Sex and the Sleepwalker

by Donna Sterling

  When they’d finished, John let out a hearty laugh. “I wish you’d faxed me about this so I could put it on my bulletin board. I need a good chuckle now and then. Cade Hunter—the Pied Piper?” He laughed again. “Don’t you worry about Cade. He was a good guy back in college, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed.”

  Brynn nodded triumphantly.

  “I hate to imply you’re wrong, John,” Lexi said, “but what would a travel journalist be doing with photographs of the abducted women?”

  “Maybe he’s working on a novel,” John theorized. “Yeah, I think I heard one of our old classmates say something about that one time—that Cade was interested in writing true crime books. He’s probably too embarrassed to mention it.”

  “I knew there had to be an explanation,” Brynn said, ready to breathe fire on Cade’s behalf. If his travel books hadn’t done well, of course he’d be embarrassed about writing a novel. He had every right to keep it a secret. Though it did irk her a little that he hadn’t confided in her.

  She’d wondered last night why he hadn’t talked about his writing. He’d deliberately steered the conversation away from the subject whenever she’d brought it up. But she supposed she had little room to complain about his keeping secrets from her….

  “To tell you the truth, I’m glad Cade’s there,” John continued, lightening Brynn’s heart all the more. “Doesn’t hurt to have some reliable muscle around in case things go wrong. The abductor really is a threat, and it’s good that you’re keeping a careful lookout. I’d have told you about the Piper targeting family members of Atlanta cops, but we were keeping that detail quiet, until someone leaked it to the media. So, is Cade there right now? I haven’t talked to him in years. I’d like to say hello.”

  “He’s in the shower,” Brynn replied hastily. She didn’t want John talking to him now. Didn’t want to take the chance that he’d tell Cade why she’d called. Cade’s boyhood had left him vulnerable when it came to doubts about his trustworthiness. She didn’t want to hurt him with the knowledge that Trish and Lexi believed the worst about him.

  “Uh, John…if and when you do speak to Cade,” Brynn said, “please don’t mention that we asked about him. I’m sure it would make the remainder of his stay here uncomfortable.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” he agreed, still sounding amused. “Tell him I said hello. And keep your guard up, Brynn-Brynn.”

  Brynn-Brynn. She rolled her eyes as she disconnected the call. He so enjoyed coming up with oddball nicknames. A surge of sisterly affection helped take the edge off the tension she felt regarding Trish and Lexi.

  “I don’t want to hear another word against Cade from either one of you,” she told them. “Is that understood?”

  They nodded, although she didn’t believe they were entirely convinced of his innocence.

  Before she could confront them, though, Trish’s cell phone rang. “Antoine,” Trish exclaimed, turning away from Brynn as if for privacy. “What did you find? Uh-huh. Yeah. I see. No, she won’t listen to a word we’ve been telling her. And her brother the cop won’t listen, either. No, Cade’s taking a shower or something. Don’t worry about that—he couldn’t have overheard us.”

  Anger rose in Brynn at the realization that Trish had shared her outlandish suspicions with Antoine, and that she’d summarily dismissed John’s assurance of Cade’s innocence.

  “Brynn, Antoine would like a word with you.” Trish held out the phone to her.

  With a glare at Trish, Brynn briskly took the phone, intending to break her tentative plan to meet Antoine sometime this week. He’d have to decorate his house without her.

  “Brynn, we have to talk.” Antoine’s smooth, accented voice was surprisingly grim. “I’ve done research with the help of a detective friend. It’s important for you to see what we’ve found.”

  Foreboding weighted her down. “Research about what?”

  “This man who has turned your head, chérie. This Cade Hunter.”

  “I don’t need to see anything about him. And I don’t appreciate you or Trish sullying Cade’s good name over groundless theories.”

  “I haven’t told Trish what I’ve found. I thought I should show you first, since you seem to be, uh, particularly fond of Hunter. After you’ve seen the facts for yourself, you can decide what, if anything, should be done.”

