by Janie Crouch
“You met with a victim without anybody from the department with you?” His nostrils flared.
“No, actually, Ms. Houze called Sherry Mitchell, the forensic artist Omega found to replace Frank Spangler. Ms. Mitchell met with the victim and provided me with the sketch of the tattoo. I was bringing it in to check against possible gang tattoos when I got the call about Ms. Grimaldi’s attack.”
That was almost true except for the part where he and Sherry almost set his car on fire from the heat between them. That definitely didn’t need to be mentioned to Captain Harris.
“Well, Grimaldi could neither confirm nor deny the tattoo, so that doesn’t help us one way or another,” Captain Harris responded.
Jon shook his head. “Captain, I respect that you love your city and want to keep it safe. I know you want this guy behind bars so you can assure the people looking to you that the Corpus Christi PD has done its job and has gotten a monster off the street.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Part of the reason I was sent here was to help with crisis management. As someone with experience in that area, I’m asking you not to make any formal statements to the press, even if we are able to arrest someone from the DNA findings, until we can definitively link Ms. Grimaldi’s case to those of other women.”
“Damn it, Hatton...”
“We don’t have to link it to all the other cases, just one, and I’ll be satisfied.” Jon held a hand out in a gesture of peace. “There are too many discrepancies. She was attacked in a parking lot instead of a building. She wasn’t immediately struck in the face like the others. The guy wore a ski mask and no gloves.”
“None of those things mean it wasn’t our perp.”
“I agree. But taking all of the facts together gives enough reasonable doubt that it may not be. To report to the press that the suspect is in custody, only to find out—from another woman being raped—that we have the wrong person? As your crisis-management representative, I wanted to tell you that would be a nightmare in terms of community relations.”
“Fine,” Harris said. “No one will make any official statements about anything until we have evidence linking him to the other cases.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“If I’m right, and we are able to link all the rapes to this one guy and the city of Corpus Christi spent more days in worry when it could’ve been sleeping soundly? I’ll expect you to make an announcement to the press that it was the feds’ call to do that.”
“Fine.” Jon didn’t have any real concern that would be necessary, but if it kept the captain from making a pretty big mistake, he was willing to risk it.
Captain Harris wasn’t mollified. “And it’s not like the other part of your job you were sent for—behavioral analysis of this bastard—has been of any use.”
Jon didn’t have much response to that. “You’re right. He’s been one step ahead of all of us the whole time. He’s made no mistakes. That is part of the reason why this last case, with all its many mistakes, has me thinking it’s not the same guy.”
Zane Wales came running down the hall. “We’ve got a hit through the DNA. Perp has a record. Uniforms are on their way over to his last known address right now.”
“A serial rapist with a criminal record? How difficult to believe.” The captain’s sarcasm was obvious.
Jon grabbed the notebook out of his pocket with his notes from Dana Grimaldi. He turned to Zane. “Did the DNA belong to Tony Shefferly?”
Zane stopped midstride, his posture stiffening. “Why do you ask that?”
“That’s the victim’s ex-boyfriend.”
Zane glanced at Captain Harris, then back at Jon. “No, it belonged to Wade Shefferly, Tony’s brother.”
Chapter Twelve
It had been a long damn day.
Last night Captain Harris still hadn’t wanted to admit defeat even when the DNA was discovered as the ex-boyfriend’s brother’s.
It had taken the man’s arrest, hours of questioning through the night and finally unshakable alibis confirmed today for at least three of the other rapes before the captain had admitted Shefferly wasn’t the serial rapist they were looking for.
Jon knew after only five minutes of talking to him that he was not smart enough, not controlled enough, not focused enough, to be the man responsible for the other attacks.
Shefferly had confessed to what he’d done to Dana Grimaldi. Evidently he’d been angry to the point of hatred at how she’d treated his brother when she cheated on him and broke up with him. He’d thought he could get away with exacting some revenge on his brother’s behalf by attacking her in the parking lot. He was hoping the serial rapist would be blamed, although Shefferly swore he’d never actually planned to rape Dana, just knock her around and scare her.
Wade Shefferly would be going to jail—back to jail—for what he did to Dana. While Jon was happy about that, it still meant their rapist was on the loose.
If frustration in the police department had been high before Shefferly’s arrest, it was twice as bad now. The force had gotten its hopes up then dashed.
“I suppose you want to say, ‘I told you so,’” Captain Harris had muttered when Shefferly’s alibi checked out for the other rapes.
Jon didn’t want to say, “I told you so.” He didn’t want to say anything but “Let’s work together and find the bastard responsible before another woman pays the price.”
But he’d been trying to say that since he arrived. Nobody was listening.
Today had been even worse with Jon taking the full brunt of the detectives’ and the captain’s frustration. In a case of this magnitude, with massive media attention, tempers always flared. People needed somewhere to aim their vexation; Jon’s direction seemed easiest for everyone. After all, he was the one who had been called in especially for this case. The one who was supposed to have the expertise needed to get results.
