“How’s it going with you and the little wife?” Frank said, grinning.
Riley sat back in the booth as his thoughts went to Lana. “Actually, it hasn’t been too bad. She’s been very cooperative and easy to get along with.”
“She’s cute. Too bad about her husband.”
“Yeah, I think she’s still mourning his death.” Riley thought about those moments when he thought he saw grief and a fragile wistfulness in her eyes.
The two men were in a café in an area of downtown Kansas City that had been refurbished with new nightclubs, restaurants and theaters. Down the street was Bartle Hall, the convention center where the jewelry show would be held that weekend.
“I don’t think this surveillance crap is going to work,” Frank said as he dipped a French fry into a pool of ketchup.
The café was busy, but the two men were seated in a red vinyl booth near the back where it was less noisy with diners.
“It gave us Trent Clayton,” Riley replied.
“A nasty piece of work, but I can’t see him working in tandem on murdering women. From reading his file he doesn’t strike me as a man who’d be a partner in much of anything.”
“Who knows what brings men together to kill? Murder can make strange bedfellows. Besides, you said Trent has a history of violence.”
Frank nodded. “Three arrests on assault charges, all three of them the result of bar fights. The man obviously has a bad temper, especially after a couple of drinks.”
“Has anybody checked his alibis for the days of the murders?” Riley motioned to the waitress for their tab.
“Being done as we speak. I hope he is our guy. I’d love to wrap up this case with a neat and tidy bow.”
“Yeah, with Cary and Clayton both behind bars,” Riley replied. His stomach clenched as he thought of the two men whom he believed preyed on women. “I just wish Greg would stumble so we could arrest him. Every time I watch him go to work in the morning I worry that he’s picking his next victim.”
“You know we’ve got agents in place to watch who he talks to, who he works with.” Frank pushed his plate away and reached for his cup of coffee. “We’re trying to keep any potential victims safe.”
“Unless he breaks the pattern,” Riley said with a frown. “All the previous victims came from the gym, but there’s nothing to say he won’t break his own pattern and just pick up a woman off the streets.”
“You know we aren’t going to let that happen if we can help it. Besides, the profiler has come up with a new twist as far as his victim pattern.”
“And what’s that?”
“It’s something about newlyweds with kids. All the women had been married less than six months to men who weren’t the fathers of their children. We think the baby’s breath somehow symbolizes the innocent children in the blended marriage.”
“That doesn’t explain why he’s killing their mothers,” Riley said.
“Who knows? If we had all the answers we wouldn’t be sitting here now talking about it.”
As the waitress brought the tab Riley straightened in the booth. “If the criteria for a victim is that she has children and recently married a new man, then we just made Lana a perfect victim.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Frank said, but his eyes didn’t meet Riley’s.
Riley felt anger stir inside him. “How long have you known about this particular victim profile, Frank?”
“A couple of days.” Frank shrugged.
“Was this on purpose? Was the intent all along to use Lana as bait?”
“You’re asking the wrong person these questions, Riley. I’m just a grunt like you. I just do what I’m told and don’t ask questions.”
Riley grabbed his wallet from his pocket and tossed out his half of the bill on the table. His stomach twisted in knots as he fought against his anger.
“It’s time for me to head home so I can tell Lana we not only invaded her privacy and forced her to pretend to be married to me, but we also made her a perfect target for the psycho next door.”
His anger chased him out of the restaurant and to his car, where he got in and then slammed his palm against the dash.
They’d known all along they could potentially be placing Lana in danger. And they went through with the ruse anyway.
As he drove home his irritation was a hulking passenger that filled the car. Why hadn’t anyone filled him in on this detail? Didn’t they think it was important for him to know that Lana might be in danger?
Maybe they didn’t think she was in danger simply because of her relationship with Greg. Surely he’d be a fool to make his next-door neighbor one of his victims.
By the time Riley pulled into the driveway he’d managed to calm himself down. Really, nothing had changed. He was still watching the creep next door and fighting an overwhelming desire for Lana.
He parked his car in the driveway, got out and stretched with his arms overhead as his gaze shot to the house next door.
Greg would be at work today, and he could only hope that what Frank had said was true, that agents were in place there to keep an eye on Greg’s movements.
He walked up to the front door, noting that the grass needed cutting and the flowers were bedraggled from the heat.
He opened the front door. “Honey, I’m home,” he yelled.
Lana’s reply was a scream of terror that iced his blood as he raced for the kitchen.
Chapter Seven
At the sound of Riley’s voice, the intruder opened the back door and fled from the house as Lana collapsed to the floor, sobs racking her body.
She was vaguely aware of Riley rushing into the kitchen, his gun in hand. She raised a finger and pointed toward the door. “He went out.”
“Are you okay?” Riley asked, his voice laced with an urgency she’d never heard before.
She nodded. “Just go get him,” she said between gasping sobs.
