If Looks Could Kill

by Heather Graham

  He was watching her intently as she spoke. Thinking what a witch she was?

  She looked back to Jimmy. “When I was in the water, off Dad’s boat, diving down toward the arm…I had a flash of something. Something very similar. A girl. A very pretty young redhead. Lots of energy—and faith in her fellow man and woman. Open, trusting. She knew the person she was with. She was excited. She expected to be having a lot of fun. I saw a room, a typical hotel room. Not grungy, not luxurious. Bed, Bible, black phone, TV remote changer. Same pretty red hair, same smile, same emotion. It could easily be the same girl. I saw her happy as a lark, and then…then the flash of a knife. She was killed in that room.”

  “Does it coincide with your other dream?” Jimmy asked Madison.

  “What dream?” Kyle demanded harshly.

  “Friday—Madison had one of her strange dreams and called me. I didn’t involve her in this because I like to make her miserable, Kyle,” Jimmy said.

  Kyle looked at Madison. “Anything else you haven’t told me?”

  “I had a dream,” she murmured. “You don’t like to hear about my dreams.”

  “Well, I’d damned well better hear about them now!” he snapped.

  Jimmy cleared his throat. “You are helpful, Madison. Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

  “Has there been an identification on the head yet?” Madison asked.

  “Not yet. It’s only Monday morning. Preliminary investigations suggest that she was killed sometime Friday—” He broke off, flushing as both Madison and Kyle realized that she had probably been killed at a time corresponding to Madison’s dream. “But,” Jimmy continued uncomfortably, “the head was thrown in the water. Two kids fishing in a canal found it. We’re waiting on a match-up with a missing-persons report.”

  Madison nodded.

  “We’re also waiting to get the arm in. The Monroe authorities said they’d be glad to turn it over—other counties like it best when we keep the grisly murders here in Dade,” he said with a wince.

  “But if she was killed in a hotel room in the Keys—”

  “The head came from Dade.”

  “The woman had lots of other body parts,” Kyle murmured.

  “We’ll have to see where they turn up,” Jimmy responded. He shook his head, looking at Kyle. “Jeez, we’ve got to catch this guy.

  “Is Jassy here? Has she been assigned to this case?” Madison asked.

  “Jassy’s in the lab right now. I’m sure the head man will give her a crack at it. I mean, I’m sure the chief medical examiner will let her have a look and…Oh, jeez…”

  A lab tech stuck his head into the lounge area. “Lieutenant Gates? Dr. Sibley has a report for you on the drifter who came in last week. Says he knows you’re here on other business, but if you’ve got a few minutes…?”

  “Sure, sure,” Jimmy said absently. “Madison, can you give me a few minutes? I hate to keep you at the morgue—”

  “I’ll get her home,” Kyle said.

  “Hey, guys, I can just grab a cab,” Madison said. “Kyle, you might want to hear whatever Dr. Sibley—”

  “No, that’s all right, he doesn’t need to be here for this,” Jimmy said. “This one’s totally unrelated. This guy had no ID, he’s almost as old as Moses, and I think he got bumped over the head for the ten bucks he had just panhandled. Kyle can get you home, no problem.”

  “Thanks,” Madison murmured.

  Kyle escorted her out.

  It was a spectacular day. Brilliant sunlight, incredibly blue sky.

  “How about some lunch?” Kyle asked, once he had her seated in his rental car and was jockeying out of his parking space.

  “I thought you were mad at me?”

  “I am. Lunch?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Lunch?”

  He shrugged, a half smile curving his lip. “All right. How about a drink?”

  “Can you drink on duty?”

  “I could probably manage a beer.”

  “Sure you want to take a chance giving a drink to someone as susceptible to the intoxicating properties of alcohol as me?”

  His smile deepened. “Yeah, I’m willing.”

  She looked forward, at the traffic ahead. “Sorry, it’s too early for me.”

  “Be daring.”

  “I have to pick up my daughter.”

