by Jami Alden
Judy gave a heavy sigh. “I know. I accepted the truth a long time ago. I just wish Mother would.”
He thanked her for her call and rang off.
His hand was shaking as he put down the receiver. When he scrubbed it over his face, it came back damp with his own cold sweat. It would all be all right, he assured himself. Ten years and no one had ever had even an inkling. He heard a soft footstep outside his office door.
Well, he corrected himself, there might be those who had inklings, but they knew better than to rat him out.
His breathing slowed to an even pace, and as he scanned the desk, his gaze snagged on the fabric bag sitting to the left of his computer.
Gifts for his beloved, along with some other necessities he’d planned to give her this afternoon.
But now…
No, he scolded himself. There was no reason to let that icy bitch and that gorilla who thought himself some security hotshot ruin his plans. He’d learned to cover his tracks before Ibarra even knew what a computer was, and Kate was nothing but a talking head.
He would go as planned, but not before he made a pit stop. It was time for him to do a little investigating of his own and find out exactly how much Kate and Tommy actually knew.
Kate thanked Mrs. Dorsey for her help and gently extricated her hand from the woman’s grip.
As they walked out to the car, Tommy couldn’t miss the dejected set to her shoulders. “Well,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat and clipped herself in, “while she managed to raise some doubt about Dorsey’s guilt, we have absolutely nothing that helps us with Tricia.” She blew out a frustrated breath.
“First thing is to get in touch with the medical examiner,” Tommy said as he pulled out of the Dorseys’ driveway and headed for the highway.
Kate nodded. “That’s very strange to me, that there could be such a potential discrepancy in the time of death and it wouldn’t have been noted in the case file.”
Tommy flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “In any investigation you run across people with an agenda. The agent in charge clearly had it in his head Dorsey was their man. He would include whatever information supported that.”
“But the defense would be all over that if it ever made it to trial,” Kate argued.
Tommy shrugged. “Probably, but it was never an issue.”
“Because Dorsey conveniently committed suicide,” Kate said wryly. Her finger twisted and untwisted around a lock of her hair as she stared out the window. Tommy didn’t interrupt her silence, knowing she was doing the same thing he was, taking what they’d just learned from Dorsey’s mother, flipping it around in her head, trying to figure out if any of it could be of immediate use to them.
To his frustration, all Tommy was able to come up with was a hell of a lot more questions and pitifully few answers. None of which got them any closer to Tricia’s whereabouts or confirmation she was even still alive.
His stomach clenched at the thought. Of course the possibility that they wouldn’t find Tricia alive had been front and center in his mind from the second she’d gone missing.
But until today, until Kate had given him a firsthand view of what life was like after Michael’s death—along with a couple more bombshells he didn’t want to dwell on right now—Tommy hadn’t thought too far into the future. About what might happen to Jackson and Brooke if they didn’t find Tricia in time.
It was suddenly clear that he was on the hook for not just one life but three.
Tommy picked up his phone and dialed CJ to give him an update on what Mrs. Dorsey had told them.
“The price of the body cream and a highly disputable discrepancy in the M.E.’s report isn’t much proof of Dorsey’s innocence,” CJ replied skeptically.
Tommy agreed and hung up as they came up on the bridge that would take them into downtown Sandpoint. This stretch of highway curved along the side of a steep drop that offered stunning views of the mountains and the lake below.
“It’s so weird,” Kate said, her gaze still fixed out the window.
“What?”
“The gold dust cream.” She gave her head a little shake and turned to face him. “I haven’t thought of it in years. Now that I think of it, the last time I can remember using it was…” Her gaze drifted down to the floor.
“The night Michael died,” Tommy said softly. “I remember.”
“You noticed?” Kate’s full lips quirked in a little half smile.
“I noticed everything,” he said without thinking. And the way Kate’s grin widened made him want to pull over and kiss it off her.
Nice, he thought. The sick fuck rubbed that gold shit all over the girls he killed, and your dick is getting hard remembering a heavy petting session a decade a half and ago. “It seemed strange when we first read the files,” he said. “But when you think about where the guy lived and where he came from, it doesn’t seem likely it would have come up on his radar. Regular old glitter lotion, sure—you see that on even your low-rent strippers—”
“You know from your vast experience?” Kate said archly.
“I wouldn’t call it vast,” Tommy said defensively.
Kate let out a soft laugh. “Maybe Dorsey became fascinated by a wealthy girl and got frustrated he couldn’t have her.”
“Someone like you?” Tommy said, and just the thought made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was nothing but a coincidence. Still, all of his senses flared to high alert as they crossed the bridge that spanned the lake into Sandpoint.
And when Kate dropped him off back at the sheriff’s office to pick up his truck, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t leave her alone.
Not just because his protective impulses were firing off right and left. Though he was trying not to dwell too much on the heavy truths he’d discovered today, something in his chest pinched at the idea of her spending the night alone in that townhouse.
Kate had been left alone to deal with her pain too many times in her past.
