by Deanna Chase
"Hey, I'm here now. It's okay." Jon-Luc stroked her back. "Hopefully they caught the guy, and this will all be over."
He noticed Claude in his peripheral vision, and let her go. The expression in her eyes wounded him. He took her face in his hands. "I'll be right back. I just need to talk to Claude for a minute. All right?"
Angie nodded somberly. Jon-Luc turned toward his friend and led him from the room. Standing in the foyer, he asked, "Did they catch him?"
Claude shook his head. "No."
"Shit." Jon-Luc ran his hands through his wet hair. "What do you know?"
"Not much, yet. David said they saw the shadow of a man by the back door. But he took off and they gave chase. They lost him by the gardening shed."
"How the hell could they lose him? This place was supposed to be locked down." Jon-Luc couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Make sure they search every square inch of the property. The guy couldn't have just disappeared."
"The place is crawling with cops. If he's here, we'll find him."
"Has anyone seen Demetrius or Michael?" Jon-Luc asked.
"I don't know, I will check it out. But before I leave." Claude bent down and pulled a gun from an ankle holster. "You may need this."
"Thanks." Jon-Luc checked the safety before he shoved the gun in the waistband of his pants at the small of his back.
Claude took off leaving Jon-Luc to ponder his next move.
The guards said they’d lost him by the gardening shed. Jon-Luc walked out the front door and observed flashlights bobbing around the property. He had faith they would leave no stone unturned, but he couldn't stand idly by.
He wandered across the property toward the shed where the guy had vanished. On the way, he ran into one of the officers and asked if he had an extra flashlight. The guy produced a penlight and shrugged. Jon-Luc thanked him. It was better than nothing. He walked the perimeter of what they were calling a shed. It was more like a one-car garage, solidly build.
He searched the ground, yet found no footprints in the mud other than the ones leading to the front door, none coming out. Jon-Luc entered and searched for a light switch which he found on his right. He flipped it on, but wasn't impressed by the illumination. Heavy shadows filled the room.
He aimed the penlight to his right and it landed on a large riding mower. To his left were shelves containing pots, rat poison, fertilizer, bug spray, and potting soil. Tools hung on the walls, a proper place for everything. All in all, the room was neat as a pin. The only thing out of character was the floor. It was made from wooden planks. Why not concrete? The riding mower alone must weigh a ton.
The last thought bothered Jon-Luc enough to examine the floor. He wasn't sure for what, until he found it.
Directly across the room was a potting table. Small tools hung within easy reach. Under the table, the dust had been disturbed. He got down on all fours to inspect it further. That's when he noticed the faint lines cut into the floor.
He jumped up and grabbed a trowel, then forced the edges of the wood until he could grip the rim. It was a trap door. He threw back the top connected by hinges on the underside and shined the light into the dark abyss. He noticed a ladder, but his eyesight was limited to the first few rungs. He shoved the penlight into his back pocket, turned around and descended into the hole.
Once he hit bottom, he turned. It was black as pitch.
He snagged the tiny flashlight, shinning it around. He was in an underground cave. It reminded him of pictures he'd seen of mines; wooden cross beams extended to the end of the shaft of light. He followed the tunnel and soon noticed another ladder. He climbed it and pushed the top until it squeaked open. When he emerged, he found himself outside again, on the other side of the concrete wall surrounding the estate. He noticed heavy footprints in the mud and followed them to a set of tire tracks.
Jon-Luc took out his cell phone and called Claude.
"It's Luc. I found a trap door in the gardening shed. It must be how the guy got away. I need you to get a forensics team to the outside wall of the grounds. By my calculations, we're talking directly behind the house. I'll leave the trap door open for them to find it more easily. There are tracks, foot and tire. So tell them to be careful not corrupt the scene. I'm going back in to see where the tunnel leads."
"Be careful, my friend," Claude answered.
"Don't worry, I'm certain the guy is long gone. I'll be in touch."
