by Неизвестный
“Making love,” he whispered into her lips, “is much, much more than having sex.”
Then he slid into her, filling her, their bodies drenched in perspiration and desire.
Slowly, they moved together, finding their rhythm. Kate was losing herself in Dillon, giving her body, her heart, her soul over to him. Everything she was from this day forth was because of him. He had showed her things about herself she hadn’t realized, understood her in ways she didn’t know she missed.
She moved beneath him. His hands found hers. He raised his body, his face intent on hers. “Kate,” he gasped.
“I’m with you,” she whispered.
They came together, sealing a bond neither had sought or expected.
Dillon pulled Kate to him, holding her tight, his hand over her rapidly beating heart. They didn’t need to speak, not now.
Their mouths found each other and they continued to explore.
Sleep came much later.
Trask stared at the terrified face of the woman beneath him. She was restrained, and his hands encircled her neck. He tried to imagine Kate Donovan beneath him as he attempted to rape the woman.
He was failing, limp and unable to take her. Instead of Kate, he pictured Mina, that wily blond bitch who had hurt and humiliated him for his father’s pleasure. As soon as she came to his mind, his cock softened.
He remembered killing Mina and her whore friend. The blood. Red and wet. He smelled copper, felt the slickness of their pathetic lives coating his body. He’d stolen back the power. He was free of them.
Kate Donovan had taken his prize, Monique. Lucy. He would find her. Kill her with his bare hands. Then he would regain his strength, be able to do whatever he wanted.
He began to harden. He released her neck and she gasped for air.
“Stop.” Her voice was almost gone. “Please, stop. I’ll do anything, just don’t kill me.”
Her pleas further excited him, but he’d prefer it if she fought him. Like he knew Kate would as soon as he had her.
He pushed himself into her and she tried to scream, but with her bruised larynx it came out a gasp. She pulled at her restraints, egging him on.
“That’s it. Fight me, bitch.”
She stared at his face. He wasn’t wearing a mask. The realization hit her. She saw her death in his eyes.
Trask wrapped his hands around her neck as she thrashed. He pressed hard, felt the bone break. Watched her eyes as she knew she was dying.
But he still had trouble.
“Fuck you, Mina!” No, Kate.
The woman beneath him scratched at his gloved hands, her eyes wide. He watched a blood vessel swell in the corner. Burst.
He kept slamming himself into her after she was dead, but no relief came.
* * *
TWENTY-SEVEN
A KNOCK ON THE DOOR woke Dillon and Kate. They were still entwined from the night before, naked, but Dillon had pulled the comforter on top of them in the middle of the night.
“I don’t want to move,” Kate said.
He kissed her neck. “Don’t.”
He slid out from the sheets, slid his jeans on, and crossed to the door.
“Who is it?”
“Quinn Peterson.”
“One minute.”
Kate moaned and got out of bed. She grabbed her pack and went into the bathroom.
Dillon opened the door. “Come in.”
Peterson entered. “Merritt’s on his way over. Where’s Kate?”
“Why? What’s the rush? Doesn’t he have more important fugitives to pursue? Does he know where Adam Scott is?”
“I tried to talk him out of it, but he’s adamant.”
“I’m not going to let Kate be arrested.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Dammit, Peterson, I thought you were going to do something about this!” Dillon ran his hands through his hair. “She’s the one who found Lucy.”
“Merritt is questioning that. He’s floated the theory that she intercepted a transmission meant for him from his undercover agent and because of that four people died and Adam Scott got away because of her maverick ploy.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. Mallory told us he sent that message to Kate.”
“Mallory’s in ICU and unable to talk.”
“This Merritt has it in for Kate. He isn’t going to listen to the truth. He’s already made his mind up.”
“I agree. Where’s Kate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dillon, don’t do this. I need to talk to her.”
Kate stepped out of the bathroom in clean jeans and tank. “I’ll go into headquarters on my own terms,” she said.
