Lethal Confessions

by V. K. Sykes

  * * *

  Amy jerked awake, then felt the warmth of the man sleeping next to her. She settled back on the pillow with a contented sigh.

  Seconds after they’d reached her car, Beckett had stretched over the console and taken her mouth with a passion that had curled her toes. Both of them were oblivious to the other people making their way through the hospital’s parking garage. When he suggested they head to his Palm Beach house, she’d made a weak protest that she should get back to HQ, but he’d silenced her with another scorching kiss.

  Once at his place, they didn’t even make it upstairs to the bedroom. Beckett had undressed her with practiced efficiency as he covered her face and neck and breasts with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Then suddenly she was flat on her back on top of his big dining room table, amazed as he sheathed himself with a condom he’d pulled out of nowhere. Then, his strong hands had grasped her hips, and her need had been so powerful, so urgent that she’d climaxed on his first deep thrust. As her body shuddered uncontrollably, she’d cried out and he stopped and held her tight, trailing light caresses over her lips, eyes and ears.

  Moments later, he drew himself up and began to thrust into her with a tightly-controlled power. She moaned as he lifted her legs onto his shoulders and penetrated deeper and deeper, driving her to another explosive orgasm before he finally arched his back and groaned out his own release. After that, he’d picked up her utterly limp, sated body and carried her to bed.

  She rested quietly, his arm draped over her hip. Only a few remaining rays of sunlight slanted into the room as it was almost eight o’clock. They’d slept for three hours, and she’d she needed it badly.

  Amy turned over and gazed at the man who wouldn’t stop storming his way past her defenses. It wasn’t hard to imagine waking up like that every day, with the hard warmth of Beckett’s powerful body beside her. He made her glow with satisfied languor and a host of new and strange sensations. No man had ever rocked her like Beckett. Not even close. And, calice, she figured she deserved to be rocked, at least for a little while. There would probably never be any kind of white picket fence in her future, but that didn’t mean she had to keep denying her needs. Denying him.

  She briefly considered dressing quietly and letting herself out, but she hated to leave without touching him again.

  “Beckett.” She shook him gently.

  His eyes popped open. “Huh?”

  “It’s getting late. I need to get back to HQ.”

  “No, you don’t,” he growled, his sleepy, sexy voice making her insides tumble. “You need to stay right here and relax. Palm Beach County can get along without you for a few more hours.”

  She dropped a light kiss on his lips. “Sorry. Duty calls.”

  “Duty sucks.” He grimaced, then shut his eyes again.

  Amy had barely put her feet to the plush carpet floor when her cell buzzed. She’d made sure she put it on the bedside table before she went to sleep.

  Poushinsky .

  “What’s up?” She reached for her underwear. “I’m on my way in now.”

  “Hey, partner, it’s not like you to go AWOL in the middle of the day.”

  “Personal business, Poushinsky. You know my number, as you’ve just demonstrated. Now, I’m assuming you had a reason for the call, other than checking up on my whereabouts?”

  He laughed. “Right. So far we’ve got nothing new on Gardner. There’s nobody matching his description at any of the hotels we’ve tried. Now the squad is starting to spread out to the neighboring counties. We’ve got nothing yet on the vehicle, either.”

  “That suggests he’s taken off, or he’s dug himself some little rat-hole, like freaking Saddam Hussein. I’m just praying like hell he hasn’t run, because I want this guy’s ass so bad.”

  “We all do.” Then there was a pause on the line. “But sometimes it’s not healthy to want something so much, Robitaille. You should think about that.”

  Poushinsky knew exactly how much it meant to her to nail this serial killer. And his protective instincts were sharp. If Gardner got away, she didn’t even want to think about how it might mess with her head.

  “Yeah, whatever.” She juggled the phone as she poked her arms through the straps of her bra. “Before you go, you’ll make sure copies of all today’s reports are on my desk, right?”

  “Already there.”

  “Then good night, Poushinsky.” She hung up and tossed the phone onto a chair so she could finish getting dressed.

