Unlocking Darkness (Keys to Love Series, Book Five)

by Kennedy Layne

  “And what would that be?”

  Mitch was glad he’d steeled himself against her answer, because it almost sounded as if a war had been declared on the town. Then again, hadn’t he already known that?

  “Questioning Shelby would have given relief to many serial killers who don’t like the attention. That’s not so with the unsub you’re looking for.” Allie inhaled deeply before explaining in detail what that could mean for Mitch, Agent Thorne, and the other law enforcement men and women working this case. “These residents whom the unsub feels protective over has—”

  “Protective?” Mitch couldn’t help but interrupt Allie’s insightful lecture. There was no way in hell that son of a bitch felt protective over this town or its people. He’d killed young girls in cold blood, the same teenagers the unsub had grown up with, if the profile was even somewhat close to being right. “He tore families apart, and by your accounts this bastard stood back and looked on as this town has grieved over and over again for the past decade.”

  “The unsub believes that he’s saving those girls by giving them a family they never had. Don’t think I’m defending this monster by any means. I’m not. But if you’re going to catch him, you must get in his head to read his thoughts and motives.” Allie gave Mitch a sympathetic smile for what he and his constituents were going through. They’d always been comrades, and he didn’t appreciate her looking at him as if he were on the losing end. “Have you noticed the letters getting more frequent or the way he went from addressing Charlene Winston in a proper manner to using her first name now that he’s come to know her? His letters are revealing more and more about his past, because he wants the residents of Blyth Lake to understand who he is and what he’s worked so hard to accomplish.”

  “He loves the attention, because it makes him feel as if he’s part of society.” Mitch recognized the path Allie had taken, and it was as if a boulder had been set upon his shoulders. The weight was almost unbearable. “Now all the attention is on Shelby, not the unsub.”

  Allie slowly nodded, almost as if she were wishing she could give him better news. Unfortunately, there was nothing good about this scenario. She was all but warning him that something bad was headed their way just when he didn’t think things could get any worse.

  “The unsub wants his sense of family back, Ken. The attention on his letters gave him a familial awareness, but now that’s been taken from him, too.” Allie tilted her head as she hammered another nail in the proverbial coffin. “There is no doubt in my mind that the unsub will start hunting again, and very soon.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The clanging sound of metal pots and pans reverberated through Allie and irritated every nerve in her body. She rolled a little more into the soft pillow and buried her face in the cool cotton, wishing more than anything that godawful noise would stop.

  It didn’t.

  She groaned as she rolled over onto the most comfortable mattress that she’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping on, fully expecting the sun to be shining through the windows. All she could see once she’d forced her lashes open was a grayish cast slipping through the slats in the wooden blinds.

  Weren’t the blinds at her B&B made of vinyl?

  Allie sat straight up in bed, now fully awake. She slowly took in her surroundings, noting the knotted oak bedposts, burgundy and brown colors mixed together on the warm comforter, and the fact that there was a man’s robe hanging on the adjacent bathroom door.

  “Damn it,” Allie muttered, tossing the comforter and covers aside.

  She must have fallen asleep on Mitch’s couch last night when they’d retired to the living room after the night air became too chilly. The last thing she remembered was him taking a phone call from Agent Thorne about Shelby Tilmadge’s psych evaluation. She’d only meant to close her eyes for a second. Having taken the redeye in the night before, she’d been running on practically no sleep.

  The only good thing to have come out of her sleep-induced coma was the fact that she’d gotten out of yet another lecture. Mitch hadn’t fooled her in the least with the conversation they’d had on the porch. He was all but gearing up to send her packing.

  A quick glance down showed her that Mitch had left her in jeans and the tank top she’d been wearing underneath her turtleneck and insulated blazer. A moment of panic enveloped her as she hastily put her hand to her hip, searching for her firearm. It was then she saw her weapon in its clip-on style holster carefully set on the nightstand atop her leather-bound credentials.