Peterson raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
Dillon took Kate’s arms. “You don’t have to do this. Remember what I said.”
She smiled sadly at him. “I remember. And this is the right thing to do. Full disclosure, and let the chips fall. I’m ready to tell the truth. But I don’t know if anyone will believe me.”
“I believe you.”
“If you want to piss Merritt off, we should leave now for headquarters. We’ll just miss him,” Peterson suggested. “That way you’re turning yourself in.”
“Sounds good to me,” Kate said.
“I’m working double time trying to get him off this case,” Peterson said. “He’s not thinking straight. But I have to smooth the way at Quantico and that’s not an easy task.”
“I appreciate it, Quinn. Really.”
“So hang in there. All I need is time, okay? And you’re in my jurisdiction. I’m not letting him take you out of it.”
Kate was packing up her equipment when her computer beeped.
Dillon and Quinn both crossed over and watched as she retrieved a message.
There was no return e-mail or identification.
“It’s him,” she said.
Kate:
You took my lead actress, so I had to find an understudy. Click here. The show must go on.
Trask.
She glanced up at Dillon and Quinn. They both nodded. She clicked the link.
The digital video had been set up in the corner. Adam Scott didn’t try to hide his face. A woman with short blond hair had been tied to a bed. She was pleading. Scott wrapped his hands around her neck.
Cut.
The next shot was him raping her, putting his hands around her neck again.
Kate frowned. “A glitch?”
“No,” Dillon said. “He edited the video.”
“Why?”
Dillon watched closely. Something was off about the tape. It was only five minutes long. At the end Scott gave out a primal scream as he pummeled the dead girl’s body.
Cut.
“I need to see it again,” Dillon said.
Kate played it again. Dillon watched closely. “Stop.”
She froze the frame. “I don’t see anything.”
“There.” He pointed to the lower right-hand corner, where Trask was mounting the girl.
“I still don’t see anything.”
“Can you enlarge that frame?”
Kate typed on the keyboard. The frame enlarged four times.
“I don’t see anything.”
“He’s soft. He can’t rape her. Now run the film enlarged.”
They focused on Scott’s shrunken penis. Now the digital splicing was obvious. He had deleted parts of the video, probably those showing how he’d managed to get himself hard enough to penetrate her.
“He might have said something he didn’t want us to hear,” Dillon surmised, “or done something to himself to enable penetration. But he never climaxed.”
“How can you tell?”
“It’s a guess, but he has no condom on. When we find the victim forensics will be able to tell. But it was really the rage on his face. He was angry that he couldn’t climax. This girl wasn’t giving him what he needed. Either because it’s not live, or because he has severe se
xual dysfunction. Or both. Maybe having the show live gives him the sense that he’s playing a part. And”—Dillon clicked on the original message—“look how he signed his name.”
“Trask,” Quinn and Kate said in unison. “But he knows we have his real identity,” Quinn added.
“Trask is his public persona. It’s who he thinks he is, or who he wants to be,” Dillon said. “Adam Scott is weak. Adam doesn’t fight back. Adam was abused. Trask hasn’t been abused. He’s in charge. He fights back. He hurts those who hurt him.”
“You’re not giving me some crap about a split personality,” Quinn muttered.
“No. Adam is fully aware of who he is. For him, it’s image. He needs to think of himself as strong, successful, virile. That’s Trask. I think his sexual dysfunction is growing because we know who he really is. While we don’t know enough about his childhood to figure out what caused this, he doesn’t know that. He assumes we know everything.”
Dillon looked from Quinn to Kate. “You’re not safe, Kate. Not until he’s caught.”
“He can’t get to me,” she said.
“Did you get a good look at that woman?” Dillon asked.
She nodded. “She looks just like me.”
When Kate Donovan walked into the Seattle field office heads turned. She entered with her head held high, her pride intact, but inside she was scared. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Jeff Merritt since the day Paige had died, when he’d told her he’d track her down to the ends of the earth.