As Riley ran out the back door, she pulled her self up to a chair at the table. Her leg was bleeding, slashed in the fight for her life. Thankfully, it was a superficial wound, but the terror that still coursed through her had her heart feeling as if it might explode out of her chest.
Her soldering iron was on the floor and she bent down to pick it up. She’d tried to use it on him to keep him from hurting her, but he’d easily taken it away from her and thrown it aside.
If Riley hadn’t arrived home at that very minute, she had no doubt that she’d be dead. Behind the ski mask the man’s eyes had glittered with a bloodlust that had been terrifying.
She got up from the chair and hurried down the hallway to Haley’s room. She sagged against the door as she saw that Haley was still asleep. Thank God.
The thought of Haley awakening and coming into the kitchen during the heat of the battle nearly cast Lana to her knees. She’d consciously not screamed while she’d fought him because she hadn’t wanted that to happen.
Leaving Haley’s doorway, she pressed her hand against the knife wound, where blood still oozed. She returned to the kitchen and got a wet cloth, then sat back down to clean the cut.
It could have been her throat he’d slit. Tears fell as she pressed the cloth against her leg. He’d tried to stab her several times but she’d somehow managed to stay just out of his reach.
Riley came in the back door, his frustration evident in the darkness of his eyes and the strain of his features. His gaze went to her leg and his eyes grew even darker. “You told me you weren’t hurt,” he growled as he crouched down in front of her.
“It’s okay. It’s not deep. You didn’t catch him?”
He took the cloth from her and frowned. “No. I’ve called it in and the police should be here anytime. Want to tell me what happened?” He wiped the wound, which had finally stopped bleeding.
“I was working here at the table and I thought I heard the front door open and then close. I called out to you and when there was no answer I thought maybe it was Haley. I went and checked on her but
she was still sleeping, and then I decided it was all my imagination. When I went down the hallway to Haley’s room he must have sneaked into the kitchen and hidden in the pantry.” Her words tumbled over each other as the fear built up inside her once again.
“I sat at the table to get back to work and suddenly he was there in front of me. He had on a ski mask and he had a knife.” An alien chill reached inside her to encase her heart and she fought against the resulting shiver.
Riley got to his feet and looked around the room. She followed his gaze. Pieces of jewelry were on the floor and the table was twisted sideways, evidence of the struggle that had taken place. She frowned as she saw a sprig of baby’s breath on the floor. Riley cursed beneath his breath.
“What’s that?” she asked, a new fear welling up inside her.
He was silent for a long agonizing moment that only fed her fear. “That’s the signature of our serial killer,” he finally said.
She stared at him as fear turned to horror. At that moment Haley awoke from her nap and the police arrived at her door.
Within thirty minutes the police had left as the FBI took over the scene. Lana was questioned and her kitchen was dusted for prints. They swept the floor and gathered what they could in an effort to find something that might identify the intruder.
The baby’s breath was bagged and tagged, and agents were in the neighborhood asking questions to find out if anyone had seen anything that might lead to an arrest.
Riley was out in the backyard with the man Lana assumed to be his supervisor, and occasionally she heard his voice rise in anger through the open back door.
Haley was delighted with all the company and walked from agent to agent asking them to play with her.
The horror had left Lana and had been replaced by a troubling numbness. She felt as if her head had been wrapped in cotton and nothing that was going on around her had anything at all to do with her.
It was after seven when Riley walked the last of the investigators to the door. Even though she knew she should get up from the sofa, do something constructive, she remained seated and in a crazy fog.
Riley closed and locked the front door and scooped up Haley in his arms. “Why don’t you go take a hot shower,” he suggested to Lana. “Haley and I will fix something for dinner.”
“A shower sounds good,” she agreed. She wanted to wash away the feel of his hands on her, his scent of sweat and madness that seemed to cling to her skin. “But I was going to do steaks on the grill for dinner.”
“We can do steak another night. Go on, Lana. Take a hot shower and get ready for bed. It’s been a long day.”
She didn’t argue with him but pulled herself up and drifted down the hallway to the bathroom. Minutes later, as she stood beneath a hot spray of water, the numbness began to ebb and she began to cry as she relived each and every moment of the attack.
She leaned weakly against the cold tiles of the shower wall as sobs ripped from her depths. Never had she known the kind of terror that she’d experienced when she’d seen him standing in front of her, the knife glittering in his hand.
All she’d been able to think of was Haley’s safety. If she was killed, would the intruder then go after her daughter? She’d known she couldn’t let that happen, that someway, somehow she had to survive.
Finally, she’d scrubbed her skin nearly raw and had no more tears left to cry. She shut off the water and dried off, trying to keep her mind from what had happened.
She pulled on her old oversize T-shirt, then went back into the kitchen where Haley was in her booster seat and Riley was fixing grilled-cheese sandwiches.
The kitchen was back to normal. Her jewelry items had been cleaned up and packed away. The table was once again where it should be, and there was no evidence of what had occurred hours before.
“Tomato soup and grilled cheese,” he said as she slid into a chair at the table. “The best comfort food in the world.”
