Extreme Pursuit (Chasing Justice #2)

by Alex Kingwell

  A flicker of doubt passed through her eyes. “Maybe he tried to talk to her and they had a fight. Maybe it was accidental.”

  He shook his head. “Your mother’s injury wasn’t accidental.” He reached over, touched her shoulder. “But you’re right. There could be something else going on that we have no idea about. I’ll go talk to him.”

  * * *

  Nicky couldn’t sleep. It was long past midnight and she lay in bed, thinking about Cullen and how his eyes seemed to bore right down to her soul. And that kiss. Her body tingled at the memory and her skin felt hot. How could she have let him talk her into staying here?

  Punching the pillow, she drove thoughts of him from her mind and forced herself to think of something else. Her suspicions about her uncle sounded silly now. Of course Steve Bosko hadn’t killed her mother. Knowing how much his brother loved his wife, killing her would have been like slicing a piece out of her father’s heart. Besides, her uncle was a nice man, not the type prone to violence. It didn’t make sense. She’d tell Cullen this in the morning. Allan Spidell had to have been the killer. They just had to find proof.

  Outside her window, which she’d managed to push open a foot, wind rustled the leaves in the big oak tree in front yard, and moonlight filtered through the branches and danced off the floor. The air smelled fresh, of hay and rich, moist soil.

  Down the hallway, she heard a door creak open, then the squeak of footsteps on the old floors. Cullen was up. She heard the bathroom door close. After a minute, the toilet flushed and then water ran in the sink. A minute later, he got back in bed. She imagined him lying down in the bed. Face down? No, he’d sleep on his back, covers off, maybe with his arms crossed over his chest. He probably slept naked.

  Do. Not. Go. There.

  Thirty minutes later, although it seemed like hours, still unable to sleep, she decided to get up. In the kitchen, she poured a glass of milk, then sat down in the living room, grabbing a wool blanket to throw over her thin nightgown.

  She couldn’t stay here. Tomorrow, she’d go back to her apartment.

  Putting the empty glass of milk on the table, a movement caught her eye. Cullen stood in the doorway, in a white T-shirt and jeans. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  She hitched up the blanket up to cover her chest. “I’m a terrible sleeper anyway, but I’m trying to figure out what to do.” An unexplained lightness came into her chest.

  Walking over, he sat down beside her on the sofa. Muscles rippled under the shirt. “And have you decided?”

  “I’ve decided to go back home tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “What if Allan Spidell wasn’t the person who tried to kill you?” A hint of exasperation laced his tone.

  “Who else could it be?”

  He remained silent.

  She said, “You’re risking your career here. If they find out I’m staying here, you could lose your job.”

  Standing up, he looked at her. “Why don’t you let me worry about my career?”

  She sucked in a deep breath, a tangle of emotions bouncing around in her head. She felt safe here, and maybe he was right. Maybe Spidell hadn’t tried to kill her. Maybe the danger was still out there. But how could she let him shoulder this burden?

  She said, “It’s still not a good idea.”

  His lips were pinched. It was something he did when he was annoyed.

  She said, “I can go stay with my father, if it makes you feel better.”

  “How could doing that possibly make me feel better?”

  “Why wouldn’t it?” She didn’t understand.

  “Until we find—”

  She stood up, the realization hitting her. “You think my father tried to kill me.” The blanket dropped to the floor. Flushing, she picked it up, held it so that it covered the front of her body.

  “I didn’t say that. But you have to know that everybody is a suspect.”

  “I realize that.” She thought about it for a minute. “Do you think I’m trying to cover up for my father?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t lie to me. Do you think I saw my father kill my mother?”

  “No, I don’t. I think if you had, you wouldn’t cover for him. And I certainly wouldn’t have you here if I thought that.”

  Her pulse racing, she sat down again. It was too much. “Well, aren’t I special?” She wasted no effort trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  “Do you want me to the lie to you? Tell you what you want to hear?” Anger made his voice thick.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What do I want to hear?”

  “That Allan Spidell killed your mother and this is over.”

  She scoffed. “You don’t get it, do you? It might put me out of danger, but I’ll never find out what happened to my mother. It’s not enough knowing who. I have to know why.”

  “I want to find that out, too. And I have to look at everybody.” His eyes flashed like fire.

  Tearing her gaze away, she thought about what he’d said. Everybody was a suspect. Maybe not herself, but the list included members of her family. It made sense the cop in him thought like that, but it didn’t make it easier to take. And all of a sudden it seemed the ultimate betrayal for her to stay here.

  Standing up, she wrapped the blanket around her body. “This was never going to work.”

  “Would you rather I was dishonest with you?”

  “No, and that’s exactly why it’s not going to work.” She walked toward where he stood in the doorway between the living room and hall. “I’m going up to pack. Will you drive me home, or should I call a cab?”

  He paused a beat. “Is that what you want?”

  She thought about it. “Yes.” She owed her father and sister so much, especially now. Staying here would be like stabbing them in the back. “It’s the right thing to do. You and I both know it.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so big on doing the right thing.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “We’re talking about you and me, and whether we have a future.”