  “I’ll pick her up.”

  “It’s your first day on assignment.”

  “What time does Carrie Anne get out of kindergarten?”

  “Two o’clock.”

  “I’ll be back on the job by two-thirty. I started this morning at six, and I’m my own boss on this one.”

  Madison still hesitated. He thought of her as an intrusive witch—when he wasn’t trying to pretend that she was a complete quack. Being near him was pure torture.

  When she was near him…

  She simply wanted him. Sex. Only sex, of course.

  But there was a possibility that he was carrying on an affair with her sister.

  She shrugged. They would talk, have a drink. She could surely manage to be courteous for that long. “One drink.”

  “And by then, you may be hungry.”

  She thought about the head.

  “I may never be hungry.”

  He drove out the causeway to Key Biscayne, stopping at a place that sat directly on the water. They had their drinks, two microbrews, outside at a wrought-iron table and watched as pelicans swooped hopefully around the pleasure craft out on the bay.

  Madison was looking out over the water when she felt the intensity of his eyes.

  Behind dark glasses.

  He was a “suit” today, wearing a stereotypical pinstripe shirt, rep tie and a deep navy suit cut handsomely to the proportions of his body. It was very sunny; she was wearing shades, too. Still, it felt as if he were staring right through her.

  “Damn Jimmy,” he said softly, shaking his head. “And damn you. If he doesn’t involve you, you involve yourself. But he shouldn’t allow it.”

  She looked away from him, swallowing her beer. “Kyle, you’ve been away a long time. Jimmy’s been a friend for years. He’s never abused the relationship.”

  “And I thought you were busy playing singer-slash-model.”

  “I do model. And I love jamming with the band.”

  “It’s just jamming?”

  “That and some demo material. Touring doesn’t work well with the concept of family.”

  “The modeling takes you out of town.”

  “When I’ve got the time.”

  “Amazing. You could probably have two flourishing careers and you rein back on both of them.”

  “I have a daughter.”

  “And you don’t want to be famous. Like your mother.”

  She stared at him. “I hear you draw exceptionally well.”

  He stared at her for a very long moment, a slow, rueful smile curving his lip at last. He lifted his microbrew to the sun. “Touché—maybe. I’m not even sure myself.”

  “Have you used your drawing in your work?”

  “On occasion. Computers have really changed everything, you know.”

  “Computers still have to be programmed.”

  “True.” He was staring at her again, shaking his head. “I didn’t want Jimmy calling you on this one.”

  “I think you already told him that.”

  “I don’t think either of you listened.”

  “Look, Kyle, there’s no real difference between this case and any other.”

  “There is a difference.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Feelings of hocus-pocus?” she asked, taunting him.

  Then she sighed. “Look, Kyle, I can’t begin to understand all that you’ve learned about the psychology of killers, but this man mutilates people and chops them up, so he’s probably as psychotic as they come—”

  “Or smart,” Kyle suggested.

  “Sick.”

  “Sick—and smart.” H
e sighed, folding his hands together. “The two can go hand in hand. And if you look at the law, no matter how sick something may be, the person doing it may be judged sane and responsible for his actions, depending on his understanding of them at the time. Bundy was sick—and judged sane to stand trial. Cutting up a body and disposing of it with weighted bricks or in the muck of the Everglades is bizarre, but think of the Everglades. Things can disappear there forever. Between what we’ve found and what witnesses have told us about the victims, we know we’re talking about someone who chooses his victims carefully and is charming enough to get them exactly where he wants them.” He shrugged, lifting his hands. “Look, Miami recently had Conde—who killed prostitutes. But to the best of my knowledge, you haven’t been turning tricks on Eighth Street, so it’s quite unlikely you could have been a victim of his. But this guy…”

  “Kyle! There are more than three million people in this area! Why would I be in particular danger?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t like it.”