Jon-Luc stuffed the phone in his jacket pocket, then climbed back into the hole. He shone the light around to get his bearings and proceeded into the unknown. It was quite some time before he came upon another ladder. He put the light in his mouth and mounted the steps. This time when he exited, he was in some kind of closet; brooms, mops, and a vacuum greeted him. He located the door and pushed.
Jon-Luc found himself standing in the chateau's kitchen. Alone. "Holy shit." He pulled out the firearm and released the safety. Although certain the guy was gone, he wasn't about to bet his life on it. With the gun facing the ceiling, he snagged the first closed door he came to and threw it open, then dropped to a squat with the gun aimed into the room. Empty. He closed himself into the half-bath with a sink and commode, then called Claude.
Without so much as a hello, he said, "I need a team inside the house. I can't check this massive structure alone."
"You think he doubled back?" Claude asked.
"Can't be too sure. The passage I followed led me to the inside of the house."
"Say no more." The call ended.
Jon-Luc made his way to the ballroom. Upon opening the door, he searched for Greg. He found him standing by the window. When he spotted Jon-Luc, he walked toward him. The moment he was close enough, Jon-Luc spoke, keeping his voice down. "I want you to keep everyone inside until we clear the house."
"Oui."
Jon-Luc shut the door, then explored the first floor. When he'd finished, he waited in the foyer until Claude joined him. "The house is clear," Claude said putting away his gun.
"Great. Did your men find anything outside?" Jon-Luc asked.
Claude crossed his arms over his chest. "They're still investigating."
"At least the rain has stopped for now." Jon-Luc stood with his hands on his hips, staring out the open door. "When they're done with the shed, have someone pull the riding mover over the top of the trap door so it can't be used again."
"Good idea."
"I'm going to check on the group and give them the all clear." Jon-Luc ran a hand down his face and stared at Claude. "I think I'll insist everyone stay here tonight. We can't take our chances with this lunatic running around."
Claude nodded and headed for the door.
Jon-Luc walked back to the ballroom and made the announcement. The group gave a collective sigh. He found Angie and Lissette. "Is everyone present and accounted for?"
The women scanned the crowd.
"I think so," Lissette said.
"Wait. Did Julietta return?" Angie asked.
Lissette glanced around again, then stared at Angie.
"I haven't seen her since. . ." Lissette's thought trailed off.
"Since when?" Jon-Luc urged.
Angie answered for her. "She left to use the restroom, but that was before we were sequestered in this room."
"Are we talking about Julietta Badeau?" Jon-Luc felt as if ice water were running through his veins.
"Yes, why?" Angie stared up at him and he swallowed.
"Because she's on the killer's list."
27
Jon-Luc snagged his phone. "Claude, check on Svetlana Berggren. Make sure she's safe."
"She has a policeman with her, I'm sure she's fine," Claude answered. His tone said he thought Jon-Luc was losing it.
"Julietta Badeau was here and now she's missing. I think the killer came in and took her. Those footprints outside the wall, they were unusually deep. He must have been carrying her."
French expletives followed, then into the phone Claude said, "I will make a call o
ver to Svetlana's flat. I will ring you back."
Jon-Luc paced the floor while he waited for his phone to ring. It had barely rung once when he answered. "Talk to me."
"She is asleep."
"Did you make sure someone actually had eyes on her?"
"Yes, my man went to her room and checked."
"Okay. What did you find out about Demetrius and Michael?"
"No one has seen either one."
Jon-Luc glanced at his watch, it was three-thirty in the morning. "I want an APB out on both."
"Done. Anything else?"
"Just for shits and giggles, put a BOLO out on Julietta. I'm almost certain the killer has her, but we have to be sure she didn't just duck out because she had a date."
"On it."
Jon-Luc's mind raced while he tried to narrow down the next plan of attack. "By any chance has your crew come up with the type of car parked by the back wall?"
