by J. J. Stone
John stopped at a car parked by the curb. He unlocked it and opened the passenger door. “We have to drive there. It’s a few streets down.”
Lana felt something settle in her stomach. She wished that someone would come out of one of the nearby clubs or restaurants. “Oh, I’m fine with walking. Good exercise, right?”
John continued to hold the door open, not moving. “I think taking the car would be best.”
Lana shifted on her feet for a few moments, trying to decide if she was going to ignore the voice screaming in her head to run away as fast as she could. She looked closer at the car and saw a car seat in the back. This calmed her nerves. “Ok, sure. Let me just go get my purse from the club—”
John’s hand clamped down on her forearm and pulled her a few steps toward the car. “We really should get going,” he hissed.
_____
Bethany glanced down at Lana’s seat and noticed her purse slung on the back of it. “Oh, crap,” she muttered. She picked up the purse and caught Melissa’s eye. “I’m gonna go give this to Lana. I’ll be right back.”
Melissa nodded and went back to showing off her ring. Bethany hurried to the club exit, wondering why Lana hadn’t come back for the purse. She must have noticed it wasn’t with her by now.
As Bethany stepped out of the club, she looked up and down the sidewalk. No sign of Lana. Bethany turned to go back into the club when a car came up the street. Lana was sitting in the passenger seat.
As the car drove past, Lana put her window down and called to Bethany. “Hey, I’ll get my purse from you later, all right?”
Bethany cracked a wide grin and waved knowingly at her friend as the car drove off. “All she needed was a push,” Bethany mused, proud of her handiwork. She turned and headed back into the club.
_____
The window slid back up as the car turned down a side street. Lana sat rigid in her seat, staring straight ahead.
“Good performance back there,” John said, stashing his gun in the side pocket of his door and reaching over to grasp Lana’s hand.
She shuddered as his clammy hand covered hers. “Where are we going?” Lana stammered.
“Where you wanted. Someplace private,” John said, turning the car down another alley.
Lana was quickly losing her sense of direction and tried desperately to keep her emotions at bay. The last thing she wanted was to give John the satisfaction of seeing her lose it. “We don’t have to go anywhere private. We can go back to the club if you want—“
“I saw how you were looking at me. I’m just giving you what you want.”
They came to a stop at a light. Lana looked around and still saw no one. She glanced at John, who was watching the light. In one fluid move, Lana released her seat belt and went for her door handle. The door remained locked and she glanced down to see the switch to unlock it had been removed. She pressed her forehead against the window and let out a wail as the tears came. She was trapped.
“I really wish you hadn’t done that,” John growled, and then Lana’s world went dark with a blow to the side of her head.
CHAPTER 7
James strolled into his hotel room and tossed his key card onto the desk. His breathing was still coming down from the short stint in the hotel gym. There really was no better remedy for 20-hour days than a quick lap around the gym equipment. After the full day he and the team had put in at the Seattle PD station, the gym had been an undeniable necessity.
He plugged his dying phone into its charger and saw there were no missed calls waiting for him. That meant there was time for a quick shower, maybe a half-hour nap if he was really lucky.
James stepped into the bathroom and flipped the shower on. As steam billowed into the tiny room, James went back to the bed and sat down on the edge. He slipped off his gym shoes, unfastened his ankle holster, and reached back toward the head of the bed and slipped the gun under his pillow. He stripped off his drenched gym clothes and tossed them into the open closet as he walked past.
He was about to step in the shower when he caught sight of his face in the semi-fogged mirror. What had been a dusting of faint stubble was now becoming a bit more prominent than what was allowed by both the FBI and his own standards. Annoyed, James quickly lathered up his lower face with shaving cream and expertly sloughed away the grisly hairs in almost a minute flat.
James sighed as he stepped into the shower and let the hot water rain down his weary body. He rinsed the remnants of the shaving cream from his face, then leaned his forehead against the shower wall and let the water rush down his back.
Any dedicated law enforcement official knows that when you’re on a case, you give up almost complete control of your subconscious. James had not had a non-FBI-case thought in months, it seemed. Even now, standing in his first hot shower in almost 48 hours, the only thought running through his head was what motive was behind the markings this killer was leaving on his victims.
Tally marks were meant to help someone keep an accurate count. Was this guy having trouble remembering just how many women he had murdered? Or was it less about keeping track and more about clapping himself on the back every time he added another tick? James was almost certain the killer was taking pictures, as well. Why proudly mark your accomplishment and then discard it like a piece of trash?
As he straightened and began washing his hair, James mused that it was a good sign that Ada had unknowingly agreed with his hunch about the markings. He knew that if Brenda had told Ada his hunch before she had analyzed the images, Ada would have created idea polar opposite of his. That they had ended up on the same page meant that she was at least a decent analyst. Patrick hadn’t been lying.
James had just stepped onto the flimsy hotel bathmat when his phone rang. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and crossed the room to pick up the phone by the third ring.
