He understood that. He was still feeling the stares, himself. He’d yet to find even a single insight as to who had taken them. The UNSUB was always one step ahead of him. But even though it had been just a bit over a month since Thanksgiving, he was never going to stop until he had the man in custody.
He owed it to the woman beside him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
* * *
Mal hated testifying in these cases, but he understood the necessity of the task. Travis Byrum was a small man who’d felt both inadequate and grandiose in his ideas. He’d felt that he was better morally than his victims. But he’d felt no qualms about raping and assaulting those victims, or the teenage girl who’d been forced to live with the Byrums by her own family.
It was this man’s biological daughter that Julia would be adopting. Did she fully understand what she would be taking on? Ruthie would eventually question her origins, and would learn of the crimes her biological father had committed. And those that her mother had also committed. Theresa Byrum had been charged with unlawful confinement by keeping Hannah in the Byrum home against her will. Theresa had also been charged with physical abuse against both Hannah and Ruthie. Apparently Theresa had saved her resentment and aggression for the younger girls in the house, and left the boys alone for the most part. He’d seen it before—a parent abusing only one or two of their children and not abusing the others. But all children in such a home suffered; and that environment was what Ruthie had known. How had it shaped her?
He found himself very curious about the little girl Julia was taking on. What kind of child was she? Did she like cartoons? Storybooks? Princesses or trucks? Was she a fearful child, or more resilient? He wasn’t entirely certain of what she looked like. He’d only seen her for a few minutes months ago. But Julia had seen her more. Had kept the child with her during the interviews he’d done with Hannah. Interviews he was now about to describe to a court of Travis Byrum’s peers.
Did Travis Byrum know what was going on with his daughter? Or did he even care?
Mal looked at Byrum as he began describing what had happened the day Hannah arrived in his office. And Mal knew—Byrum wouldn’t care what happened to Ruthie. Because Ruthie had been born a female.
* * *
Jules testimony went relatively well. She’d been questioned about her findings on each autopsy, then the defense tried to pick apart her findings. But her work was solid, and she’d ensured all of her notes were self-explanatory. The evidence was sound, and she knew it.
What had been hard was looking into Travis Byrum’s eyes as she spoke, and trying not to notice how they were the same as his daughter’s. Ruthie had her father’s blue eyes, a trick of genetics that on the little girl were sweet and beautiful. On the father those eyes were completely empty.
Unlike Malachi’s. Jules fought the urge to look over at him as she gave her testimony. He was finished with his testimony, and Jules knew he’d not be recalled, so he was allowed to sit through the rest of the trial. She found his presence oddly comforting.
Jules hated testifying, sitting in a courtroom, face-to-face with the world’s monsters.
And this particular monster was a definite bad one.
It was hard to forget as he stared at her with hatred on his face, that she resembled the victims, and that he had tried to use a stun-gun on her while at the scene of his last crime. She’d been leaning over the victim—a young woman with brown hair and eyes very similar to Jules’ own—when Byrum had ran toward her. Grabbed for her. What had he been thinking he’d accomplish that day? Had he really just lost all concept of reality?
Georgia had speculated later that he’d seen Jules sitting at the diner table with her and Hell and…Malachi. She’d sat beside Malachi that day, and he’d eaten off her plate. Had that been enough for Byrum? Had that been what had drawn his attention to Jules? She shivered.
Was she always destined to draw the attention of madmen?
She looked past Byrum and into the seated crowd. The judge hadn’t ordered a private trial for Byrum, though Jules knew his lawyer had requested one. No, the entire state of South Dakota had keen interest in this trial. It was being filmed, and posted live online. Where it would remain forever. Where the Byrum children could eventually see.
Her eyes met Malachi’s and she drew in a deep breath. Pulled her focus and professionalism around herself like a cloak.
She was safe now, and nothing was going to interfere in this next phase of her life. Nothing.
* * *
After her part in the trial was finished several hours later, Malachi met Jules in the hallway outside the largest courtroom. “You did great up there.”
Her testimony had lasted significantly longer than his and he’d stayed for all of it. Every piece of evidence she’d found on each of the multiple victims had to be verbally confirmed by her and shown to each jury member. It had been a long and tedious process, and he could easily see it had exhausted her.
“I hate testifying. And looking at him, knowing I’m about to go visit his daughter…brrr.”
“I’ll bet.” She hadn’t even floundered when she’d explained to the jury how Byrum had attempted to attack her when she’d been processing the scene of his final victim. He hadn’t even known that had happened—he’d been in interviews with associates of the Byrums by that point. But he, along with the rest of the courtroom, had watched the news channel’s video of the scene that day. “Byrum’s going away for good. You could see it on the faces of many of the jurors while you were speaking. They paid close attention when you described what he’d done to his victims.”
“He’ll never hurt anyone again. Not much comfort to the families, though.”
“No. But nothing every really could be, could it?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
* * *
He never set out to be a killer. That had definitely not been his ambition. But he had been angry for some slight or another, and it had been a simple matter really. He’d walked around Central Park until he’d found someone who resembled the person he was angry with, grabbed a limb from a nearby tree and beat the woman until she was dead. It had been dirty, bloody, and extremely reckless—three things he hadn’t minded at the time—but that utter feeling of control had been the best rush he had ever experienced.