Yet when she’d left him, there had been nothing close to invitation in her eyes. Face it, dude, despite what happened last night, your chance to be the shoulder she cries on has long since passed.
To Kate, climbing the three steps to her townhouse felt like she was climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. Right after she had dropped Tommy at his truck and turned her car toward the lake, a wave of exhaustion had hit her so hard she marveled she’d made the three-mile trip without passing out in the car.
Along with the exhaustion had been a need that bordered on desperation to keep Tommy by her side. To not let the tentative bond she’d sensed from this afternoon’s revelations dissolve before it had a chance to form.
But she’d reminded herself harshly that just because Tommy finally knew the truth about what she’d gone through didn’t mean he automatically forgave her for her part in what was done to him. What had happened last night, along with a few hot looks he hadn’t been able to conceal, proved that he was still sexually attracted to her, but just because he sympathized with her own sob story didn’t mean he liked her any better.
That harshly sobering thought had kept her from embarrassing herself by begging him to come back to her place. To spend the rest of the night distracting her with his hot mouth, his strong hands, his big, powerful body until she forgot about all of the pain and sadness the day had dredged up.
If Tommy had come home with you, the first thing he would have done was read you the riot act for not setting the alarm, she thought with a rueful chuckle as she pushed open the door and saw the green light blinking on the panel.
The interior was dark, the thick drapes that kept late-afternoon sun and heat from overtaking the living room allowing only a line of light at their seam. Kate followed the narrow path of light to the sliding glass doors. She reached for the cord to pull the drapes and felt a chill creep up her back. There was a subtle movement, nothing more than a puff of air to warn her.
A hand closed over her mouth as the
other went around her neck. Kate’s heart leapt to her throat as the adrenaline spiked, sending her arms and legs flailing in every direction as she struggled to break free.
She tried to scream, but nothing came out but a harsh, gurgling sound as the hand around her throat tightened. She struggled harder, but the arm anchoring her to a large male chest was like a steel band, the long sleeves of his shirt making him impervious to the frantic clawing of her nails.
The already-dark room went darker, and Kate knew if she didn’t get away she was going to lose consciousness, or worse. Even more terrifying was the hard pressure she could feel growing against the small of her back. He was getting aroused.
The thought made her gag against the hand covering her mouth.
Forcing the panic aside, she racked her brains for the self-defense tips she’d received in one of countless training sessions St. Anthony’s offered to the public. It had been ages since she’d attended as a student instead of an observer. She vowed to whoever was listening that if she made it out of this, she’d pay better attention next time.
She felt his foot kick against the outside of hers and had a flash of memory. After bringing her foot up, she stomped her heel against his instep with every ounce of power she could muster.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to elicit a grunt and make him loosen his grip just enough to give her the leverage to swing her elbow back into his ribs. She flung herself out of his hold. He was between her and the front door, which left the sliding glass doors off the downstairs guest room her closest escape.
She flung herself toward the stairs, crying out in pain as her knee met the corner of the coffee table. She was on the second stair when he tackled her from behind, sending them both tumbling down. All the breath rushed from her body as her ribs made contact with the wooden edge of the bottom step.
She managed to wriggle out of his hold and was pushing herself to her knees when she heard the air whistling behind her. There was a hollow thunking sound the split second before pain exploded in her skull and the bright flash of stars blinded her to everything around her.
Tommy called himself all kinds of fool as he turned down Kate’s street. After giving Jackson a quick update on their discussion with Mrs. Dorsey, in a move that echoed last night’s actions, instead of turning right at the intersection of Kootenai Road and up the hill toward his house, he’d turned left.
To Kate’s.
Last night he’d been driven by frustrated desire and long-simmering resentment. Right now he was a little afraid to look too closely at what was driving him.
Desire, no doubt. Need like nothing he’d ever felt pounded through him with every pulse. The memory of Kate, under him, over him, gloving him in her tight, slick body was so vivid he swore he could smell her in the air, taste her on his lips.
Lust, desire—that was easy to own up to.
It was the other stuff that had him feeling a little panicky.
But not panicky enough to turn his truck around and take his dumb ass home.
Anticipation sang through him as he parked his truck in front of Kate’s rental. Not just for a repeat of last night’s amazing sex—though he doubted he’d last thirty seconds before he had her laid out on the nearest flat surface. His chest was tight, his breath was short, at just the idea of seeing her.
He raised his hand to knock, his stomach clenching as he realized that right now, he didn’t just want to fuck her, he wanted to be with her. He hadn’t felt that way about a woman since…
Since Kate. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, she still had that inexplicable hold on him. Like a siren drawing him in.
Watch it you don’t get smashed on the rocks again this time.
The warning froze his fist midway to the door. If he had a working brain cell left in his head, he’d turn and walk away. He started to turn when a crashing sound came from inside.
“Kate?” He knocked hard on the door. No answer. He tried the knob, his jaw clenching when it turned easily in his hand. He pushed the door open to find the townhouse almost completely dark, the drapes drawn tight against the afternoon sun.