So far, nothing he’d done had been any more useful than anything else.
He knew part of his job as a member of the crisis-management unit was to help the local PD focus its frustration in the right manner, even if it was at him. Damn, if he hadn’t had to almost bite his tongue all the way off to keep from snapping back when the men wanted someone to blame.
When Jon had called in to Omega to report the copycat attack and subsequent arrest, his frustration bubbled over. Steve Drackett had tried to assure Jon that Jon was doing everything he could do.
Jon knew he wasn’t. He was currently on his way to rectify that.
He needed Sherry.
In his entire professional career Jon couldn’t remember ever feeling so torn. He needed Sherry on this case. Her expertise. Her abilities.
He also had a bone-deep need to just be with her, be near her, protect her.
He was afraid he couldn’t have both. That if he pushed for one, he couldn’t have the other. That if he made a romantic move, and then asked for her help with the case, she might think he was manipulating her to get what he needed.
Jon knew he should put the case first. Ask for her professional help and step back personally. But as he pulled up in her driveway and saw her open the door and smile at him as he walked up the steps, Jon knew he wouldn’t do that.
There was no way he was going to be able to keep his distance from her.
He walked straight up to her and, bending his knees slightly, wrapped both his arms around her waist and hips before straightening to his full height. This brought her neck right up to his face. He buried it in her hair and just breathed.
For the first time all day he felt as though he could actually get air in and out of his lungs without difficulty.
Her arms came around his shoulders and he was thankful—beyond thankful—she didn’t pull away. He just needed a minute to clear his head, to be around someone
who didn’t wish that he would leave town as soon as possible.
Of course, he wasn’t even sure that was true with Sherry. She probably thought he was nuts, hugging her like this without even saying hello.
Jon forced himself to release her and set her feet down on the floor. He eased back slowly, afraid of what he was going to see on her face when he looked there.
It wasn’t the ridicule or scorn he was half expecting. Just shining blue eyes coupled with her beautiful smile.
“Hey,” she greeted him, her Texan upbringing evident in the word.
“Sorry about that,” Jon responded. “It’s been a hell of a day.”
“No apology necessary. I know what it’s like to need some sort of lifeline.”
Jon imagined she did. “Do you have one? Someone who keeps you grounded when you’re doing your work for the Bureau?” He was pretty sure he already knew the answer. Not having someone to help anchor her was part of the reason she was suffering to such a degree now.
“No, not really.”
“You need someone. A friend, colleague. Someone. Everybody does.”
She nodded. “You’re right. Trying to do this alone... The darkness can become too heavy.”
“Your supervisor at the Bureau should’ve provided you with a mentor, or an agent or even the contact info of the FBI therapist. Someone for you to talk to.”
“Yeah, I think she meant to. Things just happened fast, crazy fast, when I started working for them. I traveled around a lot, to different field offices, so I wasn’t around the same people all the time.”
“Still...”
“Oh, I agree I needed someone.” Her eyebrows gathered in and she started rubbing her hands together in an absent fashion. “I just thought it was me being weak, letting my artistic nature get the better of me, so I didn’t tell anyone how much I was struggling, even when they asked.”
Jon grabbed her hands to stop the nervous movement. “Even seasoned agents struggle with being bombarded by the worst side of human nature day after day. And they go through training you never had.”
“I guess so.” Sherry shrugged. “So, bad day for you, huh?”
“How about if I tell you about it over dinner? Or, if you don’t want to, we don’t have to talk about the case at all. Either way, I didn’t get to eat any lunch and I’m starved.”
“Sounds great to me.”
“Maybe we’ll even make it into the restaurant this time.”
Jon meant that hopefully they wouldn’t be disturbed by another call having to do with the case. But as soon as their eyes met and the heat was flashing between them again, Jon knew they were both thinking of the same thing: that kiss last night.
* * *
MAYBE WE’LL EVEN make it into the restaurant this time.
It was all Sherry could do not to suggest they skip the restaurant altogether and just stay here at the house. Order pizza, if he was that hungry.
As much as Sherry wanted to explore this heat between them, she wasn’t sure that it was the smart thing to do. Her emotional balance teetered so precariously right now, she wasn’t sure if she could trust her own feelings.
If she was honest, she wasn’t 100 percent sure that Jon wasn’t getting close to her just to try to talk her into helping with the case. She didn’t think he would deliberately set out to seduce her to get her help or anything like that. But she knew that getting involved with Jon would be complicated.
Plus, she’d decided earlier to try to help him with the case if she could. That is, if she could without completely losing her sanity.
She didn’t want to tell him just yet, hadn’t really decided to what degree she was willing to offer herself. Or to what degree she’d even be useful if she wasn’t able to draw. Offering to help and then being totally inadequate would be worse than not offering in the first place.
