Even if he suddenly fell to his knees and proclaimed that he loved her, that he wanted to be a part of her life, part of Haley’s life, he simply wasn’t the kind of man she wanted. She wasn’t sure what she wanted in the man she eventually invited to be a part of her life, but she knew exactly what she didn’t want—and that was a man like Riley.
Besides, she could never be enough woman for a man like Riley. She shook her head to shove this thought away.
Where was he? What was going on outside? She rose from the sofa, too nervous to sit still another minute. There was a tiny part of her that wanted to believe that Riley and his FBI cohorts had gotten it wrong, that Greg was truly as he presented himself—a nice man with a good heart. Not a killer.
It was almost thirty minutes later when Riley finally returned to the house, his features etched with frustration. “I think maybe it was a cat or a raccoon that set off the alarm,” he said. “None of the other people watching the house saw anyone go inside or leave, so I guess we can chalk this up to a false alarm.”
“Thank God,” she said. Once again she sat on the sofa. “Riley, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
She looked at the wall just behind him, finding it impossible to look directly at him. “About this crazy sexual attraction we seem to share.” She shot him a quick glance that caught his lips curving up in one of his hot, sexy smiles.
“What about it?” he asked and to her dismay he moved over to the sofa and sat next to her.
“I don’t want it,” she replied. She felt the heat of a blush warming her cheeks. “I’m not looking for a hook-up. In fact, all of this has made me realize that I’m not looking for anything right now. Tonight with all the neighbors, it all just brought back so many memories of Joe.”
The smile on his face fell away and his eyes filled with that softness that drew her in, that made her want to fall into his strong arms and have him hold her through the long, lonely night.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how difficult it might be for you to get together with all your friends and not have your husband here with you.” He got up from the sofa. “I’ll be honest with you, Lana. I feel this crazy chemistry where you’re concerned, but I also know it would be equally crazy to follow up on it. As you said, you’re not the hook-up type, and that’s really all I’d be interested in.”
She nodded, his words merely serving to prove that her instincts were right. Riley Kincaid had heart break written all over his sexy self, and she’d already had enough of that to last a lifetime.
Wearily, she got off the sofa. “I’m going to bed.”
“And I’m going in to check the camera film and see if I can spot what made the alarm ring.”
Together they walked down the hallway and each went into their own separate rooms. It didn’t take long for Lana to prepare for bed, and once she was beneath the covers she found her thoughts still filled with Riley.
It was true, it had been a difficult evening on a number of levels. She’d had to cope with the lies she was telling her neighbors and the fact that one of them was under FBI scrutiny for being a potential serial killer. She’d also endured memories of Joe and the realization that in many ways Riley reminded her of her dead husband. And that was even more of a reason that he was dangerous to her.
Joe had been a great guy, but beneath the charm he’d been an incredibly weak man. She’d loved him, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hook up with anyone like him ever again.
Sleep was not restful when it finally came, and she welcomed the morning. She woke early and went in to check on Haley, who was still sleeping soundly, then followed the scent of fresh coffee to the kitchen.
“Good morning.” Riley offered her a friendly but distant smile as he stirred a skillet of scrambled eggs. As usual, he looked totally hot in his worn, fitted jeans and a light-blue T-shirt and bare feet.
“That smells good,” she said as she took a seat at the table.
“A few potatoes, some green peppers and lots of cheese,” he replied.
“Want me to make some toast or something?” she asked.
“Nah. It’s already made. Just relax. You’ll need your energy for when Haley wakes up.” He took the eggs, divided them between two plates with a couple of pieces of toast and joined her at the table.
“I’m not used to being waited on,” she said as she picked up her fork.
He smiled. “It’s just breakfast. I have to go to headquarters this morning. We’re having a meeting about this case.” He frowned and picked up a piece of his toast.
“Things aren’t going the way you wanted them to?” she asked.
“The timeline we’ve been working with is that there’s been a murder every four weeks or so. We’re now going into the sixth week and so we know something is probably going to happen, but needless to say the surveillance so far has yielded nothing.”
“You haven’t even been here a week yet. Maybe you’re all expecting too much too soon?” She picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of scrambled egg.
“Maybe.” He took a bite of his toast. “If I didn’t know better I’d swear Greg knows he’s under surveillance. Since I’ve been here he’s been living his life like a monk, going to bed early, not socializing with anyone.” He threw the toast down to his plate in disgust.
“Do you think he knows about us? That we aren’t really married?” she asked worriedly, and set her fork down, the very thought banishing any hunger she might have felt.
“No, I think he bought it,” he said hurriedly. “Maybe he just knows the heat is on and so he’s being especially careful. He’s been interviewed a number of times concerning these crimes. He has to know that he’s at least on our potential suspect list. Anyway, I’ll know more about what our next move might be after the meeting this morning.”
They ate for a few minutes in silence, and Lana had just finished when Haley called out from her bedroom. Lana dressed her daughter, then gave her breakfast and decided to run a few errands before it got too warm outside.
