by Kylie Brant
But it wasn’t Dr. Sophia Channing, the professional that concerned Cam now. It was Sophie, the woman.
“I really am okay….” she began. But the look he gave her then had her voice tapering off.
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. You’re anything but fine.” He bit the words out, incapable of finesse or diplomacy. He’d have to find those traits again in an hour or so when he briefed the rest of the team, but they were beyond him now. “You told me once that you could tell when I’m lying. The same goes. Last I noticed you weren’t wearing a cape and tights, so drop the superwoman act. Vance beat the hell out of you. The only reason you weren’t raped is because you convinced him to give you time to write a new profile on him. But thoughts of what he did to his other victims were in your mind the entire time. They had to be. It isn’t your outward injuries that concern me, it’s what’s going on in here.” He tapped her temple lightly and she flinched a little.
“As it happens, I do have a cape.” He snorted, and looked away. “It’s pink. Studded with rhinestones along the edge, elegant but not too flashy.”
Dammit, he wasn’t going to smile, although she was clearly trying to lighten the tension. “As I recall, you have a purse to match.”
“Well, it’s all about accessorizing.”
Against his will, a corner of his mouth quirked. She reached over then, laid her hand gently on his arm and Cam froze. His gaze fell to where she was touching him. Her flesh was pale. Smooth. The fingernails painted a pastel color he’d never be able to name. A few short days ago, after they’d found her escaping with Vance’s other victim along a lonely gravel road in rural Polk county, her nails had been bloody and broken from the efforts of breaking out of the cell the man had kept her in. Sometime since they’d been repaired, as if the damage had never occurred. She’d have him believe that she was recovering from all her injuries that easily. He wasn’t buying it.
Rivers of heat traced on his skin beneath her fingers and he mentally damned his response. Their affair had been short and spectacularly hot, but those twelve days had been just long enough for Sophie Channing to lodge herself under his skin, take up residence in the corners of his mind. And he needed to distance himself from the personal to retain his objectivity.
As if reading his mind, she said, “Since this case is on-going, I can be a valuable resource.” When he raised his brows, she gave his arm a quick pinch. “False modesty aside, you need another offender profile and then there’s Rhonda Klaussen to be interviewed. She might be able to shed insight on Vance and the accomplice.”
“She claims she doesn’t know anything about an accomplice.”
When Sophie just looked at him, his jaw snapped shut. That was what Klaussen had told him, but Sophie was adept at drawing out information from criminals and witnesses alike that law enforcement couldn’t. It was one of the skills that had her services in such high demand.
“You know I can be of assistance, so to use one of your expressions, you’re just going to have to suck it up. If I were anyone else, would you still be resisting?”
If she were anyone else they’d put in protective custody, how much time would he spend worrying about her emotional health? The reminder was useless; it wasn’t a stranger, it was Sophie. He stretched out his legs, crossed one ankle deliberately over the other. This wasn’t an argument he needed to have with the woman pinning him right now with shrewd blue eyes that saw too much. He’d have it instead with his superior.
“What’d Maria tell you?”
“She said another victim has been found. That the UNSUB was revisiting her burial site when he was interrupted by some kids.”
“Revisiting.” He settled himself more comfortably in the chair. “That’s one word for it. He was sexually assaulting the corpse. I have a feeling that will be the last time those kids stage a kegger in the woods at night.” He glanced up at Sophie. “So your first impression about there being two offenders was spot on. One assaulting the victims when they were alive and the other post-mortem. Which means as bad as Vance is, this other guy is a very sick fuck.”
If her hand hadn’t remained on his arm he might have missed her subtle shudder at the mention of Vance. “Under the circumstances I wish my theory had been wrong. The victimology concerns me, though. I didn’t think there were any other missing persons cases fitting the profile of the six already recovered.” All of the victims had been single, attractive and wealthy. All had withdrawn a healthy amount of cash from their accounts on the day they vanished.
“There aren’t any cases identical, no. Other women have gone missing, of course. But the case detectives couldn’t be sure they didn’t disappear on their own.”
“Of course as Vance and his accomplice evolved, their selection of victims might have, as well. I look forward to talking to the ME…will Lucy be on the case?”
“She was there last night.” And the irony of Benally’s mention didn’t escape him. He’d been vehement when he’d spoken to the ME that Sophie wouldn’t be linked to this case any longer. Gonzalez had effectively changed all that this morning. And he was increasingly anxious to have a word with the SAC about that.
He looked at his watch. “I need to shower and shave.”
Sophie let him get halfway out of the chair before she said, “Did you really think I’d let you leave before telling me the rest of it?”
“The rest…” Damn. He sank back into the chair. “You and Maria had quite the little chat before I arrived.” Another mark against his superior. Gonzalez was racking them up lately where Sophie was concerned.
“Good thing, too.” She smoothed her hand down the front of her robe. “You’re maddeningly reticent. She said the UNSUB took the bait and entered my apartment. Since she didn’t mention an arrest, I assume something went wrong.”
“Try everything.” Briefly, he gave her a summary of the events, downplaying the details. His careful parsing, however, didn’t stem the outpouring of concern.