  As she swung her legs over the side of the bed to reach for her firearm, she noticed that he’d also removed her socks. Had he done so without thinking or did he remember she couldn’t sleep with her toes confined? It was an old argument they had once debated about keeping one’s boots on while getting rest in a combat zone.

  Upon some reflection, it was better not to know the answer to that question.

  They’d only been intimate once.

  It wasn’t likely to happen again.

  Allie secured her weapon to her side and then made quick use of the bathroom, even taking the time to use her finger as a makeshift toothbrush. The minty taste would suffice until she was able to make it back to her room at the B&B. There was no sign of her blazer, socks, or boots in the bedroom, which meant he’d taken them off of her in the living room.

  How Mitch had managed to achieve that task without waking her was nothing short of a miracle.

  There was a part of her that wished she’d been aware of every single stroke of his hand, but the rational part of her brain screamed back that it had saved her from a complication far too complex for her to field at this point in her life.

  She quietly opened the bedroom door, still wanting a few moments to gather her composure. The hairband that she’d had in last night had come out, but she hadn’t been able to locate it in the bed. It was probably with her stuff downstairs, but not having her hair pulled back was like not having her vest on during a felony arrest.

  Allie rested her hand on the wooden railing and slid it downward with each step of the staircase. The hardwood floor wasn’t as cold on her bare feet as she would have thought, and she wondered if he’d turned the heat on last night. There had been a report on the radio about the temperature falling into the mid-forties during the early morning hours.

  The delicious smell of bacon permeated the air, but it couldn’t hide the rich aroma of fresh ground coffee being made. It wasn’t espresso, but it was good enough. She inhaled deeply while soundlessly searching for the rest of her clothes.

  The living room was spotless.

  She contemplated going back upstairs to see if she’d missed them laying out on a chair somewhere, but her stomach grumbled and her mouth salivated at the whiffs of breakfast.

  The best course of action was to make light of the fact that she’d fallen asleep, so her words were already on the tip of her tongue as she stepped through the doorway and into the kitchen.

  “Do you always undress unconscious women and put them in your bed, Ken? With your looks, I would have thought—”

  Fuck.

  Double fuck.

  Allie came up short, wishing a gigantic hole would open up in the ceramic tile underneath her feet and swallow her whole.

  Mitch wasn’t the one standing at the stove with a red and white checkerboard apron tied around his neck and waist. A stranger with a toothpick tucked in one side of his mouth had turned at the sound of her entrance. He was holding a spatula in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. A familiar smile graced his lips, and his blue eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.

  The man standing before her could only be Gus Kendall.

  Allie’s words echoed back to her, and she tried to retract her statement.

  “I wasn’t unconscious, sir. I mean, I’d fallen asleep, but I wasn’t completely incoherent.” The wider Gus Kendall’s smile became, the more she realized what a mess she was making out of this impromptu run-in. She was going to kill Mitch. �
��What I’m trying to say is that Ken treated me with the upmost respect, like the gentleman you raised him to be. Mitch. I mean, Mitch. Your son did nothing wrong and—”

  “Allie, meet my father,” Mitch murmured from behind her, having appeared from out of nowhere. She was too mortified to even care that he’d scared the shit out of her. Technically, her brain had short-circuited the moment his warm hands had encased her upper arms from behind. “Dad, this is Allie Delaney. Did you manage to finally get some sleep?”

  Allie cleared her throat, moving to the side faster than she thought possible without having the added help of caffeine. She shot Mitch a look that told him sleep hadn’t been the issue.

