by Debra Cowan
Another check with the secretary at Winston Trucking revealed that Richie was on an overnight run to Fort Smith and should be back late tonight or in the morning. Dallas asked if Winston had an employee photo of Richie Lewis, but the company didn't use picture IDs.
Finally they hit pay dirt at the Department of Public Safety. It was Dallas who convinced the woman in charge to give them a copy of Richie Lewis's driver's-license photo.
It was late that afternoon, thirteen hours after they'd first spoken to her, when they knocked on Christine Liddell's door and showed her the picture of Richie Lewis. The sun had already set.
In the glare of her porch light, she shook her head. "It could be. I'm just not sure."
"Look again," Sam said impatiently.
The girl bristled.
"Please," Dallas urged quietly.
The girl glanced at Sam, then studied the photo again. Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I was so drunk, I'm just not positive."
"It's all right," Sam soothed, though Dallas could feel the frustration seething inside him.
They assured Christine they'd get back to her when and if they had something else. As they walked across her lawn, Dallas glanced back. "Now what?"
Sam stopped and studied Christine Liddell's house. Then he started decisively for his truck. "We've got enough for surveillance. Same MO, same general description, the tattoo. And the fact that she said he was driving a truck cab."
Heady with the thrill of closing in on their suspect, Dallas followed him to the curb and opened her door. "You think Lieutenant Roberts will okay it?"
"Yes."
Inside his truck, Sam put in a call to his boss and after a few minutes, hung up. "We've got authorization for surveillance. Starting tonight."
"We're going to need about forty gallons of coffee."
"Good news. Lieutenant Roberts has put together three teams. He wants this guy before Christmas. Rock's back and the lieutenant's called in Mace and his partner. You and I will take the evening shift." He glanced at his watch. "We can head over there now. Rock's already at this guy's house."
* * *
They'd grabbed a sandwich on the way over to watch Richie Lewis's house. Dallas had met Virgil "Rock" Moody, Sam's partner, and she'd liked the gruff, big man instantly. Then he'd left, saying he'd be back at eight in the morning, unless something happened.
She and Sam had been sitting in his truck for almost four hours. They'd been working nonstop since three-thirty this morning. Fatigue and tension were taking their toll. Dallas to feel the aching muscles in her shoulder and was surprised to feel Sam's big strong hand close over hers.
"Here, let me." There was nothing seductive in his tone, but a flurry of heat sparked in Dallas's belly anyway.
She dropped her hand to her lap, bowed her head and gave herself up to the deep massage of his fingers. Slowly he kneaded away the tension, the ache of her muscles, leaving behind a warm looseness.
"That feels wonderful," she groaned.
She thought she felt him stiffen, but then couldn't be sure.
"We should be at a movie or something." He chuckled. "How many guys would take you on a stakeout?"
She lifted her head slightly to look at him. "A movie? Like a date?"
He shrugged, his hand falling from her shoulder to fist against his thigh. "Yeah."
"Are we dating?" She couldn't help the surprised skepticism in her voice.
He hesitated long enough that her head came up. Her gaze locked with his and anticipation drummed along her nerves.
His Adam's apple bobbed. "We could be."
He sounded as uncertain as ever.
She'd so been hoping he would come to a decision about them, but perhaps it was too soon. Disappointment stabbed at her and she blinked back a sudden burn of tears. She laughed to cover the unexpected emotion. "I suppose so."
"Dallas?" Her name was almost a plea.
Unable to look at him, she stared out the window. And straightened. "Hey, here comes Lewis."
Whatever Sam had been about to say was lost as they followed their suspect to the Rodeo.
Dallas put her hurt aside and concentrated on Lewis. "This is the bar where the second victim was picked up. Looks like we were right about him starting the pattern over."
"Yeah." Sam's excitement was as palpable as hers. They parked and followed him inside at a discreet distance, taking a table across from the bar so they could see him clearly. The hours ticked away, draining their enthusiasm and their certainty that something was about to happen.