  Brynn held the phone tightly, torn between her desire to hang up on him and her need to know what he was talking about, if only for the sake of debunking untruths about Cade. “Just tell me what you’ve found, Antoine.”

  “No, no…you must see this yourself. You can interpret my findings in whatever way you will. Meet me at Country Cousins Diner on Atlanta Highway. Come now, Brynn. Alone. Don’t let Hunter see you leave. It’s urgent.”

  Don’t let Hunter see you leave. As if he’d try to stop her from learning whatever Antoine knew. Anger gushed through her in currents so strong that some inner dam burst its restraints. She’d had it! She’d had enough of Antoine’s accusations, enough of her partners’ refusal to listen to her, enough of her own doubts about the validity of her judgment. Cade was a good man. She knew that for a fact. And she wouldn’t tolerate slander against him. She would meet with Antoine, but only to end their relationship in no uncertain terms. He would not be calling her again. Ever. She would also take whatever “proof” he offered against Cade and show it up as false—not only to Antoine, but to Lexi and Trish, too.

  When she finished with the three of them, they wouldn’t dare utter a word against Cade in her presence—or out of it, for that matter.

  Strength born of resolution buoyed her high above the anger. She would not fail Cade, or herself.

  “I’ll be there, Antoine. Count on it.”

  HE HUNG UP THE PHONE with a satisfied smirk, pleased that he’d managed to use Brynn’s feelings for Hunter against her. It was a crime, really, how easy he found it to manipulate women’s emotions.

  Wouldn’t she be surprised when he talked to her, not about Hunter’s past, but her own? He’d played the part of tabloid reporter and “interviewed” people from her hometown. Amazing what folks would tell you when they expected big bucks in return. He’d then researched every lead until he hit pay dirt. The time had come to use that dirt to the best advantage. He wouldn’t broach the subject of her brush with the law until he had her on the expressway, a good ways out of town.

  She’d be putty in his hands. She’d come with him to his hideaway at the beach, and she’d sit for him to paint her.

  And the headlines would scream that the Pied Piper had snatched the sister of the detective heading up his case, and Detective John Sutherland and Marshal Cade Hunter would know they were dealing with a genius.

  Never did Doyle feel as alive as when the heat was on and he was pitting his wits against the so-called experts.

  Not that the law wouldn’t get him eventually. They knew too much about him now. He’d realized that last night, when he’d learned of Hunter’s true occupation. But once his rage and panic had died down, he’d realized that his plan for Brynn could still work. It would be risky, but he considered her well worth the risk.

  Brynn, Trish and Lexi clearly didn’t know that Hunter was a marshal, or they wouldn’t have discussed their suspicions about him—or, in Brynn’s case, her lack thereof. Trish had even agreed to keep Hunter distracted for as long as possible when Brynn left the inn. Once he had Brynn alone, Doyle felt sure it would take weeks for the law to track them down.

  Now that he knew he was being watched by the cops, he could plan around their surveillance. Calling Trish’s cell phone instead of Brynn’s or any phone at the inn had been his way of avoiding tapped phone lines. It had been pure genius to draw Trish into his game, Doyle decided, almost gloating, and pure luck that she’d been so receptive to his suggestions about Hunter’s guilt. He congratulated himself at being such a master at manipulating emotions.

  He’d have to lose whatever tail the cops had on him before he met with Bry
nn, of course. He would dress as a woman to leave the hotel—a disguise that had come in handy more than once since he’d begun this Pied Piper gig. He’d wear his own clothing underneath the oversize dress, his pants rolled up to the knees and his shirt bunched up within the bodice, both to fatten up his form and to facilitate a quick change when needed.

  He’d then hop on a bus, leaving his rental car here. That should keep the cops off his track for a good long while. He’d then hot-wire a car from a parking lot. Shouldn’t take but a minute. By the time the police realized he wasn’t in his hotel room, he’d be long gone.

  He expected Brynn would be followed from the inn, but the cops wouldn’t realize whom she was meeting, since they’d assume Antoine was at his hotel. Her tail would surely be in communication with the team staked out at his hotel, so wouldn’t be expecting trouble. And her tail wouldn’t recognize him at the diner. By that time, he’d be wearing a shady hat, concealing sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt.