  Heat flushed through her body. “How could we possibly have a future?” Just because they both wanted to have sex didn’t mean they had a future.

  His eyes went dull. “I’ll get dressed. I’ll be ready when you are.” He headed for the stairs, turned to her as he grabbed the newel post at the bottom of the stairway. “I’m on your side, you do realize that?”

  “How could you be?”

  He blew out a noisy breath. “The fact you have to ask the question says it all.” His voice was a growl.

  “I do appreciate everything you’ve done.” She meant it. A couple of weeks ago she couldn’t have cared less what he thought, but now it seemed utterly important he realize she wasn’t an ungrateful bitch.

  His brows lowered over his eyes as he glared at her. “Don’t say anything.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t talk to me,” he growled. “I’ll drive you home if you promise not to say anything. I mean, not one word.” He wet his lips with his tongue. They were very full and she thought about kissing him the previous night, how his lips had felt against hers, soft and silky.

  But who the hell did he think he was, telling her not to talk? She slammed her hands on her hips. “Fine.” She spat the word out. “I was going to say you were right about my uncle. Of course the idea is ridiculous, but I won’t now. I’ll just be a good girl and shut up.” She ran an imaginary zipper across her mouth.

  Anger flared in his piercing eyes, and some other emotion that colored them as dark as midnight. He licked his lips again and in the next instant backed her against the wall so his face was inches from hers, his hands on the wall on either side of her.

  Those lips were very, very close. Her eyes got stuck on them and couldn’t look away.

  He wasn’t touching her. He didn’t have to. Heat seared through her and suddenly she could help herse
lf no longer. She wanted those lips. Reaching up, she grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to hers.

  His eyes widened in surprise. She nibbled his mouth, then sucked his tongue. Moaning, he lifted her off her feet. She clutched his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him.

  Pinned against the wall, his tongue invaded her mouth. Her nightgown bunched up around her waist and she could feel his erection. Heat twisted deep inside her and her legs went weak. She wanted him inside her. Now.

  He pulled back, his gaze heated. “Are you sure? You won’t regret this in the morning.” His voice was low and husky.

  “I have no idea what I’ll feel in the morning. But I don’t care. This is what I want right now.”

  “It sure beats fighting.” His eyes were slits of pleasure.

  “Stop talking.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom, and they struggled together to lower his jeans, then he put the condom on.

  Need making her shiver, she locked her eyes on his and cried out as he entered her. He began thrusting, his strokes slow at first but then deep and hard as he pinned her against the wall. The smell of him, a sensual mixture of earth and wood and soap, filled her nostrils. She dug her nails into his back, found his mouth again, and sucked his tongue. Waves of pleasure pulsed through her.

  She cried out as she came, her orgasm exploding inside her. He thrust once more, then shuddered into her, crying out her name.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Cullen dreamed Nicole was drowning. She had fallen into a river or lake and he dove in, swam around, desperate to find her. When he finally did, her eyes were lifeless and her body limp. Fluorescent fish in colors of red, yellow, and blue swam in formation, weaving in and out around her. As he reached out to grab her, she opened her eyes and smiled. Then a man swam up behind her, a faceless man. As he grabbed her, a whirlpool sucked them in and she was gone.

  He woke up, filled with horror. It was one of those vivid, awful dreams that had him convinced it was real. He’d dreamed a version of it a couple of nights ago, with the same faceless man.

  When he looked over, Nicole was sleeping soundly beside him, curled tightly into herself. He leaned over, kissed her on the forehead, and then brushed dark hair off her pale cheek. Her hair was soft and smelled clean and sweet.

  “You drive me crazy,” he whispered into her ear as she slept on.

  Ignoring more natural instincts, he decided to let her sleep. He tucked the duvet around her and slipped out of bed.

  Downstairs, he put on coffee. As the water sputtered through the filter, he stood at the window, eating a bowl of cereal and watching the rising sun streak across the orange-red sky.

  Just don’t let her wake up thinking that sleeping with me was a mistake.

  Then the anxiety from the dream returned and he realized there were more pressing things to worry about than whether she’d have regrets. His heart constricted. Melodramatic as the dream had been, a faceless man, a killer, lurked out there. Or woman. Someone who had murdered Nicole’s mother and now had tried to kill her. It had to be the same person. Instinct told him Allan Spidell hadn’t been the killer. That meant he had to find out who was before the killer struck again.

  But how?

  In the living room, he sat with a second cup of coffee and stared down at the pictures strewn across the table in front of him. On top were the ones Nicole had pointed out the night before, and one with her mother, Allan Spidell, and the other unidentified women and man.

  Think.

  The identity of the man Lisa Bosko had been having an affair with was still a mystery. Somehow, all roads led back to that. And so far all attempts to find out who the man was had failed. None of her friends from that time claimed to know his name. It seemed odd she hadn’t confided in anyone. But he’d bet money the guy had been local.

  Looking at the group picture again, he considered one possibility. What if Lisa Bosko had gone out with the guy when they had been teenagers, then met up with him again when she was married?

  The uncle was in the picture but no sign of Nicky’s father. The uncle would be able to identify the other man. And the women. If Steve Bosko couldn’t tell him, then maybe one of the women could point to somebody.