“Oh my God.” With a flash of thigh she surged from her perch on the arm of the chair and proceeded to pace. “Is Corbin all right?”
“Boggs wore a vest. He’ll be sore for a while, but he’s fine.” Cam wasn’t without sympathy for the agent’s injury. Even with the body protecting armor, taking a bullet packed a helluva punch. Boggs had been out of commission until well after the UNSUB had fled the scene. “Your couch and the spare bedroom weren’t as fortunate.”
“And Carter.” She rounded the desk, came to a stop for a moment as horror flickered over her expression. “He could have been killed. He has to be traumatized. Livvie must be frantic. I’ll never forgive myself for involving him in this.”
“You didn’t involve him,” Cam reminded her. “The UNSUB did. You’re no more to blame than his dad is for buying him a BB gun that made him think he was invincible.”
“I never should have agreed to the idea.” Sophie wasn’t finished berating herself. “I never considered…”
“It was a good plan.” Cam leaned his head back, pushing aside the urge to close his eyes. Just for a minute. “Almost worked, too. None of us could have envisioned a seven-year-old being awake and seeing the guy enter your house. We’re not going to spend time crying over how things went down.” Although admittedly, he and Franks had spent more than a few minutes bemoaning their bad luck. “That’s the way it goes, more frequently than you might think.”
She was looking at him with an arrested expression on her face. “You said my spare bedroom sustained damage?”
Cam chose his words carefully. “The offender used a gun. We…ah…planned for every contingency. I’ll have someone in there to take care of the clean up.” The room would have to be stripped, painted, and recarpeted. Somehow he’d have to arrange to get that done before she saw her place again. There were already enough memories there to haunt her. She didn’t need more.
“Well.” Sophie took a deep breath, as if fortifying herself. “I take back every complaint I’ve made about the tedium
of protective...” Her voice broke off, an arrested expression on her face. “The UNSUB believes he succeeded. He thinks I’m dead.” She didn’t wait for his slow nod before going on. “This is perfect. This changes everything. All we have to do now is continue to let him think that.”
Chapter 3
“You want to fake your own death.”
There was no inflection in Cam’s voice. Shooting him a glance Sophia couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Vance’s accomplice set it up. I’m just suggesting letting it spin out. If he and Vance think I’m dead, I’m free. No more protective custody. I’d need to change my appearance, of course, but then I could move around openly, which means I can continue working this case at your side, instead of through reports.”
It didn’t bear mentioning how many of the cases she consulted on with law enforcement across the country consisted solely of long-distance involvement. She needed to get out, to immerse herself personally in the case. She had to have something, anything, to focus on besides the memories of the hours Vance held her captive.
She needed to escape the screams of his other victim that reverberated in her mind like a horror-filled echo chamber.
“This is a valuable weapon. If Vance believes I’m out of the picture, he might relax his guard. Courtney Van Wheton is still in a coma.” A tight band of grief tightened in her chest at the memory of the woman Vance had kidnapped days before he’d lain in wait for Sophia. “He’ll have every reason to think he’s going to beat the charges. We already know he’s impulsive and ego driven. A talented interviewer might get him to open up a little.”
“Since he’s lawyered up, the chances of an interviewer getting at him are slim. The first thing his attorney is going to do is press to drop the charges.” Cam’s eyes were hooded. “With your ‘death’, the two main witnesses are out of the way and the case gets weaker.”
“But you have trace evidence proving Vance was in my house.” Sophia leaned against the corner of his desk facing him, falling into the rhythm of debate seamlessly. “The most recent evidence collected by the crime team still hasn’t been processed by the lab, right? If they find proof tying Vance to the barn Courtney and I escaped from, the case still goes to trial. And if Rhonda Klaussen can be persuaded to testify against Vance, she’ll be another effective weapon against him, as well.”
“I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t occurred.” Cam’s admission stopped Sophia short. “For some of the same reasons you mentioned, yeah, but mainly because letting Vance think you’re dead takes his focus off you. You can be damn sure his partner was following orders last night. If he and Vance think the assassination was successful, you’re far safer than before. But I think there are a few details you haven’t considered yet.”
“Such as?”
“Faking your death means everyone thinks you’re dead. Not just Vance and his sidekick. Your parents. Your friends. Neighbors. Colleagues.” Sophia deflated a bit at the listing, hating his sardonic expression as he took in her response. “Reports of your demise would have to be public, because that’s the only thing that would convince Vance. So that complicates things a bit.”
She chewed her lip. “My parents are still in Europe.” A fact that she gave thanks for daily. It meant she had been able to sugarcoat most of the details about her kidnapping. Both academics, Gloria and Mitchell Channing had never approved of Sophia’s gravitation toward forensic psychology. Had they heard the truth, they would have cut their sabbatical short to fly to her side and would currently be trying to whisk her off to their home in Michigan. “I could get in touch with them before any public announcement was released.”