“While you’re at your meeting Haley and I are going to run out for a few groceries. Is there anything you need?”
“No thanks.” He offered her a smile, but it was a distant one. “I’ll walk out with you.”
They walked out into the warm morning where both his car and hers were parked in the driveway. “Will you be home for lunch?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Don’t worry about me. If I run late I’ll grab a burger on the way back.” He smiled again, but the warm charm, the flirty gleam were gone. “I’ll see you later.”
He’d apparently taken their conversation from the night before to heart. He was keeping not only his physical distance but an emotional one as well. She told herself she wasn’t going to miss that flirtatious light in his eyes or that sexy smile that caused a sizzling heat in the pit of her stomach.
As she walked with Haley to her car she glanced at the house next door, wondering what Greg had planned for the day. He was usually off on Saturdays and Sundays and often spent part of that time working in his yard or washing his car.
There was no sign of him as she buckled Haley into her car seat. “We’re going to the store,” she said to her daughter as she got in behind the steering wheel.
“If I’m good then I get a surprise?” Haley asked.
Lana smiled at her daughter in her rearview mirror. “We’ll see.” Which usually meant “of course.” Lana was aware that she often spoiled Haley, but she was such a good little girl it was difficult not to spoil her.
Lana worried about her daughter growing up without a father. She knew the statistics that foretold promiscuity and early pregnancy for girls who didn’t have a strong father figure in their lives.
Lana had lied to Riley when she’d told him she’d realized she wasn’t ready for a relationship. She just wasn’t ready for the kind of relationship he wanted—hot and sweaty and very temporary.
In another week or so he’d return to his l
ife, and he would have no problem picking up where he’d left off with his other women. With his charm and good looks he could pick up a woman anywhere.
She tightened her hands on the steering wheel as old memories shifted through her mind. She steadfastly shoved them away. She couldn’t think about Joe. He was gone, shot to death by an unknown assailant.
By the time she arrived at the grocery store Haley was ready to shop. “Cookies! Candy! Toys!” She eagerly clapped her hands together as Lana got her settled in the seat in the shopping cart.
“How about some lettuce and milk and bread?” Lana replied.
“Okay, milk,” Haley agreed.
Lana started up the first aisle as she went over her grocery list in her head. As she picked up fresh produce to add to her cart, Haley smiled and chattered at the people who passed them.
Lana hadn’t realized how tense the situation in her home had been until now, with the tension momentarily removed. The stiffness in her shoulders eased and her heart slowed as she filled her mind with nothing more than the scent of fresh melon and the ripeness of the cherry-red tomatoes.
Finished in the produce aisle, she moved to the next one and began to pick up canned goods. She was bent over to grab several cans of tomato sauce when she felt it—the creepy sensation of being watched.
She straightened and looked around, her uneasiness growing. She and Haley were alone in the aisle, but at the end she thought she saw somebody dart just out of sight.
She froze and gripped the handle of the shopping cart as her heart began to beat a frantic rhythm. Had somebody been watching her? Why would anyone be paying any attention to her? Or was she suffering from an overactive imagination?
“Mommy?” Haley gazed up at her, apparently sensing Lana’s sudden burst of tension.
“It’s okay.” Lana forced a smile. “Let’s go buy some cookies.”
“I love cookies,” Haley exclaimed. “Get cookies for Daddy, too.”
“Honey, you know Riley isn’t your daddy,” Lana said.
Haley pursed her bottom lip in one of her infrequent pouts. “But I want him to be my daddy, so he is,” she exclaimed.
Lana sighed. Haley was a good kid, but she could also be bullheaded, and by the look on her little face Lana knew there was no point arguing with her.
As she headed for the cookie aisle she looked at the people she passed, older women pushing carts, a group of firemen buying items to cook at the station. There was nobody around who looked threatening or sinister.
Still, as she reached for the box of cookies that were Haley’s favorites, she felt it again. It was a chill that crept up her spine and pooled in the pit of her stomach. Once again she saw nothing and nobody that could account for the feeling.
Maybe she was under more stress than she’d realized, she thought as she headed for the checkout counters. She’d thought she’d been handling everything relatively well, but now she was feeling phantom stares from equally phantom people.
She prayed that it was just her imagination and nothing more sinister, but she breathed a small sigh of relief when she and Haley were back in the car with the doors locked.
Still, it was difficult to dismiss the fact that she was part of a game they were playing with a man suspected of murdering women just like her. And the game wasn’t over yet.
Riley sat at a large table in a conference room at headquarters with six other agents and their supervisor on this particular operation. The topic of discussion had been the lack of information coming through their surveillance efforts.
“It’s only been a week,” Riley said, repeating what Lana had said to him earlier. “We definitely need to give it more time. It’s the weekend, and maybe Greg will do something more interesting.”
“All the murders occurred on weekdays,” Frank Morrel replied. “So I doubt he’s going to do anything too interesting.”
“Has the profiler come up with anything resembling a motive for these murders?” Bill McDonald asked.