The thirty-eight people he’d killed since have only deepened that rush. He did his best never to repeat a method of death, needing to ensure he had the challenge he needed. And wasn’t that a part of the game he played with Malachi? Which method of death would bring Malachi closer to his own inevitable end?
How would he finally kill Malachi, now that his original plan for the other man had been destroyed? It would need finesse, and need to make the greatest impact on the other man. It demanded thought.
He always had an alert for Malachi arranged on his computer, and it pinged while he was heating his dinner.
He checked it, curious as always what the other man was doing.
He watched the taped testimony for a while, finding nothing extraordinary in anything Malachi had done.
It was just another run-of-the-mill serial killer who’d been caught within a few weeks of his first kill.
Unlike him.
He’d made it to the five year anniversary of his first kill without being defeated.
Thanksgiving.
He’d had a lot to be thankful for this past year.
Until those idiots had ruined his game with Malachi.
He watched the recorded testimony idly. His attention sharpened when the camera panned the courtroom.
Interesting.
Dr. Julia Bellows was also in the courtroom.
Several hours later he was enmeshed in her recounting of her work. She was very detailed, and even clinical in a way that he admired.
As she continued speaking, ideas began to take shape. Ideas for his next game.
Ideas centered around her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
* *
*
His solicitous support was driving her crazy. He’d been nice and supportive on the entire drive to the small hotel north of the city. The snowstorm they’d driven for close to ninety minutes in had her tense, but he didn’t seem to care. Damn him. Even the weather wouldn’t dare mess with Mr. Perfect. He’d maneuvered the rental car over the icy roads with complete perfection and ease. Jules would have been a wreck if she’d had to drive on the ice.
His good mood was driving her bonkers. They’d stopped at six hotels in the past two hours, fighting the weather all the way. None had room for the two of them. Which made her nerves all that much worse. Everything was combining to make her a freaking basket case.
Didn’t the big lughead understand that she needed him to argue with her? To tell her adopting this kid was a bad idea, that she was crazy, and all she’d manage to do was screw up both their lives? Where was the Malachi she was used to? The one who argued with her, and snipped at her, and just flat out picked at her until she was ready to explode at him? Didn’t he understand that she needed to vent right now, and he was right there, and perfectly vent-at-able?
She thought she heard him laugh as she approached the check-in counter, and that’s when she knew he understood how she was feeling. Knew he was doing it deliberately. Knew he knew she wanted him to say something to her. Just knew it.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we only have one room available, with the storm and all. It does have a double bed.”
Julia sighed before telling the girl they’d take it. Figured. That was just the way her luck worked. She was so not getting back into that car with him to hunt for another hotel. Why hadn’t she thought to have Ed’s assistant make the hotel reservations, as well as the plane? And why hadn’t Malachi made his own reservation ahead of time? “But the big ape is paying.”
***
Poor little shrew. And he knew she hated winter weather. He knew she was tense, knew the snow and ice had bothered her. And when Jules was afraid, she turned snappish. At least when he was nearby. How many times had he heard her complain about the cold just in the parking lot of the courthouse alone? Julia did not handle cold well, despite working in the colder environment of the morgue every day. And she was tense from testifying and now that her testimony was complete, the thoughts of what would happen tomorrow with Ruthie were probably running through her head. Making her nervous. Scaring her.
He felt a bit more compassion fill him. Julia Bellows handled everything alone, even when she didn’t have to. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and squeezed before pulling her back so that he could pay the bill. He kept his hand on her shoulder, right where it was. She didn’t brush him off as quickly as he expected her to. Not this time.
Malachi ignored the clerk’s startled expression as he handed over the Bureau credit card. Five minutes later he pushed open the room door and waved the little shrew inside. “After you, my dear.”
She dropped her bag on the bed, claiming the mattress with a challenging look. He felt his blood heat as he fought the response to that challenge. Julia Bellows would always get a rise out of him, at times literally. He’d accepted that fact on the plane. And with a bed nearby, why wouldn’t the lust he felt for the damned woman increase?
“I’m going to shower, then go to bed. I have a big day tomorrow.”
“What about your job?” he asked as she pulled a jersey and shorts out of her bag.
“What about it?”
“What are you going to do with her when you’re out of town for days on end?”
“I’ve made arrangements with both Hell and Eddie.”
“What sort of arrangements?” Malachi ignored the irritation that hit him every time she called the director Eddie. He blocked her path to the bathroom, crossing his arms and daring her to try to get past him. She was so tense she’d probably split in two if he snapped his fingers loud enough. Maybe that’s what he should aim for?
“I’m not going in the field anymore. Victims will be transported directly to St. Louis for me and my team to autopsy at PAVAD. I’m getting two more assistants. On the rare occasions I have to be gone, Eddie and Marianna have agreed to babysit.” She feinted to the left before twisting to circle his right side. Quick.