  He smiled at her suddenly, swirling his beer. “What a world! Some murders are just as sad and terrible as others—but easier to solve. I remember one down here years ago, when a young cop comes down the street and sees a naked guy walking around with a severed head. He tries to throw the head at the cop. Lucky for the cop, he misses. It was his girlfriend, but he said she was the devil. He’d stabbed her over a hundred times before severing her head. There’s a crime of passion for you. Heartbreaking for the poor girl’s family, but you’ve got your killer quick. People can shake their heads and sympathize, but they can sleep at night, as well. This guy is dangerous because he doesn’t go walking around naked, he doesn’t carry a head, he doesn’t suggest that his victims are the devil. Whatever his fantasies are, he keeps them hidden. He leads a normal life. He’s smart. He probably lives alone. He has his own transportation easily available. He might have started off pulling the wings off of flies as a kid, throwing rocks at dogs, burning kittens. Whatever he started with, he escalated to murder. And he’s enjoying the hell out of himself right now, knowing that he’s left very few clues and that the cops are going to be scrambling all over themselves trying to find him.” He hesitated, then winced. “Well, I guess I haven’t done a lot to make you hungry enough for lunch.”

  She smiled. “We can order.”

  They went inside. Kyle ordered snapper; she opted for the grilled mahimahi.

  “So Darryl’s down,” Kyle murmured, taking a swallow of coffee. “How does that work out?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked warily.

  But there didn’t seem to be any underlying insinuation to the question; his glasses were off, and he seemed to be asking out of concern and curiosity. “Carrie Anne. She’s a very sweet, charming and outgoing child—and she seems to have a wonderful relationship with you both.”

  Madison smiled. “Thanks. We’re lucky. Really lucky. Neither one of us played any games with Carrie Anne or tried to use her to hurt the other. Darryl adores her, and he’s a great father. Until kindergarten, he had her one week out of four. I’d fly up with her and leave her with him, then he’d fly back with her and leave her with me. Now that she’s starting ‘big kids’ school,’ as she calls it, we’ve worked around her schedule. When there’s a holiday or they have teacher-conference days, she goes up to see him. I didn’t have that much of a chance to talk to him the other night, but it seems he’s going to be working down here for several weeks, at least. Which is great. Carrie Anne will get to spend a lot of time with him.”

  “And do you spend time with them, as well?”

  Madison arched a brow, sipping her iced tea. “Sometimes,” she informed him.

  “Why the divorce?”

  “None of your business.” She took another sip of tea. “How about you?” she suddenly demanded.

  “Me, what?”

  “No steady woman in your life?”

  His smile faded, and he shrugged, attacking his salad with sudden interest. “No.”

  “You’ve become celibate?”

  He looked at her. “No.”

  “A host of one-night stands?” she inquired.

  “It’s none of your business.”

  It hurt. Funny, it hadn’t felt hurtful when she said it to him.

  She pushed back the salad she’d been toying with and folded her fingers together on the table. “No one will ever be Fallon, but sex is a natural instinct, so when the urge occurs, you follow?”

  He looked back up at her. “Is that how you view intimacy?”

  The way he was staring at her, she wanted to slap him. But her heart was suddenly thumping in double time; her palms were clammy, and a hot streak was saturating her bloodstream.

  Instinct, yes. They could manage a few civil exchanges, but then they were at one another’s throats. And yet he was right, that was exactly how she was viewing things.

  Pity they had to talk at all.

  If only she could just…touch him. She wanted to feel his flesh, his lips against her skin. It had been a very long time….

  She felt her cheeks growing warm and red, and remembered what Sheila had said to her at her father’s house the other night about her wanting to sleep with Kyle.

  How awful.

  But it was true.

  Get a grip, Madison! she warned herself. And she leaned back. “Kyle, you son of—”

  Thankfully, the waitress made a timely arrival with their check. She was a chatty young woman, and she pointed out the weather—clouds brewing in the east.