  Brynn would recognize him, though. He’d worn the same outfit the first day he’d met her.

  All he needed was a few minutes to get her out the back door of the restaurant—one he’d chosen for its layout and proximity to multiple freeways. He had no doubt he could lose any tail once Brynn was with him. In his experience, cops weren’t particularly hard to fool.

  The law would eventually catch him, of course. Yet his arrest would be just another step on the road to notoriety. That was, after all, the ultimate goal of his game.

  He intended to have a good start on his portrait of Brynn before his arrest, though. He’d already captured the essence of his other models on canvas. His paintings of them would command huge prices, once his legend had been firmly established.

  He hoped to add one more portrait to that collection—a decision he’d reached that morning. If time permitted, he would take a final model. One a good deal younger than the women he’d used so far. One that would add an extra degree of sensationalism to his case. One whose “secret shame” would get splashed across the headlines upon his arrest…thereby punishing a certain deputy U.S. marshal.

  13

  THE CALL CAME JUST AFTER Cade’s shower, as he was dressing.

  “Our lady left the premises,” said Vinny Venducci, one of the plainclothes cops on the surveillance team. “Wasn’t sure you knew, Marshal.”

  Cade paused in the act of buttoning his shirt. “Brynn left the inn?”

  “Affirmative.”

  He frowned. He’d been expecting her to come to his room any moment now. Where the hell was she going? Anxiety twinged in his stomach. “Is she alone?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On foot?”

  “Driving her Chevy coupe.”

  So she wasn’t just visiting a neighbor or checking up on the motherless sorority girl next door. His anxiety deepened, and he jolted into high gear, his fingers flying over the buttons of his shirt. “Follow her. Stay close. Keep her in your sight at all times. What’s her location? What direction is she headed?”

  While he listened, Cade strapped a holster over his shoulders, shoved his gun into place, then shrugged into a lightweight, charcoal-gray blazer. “I’m on my way, Vin.”

  As he approached the bedroom door, he saw a note lodged beneath it. He scooped it up and read “Have an errand to run. Be back within the hour. B.”

  Muttering a curse, he crumpled the note and tossed it away. What the hell kind of errand was she running? He hoped to God it didn’t involve meeting with Antoine. “Where’s the suspect?” he asked into the cell phone.

  “Hasn’t left his hotel. Don’t worry, Marshal. We’ve got men watching every exit, another in the lobby and another assigned to his car. He ain’t going nowhere without us.”

  Cade had too much experience under his belt to take that as gospel. With his heart hammering in his temples, he hurried downstairs.

  In the foyer, he nearly collided with Trish as she rounded the corner from the parlor. “Cade!” He caught her arms to steady her. “I was on my way to see you. I—”

  “Where did Brynn go?”

  “Brynn? Oh, she’s around here somewhere, I’m sure.”

  He moved to step around her, but Trish shifted into his path, deliberately blocking him. “I wanted to talk to you about Brynn,” she said. “She’s a very complex woman, and I thought you might like a little feminine insight to understand more about—”

  “Later.” Gripping her shoulders, he shifted her out of his way and strode past her. His gut told him to hurry, to catch up with Brynn, to watch every move.

  Though he knew his personal feelings were probably skewing his professional instincts, he didn’t intend to take any chances by ignoring that sense of urgency.

  “HE’S GOING AFTER BRYNN,” Trish cried the moment the door closed behind him. “And I think Mrs. Hornsby was right—he has a gun. I felt it under his jacket when I ran into him.”

  “A gun!” Lexi emerged from the parlor where she’d been watching with phone in hand, her finger poised to dial if Cade tried anything with Trish. “It’s so hard to believe.”

  “Did you see his face? He looked ready to kill someone. He must be the Piper.”

  “John’s probably blinded by his friendship with him.”

  “We’ve got to do something, Lex. He’s going after Brynn now. I just know it.”

  “He won’t catch up with her. She had a head start.”