When the bar closed in the early-morning hours, Richie Lewis went home. Alone.
Sam checked in with Lieutenant Roberts, who ordered them to go home and get some sleep. Sam and Dallas were to report back this afternoon at four. Mace and his partner, O'Kelly, were now in place at Richie Lewis's house.
When Sam pulled into Carrie's drive, Dallas knew another ten cups of coffee wouldn't have kept her eyes open. The emotions of the last two days with Sam and the middle-of-the-night call about Christine Liddell had combined to wear Dallas flat out. Sam had to be as exhausted as she was.
His eyes were as bloodshot as hers felt, his features haggard and worn. Exhaustion had worked its way through her, leaving her brain fuzzy and her muscles limp.
He scrubbed a hand across his face and said in a grainy voice, "See you this afternoon."
She nodded. "Around three?"
"Yeah." He glanced at his watch. "It's about three-thirty in the morning. That gives us about twelve hours. Try to get some sleep. I have a feeling we'll be out late again tonight."
"All right."
She opened her door, then Sam's hand closed over her arm. "Good work today, Dallas."
"You, too." She looked over at him, wanting to smooth away the fatigue and anxiety on his face.
To her surprise, he reached up and stroked her cheek. "This will all be over soon."
Was he trying to tell her they would then be able to sort out this thing between them? Or that it, too, would be over?
"Yeah." She smiled, even though she wanted to grind her teeth in frustration. But he'd reached out. She'd have to be content with that for now.
It was damn little comfort. Without the distraction of working the case to keep herself from thinking about him, Dallas didn't know if she'd be able to sleep. But exhaustion finally quieted her racing thoughts and she slept.
* * *
Sam had slept for eight hours straight, then gotten up at noon, showered and eaten lunch. On his way to pick up Dallas, he stopped at a toy store to buy one more gift for Ashley's Christmas. It was just before three when he arrived at Carrie's.
As Dallas opened the door, she was talking on her cell phone. She motioned Sam inside and shut the door. "Yes, Mom. Sure. Tell Austin I'll see him then. Love you, too."
Sam grinned as she hung up. "How is your family?"
"They're doing great. Austin's coming home for Christmas."
"Where's Carrie?"
"Finishing her Christmas shopping. I'll just be a minute."
Dallas turned to go down the hall and it was then that Sam realized what she was wearing.
Black jeans hugged her tight, round butt and sleek legs as if they'd been glued on. They outlined every curve and then some. Sam's mouth went dry. A savage heat throbbed in his groin.
His awareness of her, latent yesterday because of their long hours and intense concentration, ratcheted up to vivid pulsing life. His gaze scooted over her, taking in the silver earrings dangling from her ears. She wore a red-and-white tailored shirt that veed in twin points below her waist and lay flat on her belly. The shirt wasn't snug, but he could see the full curves of her breasts.
The black ropers were hers, but he couldn't ever remember seeing her in a getup like this before. "Nice," he said, eyeing her appreciatively. "What are you wearing?"
"Do you like it?" She walked back into the room, looking down at herself, then smiling at him.
"What's not to like?" Hunger
deepened his voice and he looked up, his gaze clashing with hers.
The moment arced between them, suspended and electric. A pulse fluttered in her throat and her eyes went silver with desire. She stepped toward him, her lips parting.
Desire gripped him down low. All he had to do was reach out. She would come to him. Whoa, man, he cautioned. They didn't have time for this. They were getting ready to sit for hours on end watching a suspect and they had to be focused solely on that.
He looked away, breaking the contact. Instantly Dallas pulled back, too, masking the invitation in her eyes. Her withdrawal hit him like a physical blow, but he knew it was the right thing.
He forced a smile. "About ready?"
With Dallas dressed like that and sitting only inches away from him in his truck, Sam realized it would take every ounce of willpower and discipline to maintain his focus during the coming hours. His palms itched to touch her. He couldn't take his eyes off her and he hoped he was the only one who would see her this way.
