Lost in Bliss

by Lexi Blake

  She could guess who the bastard was quoting. “From the Marquis de Sade?”

  “Dunno.” Brad held his hands up, impatience apparent in his stance. “Someone’s looking into it. It’s a bunch of crap about how morals are arbitrary and destruction is nature’s mandate. It’s all pretentious shit. I think this guy is stuck in a college phase.”

  “Just get her the letter,” Nate said, his eyes narrowing on the special agent.

  “I’ll see if Joe is still around. He’s been running all over today. It’s been hard to pin that man down. He has the letter.” Brad shut the door.

  Nate sighed and sat back in his chair. There was a weariness to the sheriff’s eyes. How hard had this been on him? Callie was pregnant, less than a month away from giving birth to their first child. Nate should be at home getting ready for his kid and taking care of his wife, but he was dealing with feds and autopsies and playing her bodyguard.

  “Nate, I’m so sorry about all of this.”

  “What?” Nate asked, clearly surprised. “Don’t you apologize. This is none of your doing. This is my job. I might complain some. Fine, I might complain a lot, but I love this town, and I’ll protect every citizen with my life. Except Max. I’ll protect him with my toe or some limb I’m not real attached to.”

  “Point taken.” She wasn’t alone.

  Nate reached out and grabbed his thermos, opening it. Laura was immediately assaulted with the smell of coffee.

  “You want some?” Nate asked. “I can get you a cup. If I know my wife, it’s some froufrou flavor. She never makes plain, ordinary coffee even now that she can’t drink it. Zane has gotten every bit as bad as Callie. He claims he needs to push the taste envelope because he’s a restaurant owner. It’s a bar. He makes wings and burgers, not high-end coffee. What the hell does he know? Bullshit, I say. Coffee is best when it tastes a little like overused motor oil.”

  Laura leaned forward. “Do you drink a lot of overused motor oil, Sheriff?”

  He smiled, his handsome face splitting. “Maybe not, but I like a masculine coffee.” He took a long drink and grimaced slightly. “Vanilla.”

  “Then yes,” Laura replied. “I would love some. And I’m still hungry, so if you want to split that lunch of yours, I’ll take it. You closed down the only diner in town.”

  Nate frowned. He opened the bag. “It’s a sandwich. I don’t know if that will feed me. Hope was right. I get cranky if I don’t have proper sustenance.”

  “Fine. Hopefully there’s something in the break room.” Nate Wright was a greedy bastard. She obviously wasn’t going to get anything out of him. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom? I still feel grubby.”

  He waved her toward the bathroom as he took a long drink of the coffee his wife had brought him. “Feel free. Apparently we have time. I tell you, I don’t like being on someone else’s timetable. I’m going to call over and see if Caleb’s gotten started.”

  On the autopsy. She stood and tried to approximate a smile. “Okay. You do that. Rafe and Cam should be here soon.”

  She turned and walked into Nate’s private bathroom. She closed the door behind her and took a long, deep breath. The events of the week crashed over her. She choked back tears. She couldn’t lose it now. Later, when Rafe and Cam were surrounding her, she could lose it, but now she had to keep her composure.

  She walked to the window. Fresh air. Nate’s office had a window with a broken lock, allowing for the pane to open. Laura opened it and breathed in the cool air. Despite the fact that it was summer, the mornings were still cool. She let her head rest against the sill.

  She had to find the strength to get through this. She wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t walking away this time. She wouldn’t leave her home. Never again.

  She straightened up. As she went to close the window, she noticed a car in the alleyway. It was a big, black SUV. One of the feds. Damn it. Now they couldn’t be bothered to park in the lot?

  Why wouldn’t they park in the lot? There was plenty of parking in the front and side of the building. The alley was narrow, and anyone who parked there would have to walk all the way around the building to get to the front. Not to mention if Nate saw it, he would ticket the person who parked there.

  A cold chill went across her skin. It was illogical, unless the person didn’t want anyone to know the car was here.