“Agent Deacon,” he answered, pulling a clean outfit from the bottom of his bag. “We’ll be there shortly.” He hung up the phone and hurriedly pulled on an undershirt and his last clean polo shirt. He needed to figure out his laundry situation, soon. He grabbed both his holsters, pulled on a pair of boots, and slipped into his FBI windbreaker. On the way out of the room, he ran his hands through his damp hair and pushed the strands into a passable side part. He gave himself a once-over then breezed out the door.
_____
Two hard, loud bangs on the door. Had to be Deacon.
Dade groaned and rolled himself out of bed. He’d had the foresight to put on a clean outfit before falling asleep an hour ago. Sleep in the middle of a case was something that you fit in when you could. Dade had learned that by sleeping in clothes, he could get an extra three minutes of shut-eye.
He was reaching for the door handle when he realized he had put his boots, holster, and badge on while walking to the door and hadn’t even noticed. Dade smiled, impressed with his subconscious.
The door opened to reveal a freshly-showered James standing in the hallway.
“Another girl,” James said as he sidestepped to the door across from Dade and rapped on it. “Can you tell Brenda to call Ada and get her down here?” James asked as he walked toward the elevator.
Dade leaned out into the hallway and raised his eyebrows. “Any reason why?” he asked.
“We need to get this guy, and I need every eye and ear we have.” The elevator arrived and James strode onto it as his phone buzzed, leaving Dade standing alone.
“See you later, then,” Dade called out to the empty hallway. Brenda opened her door, pulled on her jacket, and failed miserably at stifling a deep yawn. “Morning, sunshine. Did you hear that?” Dade asked her.
Brenda checked her holster. “I’m assuming another girl has been found.”
“Yes. But you have a bigger problem.”
Brenda gave him an icy glare. “Do I want t
o know?”
Dade shot her a playful grin. “Deacon wants Miss Brandt at the latest scene.”
Brenda cursed and slapped her hand against her room door. “I must have done something to really piss him off.”
Dade sauntered past Brenda, tossing her a sly salute. “Better you than me, B.”
Brenda gave him a solid punch to the shoulder. “I’ll be down at the car in a minute.”
As Dade walked to the elevator, Brenda pulled Ada’s number up on her phone, counted to five and pressed “call.”
_____
Ada wasn’t sure if she should ignore her phone or destroy the thing against the nearest wall for waking her out of a rare deep sleep. She gave it four more seconds before jabbing the “answer” button and pressing the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” she mumbled, stifling a yawn.
“I know, I’m sure you were asleep. And I’m sure you’re about to chew me out, but I really don’t want to lose my job, so I really don’t care,” Brenda said.
Ada held back the groan burning in the back of her throat. “What’s up?”
Tiny partially unfolded from his curled up sleeping position and shot Ada an indignant look. Ada shrugged at him as she sat up a little more in bed.
There was a moment’s pause. “Another girl was found about an hour ago,” Brenda said slowly, “and Deacon wants everyone to be at the scene.”
Ada let the words marinate in the air for a few seconds before replying. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“Ada, look. I know you have reservations—”
“The answer is no. And it’s going to always be no, and you can tell James that.”
Brenda snorted. “Tell him yourself.” She sighed and cleared her throat. “All right, well, keep your phone on you. One of us will probably be calling you.”
“That I can do,” Ada said.
Someone shouted something to Brenda in the background. “I’ve gotta go. Thank you so much for all your help.” Brenda hung up before Ada could respond.
Ada slid down to her back and tossed the phone on the empty pillow beside her. She closed her eyes and tried to beckon that blissful deep sleep back to her.
_____
James watched Brenda walk out of the elevator and make her way to the idling standard black FBI SUV. Dade’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he waited for Brenda to climb in. As soon as she shut the door, he hit the gas and the SUV took off for the exit.
“She meeting us?” James asked, not bothering to turn around to face Brenda.
“No,” Brenda said in a small voice from the middle seat.
Dade glanced up in the rearview mirror and could plainly see Brenda bracing herself for James’s reply.
Surprising both of them, James unbuckled and retrieved his phone from the center console. “Stop the car,” he told Dade.
Dade quickly brought the vehicle to a halt and watched James jump out. “Where are you going?” he asked before the door shut.
James waved him on and walked back to one of the other SUVs. Dade shook his head, muttering under his breath, and proceeded out of the parking garage. Brenda turned back in time to see James peeling out of the parking garage’s south exit.
“I think I know where he’s going,” she said, turning back around as she shook her head.
Dade snorted and turned left. “You gonna warn her?”
Brenda was already tapping away at her phone. “I would pay so much to see this.”
Dade laughed as he activated the windshield wipers to ward off the Seattle drizzle.
_____
Tiny was really not a barker. He tended to save his intimidating deep-throated booms for truly serious situations, like a stranger approaching, or the Thompson’s cat sneaking across the front porch. All other occasions were only given halfhearted humphs.