He wanted to get his hands on her right now, pull her into him, cup that shapely bottom in his hands and kiss her until they both lost all sense of time and reason again. Trying to dispel those thoughts, he shook his head.
"I thought I'd fit right in at the bar tonight."
Sam nodded slowly, sudden suspicion snaking up his spine. She glanced down at herself, smoothed her shirt. "I noticed most of the women had on Rockies last night, but these jeans are all I brought. I borrowed the shirt from Carrie. And the earrings." She touched her ears and smiled. "Think I'll blend?"
He cocked his head, finally comprehending the detail she'd employed. "What's going on?"
She frowned at her holster, obviously trying to decide whether or not to wear it over this getup. "I had the greatest idea. I can pull him in, Sam."
"'Pull him in'?" Warning bells screeched through his mind. "As in solicit him? As in let him pick you up?"
"Well, not solicit, but yes, let him pick me up. It's brilliant, if I do say so myself."
"Brilliant!" For a moment, Sam couldn't speak. All he could visualize was Dallas going off somewhere with this slime who strangled women, who had sex with them after he killed them.
"Yes." Dallas went on as if he were just as excited as she was. "We'll follow him tonight, then I'll let him pick me up in the bar."
No way was Sam letting her go anywhere alone with that scum. A fierce protectiveness surged through him and he roared, "The hell you will!"
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
Her eyes widened. "Why not?"
"How about because this guy kills women, then has sex with them?" Sam realized he was shouting, but he didn't care.
Dallas looked at him oddly, as if he'd told her something she already knew. Which he had.
"Why wait for him to pick up another defenseless woman?" she asked reasonably. "I'm law enforcement. I'm trained. This way, we can control it."
"The guy's a maniac." Why was she being so damn practical about this? "I don't want you putting yourself in that kind of danger."
"That's sweet. Kind of," she said with strained patience. "But female police officers go undercover. Why not me? He'll try to kill me before he tries anything else and I won't let it get that far."
"You won't let it get that far? The guy's a total sicko. What if he knocks you out?"
"I'll wear a wire. You'll back me up." Irritation flashed in her gray eyes. "We can do this, Sam."
He clenched his jaw so hard he thought it would snap. "I see you've got this all worked out. Without talking to me first."
"I'm talking to you now," she said evenly.
"I don't like it."
"I'm getting that pretty clearly." She let out a slow breath. "We've been working this for eleven days and now we've got a huge break. Today's Christmas Eve. This is a good plan. We can wrap this up."
"So you can leave?" he said bitterly.
She stared at him for a long moment. Hurt and something indefinable passed across her face. "So no more women get killed."
He tried to rein in his emotions—a jumbled crush of frustration, protectiveness and downright opposition to her plan.
"Remember what Lieutenant Roberts said? He wants this finished—"
"He didn't say anything about you putting yourself on the line," Sam growled.
"I won't be walking in there blind. I'll have backup." She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "What part doesn't work for you?"
She was blatantly challenging him to define what was going on in his head. And he didn't know if he could, even for himself. It didn't help that her plan was a good one. Or that she was trained. "No."
"Get over it, Garrett!" she exploded.
He shoved a hand through his hair, hating the fury that batted at him at just the thought of Richie Lewis getting anywhere near Dallas. "If he hits on you, then what?"
"I'll go with him—"
"Where? His MO is to take the victims to their own home."
She paused, then lit up. "Your house. That would be perfect."
Sam bit back a curse. It was smart. Sam knew the place inside out, as did Dallas. And if Dallas didn't come back here, it would keep Carrie out of things. Still, the idea rattled him. "This guy picks up women for sex, after they're dead."
"I'm aware. I'm not planning on either dying or sleeping with him."
"Do you hear yourself?" he yelled. She sounded so … so damn reasonable, he thought he had to be hallucinating. "You're telling me you feel safe because this guy would have to kill you before having sex with you?"