  She had a delicious but fleeting thought about getting back into bed and climbing right onto Beckett. After all, right now there wasn’t much more she could do but wait, hoping for a sighting on Gardner, and the thought of Beckett inside her again sent some sweet tremors to her thighs. But that kind of thing would be the height of self-indulgence, and she’d already indulged herself enough today.

  Back to work, Amy.

  Beckett began to snore gently as she reluctantly eased out of his bedroom.

  64

  * * *

  Saturday, August 7

  12:50 a.m.

  Sentry Force .

  The little sticker on the back door made him chuckle under his breath. No alarm company was going to help the bitch tonight. Like most homes in a high-end town like Jupiter, this one had alarm monitoring. It presented a small challenge, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

  Detective Amy Fucking Robitaille . Why did it have to be a bitch cop who’d tracked him down? It made him want blood and pain every time he thought about her and what she’d said on the TV. Yeah, she’d drive him out of here. For now. But she’d pay a price.

  Oh, would she ever pay a price.

  He shoved the torque tool in the lock, followed by the rake. It only took a few seconds to get the pins lined up before the lock opened with a soft click. He inhaled two deep breaths and shoved the door open.

  The alarm sounded, but it wasn’t as loud as he’d expected. In the semi-darkness, he shot through the kitchen and spotted the stairs near the front door. Taking them three at a time, he reached the landing and looked up to see the bitch standing there. Her mouth open, she flicked on an overhead light.

  Her little nightshirt barely covered her crotch, and did nothing to hide the sway of her big tits.

  Whore.

  Though she looked glassy-eyed, her piercing scream assailed his ears. The bitch turned and ran, trying to slam the door of a bedroom in his face, but he was too quick and too strong for her. Using his momentum, he shouldered the door open easily, knocking her flat on her ass in the process. But, grunting, she kicked up at him, driving her heel into the pit of his stomach and almost hammering the breath out of him. When she lurched for the bedside table and the phone, he barely managed to grab her ankle in mid-air. She landed hard on the carpet again, screaming as she hit the floor. Before she could get up again, he was on her, driving his knee into her back and pinning her arms to the floor. With his strength, the small woman didn’t have a chance.

  “Let me go, you motherfucking son of a bitch!” She wriggled and bucked, trying to roll him off, but she wasn’t going anywhere.

  He laughed. The bitch sure had a filthy mouth. Whipping a plastic tie from his pocket, he cinched her hands behind her back. Swiveling, he shifted his weight and used another tie to bind her ankles before lowering himself down hard on her, his mouth at her ear.

  More shrieks, this time from behind him. God, he hated that screechy noise.

  He whipped a glance over his shoulder and saw her little kid standing in the doorway, his face beet-red. His eyes were squeezed tight as he screamed his ass off.

  “Cooper! Run!” his mother shrieked. “Run, Baby. Run out the front door!”

  But the kid didn’t move—he just kept screaming his fucking lungs out.

  He shot to his feet and lunged for the brat. “Shut up! Just shut the hell up!” He grabbed the kid and pushed him to the floor. “I’m not planning to hurt her, or you,” he said as he bound the kid’s wrists and ankles,
leaving them a little looser than his mother’s. “But if you keep yelling, I will hurt her.”

  He hauled the kid up and put him in a headlock, squeezing his neck until the yelling became a whimper.

  The bitch had managed to roll over, and now she raised her head off the floor and glared at him, her eyes blazing with hate. “You son of a bitch. If you hurt my kid, I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you!”

  Feisty one, that Marie-Louise Wilson .

  The phone beside the bed started to ring. He tightened his arm around the kid’s neck, but the boy started to choke so he eased up. Not enough so he could scream again, though.

  “That will be the alarm company, Marie-Louise,” he said in a calm voice. “You’re going to take a couple of deep breaths, then you’re going to tell the agent that everything here is just fine. You had to go outside for something and forgot to disarm the system first. You make it up, but make it good. Otherwise...”

