He sighed. “I told you before, I’m not ready for a serious relationship. I’m not ready to make a commitment to anyone. I’m still young, and you’re even younger—”
Elizabeth sniffed. “Sounds like an excuse to me.”
His features hardened. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
She was supposed to make this easy for him?
She glared at him.
He lifted his hand in a helpless gesture. “I’m trying to do the right thing here. I’m trying to be a man about this—”
“A man?” Elizabeth said coolly. “I’d say you’re being more of a coward.”
She couldn’t have said anything that would have wounded him more. A shutter closed over his features as he got up from the bed and strode to the bathroom. “Sorry you feel that way,” he muttered, before the door slammed shut between them.
IDIOT, IDIOT, IDIOT, Elizabeth scolded herself as she stood wrapped in her blanket, staring out the window in Cullen’s living room. Why did she always have to say the wrong thing to him? Why not just accept his rejection and go peaceably on her way? At least a few scraps of pride might have remained intact, but no. She’d had to force a confrontation.
She heard him come out of the bedroom, and she glanced over her shoulder. He was fully dressed, on his way out.
“I’m going back to work,” he said warily. “I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
It doesn’t matter, Elizabeth thought. Because I won’t be here.
Not that she didn’t want to be, but she couldn’t face him now.
She nodded, then turned back to the window, not knowing what else to say to him. Actually, she did know, but why were the words I’m sorry so difficult to utter? Especially when one’s pride was still stinging the way hers was.
She sensed Cullen’s hesitation, as if he wanted to say something, too, but after a moment, she heard the door open and then close softly behind him.
So that was that, she thought, willing away the tears that stung behind her lids. Cullen Ryan had been an impossible fantasy, and maybe it was better she face that reality now and move on.
She was young. She had her whole life ahead of her. It was foolish to think that only one man could be her destiny.
“Destiny sucks,” she muttered, wiping the back of her hand across the wetness on her face.
CULLEN PAUSED outside his apartment door, thinking maybe he should go back in and talk to her again, try to explain his reasoning, but knowing him, he’d just make things worse.
And besides, he really didn’t think he could face the wounded look in her eyes that tore at his resolve. If he went back inside, he just might end up taking her to bed again, and this time, he wasn’t certain he’d have the willpower to pull back.
For once in his life, he’d done the noble thing. He might not be the right kind of man for Elizabeth, but he was man enough not to take advantage of her when she was frightened and vulnerable. At least he could live with himself.
But he was afraid Elizabeth still didn’t get it. Why they couldn’t be together.
All she had to do was take a look around her, he thought grimly, glancing at the shabby facade of his apartment building. The cottage where she lived wasn’t fancy, either, and he doubted she earned a huge salary from Heathrow College. But she lived within her means because she chose to. Cullen lived within his means because he had to. There was a big difference.
And supposing they did get together? For how long would she want someone like him accompanying her to fancy masquerade balls and stuffy gatherings at the college? How long before he became an embarrassment to her?
Cullen had his pride, if he didn’t have much else, and he’d almost given that up in Boston. He’d gotten in with a bad crowd, and for a while, he was on the same downhill slide to the gutter as his old man. But somehow he’d picked himself up, shaken off the dirt, and turned his life around. Trying to live in Elizabeth’s world just might send him straight back to that gutter.
With new resolve, he strode down the steps and headed out into his world, where a killer still roamed the streets.
Chapter Fourteen
If Cullen had avoided Elizabeth after their first kiss, he’d treated her as if she had the plague since that morning in his apartment. Weeks went by during which Elizabeth barely heard from him, and only then if there was some new information about the case to impart.
She tried to tell herself it was still possible he’d change his mind. He’d come around in time. And in the meantime, she still had the murder cases, as well as her classes, to keep her busy. She’d requested a copy of Morgan Hurley’s autopsy report from Cullen to compare with Bethany Peters’s, hoping that something would stand out to give them a clue. But other than the fact that the victims had shared the same blood type, she’d seen no similarities.
She had no doubt both girls had been killed by the same perpetrator. The incisions in their throats and the needle marks on their inner arms were almost identical. The fact that they’d both been students at Heathrow led Elizabeth to conclude that the school had to be the connection, although as far as she was able to determine, they hadn’t even known each other. Bethany was a science major, and Morgan had been pursuing an arts degree. They didn’t have the same classes, the same friends, nor did they live in the same dorm. Bethany was from Boston; Morgan was from a little town in upstate New York. Both were from privileged backgrounds, but so were most of the girls who attended Heathrow, except for a handful of scholarship students.
If the school was the connection, then that brought Elizabeth back to Paul Fortier. Bethany had been his student, but Morgan hadn’t. Still, he could have seen her around campus, become attracted to her. Like Bethany, she was a very pretty girl, and Fortier seemed to have a penchant for beautiful women.
What is it they say? There is nothing quite so beautiful or poetic as a dead or dying woman.
There was another possibility, one that made Elizabeth shudder with dread. What if she, herself, was the connection? What if Cullen was right? What if the killer was trying to lure her into his sick game? What if he was taunting her with the bodies of students he’d chosen at random? What if the killings were about her and not the victims?
