He’s nearby then.”

  “That’s right. He’s nearby, and he’s smart.” I climbed up onto the top of the jump and we stood there together, arms touching. It was intimate and strange but the conversation seemed to demand it. “He never leaves traces, no fibers, no fingerprints. It’s like chasing a ghost. Most serial killers, the ones that remain active for a while anyway, are pretty good at covering their tracks, but none like this guy.”

  She gave me an odd look. “Do you deal with a lot of serial killers?”

  I looked back at her and debated how much to say. I decided that if I was going to make her risk her life, I had to tell her as much as I was allowed. Some things I had to hold back, or else Head would eat me alive. But the rest was all hers.

  “Normally, we don’t talk about the Hunters,” I said. “We’re not that kind of unit.”

  “The Hunters?” She laughed a little and walked down the jump, hopping onto the loose earth. I jumped down beside her, steadying her by holding her elbow. She pulled away and kept walking. “Sounds like a fake thing.”

  “I know, but it’s very real. We’re a task force within the FBI that deals with hunting and catching serial killers.”

  “There should be a TV show about you guys.”

  “No, there shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be very good.”

  “Why not? It’s got all the makings.”

  “People wouldn’t like how many serial killers are out there, and how many don’t get caught.”

  That silenced her and I felt bad about saying it, but there was truth buried that statement. There were too many killers in the world and too many of the roamed this Earth without coming to justice—but more and more were ending up behind bars because of the work we were doing.

  The Hunters were a young unit, formed in the wake of 9/11 with excess Patriot Act funding. Head built the unit himself from handpicked agents, and with time, it slowly expanded into a team that covered the entire United States. We were highly trained, highly specialized, and very good at catching the sick fucks that stalked the night.

  Not good enough though.

  “I guess you’ve been after the CGK for a while then, haven’t you?”

  “I’m relatively new to the unit,” I admitted. “But ever since I was recruited, yeah.”

  She looked at me sideways. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  “Huh. I would’ve guessed younger.”

  “I have a youthful aura.”

  “I guess you don’t have to ask how old I am. It’s in my file, right?”

  “I can pretend I haven’t read all about you, if you want.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “It’s fine, I get it.”

  I followed a step behind her for a moment, watching her move. She walked with her hands clasped behind her, head up toward the tree line, her eyes scanning the distance like she saw the future there. Light dappled the earth as we skirted around another jump, this one a series of two ramps over a shallow pit.

  “You need to understand that the CGK is very, very good at what he does. Meticulous is the best word to use. If he says you’re next, then you’re next.”

  She stopped waking and faced me. “You said something yesterday, about him definitely coming if you were around.”

  I looked away. “He doesn’t like me.”

  “I’m surprised he knows you exist.”

  “That’s the thing with guys like CGK. They like the attention. A lot of them go out of their way to stalk their investigators, sort of like a game. CGK is no different.”

  “That’s his profile?”

  I shrugged as she smiled at me. “Seems to be.”

  “What else do you know about him?”

  “White, forties, single. Probably lived alone for a while. Based on some of the crime scenes, we think he has a technical background.” I thought of Mary May, victim number two, partially decomposed through chemical means. Her burial site was his most disorganized. He learned from that one.

  “Not a whole lot.”

  “We have a sketch. I’ll show it to you back at the house.”

  She started walking again. “Are you trying to talk me out of this or what?”

  “I’m trying to make sure you understand the risk.”

  “My sister’s dead.” She faced me and a flash of anger ran across her face. “I know the risk.”

  “I have to make sure,” I said, voice soft as I met her pissed-off eyes. “You’re making an emotional decision, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “You’re not.” She lingered there and I thought she might say more, but she turned and walked again.

  I followed in silence. The wind blew through branches and something moved in the underbrush. I must’ve been jumpy as I scanned the bushes trying to imagine CGK hiding beneath the leaves.

  “We should set some rules,” I said. “If we’re doing it.”

  “All right. Rules are good.” She looked back at me. “First rule is no using all the hot water.”

  “I can handle that. Next rule is you don’t leave the house alone.”

  She made a face. “I don’t think that seems likely.”

  “Sorry, but we have to stick together. The second you’re alone, he’ll move in.”

  “You think he’s watching right now?”

  I shrugged and didn’t smile. She kept moving, hands shoved into her small front pockets.

  “We’ll do the grocery shopping together, but mostly we’ll stay home until he makes his move.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Days? Weeks?”

  “I hope days, but I really don’t know.” I reached out and grabbed her wrist on a whim. She turned, surprise on her face, and I held her wrist. It was thin and warm and I had the strangest urge to lift it up and press it against my cheek. I wanted her to know I gave a shit about her, that it wasn’t only about CGK and my obsession— or at least I wanted to prove that to myself. “This isn’t going to be easy. I need you to be in it with me.”

  She pulled herself away. “I’m in it.”

  I nodded once. “Good. Let’s go back.”

  She followed, saying nothing. I felt the weight of her eyes on my back as we walked along the path, past the jumps, through the underbrush, and into her yard again.

  “What’s your partner going to do?” she asked.

  “Cal’s going to work with the locals and sweep the area. He’ll be in and out of the house too, I expect, and that detective too.”

  “Starch. I like her.”

  “I do too. She seems like one of the good ones.” I didn’t mention how another detective I liked ruined everything back in Texas, how even the good ones could fuck up sometimes and let the bad guys get away.

  We reached the back porch but she paused, still standing on the grass. I looked back at her and hesitated with my hand on the back door.

  “What do you know about Delia?” she asked.

  I let t
he question sink in. “Only what’s in the file,” I said. “I watched her cam shows. Read her social media.”

  She blushed a little. She probably didn’t like that I watched her sister strip down and put on sex shows, and truth be told, I didn’t like it either. I hated watching the shows, but I sat through them all, for her and for all the girls in case there was a clue buried somewhere in the videos or in the chat that went along with them.

  “Del was funny,” she said. “Liked to laugh a lot. She was a runner. Liked hip hop and jazz. Thought reading was for nerds but she read more than anyone I knew.”

  “She talked about books in her shows sometimes.”

  “She thought being a cam girl was liberating, you know? She wasn’t even all that sexual. Barely had any boyfriends. She just like…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Did you know my parents disowned her? Gramma was the only one that still loved her, Gramma and me.”

  “I did know that,” I admitted. “I interviewed your parents a while back.”

  “I bet they didn’t have nice things to say. They were horrible to her, in that last year when she came out and admitted what she did for a living.”

  I gazed at her for a long moment and shook my head. “Actually, they weren’t. I could tell they didn’t approve of what she did, don’t get me wrong, but they loved her. Your mother could barely talk about her, even still.”

  Rose glared at me then looked away. “Yeah, well, I hope she’s sad about it. It would’ve been nice if she cared when Del was still alive.”

  “You’re probably right,” I said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry for all of it.”

  “That’s what we’re going to do though, right? Make things better. Catch that guy so he can’t take any more daughters away.”

  “That’s the goal.”

  “Del would’ve liked that. And she would’ve told me I was being a self-righteous little idiot, and that I should run far and fast. She was always about self-care and self-preservation.”