The patience he’d strived for revealed itself in that moment. He looked through the fury to the future. To the ultimate prize.
He would break Madelyn Garrett. She would scream for him. She would beg like all the others.
Turning his back on the sorry substitute, he slid into his father’s old truck and started the engine. He pulled from the undergrowth to the edge of the road. An SUV barreled at him.
Fuck it all, but his palms slicked on the worn steering wheel.
Special Agent Nathan Brewer had been on his trail for a while now. He liked toying with the man, leaving just enough evidence to send him in fitful circles. Only he’d never been this close.
Framing Roger Inman should’ve gotten the man off his tail for good, if not for enough time to finish the women so close to home. So close to his heart. His jackknifing heart.
“Fuck.” The vehicle drew closer. Its headlights flashed. He slipped his left foot onto the brake and hovered the right over the gas.
He inhaled, ready to flee, but the rush of oxygen dissipated the fog of adrenaline and the cloak of disappointment.
“Don’t be a rookie. You can explain why you’re here in this inconspicuous car. Even if it got his suspicions up, he wouldn’t have enough to hold you. And you’d have plenty of time to clean away any evidence.”
He dragged his palms over his pants and sat straight. The man zipped past with an expression that could have fit perfectly onto that of any of the four horsemen.
Interesting.
Either the man got wood from the possibility of catching him or from looking at his woman. Didn’t that make things more interesting? A challenge. He was up to the task. In fact, he was up for two.
21
God-fucking-damnit.
The ugly words bubbled on Nathan’s tongue every time he looked at Madelyn. She sat behind a hefty desk, whispering to the young girl wrapped in her arms. Martha, the student who’d most likely stopped the killer from quartering Deacon, buried her face in Madelyn’s curls. After a full six hours of lockdown in which his team questioned students and collected evidence, the woman’s stiff spine and rigid jaw showed strength. But the clutch of her fists told Nathan she rode the fine edge of rage and sorrow…again.
Though he knew in his bones if he’d tried forcing her into protective custody he’d have lost the battle, it didn’t stop culpability from gutting him. She’d been ten feet from unbridled evil. She’d been vulnerable because he’d given her the time she’d requested.
He’d thought they had a little bit of time. But no. The Field-Dresser changed his methods. Why? Did he know the FBI was on his tail? And if so, how did he know? Until yesterday there hadn’t been an obvious Bureau presence on the island and the bastard hadn’t spun this idea overnight. Most importantly, would he change his timetable?
“Richard Kepler is the Field-Dresser,” the crime scene tech leaning on the doorframe whispered.
“What?” Nathan’s head snapped around so quickly his neck popped.
“Well, that got your attention.” The blonde smirked. “Since my rockin’ ensemble didn’t work, I had to say something to snap you out of it.” She wiggled spirit fingers encased in surgical gloves and aimed them at the booties covering her feet. “And my report wasn’t registering at all.”
“What?” he barked again.
“Here.” She shoved a clipboard into his hands. “I need you to sign these before I can run the tests.”
“Look,” he began to protest and then stopped. Damnit. He hadn’t been listening to a thing she’d been saying. “I’m sorry. We’ve never been this close before. And I really want to get this piece of…”
“…shit, rat-bastard,” she supplied.
“Spot on.” He nodded.
“Then you might want to bring it down a notch.” She snapped off the latex gloves. “You were grinding your teeth and huffing like the Big Bad Wolf ready to blow the island down to find this guy.”
“That’s not an altogether bad idea,” he said, taking pains to even his breathing.
“Yeah, and my ex-husband thought a tattoo wasn’t an altogether bad idea, until he ended up with a Florida State Seminole that looked far more constipated than fierce.”
Nathan almost smiled. Almost. “When will you have the results? And, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Pippa.” Nathan’s surprise must have shown. “Don’t start. You have more important shit to think about.” She studied the horizon. “From the looks of things, I’ll get back to the pitiful excuse for a proper lab by sunset. If I pull an all-nighter to get them started, some of them will finish tomorrow. But the ones you want, fiber analysis and DNA, will take longer.” She swatted at the pixie cut that matched her face. “But I’ll let you know as soon as I have the results.”
“I’m really sorry to interrupt. Martha’s mother is here.” Madelyn said. The girl who’d been crying for hours stood tall and dry eyed next to her teacher. Only her grip on Madelyn’s hand betrayed the calm veneer.
“I’ll take you to your mom.” The tech’s bright blue eyes smiled at the girl, and then she winked at Madelyn. “I don’t think your teacher is finished up just yet.”
“Oh,” Madelyn said in surprise. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Martha.”
The girl nodded and took the petite hand offered her. When they walked into the fading sunlight, Madelyn wrapped her arms around her middle and stared after them.
“What did you say to her?” Nathan asked.
“Who?”
“Martha, to get her to stop crying?”
“People can only hurt us as much as we let them. If we let them, they win.”
“Who hurt you?”
Her hands dropped to her sides and her gaze met his. “No one.” She swallowed, opened her mouth to add something, but turned away and retreated toward her desk.