Elizabeth pulled her sweater tightly around her as she sat at her desk in her office. Tomorrow was Good Friday. The school was closed until the following Tuesday for the Easter holidays. The campus would be deserted as it had been on spring break. If the killer was going to strike again, she had a feeling it would be this weekend.
Since Morgan Hurley’s body had been found, the school had hired additional security, but Elizabeth still didn’t feel safe. She’d booked a room at the Moriah’s Landing Inn for the weekend, and as she watched the exodus of students from the campus, she had a sudden urge to join them. She had no more classes for the day. What was keeping her there?
“Whoa, where’s the fire?”
She’d vaulted from her office so quickly, she hadn’t noticed that someone was standing in the hallway, just outside her door. Her heart started to pound before she recognized him. “Lucian! You startled me.” She gave a shaky laugh.
“Sorry. It seems everyone around here is on edge these days.”
“With good reason.”
He glanced at her purse and briefcase. “Am I keeping you?”
“Actually, I was leaving for the day. I guess I’m anxious to start my holiday.”
“Going somewhere special?”
She started to answer and then thought better of it. Maybe it would be best if she kept her plans to herself. “No, not really. I just want to relax a little.”
“Well, you deserve it. You’ve had a harrowing semester, beginning that night at the Pierces’ masquerade ball.” His gaze deepened. “I can’t help wondering if your discovery of both bodies is more than a coincidence, Elizabeth.”
“How do you mean?”
A shadow moved in his eyes. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
�
�I will,” but his warning lingered in her head even after she’d picked up her suitcase from her cottage and headed toward downtown. It was terrifying to think that she might somehow be the trigger for a madman’s bloodlust.
Elizabeth wished desperately that she and Kat and Brie had remained close, so that she would have someone she could talk to about the murders, about her fears. But mostly she wished she had someone to confide in about Cullen.
Honestly, what was the matter with him anyway? He kept saying he wasn’t the right man for her, but he was. He was! He thought she needed someone her intellectual equal, but he was the most interesting person she knew. And besides, just look at her parents. They were both brilliant, the perfect match, and they’d let their work consume them. They hardly spoke to each other these days, and Elizabeth suspected they no longer even shared the same bed. Did Cullen think she wanted that?
Or was he afraid he’d be like his mother, run out on his family when the going got tough? Or like his father, who’d turned to the bottle when he couldn’t handle real life? Cullen was their son, but he was nothing like them. He wasn’t going to become them any more than Elizabeth would turn out like her parents. It was true he’d flirted with the darker side of life before he’d left town, and she suspected in Boston as well, but he’d turned his life around, with no help from anyone. Look at the kind of man he was today. Good. Decent. Honorable.
Honorable to a fault, she thought dryly.
She drove past the turnoff to the inn and headed for the waterfront instead. She wondered what Cullen would do if she showed up unexpectedly at his apartment, but she was too much of a coward to find out. And the irony of that was not lost on her.
Instead, she parked on the street and walked slowly down Waterfront Avenue, past the tattoo parlor, the strip joints and Madame Fleury’s, a fortune teller. When she got to the end, she turned around and walked back.
Pausing outside the Beachway Diner, she wondered longingly if Brie was working this afternoon. She thought again how much she missed her old friends.
On impulse, she pushed open the door and walked inside.
BRIE WAS STANDING behind the counter, and when she saw Elizabeth, her expression grew wary. Then, a split second later, she smiled and motioned to an empty booth near the windows. Elizabeth nodded and walked over to sit down. After a few minutes, Brie came by with the coffeepot.
“It’s been ages!” she said cheerfully. “How’ve you been, Elizabeth?”
“Well, considering I found two dead students in the last two months, not so good.”
Brie gave her a sympathetic smile. “I heard about what happened. It must have been horrible.”
Elizabeth nodded, her stomach going hollow at the memory of those bodies put on display. She couldn’t help but believe the hanging was somehow symbolic. “It was bad, but I’m more worried about those girls’ families.”
“You always were strong,” Brie said.
Elizabeth stared at her in surprise. “I…was?”
“I don’t know who else could have gone through what you did in high school and come out so normal. All that teasing you had to endure just because you were younger and ten times smarter than everyone else. Kids can be so cruel, and all because your intelligence intimidated them. I always admired you for the way you handled yourself.”
“You…did?”
Brie smiled. “You always did underestimate yourself, Elizabeth. I guess it’s reassuring to know some things haven’t changed.” She poured Elizabeth a cup of coffee. “So what brings you to this part of town anyway?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Would you believe, I happened to be in the neighborhood?”
Brie glanced at the clock on the wall. “Business is pretty slow. I can take a break in a few minutes if you’ll hang around?”
“Sure.” It was only two o’clock. Checkin at the inn wasn’t for another hour. Until then, Elizabeth had absolutely no place to go or be.
But as if fate decided to take a hand in her plans, the door opened and Kat Ridgemont hurried inside. She waved to Brie, then glancing around, spotted Elizabeth and strode toward her.
Elizabeth had always marveled at the way heads turned when Kat walked by. She was tall and sleekly slender with long, black hair and dark eyes fringed with thick lashes. Dressed in a leather jacket over a T-shirt and jeans, she somehow managed to look tough and graceful at once.
