"I see no other choice.” Allison rubbed her arms, shivers crept along her skin.
"You will need help."
"No. I should do this alone. If it is Alex, maybe I can find him before some other woman is killed."
"What about the police?"
"I'll offer my assistance, for all the good it will do. The fact that I may know the killer, I'll keep to myself."
"'Tis true. You can keep that part secret. What about the other?"
"Other?"
Yanni settled herself on the edge of the bed. “The federal agent."
"Oh. Well, he's a minor irritation."
Yanni scoffed. “Do not be so foolish. To see one part, you must understand all the players and their roles, or you will not succeed in your endeavor."
"Great. Now you're going philosophical. Did you know Plato or Socrates in another life?"
"Not another life, the afterlife. Too stuffy for my taste.” She scrunched up her face. “They walk around in bed linen."
Allison couldn't hold back the laughter.
About four o'clock the phone rang. “Hi, Ali."
"Nick? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm just checking in to let you know I'm back in town."
It calmed her to know Nick was around.
How's it going with the cops?"
"Slow, but I expected that."
"Are you okay?"
She kept quiet at first. If she didn't sound positive, Nick would worry and show up on her doorstep. “Just a few headaches, but nothing I can't handle. Don't worry about me."
"I always worry. You know that."
She loved her brother. Being the eldest, it naturally fell upon her to take care of the younger ones, but as time passed, Nick had stepped up to fill in as caretaker for her and Lucy.
She chuckled. “Yes, I know and I love you for it."
His heavy sigh stretched through the phone. “I could stay with you."
"No! Nick, I wouldn't be able to concentrate with you here. Besides, Yanni is popping in, regularly."
"Okay,” he conceded. “But if you start feeling bad, you better call me."
"I will. I promise,” she added to relieve some anxiety.
It hadn't been more than three or four minutes after she hung up that the phone rang again. “Hey, Kat.” Caller ID came in handy.
"I am so psyched, Allison. I bought the most beautiful blue gown. Wait till you see it. I look hot.” She rambled on without a breath. “Oh, by the way, I invited Sean to come, too. He rented a tux. Talk about dreamboat."
Allison chuckled before she said, “Kat, what are you going on about?"
"Allison.” She choked and then, as if speaking to a petulant child said, “Charity ball, tonight eight o'clock."
"Oh my God, I totally forgot. I've been so wrapped up in this—well, never mind. I don't have a dress. What am I going to do?"
"Never fear. After all, I am the queen of shopping. I'll swing by and pick you up in about twenty minutes. We'll hit a couple of stores. We'll find something exquisite and be back in time for you to get ready."
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"I've had an officer tailing Allison Brody since she left here,” Lancaster told Jake.
"And?"
"She went to a doctor's office. Paul Kincaid. He's a psychiatrist."
"A shrink?"
"Yep. Not too long after that, she exited the building with a man, presumably the doctor, got in his car and drove to her house where the housekeeper rushed out to help Ms. Brody."
Jake's brows drew together. “She needed assistance? Do we know why?"
"No. The officer said Kincaid left shortly thereafter. He didn't follow him, though. He stayed put."
"Okay. Let's get information on this doctor. And tell your guys to lay low. We don't want her knowing she's being watched."
"And, we don't want the press knowing either."
Jake didn't even respond to that last comment.
Time passed as he continued to scour photographs hoping, praying for the clue that he sought. A loud knock on the door had him looking at his watch, 4:30. How time flies. “Come in."
A young man entered the room dressed in street clothes. Jake could tell he had military training, though.
"Detective Lancaster wanted me to let you know that the subject has left her house to go shopping."
"She's what?"
"Shopping, with the Rubin girl,” the officer replied. “I overheard them saying something about a ball tonight."
Jake's jaw tensed and his sharp gaze focused on the bulletin board where pictures of the victims hung. “All right, keep an eye on them. But, remember, don't get too close."
"Yes sir."
"What's going on, Jake?” Lancaster asked as he walked in.
"They're shopping,” he replied dryly.
"And?"
"It just seems—I don't know—strange, especially after she had to be helped into the house earlier today."
"I guess she's feeling better."
"Obviously."
Jake absently sifted through papers on the table until he found the forensic report from the state lab. His eyes burned with strain but he read and re-read the report, searching for anything he might have missed.
"What happens if we don't catch him soon?"
"Another innocent victim will die.” Jake's voice sounded flat, even to him.
"How can we possibly hope to get this guy? No evidence. No witnesses. We're grasping at straws."
The frustration in Lancaster's voice made Jake grimace. He felt ineffective and useless at the best of times, all due to this case. “So what's this about a ball tonight?"
Confused only for a moment, Bill Lancaster snapped his fingers and said, “Let me see what I can find out."
The detective slipped out of the room, happy to be doing something productive.
* * * *
A valet parked cars and the uniformed doorman offered a touch of elegance to the people as they arrived at the Carmody Yacht Club.
Ladies in chic gowns and gentlemen in fine evening attire gathered for the prestigious event, hosted by influential businesses in the community. The ball was an annual function designed to solicit money from well-to-do citizens while providing an enjoyable evening and exquisite dining. A polished dance floor provided the perfect atmosphere for people to step to the orchestra's big band tunes.