Another thought had occurred. “Oh. And I’d have to let Livvie and Carrie know the truth.” The women were not only neighbors but also dear friends. And after everything Carter had been through last night on Sophia’s behalf, there was no way she’d add to Livvie’s stress by letting her believe the farce. “And Dr. Redlow. Since he’s handling my private practice he has to be clued in so he can decide how to best handle any client concerns that arise.”
“That was quick.”
Sophia didn’t trust Cam’s tone. He took an exaggerated look at his watch. “After planning to announce your death to the world, it took you all of three seconds to start reeling off exceptions. News flash, something like this works only if everyone really thinks you’re dead.”
“You get snotty when you’re tired.” The observation was mild, but her movements as she tightened the knot on her robe were jerky with irritation. “Five exceptions aren’t going to sink the pretense.”
“Five plus most of the DCI,” he countered. He’d given in to exhaustion and shut his eyes for a moment, but she knew better than to believe he’d take any well-deserved rest before heading back into headquarters. “The more people who know the truth about you, the greater the risk that Vance learns you’re alive.”
“Stop being a naysayer. This could work. And you know it. You just said that you’d considered it.” His eyes snapped open then and something in them stopped her.
“Because letting the world believe you’re dead is the best way to keep you safe.” The starkness of his words, the intensity in his gaze had everything inside her going still. There was a time when just a look from him had her heart stuttering in her chest. She hadn’t recognized the woman she’d become in the brief time they’d been together. The feelings he’d elicited in just twelve short days had been thrilling. Frightening. With the benefit of hindsight she could see now how those unfamiliar feelings had impacted her decision to break it off.
It hadn’t been the fact that he was totally different from any man she’d ever been involved with. It had been that free fall of emotion he’d elicited, which she’d been quite certain had been one-sided. For a woman who had spent most of her life making safe choices, her loss of control had been terrifying.
And then Mason Vance had walked off the pages of the offender profile she’d developed and into her life. And she’d learned the definition of real terror.
Unable to meet his gaze any longer, she looked away. “The entire time Vance had me, I felt helpless. Impotent. Completely at his mercy. The only thing that kept me sane was looking for an escape. Trying to outwit him. And now, hiding in your apartment with Micki or some other agent at my side…I feel defenseless again. Like he still has power over me. And I hate that. I hate it.” Her fist clenched at her side, tightly enough that her nails bit into her palm. “Maybe you’ll catch this second UNSUB as quickly as you did Vance. Or maybe he’ll leave the state now that he thinks he succeeded last night. But I can’t just float from one day to the next, not knowing, not doing anything proactive on my own behalf.”
“You need time to heal,” he started, but his words ended when she fixed him with a look.
“I’ll heal by having a hand in putting that bastard away.” The heat in her words surprised even her. “Sitting on the sidelines of the investigation is like being locked in that cell again. Different surroundings, but still imprisoned. You should know how I feel. You hated being kept off the job while you were dealing with PTSD a while back.” He flinched imperceptibly, and she felt a stab of shame for what in retrospect seemed like a cheap shot.
“I’m sorry.” Leaning forward, she reached for his hand. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
But his fingers had curled around hers. Tightened. “I just want to spare you.” The raw emotion in his words shook her to the core. “You may not have suffered the same fate as Vance’s other victims, but you still suffered. Hate me if you want, but I’m going to do everything in my power to talk Maria out of this idea.”
“I could never hate you.” The flare of intensity in his gaze had the words faltering on her tongue. “We both want the same thing. Vance and his accomplice behind bars for a very long time. So we’ll make a pact, you and me. I’m going to present my case to Maria. But if you talk her out of it, I’ll accept my role of sidelined consultant gracefully.” And somehow she�
��d manage to keep her word about that. “Otherwise, you’ll welcome me back on the team with…” She searched for the right phrase.
“With my usual abrasive charm?”
Hearing her one-time description of him had a small smile pulling at her lips. “I was going to say with a similar grace, but abrasive charm works for me. Is it a deal?”
With her hand in his, he returned her handshake. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you lose,” he informed her solemnly.
For some reason his words made her feel lighter than she had in days. “I know. I’d expect nothing less.”
* * * *
Sonny waited impatiently in the back of the rutted parking lot, with only a handful of aspirin to fight the waves of agony eddying from the wound in his leg. Every once in a while a whimper of pain escaped his clenched jaw. It fucking hurt! He hoped he’d killed that cop in the woman’s condo. And he wished he’d snapped that kid’s neck. Then the cop who’d shot him would have been blamed for letting the situation go so wrong. Sonny hadn’t wanted to deal with a hostage and like a dumbass, he’d dropped the kid too soon.
He’d pulled off the headgear, hoodie and gloves then turned the sweatshirt inside out and tried to scrub Channing’s blood from his face. Pain radiated from the wound in his leg. He might have injured himself even further when he’d pulled into an alley after getting away to steal different plates for the vehicle. But if the cop had gotten close enough to shoot him, he might have been near enough to see his license plates, too. Sonny could switch the plates yet again when he got home, but first he had to get treatment. He knew better than to go to a hospital with an unexplained gunshot wound. Which was why he was sitting behind the peeling single story concrete block building waiting for a man he’d despised for most of the last twenty years.