  He would start with Steve Bosko.

  First things first. Cullen was working for the next couple of evenings, and he didn’t want Nicole here on her own. Flipping through his phone contacts, he stopped at Anna. She was working days. He rang her cell phone, explained the situation. After considerable reluctance, he managed to convince her to let Nicole stay at her place for the next couple of nights.

  “You owe me big time,” she said. “Mullen will have both our necks on a platter if she finds out.”

  “Whatever you want, Anna, whatever you want. By the way, any news from the inspection of Nicole’s car?”

  “Not yet, but I may get something later this morning.” She hung up without waiting for a reply.

  At 8:30, with still no noise from Nicole, he wrote a note telling her where he was going and he would be back soon. He didn’t mention the new sleeping arrangements.

  * * *

  Nicky woke with a start and sat up, for a long moment unsure where she was, until memories of the previous night came crashing back. A quick look around confirmed she was alone.

  In Cullen’s bed.

  Oh, God.

  Ears perked, she couldn’t hear anything. After a minute, still nothing. Maybe he’d gotten up, went downstairs, and then fell asleep on the sofa. He’d need sleep after the energy expended last night. She’d read somewhere sex used about as much energy as a short jog. Well, they’d run the equivalent of a marathon. While sprinting. Nothing short of hibernation would do.

  Warmth crept up her neck into her face and heat stirred in her lower belly.

  Flopping back on the bed, she peeked under the sheets. Cullen’s scent and the smell of sex wafted up. She was butt-ass naked. The feel of his arms on her was strong, burning her skin. Nothing had mattered, just the two of them.

  But of course it wasn’t just the two of them. It seemed an utterly irresponsible thing to have done, looking at it in the cold light of day.

  Getting out of bed, she tiptoed down the hall to her room and slipped into a sweater and jeans. The house was still silent as she crept downstairs. Cullen wasn’t asleep on the sofa. In the kitchen, she found a note on the table, telling her he’d gone to see her uncle to find out who the other people in the photos were. It was signed, simply, Cullen, and her breath hitched. But what did she expect? A profession of undying love?

  Get real.

  She made fresh coffee and ate the rest of the yogurt from a container in the fridge. She’d had another dream last night, a variation on one she’d had a few times since she remembered the near-drowning at the lake. But last night another detail had appeared. Her blood chilled at the memory. In the dream, Karina had pushed her off the dock, then stared down into the water at her.

  Shaking it off, she turned on the radio to hear a woman interviewing a park ranger about a possible cull of wolves in a state park. When the interview finished, she headed to the bathroom for a shower.

  Later, she called her sister, wanting to hear her voice, to hear that everything was all right. Karina didn’t answer, so she left a message and had another cup of coffee. Half an hour later, feeling restless, she was contemplating a walk when her sister called back.

  Karina said, “Where in the heck were you? We went to the hospital and you were gone.”

  She ignored the scolding tone in her sister’s voice. “Staying at a friend’s place.”

  “You could have let told us. We were worried.”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  “Where are you?”

  She hesitated. “I’m staying at a farm on Beck Road. The number I called you on is my new cell number, if you want to reach me.”

  “What are you doing today?” The anger was gone from her voice, replaced by a pleading tone. “I
need to see you. I’m worried about Dad.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “His blood pressure is through the roof. He’s worried sick about you. Can you come over?”

  She was still feeling jittery, didn’t want to go out. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Not today.”

  “Why not? What’s so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow?” Karina’s voice had risen. “I’m carrying all the heavy lifting with Dad here. You could at least think about him.”

  Nicky swallowed, didn’t say anything. There was something new in Karina’s tone, a kind of desperation.

  “Just for an hour or so. I could come pick you up. Please, I need you, sweetie.”

  The pleading note in Karina’s voice couldn’t be ignored. She sighed. “All right.”

  “Give me your address and I can be there in an hour.”

  She gave Karina directions and her sister pulled into the lane in a sports car an hour later, just after before noon.

  Nicky locked up, then got in the car. It smelled new and seemed to have as many dials as the average aircraft. “Nice ride,” she said.

  “It’s not mine. The dealership let me have it for a couple of days. I’m still deciding if I like it.”

  It looked expensive, too expensive for someone on a nurse’s salary, but Nicky didn’t know much about cars. Maybe she’d get a loan from their father.

  “Whose house is this?” Karina asked.

  “A friend’s.”

  “It’d kind of a dump, isn’t it?” Karina’s lip curled up in distaste. “And it smells out here.”

  “It’s quite lovely, actually. It needs work, but it’s got good bones. And the smell’s not so bad.”

  “What are you, a real estate agent?” Karina’s eyes narrowed. “Whose is it?” Her sister was persistent if nothing else.

  “Cullen Fraser owns it.” She considered lying but Karina would be able to tell.

  “The detective?” When Nicky nodded, her eyes widened. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

  “That’s me, always breaking the rules.” She smiled, shutting down the topic. “Drive on, sister.”

  The cows were out again, about thirty big Holsteins. Behind them, across the field, a tall silver silo with a dome-shaped top dwarfed two leafy trees and a red barn beside it.