“I see.” It was what he’d wanted; Malachi acknowledged that silently after she’d darted around him. He didn’t think she belonged in the field. He strongly suspected she was still too emotionally vulnerable. And to be honest, after seeing that video of Byrum targeting her for no good reason, he wanted Julia where she would be completely safe. He knew that wasn’t his right, but dammit, he wanted the woman safe. Was that so wrong? If he could just keep one woman he cared about safe, why wouldn’t he?
He stretched out on the bed after kicking off his shoes and changing into shorts of his own. He was not sleeping on that couch—he would never fit on it. She’d fit on it perfectly. If she didn’t like it, too bad. Where he slept was the one thing he would not compromise on.
“Uh, I don’t think so, Apezilla.” He opened his eyes to see her standing beside the bed, hands on narrow hips, and glaring down at him. Her hair was down around her shoulders and her face completely washed. Beautiful. Snippy, but beautiful. “I’m taking the bed.”
“Nope. You’re taking the couch. I’m the senior agent, plus I’m just damned bigger. Ergo, I get the bigger sleeping area. Non-negotiable. Unless you’d like to share?” He arched a brow, rewarded when the sneer once again hit her face. Why did he find that expression so damned endearing at times? “I don’t snore, if you recall.”
“You really are an ape.” She stared at him a moment and he grinned at her. She shocked the hell out of him by hopping over him lightly. Her knee hit his ribs as she landed. He grunted. Her knee bone was sharp. “I always sleep on the left side of the bed. Try to stay on your side; think you can handle that? And this…stays between us. I’d like people to think I have some taste, after all. I don’t just climb into bed with anyone, you know.”
Malachi wondered if his shock was visible for her to see. Little wench. She’d done to shock him. She curled up, tucking her knees between them. He reached down and grabbed one knee, pushing it toward the foot of the bed. “Your knees are on my side.”
“No, they’re not. But if they were, you’d just have to deal with it.” Her knee returned to its original position, this time slipping just a bit higher—coming dangerously close to his groin. He hissed and she laughed wickedly. A full, sexy laugh that had that groin tightening, fast. “Scared?”
Malachi felt a surge of both irritation and humor hit him. This woman…this woman drove him batshit crazy. And probably always would. Her knee moved higher, and he reacted. Before she could find out just how she’d affected him.
His fingers wrapped around the offending joint and he flipped her. Straight to her back. She was so damned lightweight he was surprised it took even half as much effort as it did. “Dammit, woman! I’d like children of my own someday. Keep that up and you’ll be playing doctor down there!”
“Not likely. I’d let you suffer. Suffer horribly.” She pushed against him, a sudden awareness and wariness in her eyes that he hadn’t expected. “Get off!”
“Oh, I wish. Oh, I so, so wish.” He put his forehead against hers, and those pretty, pretty eyes of hers widened. Her breath stuttered. So she did feel it, too. It was real, the lust and tension that was suddenly between them. “You are an irritant; did anyone ever tell you this? Did you drive your husband insane, too?”
“Rick appreciated me for exactly who I am.” She frowned. “Was.”
Malachi knew he had to tread very carefully. “I’m sure he did. And he must have had a very easy-going temperament.”
Her eyes closed for a moment and he felt a bit of regret that he’d brought up the dead man. He hadn’t meant to bring back her grief. Hazel eyes opened again, this time slightly wet. Malachi felt like the biggest ass in creation.
“He did.”
Her whisper brushed across his lips. “Julia�
��”
“Get off me. I need to sleep, I’m getting up early tomorrow, and I’m tired.”
“In a minute. I’m sorry I brought him up.” He toyed with a bit of her hair. Soft. Pretty.
“Me, too.” Her hands clung to his shoulders, surprising him. “I’m sorry.”
Her hair was spread out over her shoulders, and he fought the desire to bury his face in the strawberry-scented softness. “For what?”
“Being a bitch to you.”
“Ah, I’m used to it. Al has a few days where she tries to tear off my head for no good reason.”
“I’m scared. And I’m nervous. And I’m taking it out on you. I shouldn’t. I know that.” Contriteness was written all over her face. “But I still do it. And I don’t know why I do it. With you. So once again, I’m sorry.”
“Because I’m here. And because I care, and you know you can take it out on me.” What did that make him, that he was glad she chose him to release her darker emotions on? What was it about this woman that pulled at every string he had—irritation, admiration, good old fashioned lust? He hadn’t forgotten just where he pressed up against her. Not by any means, had he forgotten. But he hated to see her eyes so sad.
He leaned down and kissed her; he just wanted to erase the sadness from her eyes. Sadness he had put there. He kissed her for a long moment.
Then, to his shock, Julia kissed him back.
***
What was she doing? She didn’t want this. Not with him. Not now. Not…ever. She didn’t want to feel the heat of him pressed against her, to feel the rush of lust filling her as she pulled him tighter against her. He was so big, muscled and strong. Alive and real. Why did she get herself into these situations with him? Always him, from the moment they had met more than eight months ago, he heated her. In every which way; but this way was totally not what she expected.
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