White linen cloths draped tables while golden candelabras adorned with flowers and tapers cast a soft glow. There were ice sculptures and fountains spouting champagne to accent the ballroom's lavender and blush rose decor. The best china and crystal were lavished with delectables.
Allison attended every year because her parents had organized it and had continued after their deaths because they'd enjoyed it so much. It made her feel a little closer to them. She and Kat sat with Sean O'Connor at a table close to the raised dais where the orchestra played. Despite the fact that she had managed a leisurely bubble bath before preparing for the evening, Allison hadn't been able to relax. The concentration that it took to suppress her abilities when around this many people robbed her strength to the point of exhaustion. Paul Kincaid had found her when he first arrived and had been wonderfully entertaining. She did her best to mingle.
Eventually, Allison managed to sneak away and headed for the fountain to refill her goblet, when her attention was drawn to a tall figure entering the ballroom. She concentrated hard so as not to trip over her own feet and kept her jaw tightly in place. Casually bringing the champagne to her lips, she advanced toward the door and an inevitable confrontation. Why did her pulse race and her heart drum so ferociously? How could she feel this way around Jake Austin?
The ribbed shirt he wore had crisp lines and gold cufflinks winked in the light. His dark hair stood out in contrast to the white collar it curled around. Tailored trousers hugged his muscular thighs and while her eye followed the satin stripe down the side, it show-cased his well-built physiqu
e. Her mouth watered and drooling was a definite possibility.
Jake knew this had to be one of the most idiotic things he'd ever done. Surveillance meant observing, not interacting. He should have stayed away. To get up close and personal with Allison Brody drew him into unfamiliar territory.
It wasn't hard to pick out the most beautiful woman in the room. A silky red off the shoulder gown allowed a tantalizing view of her tanned bosom. Her mahogany locks were fashioned off to one side and he followed the delicious line of her neck hungrily with his eyes. Gold flecks danced in her exotic eyes like fire, beckoning poor souls who dared to look deeply.
Jake straightened as Allison stopped a few inches from him. Her ruby red lips drew his gaze. “Good evening."
"Good evening.” He bowed in gentlemanly fashion, keeping careful distance.
"What are you doing here?"
"Surveillance."
Her bottom lip stuck out in a small pout and he wanted to grab her and tease it with his tongue. “You're following me?"
"Not exactly."
"Then what are you doing, exactly?” She stepped back.
Conveniently, the orchestra played a waltz. Holding his right hand out, he asked, “Would you care to dance, Ms. Brody?"
Composing the surprised look on her face, she set her glass on a nearby table and replied, “Certainly."
With Allison in his arms, Jake glided across the floor in perfect time with the music. They pirouetted in sync like music box dancers. His eyes stayed glued to hers, oblivious to those around them including Paul Kincaid, who quietly watched.
The cool evening had suddenly grown hotter. Allison slipped out to the terrace when the song ended. Jake had gone to get them a drink.
"Deep breaths,” she whispered.
Moonlight spilled over the tended garden. She watched the hedges shadow dance in the night. Allison drew the crisp misty air into her lungs. Her controlled, peaceful life had been disrupted and not one, but two dangerous men fought for her attention.
She felt Jake approach, stealthy, much like a panther zoning in on its prey. The air around them charged with sensual energy.
"You feel it, don't you?” Jake whispered close to her ear.
She didn't respond. Should she answer that question?
"Your skin tingles, your heart races.” He moved closer still, his silky voice tense. “It's chemistry."
"It's more,” she breathed through trembling lips unable to face the intensity of him. The jolt to her system nearly knocked her off her feet. What was he doing to her?
"Body chemistry, pheromones.” He handed her the flute of champagne. “We're two consenting adults."
His flippant, totally male attitude ticked her off, but he was right. Body chemistry was definitely at work here. “How do you know I haven't put a hex on you with a magical potion brewed in my cauldron?"
"Not likely since I don't believe in that stuff."
"Do you have an explanation for everything?"
"Yes. Actually, I do. There's always an answer. You just have to find it and accept it."
Spinning around Allison pressed her free hand against Jake's chest. “Very clinical, Agent Austin,” she said, her voice sharp. “It sounds as though you explain away everything you're afraid of.” She curled her fingers in his shirt, her mouth a fraction of an inch from his. “Can you do that? Explain me away?"
Sweet Jesus. Jake knew he should walk away. His control slipped a notch. He yanked Allison flush against him. If he could be rough enough, scary enough, maybe she'd stay away from this case and him. Maybe he'd be able to fight the attraction toward her.
Too late. He kissed her. He gathered her thick hair and crushed his frantic, hungry mouth on those soft red lips. His tongue swept through her mouth that still tasted of sweet wine. Before she noticed his blatant hard-on, he pushed her away.
Scowling he said, “I don't have time for this."
At that moment, Paul Kincaid barged through the doors. “Oh, there you are, Allison.” He eyed Jake. “I thought you might like to dance."