“Do you really believe that?” He needed to know if denial was her way of dealing or a deeper seeded issue that could get them killed. The question stopped her progress.
“Some days,” she whispered.
“And today?”
“Not for a minute.”
“Good.”
A mirthless laugh shook her shoulders.
“The hurt will power your fight, give you the tenacity to get through this. And hopefully it will sharpen your focus, so you can tell the good guys from the bad.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” she huffed.
Let me lay you down, spread your legs, and fuck you until we forget our own names.
“I highly doubt that.” Nathan stared at the leanly muscled legs jutting out from her sundress. She turned slowly enough he could have raised his gaze, if he’d wanted to. But her legs shifting and flexing elegantly in her strappy sandals was too enticing.
“I suppose I was wrong, but whatever you’re thinking now, it’s not going to happen.”
“Yes.” He raised his gaze and centered hers. “It is.” He stepped toward her. She negated his progress with a backward step. When he took another and another she soon found her upper thighs against the heavy desk. Nathan stopped inches away from her flushed cheeks and open mouth. He spread his hands around her narrow waist and then lifted.
“This isn’t a good idea,” she gasped.
He quirked a brow. “Why not?” While her tongue toyed with a tooth at the back of her mouth—a trait he’d noticed already, and found too damn endearing—he set her on the edge of the tidy desk. Though he shouldn’t, he let his hand skim so close to her lush bottom that the heat nearly melted his fingerprints. His hands hooked the back of her knees and lifted slightly. “I can clean these cuts or take you to the hospital. Your choice.”
“My cuts?” Her heavy lids lifted along with a brow.
“How’d you get these?” He gestured to the jagged cut on one knee and the scrape on the other.
“I don’t…I was on the floor with Martha and then I saw Deacon. I just got to him as fast as I could.”
“Do you
have a first aid kit?”
“In the closet. Bottom shelf on the right.” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt.
“I’ll be right back.”
Nathan hurried to the closet and found the small red and white bag he sought.
“Artie is going to keep Deacon at the tent overnight,” Dick announced, strolling through the doorway. “He’s doing just fine. The doc just wanted to take some X-rays to make certain nothing was broken and watch his vitals.” The guy flashed Madelyn his patented I’ll let you cry on my shoulder, if you let me eat you out half-smile half-frown. “I’m sure you want to see him. If you’re ready, I’ll drive you over.”
Nathan had seen the damn charm work too many times to count. He fisted the kit and held his breath.
“Agent Brewer will take me. Thank you for trying to track down Dr. Laura. She usually runs her little clinic on the island Tuesdays and Thursdays. She must have left early today. And thank you for the update.”
“Sure thing.” Dick glanced at Nathan and nodded. “It looks like you’re in good hands. So, I’ll leave y’all to it. I need to talk to the tech about something.”
“If this something keeps her from starting those tests right away, I’ll send you back to Miami in a wooden box,” Nathan warned.
“Would I ever stand in the way of justice?” The guy placed his hand on his chest. He had enough sense to clear out before Nathan could answer.
“So, I’m taking you to see Deacon?” He plucked two disinfectant wipes from the pack and set it on a neat pile of papers.
“Would you please?”
“As long as you know, my team is setting up a surveillance perimeter around your house and that I’m coming home with you tonight and to work with you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“I was expecting more of a fight.” He ripped a packet open and cradled the soft skin covering the back of her thigh.
“I’m not going to fight you anymore.”
“You might want to after this.” Nathan rubbed the pad on the worst of the abrasions. He didn’t want to hurt her, but the thing needed to be cleaned to stave off infection. His gaze met hers. She didn’t even bat a lash. “That doesn’t hurt?”
She shrugged. “It doesn't feel good, but I’ve had…I have a high tolerance for pain.”
“Why?”
22
“We’re here. Now, tell me why?” Irritation laced Nathan’s voice, but he smoothed Deacon’s fur with long, terribly gentle stokes.
The thrum of her heartbeat rang in her ears as loudly as it had when she’d seen Deacon hanging. Even more terrifying was the reason for her roaring pulse. Trust and the truth of her past didn’t come easily. She’d nearly sacrificed a friend to keep it under wraps. She gripped the edge of the exam table, careful not to touch the leg of Nathan’s jeans. His proximity. His touch. It ramped the vibration of every nerve ending.
“When you live with pain everyday it never hurts less.” She laid her head on Deacon’s chest. “But the threshold between tolerable and excruciating grows.”
“Who hurt you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Madelyn straightened. Nathan crossed his arms over his chest, so she placed her hand where he’d petted her dog and smiled at the reassuring beat under her palm. “He can’t hurt me now. But this psycho killer has and can still. While we wait for the anesthesia Artie gave him to wear off, I’d like you to tell me everything you know about the Field-Dresser.”
“You’re going to have to tell me. Soon.” He spread his feet like a drill sergeant ready to bark orders. Madelyn pinched her lips between her teeth in challenge.
Nathan pursed his lips and shook his head. “He is not a maniac; he is meticulous and controlled. He rapes and kills for the power, the control. By outside appearances he’s a normal guy. More than likely he is someone you know.”
