Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2016 Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

  “Good.” The knot of tension in Darcy’s stomach eased some at the news. She trusted Ridge and had every confidence he would keep her and the baby safe, but the knowledge that the police were on their way made her feel better. When she’d first arrived at his cabin last night, the remoteness of it had seemed appealing. Now, after the two attacks, it made her nervous.

  “Would you feed the baby for me, please?”

  Darcy turned to look at Ridge, who was sporting a suspiciously innocent expression. “What are you wanting to do?” she asked, lifting a brow to convey her skepticism.

  He smiled up at her, looking like a man who didn’t have a care in the world. She didn’t buy it for a second. “I just want to take a look outside. See if I can tell what direction he’s headed in so I can let Sam know.”

  “Uh-huh. And how do I know you won’t take it upon yourself to hold your own personal manhunt?”

  He frowned slightly, considering her question. Then his face brightened. “I’ll leave Penny here. I can’t very well conduct a search without my partner.”

  Darcy glanced out the window, then back at Ridge. “I don’t think it’s a good idea—” she began, but he cut her off.

  “Please,” he said simply. “I promise I won’t chase after him. But I have to do something—I can’t just sit inside and lick my wounds. This is the second time that man has invaded my home and threatened people I care about. Can’t you see I have to respond somehow?”

  Sympathy welled up in her chest and she nodded. Ridge was a man of action. It must be killing him to sit inside, knowing the stranger who was hell-bent on taking the baby was moving farther away with each passing minute.

  Without another word, Darcy walked over and held her arms out, silently offering her blessing. The fact that Ridge cared enough to ask her permission was sweet, but then again, he’d always been thoughtful where her emotions were concerned. It was one of the many things she’d loved about him.

  “Please be careful,” she said softly.

  His dark brown eyes met hers. “I will,” he replied. He reached out to touch her cheek and she leaned in to the caress, closing her eyes to savor the feel of his skin against her own. Then he was gone, heading for the door with determined, long-legged strides.

  Penny made a small whine in the back of her throat when he walked out, but she didn’t try to follow.

  “It’s okay, girl,” Darcy offered, trying not to jostle the baby as she sank down onto the couch. “He’ll be back soon.” She settled in to wait, trying to ignore all the terrifying scenarios her brain was helpfully providing now that she was alone with the baby. Ridge getting attacked and overpowered. The man coming back, this time with a gun. Or with someone else. The stranger ripping the baby from her arms.

  The door flew open and hit the wall, making her jump. She instinctively clutched the baby to her chest and curled around her, trying to shield the little one with her own body. Not again!

  But it was Ridge who strode into the cabin, not the masked man she was expecting. The lines of his body were drawn tight with barely contained energy, and his expression made it clear that whatever was out there, he wasn’t happy about it. She’d never seen him look so angry before, and she shrank back into the couch cushions, trying to look as small and unobtrusive as possible.

  He kicked the door shut and shoved a hand through his hair, then paced a few steps, clearly trying to burn off his emotions.

  “Ridge?” His reaction was starting to scare her. What had he found outside? Another threat of some kind? Her heart started to pound as she imagined all sorts of horrible possibilities. “What’s going on? What did you find out there?”

  He shook his head. “Bastard slashed our tires. He’s long gone.”

  “Oh.” It was disturbing news, but it hardly accounted for the intensity of Ridge’s anger. “Is that all?”

  He shifted as if he was uncomfortable and Darcy realized she was right. He was hiding something from her. “Please tell me,” she said.

  “He left a message,” Ridge said, refusing to meet her eyes.

  “What did it say?” It couldn’t have been very long—the man hadn’t had a lot of time on his way out. But it was clearly disturbing, if Ridge’s reaction was any indication.

  Ridge was quiet for a moment, and Darcy began to think he wasn’t going to answer her question. Then he sighed. “He used mud to write on my truck. Covered the windshield with it.” He glanced up at her, his expression bleak. “He wrote ‘She’s mine’ and drew a bull’s-eye next to it.”

  A chill trickled down Darcy’s back, as if someone had dropped a melting ice cube down her shirt. “Isn’t that the trademark sign of...” She trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

  Ridge nodded, a haunted look in his eyes. “The Alphabet Killer.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “Took you long enough to get here.”

  Annabel shot him a warning glance as Sam climbed out of his truck slowly, moving like an old man. “Give me a break,” he said mildly. “It’s already been a hell of a day.”

  Ridge frowned at his younger brother, noting the lines of fatigue around Sam’s mouth and eyes. “What’s going on?”

  Sam shot a quick glance at Darcy, who was standing on the porch holding Sara. Sensing his brother didn’t want to talk in front of her, Ridge took a step forward.

  “We’ve got another body,” Sam said grimly.

  Ridge’s heart sank. “Damn,” he said softly.

  Sam nodded. “Found her this morning. We think she was killed last night, but because of the weather, no one was really out and about to discover it until today.”

  “Were you able to identify her?” And more importantly, was it Sara’s mother? He glanced back at the porch involuntarily, his gut tightening at the thought that the little one was now an orphan.