There was nothing he, personally, could do except bring her in front of OPR. They would launch an investigation—one she knew had been going on for years—into the op that had gotten Paige and Evan killed. She didn’t know what they believed or what they knew. Even if they believed her that Paige had told her they had backup, Kate had broken protocol by not briefing the backup squad herself.
She had trusted Paige.
She had run five years ago because she was scared and angry. Mostly scared. And Jeff had been wild-eyed, overcome with grief she knew all too well. She had watched Evan die in front of her.
She’d intuitively believed that the only way to clear her name was to find Trask—Adam Scott—and prove that he was the brutal killer she knew him to be. She’d done that over the years, but still Merritt wanted her head.
Because Paige had died and he blamed her as much as Adam Scott. He didn’t know the truth. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him at the time, but he wouldn’t have believed her anyway. How could she have ruined the reputation of her dead partner? It had seemed so much easier to run and work outside of the law.
But now? She just wanted it to be over.
Quinn let Dillon stay with her in an interview room. “I’ll be here the entire time.”
She shook her head. “Merritt won’t allow it.”
“Then I’ll be right outside.”
Again, she shook her head. Dillon frowned.
“I can’t let you do that. You need to go home with Lucy.”
Dillon took her hands, squeezed them. “Lucy is in good hands. Carina is with her. She’s going to be overwhelmed as it is when she sees everyone. And we haven’t told her about Patrick. We didn’t want her to know until she regained some strength.”
“Dillon, I’m not going to walk out of here tomorrow or the next day. Merritt is going to find a way to detain me. I don’t know what tricks Quinn has up his sleeve, but it’s going to take time. And I’m going to have to face the Office of Professional Responsibility at Quantico.”
“What do you want?”
“What do you mean?”
“You face the OPR, you tell them everything, and they clear you.”
“You have an active fantasy life.” But she smiled.
“Are you going to ask for your job back?”
She blinked. She hadn’t thought about it. “I don’t know.”
“Whatever you decide to do, do it for you. Not because of me, or Paige, or Adam Scott. Make the decision that is best for you.”
She thought about what she wanted. She really didn’t know. For so long she’d been alone with her computers. She’d learned so much, taught herself, much of it illegal—like hacking into private corporations and the government. She would have to tell the OPR everything about what she’d done. She had no idea what they would do. Maybe they would clear her of charges on Paige’s death, but what about the crimes she’d willingly committed in her pursuit of Adam Scott?
“I could go to e-crimes,” she said. “If they’ll have me. I had an offer from them five years ago to transfer out of the VCMO unit. Don’t know if it’s still open, but I’m a lot better now than I was then.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“Adam Scott was even better. He manipulated me through the computers. He knew exactly what I knew. Maybe I’m not as good as I thought.”
“You’re incredible. Patrick was impressed, and he’s the best I know.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Dillon kissed her hand. “I’m not going to leave you, Kate.”
“I’m okay. I’m not going to blame you for being with your family right now.” But she would miss him.
They held hands across the table, the silent connection giving them both strength they needed.
Quinn Peterson entered. “Merritt’s here and he’s pissed. I told him you walked in and surrendered. Are you ready for this, Kate?”
She nodded, not taking her eyes from Dillon. “I’m ready.”
“You’ll have to leave, Dillon. When we’re done, I’ll call over to the jail and have Morton transported here for the interview.”
Reluctantly, Dillon stood. “How long?” he asked Quinn.
“An hour, maybe a little more.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s eight right now. If you have something to do, meet me here at ten.”
“I’ll be back, Kate. I promise.”
Kate watched Dillon walk out the door and her resolve began to chip away. Quinn sat on the edge of the table. “I’ll be here for the formal statement,” he said. “Just tell the truth, the good, the bad, and the ugly, okay? We’ll find a way out of this.”