  He looked down at the top of the kid’s head. “One twist is all it would take.”

  He reached for the phone with his free hand and held it to the bitch’s face.

  65

  * * *

  Saturday, August 7

  8:45 a.m.

  “God, Amy, what if that fucking serial killer’s got them? I’m out of my mind…” Amy’s brother-in-law choked back a sob, unable to continue.

  Amy’s lungs seized as she cast panicked eyes around the Floor for Poushinsky. “Try to stay calm, Justin,” she said into her cell phone, mustering every ounce of her professional discipline. “Take some deep breaths, then tell me exactly what’s happened.”

  She listened to Justin inhale three or four times as she fought a losing battle to keep her own breathing steady.

  Please, dear God, please let there be some other explanation .

  “Cooper’s day care called me around seven-thirty. They said M.L. hadn’t shown up. But she always has Cooper there by seven. The center couldn’t reach her at home or on her cell, so they tried my cell number.” He took a shuddering breath.

  “Go on,” Amy said, nausea gripping her insides like a damn vise.

  “I thought maybe M.L. had gotten sick or something. But she didn’t answer when I called, either. I tried over and over again. I called her work number, too, but they said she hadn’t shown up yet. So, I reached Sammy next door and asked him to check the house, but he called back and told me M.L. and Cooper weren’t there. He said the beds weren’t made, and her clothes were on the floor. And her car was still there.”

  Her legs rubbery, Amy grabbed a corner of her desk. Please God, please don’t let this be happening. I’ll do anything to make it not be true.

  But her gut told her that her prayers would be useless.

  “Sammy was going to call the police, but I told him my sister-in-law is the police. Jesus, Amy, you’ve got to find them. I can’t even think about—”

  “You did the right thing, Justin,” she interrupted, in a voice calm enough that it surprised her. “I’ll find them. You know damn well I’ll find them.”

  “I know you’ll try,” he said in a choked voice. “Look, I’m getting out of here as soon as I can get a flight. I should be home by mid-afternoon. Call me the second you know anything, okay?”

  “Count on it.” She hung up, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might pass out. Breathe, Amy. Breathe.

  When Poushinsky walked through the door, Amy stood up and gave him an urgent wave. What were the chances Gardner would have randomly picked M.L. as his next victim? Damn slim. And why take Cooper, too?

  “I think Gardner might have snatched my sister and her son.” She could barely force the words out.

  “What?” Poushinsky said, gape-mouthed. Then he grabbed her shoulders. “Jesus, Amy. Tell me everything.”

  She let him steady her for a moment before stepping back. “My brother-in-law’s been trying to reach M.L. since early morning. The neighbor checked the house and said her car’s there, but they’re not at home. Cooper’s not at day care, and M.L.’s not at work.”

  Poushinsky uttered a low curse. “But you know the first question cops always ask,” he said, locking his gaze on her face. “Is it even remotely possible your sister took the boy and ran off?”

  Amy gave an angry shake of her head. “M.L. would never do that. And sure as hell not without telling me or our parents. Listen, I’ve got to race home and get photos of the two of them so we can put out a BOLO. And an Amber Alert on Cooper.” She grabbed her cell phone and slid it into the holster on her belt.

  Poushinsky held her arm as she turned to leave. “Amy, this can’t be a random thing.”

  “Calice, no,” she growled. “That scumbag wants to get at me, and he’s going to use an innocent woman and her four-year-old to do it.”

  66

  * * *

  Saturday, August 7

  6:30 p.m.

  Amy paced across the near-empty HQ parking lot, trying to burn off the relentless nervous energy and fear that gripped her.

  Beckett spotted her and gave her a quick wave as he pulled into the lot, finally back from his Starbucks run. She took a few steps to meet him as he got out of his car, gratefully grasping the big cup of dark roast he held out to her. He’d been taking care of her all afternoon, forcing her to eat a few mouthfuls and supplying her with steady stream of much-needed caffeine. He’d rarely moved from her side except for getting her provisions. But she could read the frustration in his eyes and sense how useless he felt.

