The Perfect Ten Boxed Set

by Dianna Love

  Most perps didn’t have the balls to break into a detective’s home. This killer was an anomaly with an ego the size of Mount Rushmore. The bastard obviously thought he could get away with anything. But if he thought he was going to get to Jennifer, he’d better think again.

  Jennifer answered her door after his first knock. “Oh, I see my babysitter has arrived.” The sarcasm in her voice was hard to miss.

  “Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.” He moved past her, hung his garment bag in her coat closet and set his duffle bag on the floor. “Look on the bright side, I’m a damn good cook.”

  “You are?”

  He grinned and nodded. “My grandmother is Italian and a retired chef. I spent every summer with her and she taught me how to cook.”

  Jennifer eyed him carefully. She couldn’t remember the last time she had used her kitchen for actual cooking. Italian food? Her mouth watered at the thought. “Interesting. I’ll give you a tour of my kitchen tomorrow, but for now I’m beat. Let me show you the guest room.”

  “I think I’ll stay down here on the sofa. I’ll cover the first floor while you get some sleep.” Once he was sure she was in her bedroom, he checked the house again, testing the locks on each window and door. Peeking through the living room blinds, he saw the deputy was still outside in his car. He made a mental note to make the guy some hot coffee later. He sat on the sofa, removed his shoes, fluffed a pillow, and then lay down. He doubted if he was going to get much sleep with a killer on the loose, and his vivid imagination wandering to Jennifer upstairs in bed.

  ***

  Jennifer lay awake in bed staring at her ceiling. Insomnia strikes again. Was it insomnia or lust? Okay, lust. Lying on her sofa downstairs was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. One kiss had sent currents of erotic fire straight to her sexual center. There was no doubt in her mind she was hot for him, but he was now her partner, which made the situation impossible. Add to that, he was living with her. How was she going to be able to keep her hands off him?

  Thirty minutes passed and Jennifer was still awake, so she went downstairs to the kitchen to make some Sleepytime tea. She filled her teapot and set it on the stove burner to heat. Jennifer pulled out a jar of honey from the refrigerator and her mug from a cabinet. A movement at the door made her jump.

  “Sorry. I heard someone in here and thought I’d check it out. What are you doing?” Blake yawned and leaned against the kitchen doorframe. In only faded jeans, he stood there with his dark looks and rippling muscles looking like a model in a Calvin Klein ad — tantalizingly sexy. The room heated a couple of degrees.

  Jennifer’s eyes moved upward from his six-pack-abs to his broad chest. Something heated inside her and she averted her eyes. “I couldn’t sleep so I’m making some Sleepytime tea. Would you like some?”

  Instead of answering, he pulled another mug from the same cabinet Jennifer had just used, making her wonder how he got so familiar with her kitchen so fast. He placed it next to hers and sat down at the kitchen table. She placed a teabag in each mug, poured in hot water, and then brought both mugs to the table. She added a dollop of honey to hers, and passed the jar to Blake.

  “Why did the killer target me?” asked Jennifer.

  Blake sipped his tea and stared at her for a long moment. “I’ve been so pissed that he did that I haven’t thought about the why.”

  “I mean, how did he even know I was assigned to his case?”

  “Are you still thinking the killer might be one of us? Someone in law enforcement?” His dark eyebrows slanted in a frown.

  She nodded and continued. “It all goes back to the way he knew how to wash away trace evidence. Now this. It hasn’t been made public who’s working Catherine Thomas’ murder. So how did he know I was? I don’t think we can ignore the fact he could be working for the sheriff’s office.”

  “I just can’t wrap my head around that someone we know and work with could do what this killer did to Catherine.” Blake said. After a thoughtful pause, he added, “Whoever he is, he’s not getting to you, Jennifer. Not on my watch.” His voice was firm, final.

  There was something in his dark eyes that made her look twice. In that instant, she knew Blake Stone cared about her, and not just as a partner.