  “Nate,” Laura called out. She leaned over the sill, trying to see if she could get the plate number off the car. It was almost surely a rental, but at least they could tell who had rented it. “Nate, get in here. You need to see this.”

  The door to the bathroom opened. Laura turned to give Nate a chance to look out the window.

  Brad Conrad stood in the doorway. “You have to come with me.”

  She shrank back. She couldn’t miss the look in Brad’s eyes or the gun he held. Primitive fear threatened to take over. She pushed it back and tried to figure a way out. If she tried to get out the window, he’d be on her before she could get through. She would fit through the window, but she’d land face first and have to scramble to get up. Then there was another problem.

  “What did you do to Nate?” Nate Wright wouldn’t have allowed this asshole to walk in. Her stomach rolled. Please don’t let Nate be dead. He was so close to having his family with Callie and Zane. She couldn’t even think about it.

  Brad frowned. “I didn’t do anything, but he’s out cold. Look, Laura, you’re coming with me. I’m sorry, but I can’t take no for an answer.”

  He reached out to grab her, and she feinted to her left. She punched out with her right hand, catching him in the jaw. Brad groaned, and she pushed her way around him. He fell back, hitting his head hard against the sink. The sound thudded through the room, and she couldn’t miss the blood that started to pool around Brad’s head. She shoved her way out of the door and froze at the sight in front of her.

  Joseph Stone slipped from the small closet behind Nate’s desk, a Taser in his hands.

  And Laura realized she’d made a deadly mistake.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You’re certain?” Rafe asked, his heart racing as he put the SUV in reverse and jammed his foot on the gas. He was pretty sure he hadn’t locked the motel door, but it didn’t matter.

  Nothing mattered except getting to Laura.

  Cam clicked his seat belt into place and turned to Rafe, gesturing toward the computer. “It’s right here. I know it’s not conclusive, but this is it. This is what we’ve been looking for. The lipstick connects the cases. Purple Passion. The lipstick is listed in the evidence log for Marla Stone’s suicide. Joe’s wife is the connection. She’s wearing the same lipstick that the Marquis de Sade puts on all his victims. That can’t be a coincidence. Tell me you think I’m wrong. Tell me Laura isn’t in the same building with the man who almost killed her.”

  “It was a suicide.” Rafe said the words, but he no longer believed them.

  “I don’t think so. I think she’s the first.” Cam still had his laptop up and running. He struggled to keep the thing steady. “She slit her wrists. Damn. And she was pregnant according to the autopsy. She said in her suicide note—which was typed and unsigned—that she couldn’t handle what she had done and called herself a whore. The police concluded she’d been having an affair with a coworker.”

  Rafe let his eyes close briefly. “That’s why he tortured the victims with shallow wounds to their lower abdomen. That was probably what he wanted to do to her the first time, but Joe has always been a disciplined bastard. He planned it. He knew he couldn’t get away with torturing her, so he staged a suicide, but he couldn’t let it go. The first victim was killed a year after Marla, and every six to seven months after, he killed again. He was killing her over and over again.”

  “That would be my take on it,” Cam replied. “And after we found the first couple of victims and the news reports started, he couldn’t help himself. He had to control his image. He needed more than just the killing. He needed the attention. He a
sked for our team to be assigned to this case, you know.”

  “I remember it well.” Rafe remembered how Joe had gone over all the evidence the DC metro police had found before deciding it was a serial case and calling in the Bureau. He’d thought Joe was excited about taking on a big case. The bastard had talked about how smart the killer was. He went on and on about how hard it would be to catch this one. At the time, he’d taken it as Joe issuing a challenge to his team.

  Joseph Stone had been bragging.

  Cam broke through his dark thoughts. Fingers flew across the keyboard in a flurry. “It gets worse. Did you know Joe had a brother? He’s in a mental institution and has been for years. He was discovered torturing animals and was accused of raping a neighborhood girl. Do you know who the star witness was in his trial?”

  His stomach turned again as he realized how long his boss had been lying. “Joe, I’m sure.”