  As a matter of fact, she wished more than anything she could go back upstairs and get out on the other side of the bed. Maybe then this day wouldn’t have started off with her being completely mortified at meeting Mitch’s father for the first time.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kendall,” Allie managed to say after Mitch had given her a bit of space. She’d even wiped her perspiring palm against her jeans before walking across the kitchen floor and shaking his hand. “I’m sorry about all that from before. I thought Mitch was in here or else I never would have—”

  “Oh, please,” Gus laughed, gesturing with his spatula that she should have a seat. “Call me Gus. I’ve heard a lot about you, Allie. When Mitch here called me this morning and told me that he couldn’t make it to the diner for breakfast, I decided to bring breakfast to him. He told me that the two of you were working on the case most of last night and decided not to drive back into town so late. I don’t blame you for staying out here one bit. The B&B is nice enough, but I’ve heard Florence’s sheets can be a bit scratchy. So, what will it be? Eggs, French toast, or a breakfast steak?”

  Allie didn’t have to look to her right to know that Mitch had taken a seat at the kitchen table rather than trying to help prepare the meal. Seeing as this was an older farmhouse, the kitchen didn’t have an island like the more modern ones today. Even the stove was one of those natural gas ones with the open burners, although it looked to be a newer model. The place had a homey feel that she couldn’t quite equate with the Mitch she knew, but then again…he wasn’t the same man she’d had in her bed for an overnight a year ago.

  “I haven’t had French toast in years,” Allie admitted, her nerves having settled a bit after such a rough start. She ran a hand through her hair, still wishing she had the hairband to secure the messy strands at the base of her neck. “I’d love some, thank you.”

  “Coming right up,” Gus announced, turning back to the stove and allowing her to finally shoot Mitch a look that hopefully contained many sharp pointed daggers. He was hiding that rare smile of his behind his coffee mug. Oh, he thought this was funny, did he? “So, Allie. Mitch was catching me up on last night’s event with Shelby Tilmadge and his lunacy. I didn’t believe for a second that he was the one committing all those murders. He’s actually more timid than his father.”

  “Have there been any new developments?” Allie asked, skimming her gaze over the counter and finding that beautiful machine that promised the nectar of the gods. It didn’t take her long to fetch herself a cup of coffee, and she didn’t even have to go looking for cream and sugar. Gus or Mitch had already placed both commodities in the middle of the table. “I know you spoke with Jay last night.”

  Allie didn’t tack on that Mitch’s conversation with her fellow colleague was the last thing she remembered, but he was a smart enough guy to have gotten her cue.

  “As we thought, Shelby had no real inside information about the crime scenes or any of the investigation’s confidential details.” Mitch slid the bowl of sugar her way as he continued to fill her in on the case. He shouldn’t get to look so damned good when her appearance was so disheveled. “I believe an announcement is forthcoming, which is bound to create another media circus after they realize Shelby was nothing more than a distraction.”

  Allie figured that was going to happen anyway, because this unsub would have reacted without being too circumspect after Shelby was brought in for questioning. The media had all but made it sound as if an arrest of a prime suspect was imminent. She was honestly surprised to find that Mitch hadn’t received a phone call with grisly news of another body or some young gal gone missing.

  It struck her that she might have missed her chance last night to catch the unsub. Had he come looking for her at the B&B after she’d practically laid down a trail of neon signs? She pondered over that thought as she enjoyed her first cup of coffee and allowed the caffeine to seep into her system.

  “What are your plans for the day?” Allie asked Mitch, figuring that she would head back to the B&B to shower and get cleaned up before mingling with the press and some of the residents who would no doubt be milling about town.

  There were quite a few reporters who she’d love to listen in on without directly engaging, especially Charlene Winston. That woman had been living and breathing this investigation. Reporters could be a wealth of information, especially if they were chasing a lead they’d ferreted out on a nationwide story like theirs.

  “I’ve got to head into the station. I have a meeting with Thorne before I have to check over the logs to make sure Blyth Lake is still the insane yet ordinary community I was hired to protect.” Mitch cast a glance toward his father. “I was also hoping to stop by Gwen’s office sometime this morning to see how she’s healing up.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t do that. All you’ll hear is Beth Ann go on and on about her wedding plans. Molly was telling everyone this morning that Jack asked Beth Ann to marry him last night in what was a fairly public proposal. Apparently, he took her up to the lake after a movie at the theater. The neighborhood groups up there are trying to pull everyone together in the face of what’s happened. Jack popped the question in front of a whole crowd of their friends, and she said yes.”