  “But she might have told him where she was going. You saw her slip that note under his door.”

  Lexi felt herself blanch. “My God, you’re right. He might know she’s headed for the Country Cousins Diner. Maybe he’ll try to stop her from meeting with Antoine. But then, why did he ask you where she went?”

  “Maybe to see if she told him the truth. Or to throw us off his track…and give him time to snatch her.”

  “I’m going to call the police.”

  “And tell them what? John’s in charge of the Piper case, and he already thinks we’re nuts.”

  Resolutely, Lexi pressed the button to dial 911, and when a voice answered, she cried, “Send the cops to the Country Cousins Diner. Cade Hunter is the Pied Piper! And he’s on his way to abduct Brynn Sutherland. He—”

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but you’ll have to slow down,” the emergency technician answered. “I’m having trouble understanding you. What exactly is your emergency?”

  “An abduction.”

  “In progress?”

  “No, but any minute now.”

  “At your house?”

  “At the Country Cousins Diner.”

  “Are you at the Country Cousins Diner, ma’am?”

  “No, I’m at home, but—”

  “How do you know an abduction is taking place?”

  “It’s complicated, but my business partner and I have just figured out that a man by the name of Cade Hunter is the Pied Piper.”

  “You say you figured this out, ma’am?”

  “Yes. And he’s going to the diner with a gun.”

  “Did you see the gun?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Did he threaten to use a gun?”

  “No. Of course he didn’t admit he was going to use it.”

  “Are you or anyone with you in immediate danger, ma’am?”

  “No, not me, but—”

  “If you’re not in immediate danger, please call your local police station to report your concerns. That number is—”

  With a frustrated curse, Lexi disconnected the call, and Trish wailed, “We’ve got to get to Brynn before Cade does!”

  “I know a shortcut to the diner. Let’s go.”

  White faced and tight lipped, they hurried to Trish’s Porsche. Before they reached it, though, a crotchety feminine voice called out from behind them, “Don’t you need me to come, too? You know, as backup?” Mrs. Hornsby stood at the door of the inn with a hopeful expression.

  “No, but could you stay here and watch the inn for us?” Lexi suggested.

&
nbsp; Before she replied, Trish said from behind the driver’s wheel, “Get in, Lex. We can’t waste any more time!”

  Only after they’d peeled out of the inn’s parking lot and down Milledge Avenue did Lexi realize they had no weapons to use in case things got ugly. “Weapons,” she cried. “We might need weapons.”

  “I don’t have any weapons.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to improvise.”

  “SHE PARKED AND WENT INTO the Country Cousins Diner. I’m turning in there now.”

  “Keep a clear view of the door, Vinny,” Cade ordered, swerving through the lunchtime traffic on one of Athens’s busiest thoroughfares, only a block behind him. Cade had closed the top on his SUV to maintain a lower profile, inserted an earphone into his ear to stay apprised of Brynn’s movements, and had attached a microphone to his shirt to keep in constant contact with John and the surveillance team. “If she comes out with someone else—anyone else—stop her from leaving,” Cade instructed. “The perp might be in disguise.”

  The cop trailing Brynn grunted in vague agreement, but Cade knew he wasn’t entirely convinced they had cause for the heightened vigilance. The team at the suspect’s hotel swore that Fontaine hadn’t left there, and they’d intercepted no calls from him on the wiretapped phones.

  Cade had his doubts, though. Why had Brynn suddenly dashed across town to go to a restaurant alone? And why in her note had she called this impromptu trip to the Country Cousins Diner “an errand”? If she’d intended to meet someone for lunch, she would have told him.

  Wouldn’t she?

  Foreboding rode heavy in his gut as he cruised by the diner, turned down a side street and circled back to the rear entrance. Only one car was parked in the small lot behind the brick building.

  Parking his SUV behind the older-model sedan, Cade called in a check on its license plate. If he were the perp, he’d have a car waiting at the rear entrance to spirit her away without witnesses.

  It didn’t take long for the info to come back on the sedan. It was a stolen vehicle.