  ***

  Lance searched both the men’s and women’s restrooms for Tiffany to no avail. Where could she be? He woke up the campers in the six tents down a short trail near the restrooms to find out if anyone had seen her, but no one had. Three of the campers joined him in his search, walking the perimeter of the log building searching for any sign of Tiffany. They met back at their starting point, each reporting he’d found nothing.

  Lance walked back to the campsite thinking that she may have returned there, but when he arrived everything was as he left it. No Tiffany. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and called nine-one-one, then dialed another number as he walked toward the park entrance to meet the deputy.

  “Blake, this is Lance Brody. I need your help.”

  ***

  By the time Blake and Jennifer arrived at Rocky Cliff State Park, they’d been notified by dispatch about the missing girl. A deputy securing the front entrance waved them through. Bolting out of the SUV, they reached the trail to the campsites in record time.

  “Who’s Lance Brody?” Jennifer asked.

  “He’s a scuba diver who volunteers when we need extra divers. Lance is a college student, so we use him as a volunteer all summer.”

  “So what’s your take on him?”

  “Lance is a good guy. He likes the outdoors, camps a lot and just enjoys life. He wants to be a detective someday; majors in Criminal Justice at ISU in Terre Haute.”

  The main campsites were abuzz with activity, ranging from frightened campers, to crime scene techs combing the area around the restroom facilities inside the crime scene tape. Mobile spotlights illuminated the area. In the distance, deputies could be seen holding large flashlights, searching the woods, undergrowth crackling with each step.

  Blake motioned for a young deputy, “Separate the witnesses. Get their names, addresses and statements. Make sure no one leaves until that happens. If anyone saw something suspicious, come find us.”

  The deputy smiled, seemingly pleased with himself. “Already done, Sir. I’ve got their names, addresses and statements. Most of the campers were winding down for the evening and getting ready for bed. Two boys in the first tent described a young woman who may have been Tiffany enter the restroom, but no one saw her come out.”

  Jennifer saw Bob Goldberg, one of her favorite crime scene technicians, just inside the crime scene tape at the restroom. She hurried to talk to him. “Bob, did you find anything?”

  “Shit, what a crime scene. The place is like Grand Central Station,” Bob complained. “There are more footprints than Advil has pain reliever pills. We did find a pair of footprints that lead to and from the service road. Looks like hiking boots.” Bob led Jennifer to the service road and pointed down. See those tire prints? They look fresh. I’m guessing they’re from an ATV pulling some kind of cart. I think the park service uses ATVs all the time to pick up trash and debris.”

  “If she was abducted, he could have gotten her out of the park through the service road,” Jennifer said, glancing at Blake, who had joined them.

  “Right, if the tire prints have anything to do with the girl who’s missing.” Bob responded.

  Holding a small pink purse and a backpack, a young blonde-haired man with a wide-shouldered, rangy body approached them. “Blake, thanks for coming.”

  “Lance, this is my partner, Jennifer Brennan.”

  Placing the purse and backpack on the ground, Lance shook Jennifer’s outstretched hand and said, “I’m glad you’re here to help find Tiffany.”

  “Lance, I want you to wait for us on that bench over there. Jennifer and I need to check something out,” said Blake. “We’ll be right back.”

  “Jennifer, let’s check out this service
road.” Blake and Jennifer carefully made their way around the crime scene tape, careful not to step on anything that might be related to Tiffany’s disappearance. Using the embankment, they waded through brush and weeds to follow the service road.

  Pointing at the road, Blake said, “See the tire tracks. I think Bob’s right when he said the tracks looked like they belong to an ATV pulling some kind of cart.”

  Blake and Jennifer continued walking about a mile until they came to a three-car garage next to what looked like a maintenance building. Parked next to the building was a red Honda FourTrax Foreman All-Terrain Vehicle. Attached to its hitch was a metal cart, filled with large black plastic bags, presumably stuffed with garbage.

  Jennifer pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, “Bob, bring your kit and follow the service road until you come to the maintenance building. We may have found that ATV and cart you were talking about.”

  Blake held his hand above the motor, careful not to touch the vehicle. “It’s still warm. We need a conservation officer here stat.”

  “You’ve got one.”