  “Francine Gibbons,” Annabel said.

  The name registered with Ridge, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Why do I know that name?” he mused.

  “Society debutante,” Sam supplied. “Does a lot of charity work and gets her name in the paper for it.”

  “That’s probably it,” Ridge agreed. She didn’t sound like the kind of person he would encounter on a daily basis. And as far as he knew, she didn’t have any children. That meant Sara’s mother was still out there, somewhere.

  “What’s going on?” Darcy asked, picking her way carefully through the mud as she walked over to them. “You all look like someone stole your cookies.”

  Sam offered her a small smile. “It’s been a long morning,” he said.

  She studied him thoughtfully, then glanced at Annabel and Ridge. “What happened?”

  Both Sam and Annabel shifted uncomfortably, but neither offered an explanation. Darcy raised her brow at Ridge and he sighed. “You might as well tell her,” he said. “She’s part of this now, too.”

  “The Alphabet Killer has claimed another victim,” Sam said, sounding as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “That’s terrible!” she said. “Do you know who it is?”

  Sam pressed his lips together, clearly reluctant to say more. Ridge gave him a nod of encouragement and he sighed. “Francine Gibbons.”

  The color drained out of Darcy’s face and Ridge reached for the baby, concerned she might drop her. She handed Sara over without protest, which told him just how upset she was. “Are you sure?” she whispered.

  Sam reached out to lay a steadying hand on her arm. “I’m afraid so. Do you know her?”

  She nodded, the gesture wobbly. “Let’s go inside,” Annabel suggested, walking ahead of the group to open the door of the cabin. Once they had all filed inside, his sister went into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup that she pressed into Darcy’s shaking hands. “I’m sorry for yo
ur loss,” she said softly. “Were you friends with Francine?”

  Darcy took a sip and a deep breath. “I knew her. We were friendly, but I don’t know that Francine actually had any friends, if that makes sense.”

  Sam shot Ridge a questioning look, but Annabel just nodded as if this made perfect sense. “She was standoffish?”

  “Snobby, more like,” Darcy said. “We went to school together and even then she was very stuck up. I had hoped it was something she’d outgrow, but we met for lunch a few weeks ago since we’re both on the organizing committee for an upcoming charity luncheon. She was horribly rude to our waitress, so much so that I suggested we have our next meeting at my parents’ home.” She shook her head. “We were supposed to meet next Wednesday to finalize the details of the lunch.”

  Annabel nodded sympathetically. “Did Francine seem normal when you spoke with her last?”

  Darcy frowned slightly. “Actually, now that you mention it, she did say she felt like someone was watching her.”

  Sam perked up at that. “Did she tell you anything specific? Like who was following her or why she felt that way?”

  “Not really.” Darcy bit her bottom lip, thinking. “I told her she needed to be careful because of the killer on the loose, but she brushed me off. She thought she had a secret admirer and she was actually flattered by the attention.”

  “Did she receive anything? Any gifts or notes?” A note of excitement crept into Sam’s voice and Ridge found himself leaning forward, wanting to know the answer, as well. Maybe Francine had a token from her “admirer,” something they could use to identify the killer. It was just the kind of break they’d been hoping for...

  Darcy shook her head, dashing his hopes. “Not that I know of. The way she described it to me made it sound like she had a stalker of some kind—she constantly felt like she was being watched, but she could never really put her finger on who was watching her.”

  “We should probably search her home, just to be on the safe side,” Annabel murmured to Sam, who nodded his agreement. “We might get lucky.”

  “Are you sure this is the Alphabet Killer?” Darcy asked. “Maybe there’s been some mistake.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Sam said. “This has all the hallmarks of the killer.” He gave Ridge a telling glance, and Ridge nodded. Best not to go into the details in front of Darcy—she didn’t need to know how Francine had died, even if the two of them hadn’t been very good friends. There was nothing pretty about being shot in the chest, and she didn’t need confirmation that the killer had drawn on Francine’s body after her death.

  “The bull’s-eye?” Darcy guessed. Sam merely nodded while Ridge shook his head. He should have known Darcy would see through the omissions.

  “Do you know when she died?”

  “Sometime last night,” Annabel said. “We’re waiting for the medical examiner to give us a more precise time of death.”

  Darcy turned to Ridge. “Do you think the killer murdered Francine and then came here, after the baby?”

  Ridge hesitated, uncertain of how to answer. “No, it’s not the same person.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  He glanced at Sam and Annabel, silently asking permission to share what they knew with Darcy. Annabel nodded and after a few seconds, Sam did, too.

  “We’re pretty sure the Alphabet Killer is a woman,” Ridge said. “We have a...a source who is close to the investigation, and several witnesses who have described a woman arguing with some of the earlier victims.”

  “But if the man who is trying to steal the baby isn’t the killer, then why did he draw a bull’s-eye on your truck?”

  It was a good question, one he’d been trying to answer since he’d first seen the message. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It’s possible he’s an accomplice of the killer.”

  Annabel frowned. “But none of the evidence we have suggests the killer has a partner.”

  “I know,” Ridge said. “But we have to consider the possibility.”