She’d deal with that as it came. Right now, dinner. Not inside her house. That was too close to the bed.
“Yes, let’s go eat. I’m hungry, too.”
In more ways than one.
“The barbecue place okay again?” He looked as though he might start drooling over the thought of it, so she wouldn’t have had the heart to say no even if she had wanted to. Not to mention she was born in Texas and there just wasn’t any way she’d say no to barbecue.
“Sure, let me go grab my jacket.”
“Are you serious? It’s at least eighty-five degrees out here.”
“I never know when I’m going to get cold and sometimes the air-conditioning is too cool in places.”
He waited on the small porch while she grabbed her lightweight jacket. When she walked back out he was staring at her legs.
“What? Is there something on my skirt?” She hoped not. It was her favorite denim skirt.
“No. I’m just particular to your legs in those boots.”
She smiled at him. “Boots are a Texas thing, mostly, I guess.”
“We get them in Colorado, but not as much in Colorado Springs where Omega Sector is located. Despite the mountains, that’s more a city than anything else.”
He opened her car door and she got in, and then he went around and got in himself.
“Are you from Colorado originally?”
“No, born and raised in Cincinnati. Reds, baby, all the way.”
She smiled. “That doesn’t sound like a football team. You know in Texas, if it’s not football, it pretty much doesn’t count as a sport.”
“This state is officially killing me.” He shook his head. “First, everybody at the precinct hates me and now you tell me baseball isn’t important.”
“Baseball is your thing, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. I got a full ride to college as a pitcher. Was actually hoping to go pro—at least the minors. But I blew out my elbow my junior year.”
“I’m sorry. That had to have been difficult.”
“Yeah, at the time. But it helped me focus on where I needed to be. It wasn’t bad enough to keep me out of the FBI, just bad enough to end my pro dreams. I know I’m doing what I’m supposed to now.”
“What do you do exactly? Are you a profiler?”
“That’s part of it. I get sent in to crisis situations to help local law enforcement that don’t have the resources and/or personnel to handle a situation. I’m the last resort before feds come in and completely take over a case.”
“That’s why everyone at the precinct hates you?”
Jon smiled as he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. “Usually, I’m not very popular the first day or two, but normally my charming personality has won over most of the locals by this stage of the game.”
Sherry didn’t question that. She had no doubt Jon was good at his job and it didn’t take long for most people to see that he was about the case, not power hungry or there to get anybody in trouble.
She also had no doubt he was able to figure out what the locals needed and become that person, to a certain degree. They needed a leader? He could definitely be one. A sounding board? No problem. Source of support? Scapegoat?
“So basically you handle them like you handled me the other day. You figure out what to say to get what you want.”
He shot a sideways look at her. “Well, not what I want. But, yeah, I guess I’m good at figuring out how to get everyone to work together to solve the case. Get the job done.”
Sherry could respect that. Sometimes people needed to be managed, especially with cases like the current one. It didn’t make Jon a bad person, but evidently the police department didn’t agree with her on that fact.
“The locals are giving you a hard time,” she said.
“They’re frustrated. We’re all frustrated. In their defense, I haven’t been able to make any real progress in the nearly ten days I’ve been
here.”
Now seemed like a good time to tell him. She just hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake. “Well, I was thinking maybe I could help you. Look over the files and see if there’s anything the other artist missed. I’m not promising anything, but I could try.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning Sherry found herself at the Corpus Christi Police Department. It was the last place she had expected to be on her vacation, but she’d committed, so she was here.
Jon had refused to talk about the case last night during dinner, which had been nice. She’d half expected once she’d agreed to help for him to skip dinner altogether—or maybe hit a fast-food drive-through, since he had missed lunch—and head straight in to work.
But he hadn’t. He’d nodded at her offer, parked the car and ushered her inside the little restaurant.
Once they were seated at the booth, she asked, “Aren’t you going to start bombarding me with details about the case?”
He looked up from his menu. “Shh. I’m on a date with a very beautiful woman. I don’t want to talk about work, lest she think that’s the only reason I’m here with her.”
“That’s not why you’re here with me? Are you sure?”
Jon set the menu down. “I’ll admit at this point, if a three-year-old came up to me and offered to help I would probably accept it. So, yes, I will gladly accept your help. But, no, that is very definitely not why I am here with you.”
The way he looked at her had her heating up again. She was beginning to think if she stuck around him she’d never have to worry about being cold again.
“Okay.” She managed not to stammer. “I just wanted you to know that you didn’t have to do this just to get me to help.”
“I promise I’m not managing you, not handling you. I just want to spend time with you. Tomorrow will be soon enough to start on the case.”
Over the next couple of hours they proceeded to eat and drink a couple of beers and just relax. Sherry wasn’t sure that she’d ever seen someone eat a meal with as much reverence as Jon ate his brisket. “You must be Texan somewhere in your blood the way you love that sandwich.”