  Blake and Jennifer turned around to see an older man in a green uniform approach them. “I’m Sam McGee. I’m the conservation officer in charge of the park. Got a call about all the commotion. Who are you?”

  Blake and Jennifer simultaneously pulled out their badges. “We’ve got a missing girl who may have been transported out of the park using this ATV. Who has access to the keys?”

  “My employees. But it’s not likely any of my people took out the ATV since the key is locked up inside the maintenance building.” Sam moved to the ATV, holding his hand over the motor as Blake had. “I’ll be damned, the motor’s warm.” He rushed to the side door of the maintenance building and found the door unlocked. Jennifer and Blake followed him to a pegboard inside with dozens of hooks with keys attached. “It’s missing!” Sam exclaimed. “The key to that ATV is missing.”

  “Don’t touch anything,” said Blake. “We’ve got a crime scene tech coming who will dust for prints.”

  Frowning, Jennifer said to Blake, “So we have a perp who breaks into this building to steal keys as well as an ATV. For what? To take a joy ride at night in the park? If so, what’s with the filled garbage bags?”

  “Here’s another scenario. Our guy steals the ATV and cart, then rides around the park emptying garbage cans so he doesn’t look suspicious. He’s trolling for a victim and finds her when Tiffany comes out of that restroom. He subdues her with a stun gun, drugs or something, hides her body under the garbage bags then drives back here to return the ATV.” He pointed to the east. “It’s then only 100 yards or so to the parking lot where he stashed his vehicle.”

  ***

  When Blake and Jennifer returned to the camping area, they found Lance sitting on the bench where they had left him. As soon as they were close enough, he handed Jennifer the purse and backpack. He seemed distraught. “These belong to Tiffany. I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what to do. I can’t believe Tiffany’s gone. I’ve looked for her everywhere.”

  Placing the backpack on the ground, Jennifer peeked inside the purse, “Not good. Her cell phone is here, in her purse. We won’t be able to track Tiffany by her phone.” She opened the phone to look for recent calls. “She hasn’t made any calls since yesterday.”

  Blake sat down next to Lance and said, “Let’s start from the beginning.”

  After listening to Lance’s story, Jennifer asked, “How well do you know Tiffany? Is she someone who would leave because she wasn’t having a good time?”

  Lance leaned forward, put his head in his hands with his elbows braced on his knees. “I don’t know her very well at all. This was pretty much a first date.”

  “How did you meet her?”

  Lane scrubbed his hands over his face. “She’s in one of my classes. We started talking about our mutual interest in camping a couple of weeks ago. I invited her to join me this weekend.”

  “Well, if she’s an avid camper, she may know her way around the park. Maybe she decided to hike a trail?” Jennifer offered.

  Lance shook his head. “No, that’s the thing. I don’t think she was honest about her camping abilities. She didn’t even know how to set up the tent.”

  Jennifer focused on a long, red scratch on Lance’s arm. “How did you get that scratch?”

  “Got it while I was looking for wood for our fire. I didn’t see the low hanging branch before it cut the hell out of my arm.”

  Jennifer gave him a skeptical glance and said, “Lance, we need to take you back to the station to get an official statement. You’ll need to be photographed, and with your permission, we’d like to get a DNA sample. Do you have anyone you want to call to meet you there?”

  ***

  Just like taking candy from a baby, capturing this bitch was that easy. Talk about being in the right place at the right time. Too bad, so sad for her. He’d gotten her out of the park in record time. Still unconscious, she lay naked strapped on his wooden kitchen table, her arms and legs restrained by duct tape.

  Worrying he’d given her too much tranquilizer; he tapped her arm with his fingers. It had been over an hour. She should have come to by now. He checked her pulse and found it to be a little slow, but that was to be expected. He moved to the living room and threw a couple of logs onto the fire in his fireplace. Sitting in his recliner, his mind wandered to Jennifer Brennan. What he wouldn’t have given to see her face when she discovered Catherine Thomas’ cell phone lying on her dining room table. He chuckled aloud. He bet that sight sent her heartbeat racing, that is, if the icy bitch had a heart. Leaving the phone was payback for the tongue-lashing she’d given him at Deer Run State Park the day Catherine’s body was found. Finding the cell phone must have caused quite a stir, he decided, judging from the number of deputy and crime scene tech vehicles at her house later when he drove by. Amusing. He wasn’t through with Jennifer Brennan.