  “Or maybe,” Sam injected, “we’re overthinking this. Maybe whoever broke into your cabin drew the bull’s-eye as a red herring to throw us off and make it harder to identify him.”

  “We just don’t know enough to rule anything out yet.” Ridge looked down at the baby and was surprised to find Sara’s eyes open. Her dark gray gaze was somber, as if she realized the danger she was in. “Who is after you?” he asked. He turned to Sam. “Any leads on her mother yet?”

  Sam shook his head. “Not really. The babies born in the hospital are all accounted for.”

  Darcy let out a quiet sigh of relief. “What about home births?” she asked.

  “Still tracking them down. But so far, nothing.”

  “And I haven’t found anything from nearby hospitals, either,” Annabel said.

  “Did you get any fingerprints off the note?” Ridge asked, holding on to a sliver of hope. If they hadn’t had time to process the note yet, they still might have a chance to find the woman.

  “We did get prints, but they aren’t in the system,” Sam told him.

  “Which means she doesn’t have a file,” Ridge finished. “Great.” Dejection pressed down on his shoulders. It had been a long shot, but it was still disappointing to know they had zero leads.

  “It’s like she came out of nowhere,” Darcy remarked. “How does that happen in this day and age?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Sam said drily.

  “So, to sum up,” Ridge said. “We have a baby of unknown origin and a mystery man who is determined to take her. In unrelated news, the Alphabet Killer has struck again, and there are no new leads on that front, either.”

  “Well, maybe not,” Annabel said thoughtfully.

  “What are you thinking?” Sam asked.

  She glanced at Darcy. “You said the last time you met with Francine she was rude to the waitress?”

  Darcy nodded. “Yes. I was embarrassed to be seen with her, and I left a note of apology when I signed my half of the check.”

  Annabel’s gaze sharpened. “Did she pay with a credit card, as well?”

  “I think so,” Darcy said slowly. “I’m almost certain she did. Francine didn’t like to carry cash. She said it made her feel low-class.”

  Sam huffed. “What does that even mean?” he said under his breath.

  Ridge shook his head. “Who knows?” he muttered. He’d never understood women like Francine, and had no desire to learn.

  “Anyway,” Annabel said meaningfully, interrupting their side conversation. “Do you remember what the waitress looked like?”

  “Not really.” Darcy tilted her head to the side, clearly trying to recall the woman. “Brown hair, maybe in her forties? But I really couldn’t say.” She sounded apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think to really look at her, you know?”

  “Don’t stress about it,” Annabel assured her.

  “You think the waitress is our killer?” Sam asked.

  “Maybe,” Annabel replied. “Or maybe she works at a restaurant and keeps a record of customers who are rude to her or who otherwise push her buttons.” Annabel sounded thoughtful, as if she was thinking out loud. “She could get their names from the credit cards, which would explain how she can target them in alphabetical order.”

  “Hang on,” Sam said, holding up a hand. “Let me get Trevor on the phone—I want to hear his take on it.”

  Darcy shot him a questioning look. “Trevor is a profiler with the FBI,” Ridge clarified.

  It took only a moment to get Trevor on the line. Annabel put him on speaker phone and relayed her theory regarding the killer.

  “I like it,” Trevor said. “It’s something we haven’t considered before, but it makes sense. She has to be coming into contact with the victims somehow—we know the
y’re not just random. It’s possible rude customers with long dark hair trigger something for her. Maybe she had a horrible relationship with her mother or a sister who has long dark hair, and that’s why she fixates on that particular feature.”

  “Do you think it’s possible she was betrayed by a friend?” Ridge asked. What if the killer was seeking to enact revenge for a slight, real or otherwise? That might drive her to kill again and again.

  “Could be,” Trevor replied. “I’ll mark that down as another potential explanation. Let me get the team working on it and I’ll get back to you soon. In the meantime, can you get your people to canvass area restaurants? I’ll send over the suspect description we have to make sure it matches yours.”

  “Roger that,” Sam said. “We’ll get right on it.”

  Annabel ended the call and Ridge glanced at his siblings. “Sounds like you guys have some work to do,” he said. Part of him wanted to jump in and help, to join the hunt now that they had a good theory to explore. But the other part of him was happy to take care of Sara and work on finding out who was after her. In the end, practicality won out. Sam, Annabel and the rest of his siblings in law enforcement could handle the search for the Alphabet Killer. And since they were all otherwise occupied, he was the only one who could make sure Sara stayed safe.

  He glanced down and was rewarded by the sight of those big gray eyes staring up at him with absolute trust. His heart turned over as the enormity of his task sank in. He’d been able to keep her safe so far, but the stranger who wanted her was determined. How much longer could he protect her, especially with the police distracted by their search for the killer?

  Sara yawned, her body going limp in his arms as she relaxed into sleep. In that instant, Ridge realized he didn’t need to worry about backup. He would take on the world for this little girl.

  “What are you going to do?” Annabel asked, smiling at the baby and then at him.

  “I’m going to keep her safe,” Ridge said simply. Then he glanced at Sam. “But first, I need you to take me into town. I have to buy some tires.”