"Just that the tires are wide enough to come from a truck, SUV or van."
"Great," Jon-Luc said sarcastically.
"They will be able to tell more from the tread once they get the molds back to headquarters and run them."
"Can you send someone back now to get on it?"
"I just did. I think you should try to get some sleep. I will handle all I can tonight before I do the same."
Jon-Luc sighed. "You'll call the minute you have something?"
"If I feel you can be of help. As much as I appreciate all you have done, this is still my investigation. I think I can handle things for a few hours on my own." Claude chuckled.
"Right. Sorry. I guess I let the adrenaline get the better of me."
"I understand. It happens to all of us. I will speak with you tomorrow, I mean, later today."
"All right." Jon-Luc put his phone away and glanced around. He was alone. All but one light was off downstairs. He strolled over to the front door and opened it. Greg stood sentinel to his right. The grounds were surrounded by klieg lights as bright as day, and men littered the area, hard at work. Jon-Luc said goodnight to Greg, then closed the door.
When he entered Angie's bedroom, he found it empty, but heard the shower running. He placed the gun in the nightstand drawer on his side of the bed and removed his clothes. A hot shower sounded good. It had been a long day.
He slipped into the stall while Angie was rinsing her hair, eyes closed, facing him. He took the opportunity to taste her luscious lips. His intent of a simple greeting soon turned to passion. The moment she welcomed him into her mouth, the need to devour her took over. It was hard enough to know someone you care about is in trouble, but to see it firsthand and be unable to stop it was crippling. The fear he'd felt of losing her had engulfed him.
With both hands on her face, he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. "God, I've wanted to do that since I first laid eyes on you tonight and knew you were safe."
Angie pulled back, placing her hands on his face. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. If the positions were reversed, I don't know what I'd do." She kissed his lips, eyelids, and forehead, then trailed kisses down his body. When she took him into her mouth, his body fell back against the tile. The things she did with her tongue and teeth were so amazing he almost forgot himself.
Almost being the operative word. He pulled her up and spun her around, entering her from behind. Her hands splayed against the tile, her head dipped forward. He traced the line from her neck down to the crack of her spectacular ass and marveled, once again, about this unbelievable woman. The sounds she made as he entered her turned him on more than he cared to admit.
He leaned down, took her breasts in his hands and played with her nipples. Her head lurched up and a cry escaped. He gripped her nipples a bit more forcefully and was rewarded when she began to come.
He drove into her harder and faster until he felt his own release, than collapsed against the tile himself, his hands braced on either side of her, his body now pressed to hers. The sound of their heavy breathing was matched only by the water cascading over them. A moment later, Angie flipped around and faced him. She lightly kissed his lips. "Thanks, I needed that."
He had to laugh. She needed it? He thought he'd die if he couldn't have her again and soon. Instead he said, "My pleasure. Glad to be of service." Then smiled down at her. Damn, he was a lucky guy.
After drying each other off, they snuggled together on the bed. Her head lay on his shoulder, while he stroked her arm. They both were silent in the afterglow. Jon-Luc hated to ruin the mood, but he had something on his mind and had to get it out. "Chere."
"Hmmm." Her hand stroked his stomach in lazy circles.
"Now don't get mad."
Her hand stilled. "That doesn't sound good."
"I know how important this show is to you."
Her body tensed. "Yeah?"
"And I know the date is close."
"If you call tomorrow close, then yeah." Her head popped up and she glared at him. "What the hell are you trying to say, Luc?" Her anger evident.
"Tonight was hell. I thought he'd gotten you."
Her eyes softened and she stoked his cheek. "But he didn't."
His anger mounted. "This time."
"So let me guess, you want me to bow out of the show. For us to bow out of the show. Is that it?"
"Well, yeah." He placed his index finger to her lips. "But before you say anything, listen to me a minute." Her brows arched in response.