  Right now, Amy felt useless, too. Despite her confident promise to Justin, ten long hours had dragged by since he called and they were no closer to finding her sister and nephew. The BOLO and the Amber Alert had produced nothing but a handful of false leads.

  The support she’d received from her fellow cops, though, had overwhelmed her. Cramer had vowed to muster every resource available. Her whole squad, including Sergeant Knight, plus a half dozen other detectives had scoured M.L.’s neighborhood, hoping for a break like the ones they’d lucked out on with the Noble and O’Neill abductions. But this time not a single neighbor had noticed anything amiss at the Wilson home the previous night. Like M.L., they’d probably all had their windows closed, ensconced in their climate-controlled cocoons.

  Gardner hadn’t tried to fool his way inside this time, and that didn’t surprise Amy. After all the publicity, not to mention her nagging warnings, she didn’t think M.L. would have let a stranger in under any circumstances. Gardner would have planned on that, so he’d decided on the direct approach—simply picking the lock on the back door. The alarm monitoring company confirmed that a door alarm went off at twelve fifty-two a.m. When the operator called, M.L. had told him she’d forgotten to disarm the system when she went outside to get some something she’d left in the lanai.

  That was total bullshit. Gardner would have had a gun to her head—or to Cooper’s—when M.L. answered that call. Amy hadn’t been able to get that mental picture out of her head. Cooper’s bewildered cries and M.L.’s frantic sobs. The utter terror that must have filled her sister’s mind and body.

  Amy pushed down the panic that was threatening to completely swamp her. She couldn’t let her imagination spin out of control or she’d be useless.

  More than seventeen hours had passed since the abduction, and they had nothing. But, unlike the other cases, at least they didn’t have bodies, either. She took a sliver of comfort from that, but it raised a million questions. What the hell was Gardner up to, anyway?

  Completely distracted, she gulped down the coffee. Thankfully, it had cooled enough that the impulsive gesture didn’t ravage her tongue and throat.

  “What else can we do?” Beckett asked as he draped an arm around her shoulders. She shuddered, grateful for his warmth in the damp, overcast evening. Dark clouds had massed in the western sky, promising heavy bursts of rain, lightning and thunder.

  “All we can do is wait. We’ve put out all the alerts, their pictures are on every newscast and on the Int
ernet, and my team is calling every real estate agent in four counties to see if someone matching Gardner’s description bought or rented a house since last October.”

  “Waiting sucks,” Beckett said, squeezing her a little more tightly.

  “Big time.”

  She rested against him, needing the comfort and reassurance of his firm touch. Right now, she didn’t give a damn that the other cops and civilians at HQ might see them huddled together. She didn’t give a damn about anything except rescuing her sister and nephew. If she failed—if Gardner murdered them—she honestly didn’t think she’d survive it.

  The inescapable, sickening fact was that Gardner would have killed M.L. and Cooper solely because of her. Because she was a cop, and a cop who just had to bag herself a serial killer. Amy would have to live with that weight—that unbearable weight—on her shoulders for as long as she lived. And watch helplessly as the grief destroyed her parents.

  She couldn’t do it.

  As soon as she’d dropped the photos off at HQ, she’d raced down the coast to her parents’ home. She’d wanted to tell them herself before they saw the nightmare unfold on the airwaves. Her father had gone ashen, wobbling on his feet until Amy helped him collapse into a chair. But, like the cop he would forever be, he’d pulled himself together and soon enough was peppering her with hard questions. Her mother, on the other hand, had remained a wreck. Amy had managed to get a tranquilizer into her, and had called her mother’s best friend to hurry over and sit with her while she lay dazed in bed.

  Later in the afternoon, she’d headed to Justin and M.L.’s house, not just to brief him, but to try to offer comfort, too. Amy had never seen Justin cry, and for the first time since he’d married M.L., she started to think he deeply loved her sister. Or maybe his tears were just for Cooper. Either way, her heart went out to him in a way it never had before.