Her pulse stuttered. Unable to speak, the gears of her mind ground slowly over the information. He was right. A sheen of sweat broke over her forehead. Both hands braced on the counter steadied her through the first wave of nausea. “Deacon would have only let a few people get that close to him. And Nichole wouldn’t have ridden down the beach with someone she didn’t trust.”
He propped his elbow on his folded arm. The muscles bunched under the thin material of his pale blue shirt, stretching the fabric and her nerves narrowly-bound strings. His fingers toyed with the cleft of his chin. “I have a theory about Deacon’s attack.”
“Come on, spill it. I have enough suspense in my life right now.” And enough to deal with that I don't need to add your handsome face to my list, she silently added.
“I was working out the details...”
“The rough draft will do for now. Anything.”
“We wondered why two women in the same town? Why the connection? Were all the victims somehow connected to him? They might be. We haven’t been able to find the common link. But his move against Deacon is out of character. When I compare you to all the other second victims, the one thing that’s different is your strength.”
“He hurt my dog because I have muscles or because I didn’t fall apart?”
His palm came up. “Summer Sutherland, the second victim from the first set of murders, didn’t know she was the next victim. It probably wasn’t his first kill, but it was his first using these methods and this pattern. Nancy Starks didn’t have a sister. So, her friend Robin Young didn’t know she was the next victim. But both women stopped going to work after the murders. They helped plan the wakes and funerals for their sister and friend. They surrounded themselves with family. They grieved openly. He thrived on their anguish.”
Madelyn trapped that monster inside herself long ago. It gnashed and clawed at her insides, threatening to split her in two some days…like the other night. If only he could see the deep gashes on her heart, the holes in her soul. She pressed the heels of her palms against the cold table.
“It’s not that I don’t care,” she whispered.
“Hey.” His tone demanded her attention, but she kept her gaze trained on the rise and fall of Deacon’s chest. She saw his hand a second before his forefinger nudged the bottom of her chin. The touch pierced her heart, but she tamped the sting of emotion. His decisive dark eyes softened. “I know you care.”
The edge returned to his penetrating stare. “So does he.” His touch fell away, but the heat of it stayed behind. “It’s in your determination to see whoever killed Nichole brought to justice. It’s in your dedication to your job. It’s in your love for Deacon…who’s coming around.”
The amber eyes she’d grown to rely on more than her next breath gleamed in the bright tent lights. She blinked furiously. The horror of crying in front of the agent kept her in check. “Hey, bud.” Her fingers rubbed snout to ears.
“You just don’t show it in the way he needs it. He attacked the thing closest to you to illicit the reaction he desires.”
“I won’t let him win.”
“We won’t let him win,” Nathan amended. “I know you’re used to going it alone, but if we’re going to stop him, we have to work together.”
“I’ll do whatever you tell me to do. I won’t like it, but I can’t put anyone else at risk because of my hang-ups.”
Nathan blew out a breath and relaxed back onto his heels. “I honestly thought you’d die from your stubborn ways before you said those words.”
“If he hadn’t tried to kill my dog, I would have.”
“So much for my powers of persuasion.”
“It’s not you. It’s me.”
“That hurt even worse.” He placed a hand over his heart and groaned.
Despite it all a peal of laughter slipped between her lips. When he smiled back Madelyn covered her mouth. The rounds of her cheeks swelled under her touch. It felt good. The lightness beat back the dark for just a moment. “Thank you.”
“I don’t think anything’s given me more pleasure than making you laugh.” He plowed a hand through his hair and lifte
d both brows, as though surprised.
“Nichole would say, ‘then you haven’t been doing it right.’”
Their laughter grew boisterous. The mix of grief, relief, exhaustion, and hope filled the cloth walls.
Deacon snuffed, and then lurched. His attempt to stand on the slick metal sent his legs sprawling. All ninety pounds of him winged toward the floor.
“Woah.” Nathan wrapped his arms around Deacon’s body and hoisted. He settled the awkward weight in his grasp and smiled down at the dog. “I’m going to start charging you for my transportation services.”
“What’s all the racket?” Artie scuttled through the tent flap with a half-eaten sandwich hanging out of his mouth. “I swear, I can’t leave you alone for a minute before you start tearing up the joint.” He shook a finger at Nathan. “You’re as bad as your partner.”
“Dick?” Madelyn offered, unable to pass the opportunity to goad Nathan.
“He’s not my partner,” Nathan huffed.
“Dick’s not his partner,” Artie squawked atop the other man’s words. “That boy may not know boundaries in the field, but at least he knows them in my lab. No, Special Agent Hunt traipses into my space like he pays rent and holds my equipment hostage until I finish the test he wants.” The old man narrowed his bushy brows on Nathan. “Don’t tell me he’s rubbed off on you too.”
“Never, sir. But ah, Deacon here would like to know the results of his test so he can go home tonight. You see, if he has to stay here overnight, I’m afraid he’d trash the place.”
The smile on Madelyn’s lips morphed into an all-out grin. She needed Deacon home tonight. The thought of leaving him made her short of breath. The thought of sleeping on the ground didn’t hold much appeal either.
For All to See (Bureau Series Book 1) Page 11