Kincaid couldn't have missed her stunned, flushed appearance. She managed to find her voice. “I'd love to, Paul.” Allison placed her hand on his arm. “I was ready to come back in anyway.” She dismissed Jake without a glance.
Noninvolvement had always been a necessary condition in his line of work, a matter of survival. He cursed her for getting under his skin and clouding his focus, for giving him fantasies of another life. “Damn! What the fuck was I thinking?” Jake muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and trouncing down the stairs. The surety of it was her every word beckoned him to certain doom.
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jake studied the massive bulletin board which reduced six women's lives to lab results and morbid photographs. One of the officers dropped off a brown envelope with Special Agent Jake Austin written on the front.
"Bill, there are some people here to see you,” Logan said over the intercom.
"Okay, I'll be right there."
When Jake opened the envelope and spilled the contents onto the table, Lancaster whistled loudly. Spread out before them were photographs of Jake and Allison talking, dancing, and on the terrace face-to-face. One picture showed Allison and Paul Kincaid in an intimate embrace. Jake stared at it for several minutes longer than any other.
"Something you forgot to mention, Jake?"
Jake shrugged. “I went to the ball last night to check things out."
"Check things out, or check her out?"
"It's kind of the same thing, isn't it?” Jake's sharp response betrayed more than he'd liked.
"If you say so. I gotta go see who these people are."
Jake nodded and returned his attention back to the bulletin board, but not before putting the photos into the envelope. He wanted to burn the one of Allison and Kincaid. Several times he'd imagined his fingers around the doctor's neck.
Lancaster returned a few minutes later with a severe frown on his face. He didn't comment on his meeting, so Jake didn't ask. Lancaster pulled out the photos thumbed through them.
"So what does this mean?"
"He's taunting me. Letting me know that he can get her if he wants to."
"Can he?"
"Yes."
"Is she the next victim?"
"She's too old."
"If he's changed other things, how do we know he won't alter the type of victim he's looking for?"
"He won't."
"You're sure about that."
"Pretty sure."
"The Chief has called me twice already, wanting to know what we've got.” Lancaster walked over to get more coffee. “He's preparing to give his official statement to the media. The press conference is set for this afternoon."
Jake raked his fingers through his long black hair, which he'd let grow past bureau standards.
His mind should be analyzing data and comparing similarities, but instead he imagined a pliant body writhing beneath him, her brunette hair spread over his pillow, a soft moan. He swore her scent still lingered on him. Cursing under his breath, Jake rubbed his forehead to dispel the image.
A tall, muscular, fair-haired man flung open the door and walked in with an angry scowl. Close behind trailed a short, young woman with brown cropped hair, big blue eyes and glasses.
"Oh, by the way,” Lancaster cleared his throat. “Some other Feds showed up."
"Thanks,” Jake said dryly. “Hi Peter, Margo, what took you so long?"
Peter Carmichael, the Special Agent in Charge, glared at the other man. “Would you please excuse us, Detective?"
"Sure.” Lancaster saluted Jake with his coffee cup and hastily retreated. The minute the door closed, Carmichael swung around ready to do battle.
"So explain to me why you're here in the town of The Surgeon's last kill. Why I've been following behind you? I want the truth, Jake.” Carmichael crossed his arms over his massive chest, displeasure rifling through him.
"Just peachy, Margo. Thanks for asking."
Damn. This will complicate things even more. Jake turned away, ruffling his fingers through his hair, as he often did in a fit of frustration. Peter Carmichael was one of the best field agents in the bureau and his friend. They had worked together too many times. Peter knew things about him no one else knew and would not understand his reasons for not filling him in on his plan.
"Don't blow a gasket, Peter. I couldn't wait. No one knows this case better than I do and he's escalating."
"We're a team and I'm the one who calls the shots.” Carmichael relaxed slightly, releasing the fists at his sides. “I'm here to get to the bottom of what's going on. You've put me in a hell of a spot, Jake since Caprizzi had ordered you to take a vacation."
"The Surgeon is still here, Peter. He's changed his game and I know how he thinks. I'm here to help.” Jake leveled a look at his friend. “I need some fresh air.” With a half wave, Jake exited the room.
Out on the street, Rory White ran up to him. “So, Agent Austin, can you comment on how the investigation is going?” He stood with pencil in hand, ready to write something juicy.
"No comment.” Jake started walking.
"Really? Okay, well how about explaining what business the FBI has at a local social affair at the Carmody Yacht Club?"
Jake stopped. “No comment!"
His icy glare must have jolted White because he retreated. “Yeah, well. Thanks."
Three hours later Jake sat at the table in his peaceful room staring into space. Propped against the wall, cluttered with crime scenes, photographs of victims and other pertinent information was his personal case board—the one he kept with him and which soon would be too large to cart around in his car.
The past and present collided with a burst in Jake's head like a jumble of moving pictures spliced together.
Coming back from the library he noticed several police cars. He squeezed through the crowd to get a better look.
"Hey, Tom.” A young officer walked over. “What's happened?"
"Someone skinned a cat and then nailed it to a wooden cross over by that tree.” The officer nodded in the direction of the crowd of campus security and other police.
Together in Darkness Page 8