  “Spring—it’s just that time of year!” she said cheerfully. “The mornings can be absolutely gorgeous, and by afternoon, wham! Pitch-black skies, lightning to rip up the sky and buckets full of rain. Of course, the great thing about south Florida is that after the rain, the sky is all blue and beautiful again!”

  “Yes, it’s a great place,” Kyle said.

  “I mean, bad things do happen, but they can happen anywhere, right?” the girl said, her smile still in place.

  “Definitely,” Madison agreed.

  “It is going to storm soon,” Kyle commented.

  “Storms are great to watch from here,” the waitress said cheerfully.

  She left the table, hips swaying slightly. A nice girl, friendly, vivacious.

  Like their killer’s victims, Madison thought suddenly.

  She looked from the remains of her fish to Kyle and realized, as his eyes touched hers, that he was thinking the same thing.

  “Think you ought to warn her?” Madison asked.

  Kyle didn’t seem surprised, or unnerved, that she had read his thoughts.

  “Yeah, probably. When we leave, I’ll suggest that she not go anywhere with anyone without telling someone close exactly what she’s doing.” He looked at Madison. “You need to live the same way. Don’t go anywhere with anyone without someone else knowing exactly what you’re doing.”

  “Kyle, I’m not a fool!”

  “Damn it, Madison, don’t be so defensive. We’re not at war.”

  “But I’m all right. I’ve been living my life—”

  He exhaled on a long, explosive note. “Please! Madison, I’m worried about you.”

  “Well, you know, Kyle,” she said quietly, “I was really worried about you at one time, but you were a grown man and there was nothing I could do except to accept the fact that you didn’t want me around. I’m grown up, now, too, Kyle. You don’t need to be worried about me.”

  He stood up so suddenly that his chair nearly toppled over. He caught it, sliding it with a vengeance beneath the table.

  He caught the waitress near the hostess stand and paid the check. Madison watched as he spoke with the girl, being both charming and earnest.

  She seemed charmed in response, but she was an open, friendly girl, and she turned back to Madison, smiling sweetly and waving.

  Obviously she thought that they were a couple.

  They left the restaurant and drove to Carrie Anne’s
school in silence, except for a few brief directions.

  Kyle drove on to her house. Madison was quiet as Carrie Anne chatted excitedly about her school program, coming at the end of the year.

  Kyle was good with her. He knew how to listen to kids. He seemed as interested in her kindergarten program as he would be in some crime-lab technique.

  He dropped them at Madison’s house, and though he surveyed the outside of her Old Spanish golf-course home, he refused to come in when she politely offered him coffee, even though Carrie Anne excitedly urged him to do so.

  “I have to get back to work,” he told Carrie Anne sadly, scrunching up his nose. “First day on the job down here. I have to be good.”

  “You can’t come in just for a minute?” Carrie Anne asked wistfully.

  He shook his head, his eyes strangely clouded, as he reached out the window and tousled her hair. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend the afternoon with such a lovely young lady, but I really have to go to work.”

  Carrie Anne accepted that. Madison felt a strange tremor snake along her spine as she watched Kyle.

  He had meant that. Of course. He had to be wondering if his own daughter would have been like Carrie Anne if she ever had a chance to draw breath.

  Then his eyes were on hers. And she wasn’t thinking about children, or the killer on the loose. She was looking back at him, and the tremors that raked her were suddenly as hot as flaming coals.

  Sex.

  Just sex.

  If they were alone…

  If he was naked…

  Oh, God.

  She waved, took Carrie Anne’s hand, and headed quickly into the house.

  7

  His phone rang at five.

  Kyle reached over and answered it, staring at the clock as he did so. His alarm had been set for six.

  It was Jimmy on the phone. “We’ve got a torso.”

  Kyle rubbed his chin. “Where are you?”

  “Out on the Trail. Right off Krome.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “We might have something. A clue.”

  “Yeah?”

  “A tattoo just below the navel. A rose, with thorns. The medical examiner on the job out here says it looks new.”

  “A rose…with thorns?”