“Kate?” he called again. There was a crashing sound from downstairs and a muffled curse.
Too deep to be Kate’s. His blood curdled as he hurled himself down the stairs. As he rounded the corner, he saw the open sliding glass door that led outside and a masculine figure wearing a hoodie disappearing through it.
Instinctively Tommy gave chase, but he didn’t make it more than two steps before he froze in his tracks.
That’s when he saw Kate, crumpled on the floor like a rag doll, an angry crimson stain blooming under her head.
Still as death.
He could barely stop from laughing out loud as he darted between houses and through the forest. It had been so long since anyone had come close to catching him, he’d forgotten how exhilarating it could feel to run for his life. For so long, he’d been so careful, so controlled, he’d forgotten how fear could enhance the rush. Only when he made it back to the Zodiac raft he’d hidden behind some rocks in a nearby cove did the reality of what had nearly happened sink in. How unbelievably stupid and reckless he’d been. As he pulled out into the water, he railed at himself for being so foolish. Was he really willing to risk everything? For Kate?
There had been a time when he had been. But he’d botched that up but good, only to realize later that he should count himself lucky. Because it turned out Kate wasn’t as good and pure as she pretended to be, not if she let white trash like Tommy Ibarra put his hands all over her.
He should have left before she realized someone was there. Yet when she interrupted his search of her townhouse—he’d sorely overestimated how long it would take them to drive from Spokane—instead of sneaking out the back, as he knew he should, he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her.
From wrapping his hand around her throat, covering her hand with his mouth. Showing her that no matter how many times she rejected him, he could still take her any time he wanted to.
The thought, combined with the futile struggles, aroused him unbearably, startling in its force. In that moment, he knew he had his solution. He would take her, keep her to satisfy his body’s base needs while he waited for Tricia to accept him.
And finally Kate would receive the punishment she deserved for making him act so irrationally, so stupidly all those years ago. For making him act equally carelessly again now.
His hands shook as he grabbed the backpack from the motorized raft and quickly stripped off his hoodie and sweats, leaving him in a T-shirt and shorts. A guy boating with a hood pulled over his head in eighty-degree heat would cause suspicion. In a T-shirt, shorts, sunglasses, and a floppy-brimmed fishing hat, he looked like any other tourist tooling around the lake, soaking up the last of the sun’s rays.
Still, he had to move fast. While Ibarra had unwittingly saved him from himself—it was sheer stupidity to try to take Kate right then, right there, without making any of his usual preparations—he knew the cops would be at Kate’s house in minutes.
He pushed the raft off the sand and used the oar to row himself out a ways before starting the motor. Within minutes he was buzzing through the water, pushing the thoughts of all the ways he was going to use Kate like the whore she was from his mind.
He was on his way to Tricia, his beloved. He couldn’t bring this ugliness to her.
He would calm himself and make all the necessary preparations. He would save up all the ugliness to give to Kate.
Kate could hear someone calling her name from very far away. But she didn’t want to answer. She wanted to stay in this nice, comfy cocoon and sleep for days.
“Katie, Katie, wake up.” The voice was deep, and there was no mistaking the hint of panic. She tried to tell him that no one called her Katie anymore, but she couldn’t seem to make her mouth work.
There was more talking, but she only took in bits and pieces. “In the house… ran out the back door before I could see him… d
on’t know how bad… ambulance, right away… lots of bleeding.”
Kate finally recognized the voice as Tommy’s and struggled to open her eyes, let him know she was okay. Her eyes opened, consciousness returned in a great rush. As the first wave of pain hit, she wished she could go back to that dark black cocoon.
Her head felt like someone was hammering a steel spike into it. “Tommy.” His name came out as a soft whimper that sent another hammer blow echoing through her skull.
She started to push herself up but was knocked back to the floor by a wave of pain so severe she was sure she was going to throw up.
“No, don’t move.” Though pitched low, Tommy’s voice sent another spear of pain through her skull.
“My head hurts.” Her voice came out as little more than a whimper.
“I know, I know.” A gentle hand held her down. “Just try not to move until we can figure out how badly you’re hurt.”
She opened her eyes, unsure of where she was, unable to make out anything more than a large male form looming over her. Panic spiked through her with a sudden rush of memory. “He’s here, in the house,” she gasped, the words tearing at a throat that ached from the force of being crushed. She tried to sit up again but felt like she was anchored to the floor.
“It’s okay. Whoever was in here is gone. I’m here now. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Tommy took one hand in his and rested his other gently on her forehead. Inexplicably, though the throbbing in her head didn’t abate, she felt a wash of relief course through her. She closed her eyes against the bright sunlight that sent daggers into her eyes.
It all came back in a flash, the man grabbing her from the shadows, his huge hand wrapping around her neck. Getting tackled on the stairs, the hollow echo of his blow connecting to the back of her head. “He was choking me,” she whispered. “I thought he was going to kill me.” Or worse, she thought, her stomach roiling as she remembered the revolting pressure of his erection pressing against her back.