“You mean besides that fact that he’s just a sick bastard?” Frank quipped.
“At least he has his standards. He doesn’t kill the kids that are at the crime scenes,” Roger Smith, one of the other agents replied.
“Thank God for small favors,” Riley replied.
For the next hour they discussed what they’d learned about the murders already committed, talked about the victim profile and talked about what type of woman might be the next victim.
“What about the baby’s breath?” Riley asked. It had been the one piece of evidence they had managed to keep out of the media, that the killer left a sprig of baby’s breath at each murder scene.
“In flower language it stands for innocence, but we haven’t been able to find any literary reference or anything else that might make sense as to why our killer chose that to leave behind,” Roger said.
“Maybe he thinks the women were guilty of something? Was there any indication they were cheating on their husbands?” Frank asked.
“Nothing that we could find in any of the cases,” Roger replied.
Riley listened to the conversation going back and forth around the table. They were rehashing things that had already been discussed a hundred times, looking for angles they might have missed, suspects that could have been overlooked.
There was nothing more frustrating than knowing a man was guilty and not being able to prove it. And they all knew that Greg was guilty in some way where these murders were concerned.
It was close to noon when the meeting started winding down. “I suggest we give the surveillance a couple more weeks and see what happens in that time,” Larry Carson, their supervisor, said.
Minutes later, as Riley headed back to Lana’s house, he gripped the steering wheel tightly, his frustration twisting his guts.
He didn’t want these murders to go unpunished. Those women had been wives and mothers. His brain flashed with the memory that haunted his nightmares—the bloody kitchen and the dead woman on the floor.
Even though it had been years since her unsolved murder, the grief never went completely away. Nor did the lesson he’d learned on that horrible day.
He shoved the memories away as he turned down the street where he now lived. He sat up straighter in the driver seat as he saw four men with Greg playing basketball on Greg’s driveway.
Adrenaline shot through Riley as he parked the car in Lana’s driveway and went into the house. He assumed Haley was napping when he found Lana seated at the table with her jewelry in front of her.
“Hey!” she said as she looked up and saw him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He couldn’t help the warmth that swept through him at her smile, and he hated that he was about to wipe it off her face. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“What?”
“I want you to look out the window and see if you can tell me who is playing basketball at Greg’s.”
Her smile fell from her face, just as he’d known it would. She got up from the table and walked into the living room where from the side window she had a view of Greg’s driveway.
“The kid in the red T-shirt and the one in the green striped shirt are Greg’s nephews, but I don’t know the other two.” She moved away from the window as if afraid Greg might see her.
“His nephews?” Riley frowned. “According to our records Greg is an only child.”
“From what he told me, his mother never married the man she lived with for a long time. That man had a daughter whom Greg considers his sister, and those are her two boys.”
“Thanks.” Riley went into his bedroom and changed clothes, then returned to the kitchen.
Her eyes widened as she saw the sports shorts and shirt he wore. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
He gave her a grim smile. “I’m in the mood to play a friendly game of hoops with the neighbor.” He didn’t wait to see what her response might be but instead headed out the front door.
Greg saw him as he walked across t
he yard toward his driveway. He grabbed the basketball and held it in his hands, a smile on his face.
“Hey, neighbor,” Riley greeted him. “Saw the fun and wondered if you needed a sixth player.”
“Definitely. That will give us two three-man teams,” Greg replied. “Guys, this is my neighbor, Riley.” Greg pointed a finger to a big man who appeared to be in his thirties. “Trent Clayton.” He pointed to the next guy, another man who looked like he put the gym equipment to good use. “Seth Black.” Finally he pointed to the two teenage boys. “My nephews, Randy and Ricky Newsom. Why don’t you take Trent and Ricky on your team, and my team will be Randy and Seth.”
“Sounds good to me, although I should tell you it’s been years since I’ve played,” Riley replied.
“We aren’t exactly the Dream Team,” Ricky said, his voice slightly squeaky in the way of adolescence.
A jump shot gave the ball to Riley’s team and it didn’t take too much play for Riley to identify personality characteristics about the players.
Seth Black played almost brutally aggressively, more than once slamming an elbow into Riley’s ribs and shoving him with more force than necessary. Trent was just as aggressive, although he didn’t seem to take quite as much pleasure from the bodily contact as Seth did. The two teenage boys played well, although not with the intensity of the older men.
Riley memorized the names so he could give them to the office to check out. He couldn’t remember any of these men’s names coming up so far in their investigation.
They played two games with each team winning one, and then Seth said he had to get home. The rest of them went around the back to Greg’s patio, where he cracked out cold beer for the adults and sodas for the two boys.
“For somebody who hasn’t played in a long time, you’re a pretty mean competitor,” Trent said.
Riley smiled. “I like to win.”
There was a hard glint in Trent’s gaze. “Probably not as much as I like to win.”
“Boys, boys,” Greg said with an amused laugh. “I’ve never played a game that I didn’t want to win. Life is just one big game.”
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