She needed comfort. An icy chill filled her as she looked at the back door to make certain it was locked. She could have been killed in this room. That had been the man’s intention.
“Lana.”
She jumped at Riley’s sharp tone. “Look at me, Lana. You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Smile, Mommy, smile!” Haley exclaimed.
Lana straightened in the chair and forced a smile to her face. “I’m smiling,” she said to her daughter. The last thing she wanted was to upset Haley in any way.
“You ready for some grilled cheese?” Riley asked Haley who nodded eagerly.
He cut the sandwich in fourths and laid it on her plate, then went back to the skillet to flip the two he had working.
Within minutes he’d finished up the sandwiches and soup and had joined Lana at the table. “You need to eat,” he said.
She dutifully picked up her spoon and lowered it into the tomato soup, but instead of raising it to her lips she looked at Riley. “What were you arguing about with that man in the backyard?”
“A little bit of everything. We can talk about it all later. Now you need to eat.”
The warmth of the soup did nothing to banish the chill inside her, but she ate it and then carried her dishes to the sink. By that time Haley had finished eating and it was time for her bath.
Lana went through the motions of bath time and kept her mind empty of all thought or emotion. She leaned over the side of the tub and played with Haley in the water, then washed her hair and finally pulled her from the tub and dried her.
What she wanted to do was dress Haley, pack a bag and run away, but she knew no matter how far she ran she couldn’t outrun the memories of those terrifying moments in the kitchen.
It was eight-thirty by the time she got Haley asleep for the night. She sat on the edge of the toddler bed and watched her daughter’s little lips pucker with each breath she took.
Love swelled in Lana’s chest along with the horror of how close she’d come to death. If she died, who would take care of Haley? Who would raise her and teach her all the things Lana wanted her to know? Who would love her and make her feel safe and secure in a world where both her parents had been murdered?
Rachel was a wonderful woman and a loving aunt, but she and her husband had decided not to have children. They loved their carefree life without responsibility. Although they would do their best to love Haley, it wouldn’t be the same.
You weren’t murdered, she told herself as she got up from the bed. Other than a cut on the leg you’re just fine.
She left Haley’s room and found Riley in the living room, a cup of coffee in his hand and another cup on the coffee table in front of him.
“I made you some hot tea,” he said, and gestured to the sofa next to him.
“Thanks.” She sat next to him and wrapped her fingers around the hot cup. “I don’t feel like I’ll ever be warm again.”
“You want to talk about it?”
She gave a shaky laugh. “I spent the whole night talking about it.”
“You spent the whole night answering questions, giving facts. I thought maybe you might want to talk about how you felt, how you feel now.”
She leaned back against the cushion and closed her eyes for several long moments. “It felt like it lasted a lifetime, from the moment I saw him standing in front of me and the time you yelled from the front door. It was an eternity.”
She opened her eyes as he took her hand in his. His handsome features were soft, his gorgeous, long-lashed eyes filled with empathy.
“It wasn’t Greg,” she said. “He was taller than Greg.”
“I know. Greg was at the gym. Could you see the color of his eyes?”
Shaking her head she squeezed his hand a little bit tighter. “No, all I can tell you about his eyes is that they glittered with evil.” She shivered, and he threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him.
She burrowed against his side, seeking his warmth, the assurance of his strong arm
around her. “Do you think it was Trent?” she asked.
“We’ll know more when Trent is questioned about his whereabouts,” he replied. “But you don’t have to worry about that. The agents who are working this case will do what they can to find out who came in here to attack you.”
“What about the baby’s breath? Tell me about it,” she asked, even though she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know.
“It’s his signature. At every murder scene we’ve found a sprig of baby’s breath. I also found out a part of the victim profile that I didn’t know before.”
She felt his tension harden his muscles. “And what’s that?”
“It seems nobody thought it important to tell me that all his victims had a few things in common.”
“Like what?” She searched his face, his tension becoming her own.
“All the women had small children, and all of them had recently married a man who wasn’t the father of the kids.”
She continued to stare at him as his words slowly sank in. “So, when we introduced you as my new husband to Greg, I became the perfect victim.” She began to tremble uncontrollably.
He pulled her closer against him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. They didn’t tell me about the victim profile. There are a lot of things about this case they haven’t shared with me.”
“Is that what you were angry about earlier?”
He nodded. “That and the fact that we’ve got agents all over this neighborhood and nobody saw somebody coming through your front door.”
“So what happens now?” she asked, surprised by how small, how reedy her voice sounded. “Do you think maybe because it was a failed attempt they’ll pick another victim?”
His eyes were dark as he held her gaze, and fear once again twisted in the pit of her stomach. “There’s no way to guess what their reaction will be to this failure.”
“So I could still be in danger?”
“It’s possible they’ll choose another victim, but it’s also possible that somehow in their sick, twisted minds you’ve become the ultimate prize, the one who escaped once but who they are determined won’t escape the next time.”
Wanted: Bodyguard Page 8