"You told me yourself how crazy these things are. And even with guards around and everyone being sequestered in one room, we still lost someone." He closed his eyes a moment and recalled the killer stalking her. He mentally shook the image away and focused on her. "Chere, now that I've found you, I can't lose you." He couldn't believe he was saying what he'd been thinking all night. "I know we haven't known each other long. And I may sound like a sap, but the truth is. . .shit." He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the ceiling. "Oh, dammit it all to hell."
"That's romantic."
He glanced down, she was grinning. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Luc said.
"Yeah, I kinda am. Just spit it out. I promise the sky won't fall."
"You're infuriating, you know that?"
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
He barked a laugh. "Oh, chere." He stoked her damp hair.
"The truth is, I've never had a real relationship with a woman. I never felt I could trust anyone with my secret, so I put up a wall to keep everyone out."
"Sounds lonely."
"I didn't know the difference, but now I do. You're everything I ever dreamed of but didn't know existed."
"Now that is romantic." She kissed his lips.
That pissed him off. "I'm not trying to be romantic."
"Too bad, you are." She plopped her head back down.
He shook his head. She was not taking him seriously. He was trying to convince her to be safe, but the conversation had turned into a clusterfuck. He'd just given her a confession he didn't intend to give. At least not now, if ever. He didn't know, it's not like he'd thought this through.
"Dammit, chere, would you pay attention here?" He growled.
"I am paying attention. You're falling in love with me and you don't want to see me killed. We're on the same page."
"Love? I didn't say anything about love." This was getting out of hand. He wasn't falling in love with her, was he? How the hell would he know? It's not like it's ever happened before.
"Close enough." She propped her elbow on the pillow next to his head and rested her head in her hand so he could see her now when she talked. "Look. I do grasp what you're saying and where you're coming from. Now you have to realize what you're asking."
"But—"
"Uh, I'm talking now and you're listening." She waited a beat. "This is not a normal nine-to-five job where I can just call in sick. Lissette is relying on me. I'm her right hand. It may sound grandiose, but it's the truth. There is no one who can step in for me."
&
nbsp; "Fine, but—" Angie put her fingers to his mouth to shut him up.
"No, she can't just bow out either. Her career and reputation are on the line here. So, I'm counting on you and the fine French police to keep us safe. After tomorrow night, you can hide me away for as long as you like, but the show will go on as planned. Got it?"
"Fuck me," Jon-Luc said with resignation and closed his eyes.
"Sounds like a great idea." Angie's hand slid down his belly, under the sheet and began to do remarkable things to him. He felt himself grow hard under her expert touch.
He opened his eyes to kiss her and noticed the bed was surrounded. Slamming his hand over hers to stay it's progress, he scrambled up into a sitting position.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Angie's voice sounded panicked.
"We're not alone," he said without looking at her.
28
Angie grabbed at the duvet and covered her naked body. "Who's here?" Her voice trembled.
Jon-Luc covered her hand and got control over himself before he answered. It always took him by surprise when someone just materialized out of thin air.
"Don't worry, chere, they're harmless."
"They?" Her voice had jumped an octave.
"Remember, I've been dealing with spirits most my life. I've never been hurt once."
Angie frowned. "Wish I could say the same," she mumbled, then a little louder. "What do you see?"
Jon-Luc knew he couldn't tell her in detail. The ghastly scene surrounding them now was the stuff of nightmares. God knows he'd had a few in his life. "I guess you would say the Seine Slasher's victims." He gulped.
"All of them?" she asked.
He shrugged. "As far as I know."
"Well, what do they look like?"
"Um." He glanced at Angie, then scanned the room. Front and center was Genevieve, the leader of the pack, so to speak. She stood directly at the foot of the bed, black holes for eyes, blood slipping down her arms in rivulets. Each victim looked worse then the last. His eyes settled on Julietta; the killer had indeed snatched her. He couldn't begin to describe the carnage that had once resembled a human being, so he said, "Dead."