Jeff Merritt opened the door and slammed it shut.
“Kate Donovan,” he spat out.
“Jeff Merritt,” she said with equal disdain, looking him straight in the eye. He was short and lean, blond, with a goatee but no mustache to go with it. Kate couldn’t believe that five years ago she’d thought he and Paige made a cute couple. The guy was dangerous.
“I don’t know how you can live with yourself,” he finally said.
Peterson interrupted. “Let’s do this by the book.”
“Leave.”
“No.”
“Dammit, Peterson, you’re already on thin ice.”
“Agent Donovan has a right to representation. I’m that person. And in case you’re forgetting, this is my field office.”
“In case you’re forgetting, you work for me.”
“Don’t pull rank.”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
Quinn didn’t move. Finally, Merritt sat down and took out a tape recorder. He slammed it on the table.
“ADIC Jeff Merritt and SAC Quincy Peterson are interviewing former Special Agent Katherine Donovan regarding the murders of SAC Evan Standler and SA Paige Henshaw, as well as civilians Denise Arno and Oliver Johnson.”
Kate slammed her fist on the table. “Denise was not an innocent civilian! She’s been working with Adam Scott from the beginning.”
“You’ll have a chance to tell your story, Ms. Donovan. For now I’ll take your statement and you will answer my questions. Understand?”
She fumed. She hated this arrogant prick.
“Understood.”
Dillon arrived at the hospital as Lucy was getting ready to leave.
“Where have you been?” Carina admonished. “We’re already late for the plane.”
“How’d Lucy do last night?”
A cloud crossed Carina’s
face. “She had nightmares. Miranda is a saint. She calmed Lucy down instantly, knowing exactly what to say, when to be tough and when to be kind.”
Jack walked around the corner. Dillon was surprised to see him. “I thought you left.”
Jack stared at him a moment. “I had some things to take care of. I thought I’d head back to San Diego with you, if it’s all right. I have some time.”
Dillon nodded. “Thank you. I’m not going back right now.”
Carina frowned. “Why?”
“I have things to wrap up here.” When Carina didn’t say anything, he added, “I’m sitting in on the FBI interview with Roger Morton at ten.”
“Lucy needs you.”
So does Kate, Dillon thought but didn’t say. “Lucy is in good hands. I need to do this, Carina. Adam Scott is still out there.”
“You’re not a cop,” Carina snapped, irritated. “The FBI has taken over the investigation.”
“Which they fucked up five years ago,” Jack interjected.
“I have a strong sense about Scott,” Dillon said.
“The FBI has its own profilers,” Carina argued. “It doesn’t need you.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Sis, but I’m staying. I’m going to talk to Lucy and then go back to FBI headquarters.”
Jack nodded. “You do what you have to in order to find the scum who hurt Lucy. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt her again.”
Now that his real name and image were known to the authorities, Trask had to plan carefully. Fortunately he had always thought this day was inevitable. While he couldn’t travel as freely as he wanted until he underwent plastic surgery, he knew what superficial changes to make to his appearance to blend in. He didn’t need that much time. Just long enough to get to Lucy again and use her to lure Kate Donovan into a trap.
He realized that the reason the bitch he’d followed home from the docks wasn’t good was because she looked like Kate but wasn’t Kate. Kate would fight and scream and claw at him. She wouldn’t beg for her life. She wouldn’t tell him she’d do anything he wanted. Instead she would try to get away. Just the thought of her fighting him gave him a hard-on.
And Lucy—she was his. She had volunteered to meet him. She was everything he needed. He might not kill her, not right away. Use her to get to Kate and kill her, purge Mina and all the whores from his body. Once that happened, he’d be free. He could have the life he’d envisioned with Monique. Where he was in charge and she did what he said. He’d just have to be very careful not to accidentally kill her. He might have to take a few whores on the side. But Lucy would learn quickly that she had to behave or she’d be dead, too. Fear would keep her in line.