“I thought I saw you walk by my office,” she said. “I called out, but I guess you didn’t hear me. You looked as if you were a million miles away.”
“Sorry.” Elizabeth motioned to the empty side of the booth. “Join me for a cup of coffee?”
Kat slid into the booth, folding her hands on the table as she leaned forward. “I’ve been meaning to call you. Cullen told me you’re consulting on the investigation into these murders.”
Elizabeth’s gaze widened. “Cullen told you that? When?”
Kat shrugged. “The other day. I don’t remember when exactly. We’ve helped each other out on cases from time to time, and we were talking…”
Her voice faded as Elizabeth suddenly became preoccupied with an image of Kat and Cullen…together. It made her feel terrible because Kat was so much more Cullen’s type than she would ever be. Elizabeth doubted he would have kicked someone as sexy as Kat out of his bed.
“…keep thinking about Claire,” she was saying.
Elizabeth frowned. “What?”
Kat gave her a bemused look. “I said I can’t help wondering if the killer is the same psycho who kidnapped poor Claire. If he’s the same one who murdered my mother.”
Any resentment that might have been building for Kat dissolved like mist in sunlight. “I’ve wondered the same thing myself,” Elizabeth admitted.
“From what I understand, the MO isn’t the same, though.”
“Not altogether, no,” Elizabeth said carefully. Even with a friend, she couldn’t go spouting her mouth off about the cases. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. After twenty years, the killer could have changed his MO, either deliberately or through a natural evolution of his appetites.”
Kat’s gaze turned dark. “What if it is the same guy who kidnapped and tortured Claire? What if the killer’s identity is locked up somewhere in her tormented mind?”
“Then she could be in danger,” Elizabeth said. “But we’ve always known that. That’s why her mother keeps her in Glen Oaks. The security is excellent.”
Brie came over then, and Kat slid over in the seat to make room for her. “We were talking about Claire. And about the murders.”
Brie shuddered. “Elizabeth and I were just saying what a horrible thing those girls’ families are having to go through.”
“Yes,” Kat agreed, her gaze clouding. “Murder is horrible. And before another family is put through the same hell, I think the three of us should take a ride out to Glen Oaks and see Claire.”
“The last time I went, they wouldn’t even let me in to see her,” Elizabeth warned.
Kat nodded. “I know, but they tell me she’s getting better. Maybe if she sees the three of us, it’ll trigger something for her. The last time we were all together was that night.”
“But Tasha was there, too,” Brie reminded them sadly.
For a moment all three fell silent, caught up in the lingering grief over past tragedies, but then Kat shrugged off the melancholy. “Look, I know it’s a long shot, but I’ve always believed if Claire is ever going to remember, if she’s ever going to open up to anyone, it’ll be us. I say we give it a shot.” Kat turned to Brie. “Can you get away?”
Brie hesitated, then nodded. “My shift ends in another hour. I like to spend all my free time with Nicole, but my mother is taking her to a birthday party down the street. I’ll call and tell her I’ll be late. I think you’re right, Kat. We have to talk to Claire. At the very least, we owe it to her to try and help her get her life back.”
They clasped hands, and though their mission was a grim one, Elizabeth felt a
camaraderie she hadn’t experienced since that fateful night in St. John’s Cemetery.
GLEN OAKS was a private institution located on the outskirts of a tiny village about a hundred miles west of Moriah’s Landing. Safely tucked away behind an electronic fence which was artfully disguised by thick hedgerows of hawthorn, the white Colonial-style building was an elegant affair with a wide, sweeping drive lined with red oaks and sugar maples bursting with buds. Beds of winter crocus dotted the manicured lawn, and a stone fountain trickled near the entrance.
A nurse led them down an antiseptic hallway where the clatter of food trays could be heard through open doorways. “You girls came at an opportune time.” She lowered her voice as she ushered them into Claire’s room. “She’s had a good day.”
The room was decorated much like a young girl’s bedroom, in pink satin and lace with mountains of stuffed animals on the bed. There was a vanity, but no mirror, and the glass in both the window and the door was doubled-paned and reinforced with wire mesh. Almost impossible to break.
Claire was seated in a rocking chair in front of the window, staring out across the sculpted lawn. She didn’t turn when they came inside. She gave no indication whatsoever she was even aware of their presence.
She’d changed so much since that terrible night. She’d always been fragile-looking, with long, gorgeous hair and a pale, delicate complexion. But she was even more frail now. The cotton dress she wore hung like a sack from her lean frame, and her hair, though neat and clean, had lost its glorious luster.
Kat went over and knelt in front of her, placing her hand on Claire’s knee. “Claire? It’s Kat. Brie and Elizabeth are here, too.”
Brie walked over and knelt beside Kat. “Hi, sweetie,” she said in a soft, soothing tone, much like the one she undoubtedly used when she spoke to her little daughter. “What a pretty dress you have on!”
For the first time, Claire showed a slight reaction, a hint of emotion. She turned her beautiful blue gaze on Brie, and something that might have been a smile flickered across her features.
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