"That's not exactly what I'm saying."
Was she biting back a smile? Sam was almost positive of it. "Dammit, Dallas! I won't let you do this."
She went rigid. "You don't have that say, Sam. Just because we slept together, doesn't mean you can tell me how to do my job."
"Last time I checked, marshals didn't do this."
Her jaw firmed. "I know how to handle myself in dangerous situations, Sam. I baby-sit hit men and terrorists, drug dealers and bombers. That's my job. I can do this."
His mind raced for another alternative. "We can use a policewoman."
"I am a policewoman, and no one else has worked this case." Resentment sharpened her voice. "Valeria was my witness. This is my case. This guy's mine and I'm going to get him."
"It's not your jurisdiction—"
"Don't go there with me!" She stood toe to toe with him, chest heaving, eyes flashing dangerously. "I've been on the case this far. I'm staying."
Her gaze locked with his—no give, no surrender. Not Dallas.
She planted her hands on her hips. "Admit it. You're letting your personal feelings interfere with this."
"So sue me," he snarled.
"We can set it up any way you want, Sam. You can have the whole department waiting at your house."
"Don't make light of this."
She threw up her hands. "Why is it any different than if you went undercover?"
He ground his teeth. "It is different."
"Why? Because you think you can take better care of yourself?"
Her question hit home with the force of a missile. He and Brad had gone into that warehouse knowing they could take care of themselves, and look what had happened. There had been no guarantees for them and there wouldn't be any for Dallas.
"Well?"
"I don't like it."
"I doubt it's going to be the most fun I've ever had, either." When he didn't speak, she continued, "I don't want to do this without you, Sam, but it's a good plan. I'll talk to Lieutenant Roberts myself if I have to."
His jaw tightened. He understood her need to get the killer. He knew the thrill of closing in on a suspect. Her plan was as sound as any they could execute. How could he deny her what he would want himself—the chance to finish a case he'd started?
He blew out a breath. At least if they did it Dallas's way, he could back her up. And have a team in place in case the guy got hinky. She w
as right. They could end this with some control. He paced behind the sofa. "You'll wear a wire."
"Didn't I say that?"
"And I'll be there the whole time."
"Great idea," she said dryly. "Why didn't I think of it?"
Resigned, he snatched open the door. "All right. But if the lieutenant says no—"
"He won't."
"Dammit, Dallas!"
"If he says no," she finished, grabbing up her coat, "we'll come up with something else." Walking out in front of him, she smiled.
But he shook his head. He hated this. He hated everything about it.
Once in his truck, she reached over and offered him the cell phone. "So, do you call your lieutenant or do I?"
His lips flattened. He took the phone and punched his speed dial.
* * *
Roberts not only approved it, but liked the way Dallas thought. Sam kept his mouth shut about that.
On the way to relieve Mace and O'Kelly of their shift, Sam swung by the station and picked up a wire. After a few instructions, Dallas felt sure she could put it on herself before she went into the bar. If she needed help, Sam would be there.
Just thinking about it made him boil inside. Tension bowed tight across his shoulders. He was ready to catch the killer, too, but not at the expense of her life.
Conversation between them was sporadic and terse. He couldn't shake the dread eating at him, the edginess. It was caused by something besides the fact that Dallas would soon be walking into danger.
Sam refused to consider what might go wrong with her plan. Knowing they couldn't predict this guy's behavior, he would have to trust her to know when to get out. There would be a space of time during the operation—when she rode with Lewis to Sam's house—when she would be on her own. With no contact with him, no communication with the surveillance van. That twisted Sam's gut in knots.
Dallas was pale and quiet and he knew she was anxious, too. He also knew she wouldn't be swayed.
He felt compelled to make promises, make plans for the future, tell her they'd get things straightened out between them. But he didn't know that, did he? As much as he was trying to let go of Brad, guilt still chained him to his dead partner.