  “His brother’s IQ is under 80. It would have been easy for Joe to make him the scapegoat. The girl didn’t see who it was because the attacker wore a mask, but forensics led to someone from next door. Apparently Joe’s mother had some rare plants in her home that tracked to the crime scene. Joe gave up his brother. Joe testified that he’d covered his brother’s violent streak for years. The fucker was seventeen years old. And his father divorced his mother for cheating on him. God, what a pattern.”

  For the normal person, it was a pattern that would lead to bitterness and a host of self-destructive tendencies. But with that rare person, it led to focusing the rage outward. Joe was a super predator. The tendency had always been there. Rafe knew the pattern well. Most serial killers had similar stories. Joe had undoubtedly been the one to torture animals as a kid. Joe had been the one to rape his neighbor. It had been his luck that he’d had a handy scapegoat, or Joe would have been discovered. Rafe could guess how things had gone after that close call. Joe had hidden his monster for years until the inciting incident—discovering his wife was pregnant with another man’s child. Then he couldn’t hold it in any longer. The fact that he’d planned his wife’s death was a testament to Joe’s discipline.

  If Joe intended to kill Laura, he would have an excellent plan in place.

  Cam was staring at the screen as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “He’s hidden this for years. Do you think he laughed the whole time we were profiling the Marquis de Sade?”

  “I bet he did,” Rafe replied.

  He’d never known the man. He’d worked beside him for years, and he’d never seen the monster behind the mask. Joe had been the one to sit down with him after Laura left. He’d listened. He’d bought him beers, and Rafe had gone over everything that had happened to her.

  “The fucker enjoyed listening to me. The whole time I was moaning about Laura, he was enjoying my pain,” he said, finally understanding.

  Cam nodded, his lips a grim line. “Yes, he would. He would enjoy the misery he caused. Being in charge of the case had to have given him an enormous amount of satisfaction. He was able to manipulate things his way. And when Laura got too close, he tried to kill her.”

  “Is the radio working?” They had tried a couple of times already. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of Laura being in the same state as Joe, much less the same room.

  Cam switched some dials on the radio he held. “This is Cameron Briggs. Can anyone hear me?” He groaned. “And no one is answering. What the hell? The station is supposed to be manned. I know there are at least five people in that building. Why aren’t they answering?”

  Rafe hit the gas again, cursing the fact that the motel was on the outskirts of town. “Try the direct frequency for the sheriff.”

  Frustration dripped from Cam’s voice as he closed the laptop and set it at his feet, his whole attention focused on the radio in his hands. “I’ve done that twice now. I’m not getting anything. I’ve even tried to switch the frequency to see if I can get anyone in town to answer.”

  Rafe pounded his fist on the steering wheel. “Something’s wrong. I know it.”

  His every instinct was screaming at him that this situation was ripe with danger. Something had happened.

  “I’ll see if I can get Logan. Maybe he’ll know what’s going on,” Cam said.

  When Nate Wright had radioed in earlier, Joe hadn’t been at the station. He’d been on site, possibly making sure he’d cleaned up properly after himself and getting rid of pesky pieces of evidence. Joe had always joked that he, himself, was the smartest man he knew. That arrogance had seemed like a funny quirk. Now Rafe could see that Joe truly believed it. He thought he was above the law.

  Cam changed the frequency again and let out a shout of triumph as he got an answer. “Thank god. Logan. Logan, it’s Cam and Rafe. We need to know if the SAC is still at the site.”

  Logan’s voice crackled over the line. “Your SAC is a jerk. He had me bring all this crap out here and now he’s gone. I asked some of the forensic guys and no one’s seen him. And the forensic guys are looking at me like I’m stupid. I fucking hate that. He wasn’t at the station when I left. Is it standard FBI procedure to disappear in the middle of an investigation?”

  Rafe’s skin went cold. “Who’s at the station with Laura?”

  There was a slight pause, and then Logan didn’t sound quite so pissed off. “Nate. Nate’s there. I’ll get him on the radio.”

  The connection got quiet for a minute.

  “He wouldn’t take her in the middle of the day.” Cam’s words came out almost like a prayer.