So, when Ada was jolted awake for a second time that night, this time by Tiny barking relentlessly at an invisible intruder on the other side of the bedroom door, her blood ran a few degrees colder.
“Tiny!” she hissed as she sat up in bed, her eyes glued to the door.
He looked at her for a moment, whined, then turned back to the door and continued barking. As Ada’s eyes adjusted, she could see the hairs at the nape of his neck standing tall. Not a good sign.
Ada willed herself out of bed. She slipped on the nearest pair of shoes and grabbed her phone, ignoring the new message alert. Her fingers tapped in 911 and her thumb hovered over the call button as she tiptoed to the door. She placed her hand on the door knob, squeezed her eyes shut, and yanked the door open. She winced in anticipation of the waiting attacker.
Tiny nearly knocked her to the floor as he rushed out of the room and down the hallway, headed for the front door. Ada slowly peeled her eyes open and was greeting by an empty hallway. She took a few calming breaths and forced herself to follow Tiny.
When she caught up to him, he was doing the same barking routine at the front door. Ada’s heart continued to pound in her ears. Anyone or anything could be on the other side of that door.
She froze in the hallway and stared motionless at the door, still clutching her phone in a death grip. She had no idea what to do. The source of Tiny’s distress decided for her.
Three loud pounds rattled the door. Tiny jumped back a few feet and stopped barking. Ada was sure this was the longest she had gone without breathing.
Another round of bangs sounded on the door. What person wouldn’t use the doorbell?, Ada wondered. Tiny mustered up the courage to slink to the front door and bend down to give the bottom of the door a good sniff. Ada winced at how loud his long inhale sounded in the silence.
“I really hope that’s your dog,” an unfortunately familiar male voice said from the other side of the door.
Ada nearly crumpled to her knees, trying to decide whether to start crying or cursing. “Just a second,” she called as she took a moment to calm herself. She tucked her hair behind her ears, wiped away any mascara streaks from under her eyes, and made sure her pajamas were not overtly exhibitionistic.
She motioned for Tiny to sit and unlocked the front door. She flipped on the porch light as she cracked the door. She squinted for a moment at the brightness of the outdoor bulb light.
James stood before her, his hands buried deep in his pockets. The rain had moved from a drizzle to pounding sheets and had sufficiently drenched James on his five-second sprint from his car to the door.
“Can I come in?” James asked, and it was then that Ada noticed his shivering.
Ada’s hand tightened on the doorknob. The last thing she wanted was to have a conversation with this man. It was far too late, or early, to deal with that drama. However, she found herself opening the door wider and stepping aside so the FBI agent could enter the warmth of her foyer.
As Ada shut the door and locked it, she could hear Tiny sniffing again. She turned and was surprised to see him sniffing James’s open hand. Tiny thoroughly investigated every smell on James’s skin and finally decided that he wasn’t there to murder them. He leaned all of his 145 pounds against James’s leg and whipped his tail.
“He’s never warmed up to someone that quickly.” Ada turned on the foyer light and moved to stand in front of James.
She was surprised to see a slight grin on the agent’s usually stern face. “We had a dog growing up. I’ve always gotten along with them pretty well,” James mused as he scratched a spot behind Tiny’s ear. The dog tilted his head toward the touch.
Ada watched James and Tiny for a moment, then crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “What can I help you with, James?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
The delight left James’s face as Ada’s words snapped him back to business. “Get dressed. I need you to come with me.”
“Where?”
“You know where.”
“Then you know I’m not going.”
James’s jaw tightened. “Then neither am I.”
The death glares exchanged between them would have killed lesser men. Neither wanted to be the first to crack.
Tiny must have sensed the tension and decided it was too much. He pushed away from James and trotted away into the kitchen. A few moments later he could be heard taking large laps of water from his bowl.
James studied Ada, noted the bags and dark coloring under her eyes. She wasn’t sleeping well. Her crossed arms also betrayed her discomfort at his presence. James knew that he needed to get Ada comfortable and in a better mental space in order to get her to cooperate.
He increased his shivering a little more and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s talk about it,” he offered.
Ada raised her eyebrows at his sudden attitude change. She felt bad about how he was shivering now, and as much as she disliked the man, she couldn’t make him stand in the foyer forever.
She pushed off from the wall and headed to the kitchen, not saying a word. She would talk to him, but she didn’t have to like it. She heard the click of his boots on the floor as he slowly followed her.
Ada flipped the light on as she came into the kitchen, and the pendant lights hanging above the kitchen island illuminated the room in a soft glow. She set about whipping up a quick pot of coffee. So much for sleep, she thought wearily as she pressed the brew button and pulled two mugs down from a cabinet.
James pulled out one of the stools at the island and sat down. He slid out of his thoroughly soaked windbreaker and draped it over the stool next to his. He watched Ada pull the creamer out of her refrigerator and transfer the sugar bowl from the counter to the island. Good, she was offering him something. She was starting to relax a little.