  He rubbed his hands together, not from the cold, but from the excitement. The cops were probably combing Rocky Cliff State Park at this very moment, looking for the bitch duct-taped to his kitchen table, but he was confident they’d find nothing. He snickered to himself. He couldn’t wait to see the morning news anchor reporting his prey missing.

  He’d checked the weather report this time. Rain was predicted before the end of the week. He didn’t want to be saddled with the bitch he’d captured tonight as long as he was with Catherine Thomas.

  Hearing a muffled scream, he rushed into the kitchen. His prey was awake. Let the fun begin.

  ***

  If there was anything that Jennifer dreaded, it was delivering bad news to parents. Okay, it wasn’t the delivery part; it was their reaction to it. There’s no positive spin for the message, “Your daughter is missing.”

  Blake parked the SUV outside the residence of Vic and Sasha Chase, who lived outside Rockville on a three-acre estate in a gated community. A maid answered the door, and after a glimpse of their badges, quickly summoned Tiffany’s mother.

  A pretty, dark-haired woman in her forties came to the door, a flash of apprehension in her eyes. “I’m Sasha Chase. How can I help you?”

  Jennifer spoke first, “I’m Jennifer Brennan and this is Blake Stone. We’re with the sheriff’s office. May we talk to you inside?”

  Fear raced across the woman’s face, and she crossed her arms across her body protectively. “Yes, of course, come in. We can talk in the living room.” She motioned for them to follow her. “Mandy, please bring some coffee.”

  The living room was a study in white, white walls, drapes and fireplace. Several large oil modernistic paintings provided splashes of bold color in red, royal blue and black. Jennifer and Blake sat down on a red sofa in front of the fireplace while Sasha sat in an armchair near them.

  The maid who answered the door appeared with a tray of coffee mugs, cream, sugar, and a hot pot of coffee that she laid down on the black coffee table before she rushed out of the room.
/>   “Mrs. Chase...” Jennifer began softly.

  “Please call me Sasha. Mrs. Chase is my mother-in-law.”

  “Sasha, we’re here to talk to you about Tiffany.”

  Sasha gasped as her hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my God! Has something happened to Tiffany?”

  “Tiffany was reported missing from Rocky Cliff State Park last night.”

  “What in the world was she doing there?” The mother seemed incredulous.

  “It appears she was camping.”

  Sasha sighed with relief. “You have the wrong Tiffany. You couldn’t pay my Tiffany to camp.”

  “Mrs. Chase...” Jennifer began.

  Sasha held up her hand. “No, I’m serious. If you looked up ‘spoiled princess’ in the dictionary, you’d find Tiffany’s photo. She’s an only child and her daddy and I have always pampered her. Tiffany is the last person on earth who would be camping. You have the wrong girl.”

  Jennifer pulled out a small pink leather Coach purse in a plastic bag from behind her and showed it to Sasha. “Does this purse belong to Tiffany?”

  Instant tears appeared in Sasha’s eyes. “I bought the bag for her for Christmas. Was her driver’s license inside?” Reality slammed into her and she choked back a sob.

  Blake nodded. “Last night between eleven and midnight, Tiffany left the campsite to use the public restroom facility a short distance away. She hasn’t been seen since. The police were called at one-thirty this morning, and have been searching the area for her ever since.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Sasha said, but the terror in her eyes revealed she did. “Who was she with? There is no way she would have been at that park alone.”

  “She was camping with a young man who attends ISU with her by the name of Lance Brody. Is that name familiar to you?”

  “What? Lance who? Tiffany is engaged to Evan Hendricks. Why was she with this Lance boy?”

  Jennifer jotted Evan’s name down in her notebook. “Do you know where we can find Evan?”