  “He’ll do anything it takes.” God, he needed a gun. Why had he given up his gun?

  Logan’s voice came back on the line. “Nate isn’t answering. No one’s answering. I’m getting in my Bronco right now. I can be there in ten minutes.”

  Ten minutes was too long. He turned onto Main Street. Unlike the other times he’d been on the street, it was almost deserted. The line of businesses and restaurants was eerily quiet. There was one truck parked outside the Trading Post. It was big and black. Rafe recognized it because he’d thought sincerely about firebombing it with its owner inside. Now Rafe couldn’t think of a single person he’d rather see more than Wolf Meyer.

  He stopped the SUV in the middle of the street when he saw Wolf walking away from the front door of the Trading Post, scratching his head at the Closed sign.

  Wolf was dressed in a black T-shirt, jeans, and boots. He looked very military and substantial. Rafe hopped out, leaving the engine running.

  “Hey, have you got any idea what’s going on? Why the hell is everything closed in the middle of the week?” Wolf asked.

  He didn’t have time to answer the man’s questions. “I need a gun.”

  Wolf Meyer looked like a man who kept a gun handy.

  Wolf went from confused to stone-cold professional in a heartbeat. He moved toward his truck. “What’s happened with Laura?”

  No hesitation from the ex-SEAL.

  “We figured out who the killer is, and we think he’s after her. Nate took her in to be interviewed while we were getting the files we needed, and now we can’t raise anyone from the station,” Cam explained.

  “Fucker.” Wolf pulled back the front seat, and his hand disappeared. “There’s no way Nate lets anything happen to her. We have to think that Nate’s not answering for a reason.”

  “Yes, he’s either run with her or he’s down.” Rafe didn’t even want to think about that. If Joe had killed the sheriff, he wasn’t sure how he was going to live with himself. Of course, if Joe killed Laura, he wasn’t sure he wanted to live at all.

  “Nate’s going to be a tough kill,” Wolf said, his voice gruff as he pulled out a black bag. He unzipped the bag and started pulling out what looked like an endless supply of things with which to kill people. He’d definitely come to the right place. “Sig Sauer P226.”

  “I’m familiar.” The minute Wolf put that big black gun in his hand, Rafe felt infinitely better. He checked the chamber and made sure it was loaded an
d ready to go. “How many more do you have?”

  Wolf grimaced. “More than I should have. And a couple of knives. Taser unit. Two shotguns.”

  “Are you planning on starting a war?” Cam asked, holding his hand out for his weapon. He proved he was familiar with firearms, too, when Wolf handed him another P226.

  Wolf reached back in his truck and came up with a scoped rifle. “My mom and potential future step-dad,” he stumbled on the word, groaning around it, “they might be crazy, but they’re right about this town. It’s dangerous. I’m loaded and ready to go. Russian mob. Stalkers. Biker gangs. Hell, aliens. I’m ready to take them all down.”

  Rafe was grateful for all the help he could get. He’d use anyone if it meant getting Laura back alive and whole. He couldn’t fail her again. “Will you come with us?”

  “Of course.” Wolf slammed the truck door shut. “What are you going to do with this guy? Do you have enough to arrest him?”

  “I’m going to get him alone, and I’m going to kill him,” Rafe said. Even as the words came out of his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have spoken them out loud, but he couldn’t take them back. He meant every word.

  Wolf stared at him for a moment. “See that you do. And then tell me what your alibi is. I’ll back you up. So will any man in this town. They won’t be able to prosecute you. Make sure you get rid of the gun. And wipe it down first.”

  Wolf sounded like he knew how to play dirty, but then he was sure the SEALs had taught him that. They didn’t play fair when the country’s safety was at stake, and Rafe didn’t intend to play fair, either.

  Wolf nodded as he started toward the sheriff’s department building. It was only a block away, but it seemed like a mile to Rafe.

  Rafe turned to his partner, the only person in the world who understood how much was at stake. “Let’s go get her.”

  He watched Cam swallow down his fear and turn stony cold. “I’m ready.”

  Rafe walked toward the sheriff’s department, his mind set to the task.