  Had Allie judged Jack unfairly? He wasn’t the most upstanding man in Blyth Lake, and he certainly had a wandering eye. That was proven within minutes of meeting him. But to take a massive leap into a proposal of marriage wasn’t the reaction she believed the unsub would make to regain the town’s attention.

  Unless it was a way to bring a young girl into his makeshift home now that there was no longer a gravesite to secure his sisters.

  “Here you go,” Gus announced, startling Allie into sitting back when he set a plate in front of her that was piled high with…French toast pumpkins? “Happy Halloween, Allie. Now eat those up. There’s more if you have room for them. After you’re done with breakfast, I was hoping you’d join me in town today to pick out a selection of candy to hand out to the kids tonight.”

  Join him in picking out candy?

  Allie shot an accusing stare across the table at Mitch. Had he set this up? Did he believe that her spending time with his father was going to prevent her from doing what he’d asked her not to do last night?

  He couldn’t call in a favor and then decide to take it back. When she said he could tuck it away for another time, she’d said that to be nice. Technically, she’d done it for selfish reasons. She didn’t want the last thread that kept them together to disintegrate.

  But Mitch didn’t get to sit her on the sidelines. Hell, she had close combat training just like him, along with additional self-defense training at the FBI Academy. She could damn well take care of herself.

  “I was hoping to—”

  Mitch stood abruptly from the table, all four feet of his chair scraping across the tiled floor. He made the pretense of reaching for the syrup to speak to her so that his father couldn’t hear.

  “Please don’t hurt my father’s feelings by brushing his offer aside,” Mitch murmured, his warm breath caressing her ear and bringing back memories that had no place here.

  “You were saying?” Gus asked, having gone back to the stove to turn off the gas underneath the skillet. He then began untying the apron strings around his neck, warily looking at Mitch trying
to discern if something was wrong. She’d already gotten off on a bad foot, and she certainly didn’t want to sink both her bare feet into the mud. “Allie?”

  “I was just hoping you wouldn’t mind stopping by the B&B so that I could take a quick shower and grab a change of clothes,” Allie replied with a smile, landing her attention squarely on Gus. She didn’t want to see Mitch’s reaction to her response. She’d accepted that she would meet his family, but she’d never put it in context before. She reminded herself once again that they were only friends, and his father’s friendship was only an extension of that relationship. “It wasn’t my intention to fall asleep on Mitch’s couch.”

  Yes, she’d purposefully added on that last statement so that Gus Kendall didn’t get the wrong idea. It was for her own peace of mind that she set the boundaries and stick to them. All of this could have been avoided if only she hadn’t been so exhausted from lack of sleep due to the redeye.

  “Of course.” Gus gave her a wink as he leaned against the counter to finish the rest of his coffee. It was like seeing Mitch in thirty-some years. “I can check on that entryway table I made for Florence while we’re there and maybe get another cup of—”

  The ringing of Mitch’s cell phone stopped Gus from saying another word. The call could have simply been from one of his brothers or sister. It could have been the dispatcher or one of his deputies reaching out because an ongoing neighborhood dispute over somebody’s cat. After all, she’d heard that happened quite often in small towns like Blyth Lake.

  Unfortunately, it was none of those reasons.

  “I’ll be right there,” Mitch exclaimed, showing her a glimpse of the man she remembered from their time in the Corps. The gravity of his expression told them enough about the situation to put them both on edge, but what he said next told her she’d been right in the adjusted profile she’d explained to him last night. “Charlene Winston is missing. Her cameraman found a letter this morning…Thorne believes it to be from the killer.”