“But, Captain—”
“That’s an order,” he said sternly. “Just because Nathanial may want to play mind games with you, doesn’t mean you’re the only one who can take him down. This isn’t a movie, son. Go get some sleep before you’re useless to us.”
Braydon knew better than to fight the issue with the captain. He also knew better than to attempt to sneak behind the man’s back and continue working. On the way to his truck he called Tom and threatened that if he didn’t keep him updated he would tell the entire force about Tom’s want for Lynda. Once that can of worms was opened, there was no going back. His partner groaned but agreed to keep him in the loop.
The next call he made was to Sophia. He’d only known her for two days but it felt so natural to hear her voice.
“Do you want to sleep with me?” he asked after she answered the phone. He immediately slapped his forehead. Maybe he was more exhausted than he thought. “I mean, I’m being sent home to get a few hours of shut-eye and I figured you might want a place to crash, too.”
There was a small delay before she answered. He knew she was going to do what he wanted to and complain that she didn’t need sleep.
“We found a lead in the clearing. It’ll take a little bit to sort through but Tom and the captain are on it. They promised to let me know as soon as they have anything.” He could still feel her hesitation. “If we don’t get some sleep we’re useless, Sophia. They are good, smart men. They’ll more than make up for our absences for a few hours.” He had basically regurgitated what he had just been told but, he had to admit, it was reasonable. Sophia relented.
“I’ll be there to get you in fifteen minutes.”
They hung up and Braydon was left in the silence of the cab. It had been one hell of a week. He could feel it in his bones. He resisted the urge to check the mirror to see how many gray hairs had sprouted since he learned that Lisa, Amanda and Trixie had gone missing. It seemed like years had passed since Tom had joked about the job of detective being boring. Now Braydon wished he could claim such a thing.
Never would he have thought the young man he had known so little of in his youth would turn out to be a psychotic killer—an apparently brilliant psychotic killer. He imagined himself as a comic book character, constantly trying to battle evil while Nathanial was his nemesis whose life’s mission was to ensure the destruction of the hero. Not that Braydon thought he was the hero. He was just a man with a new job, people counting on him and a madman to stop. Like the captain said, just because Nathanial had focused his sights on Braydon didn’t mean they were alone on the playing field.
The detective’s thoughts slid over to the glossy-haired, green-eyed, feisty Sophia Hardwick. She was a bomb in a sexy, stubborn shell. Most of the women he knew would have stayed at home and let the cops deal with the investigation or, if they wanted to help, they would stop at the word no. Not Sophia. In a way she reminded him of his sister, Amelia. When she had her mind set on something she went for it full tilt, not once stopping to question herself. Braydon’s mother, while in a cloud of grief, had said that it was that specific quality that had been Amelia’s undoing, but he had disagreed and he still did now. Her undoing had been a seventeen-year-old, mentally unstable boy and the handgun his parents kept around for safety.
Wondering about Terrance’s sanity led him to the subject of Nathanial’s. What Officer Whitfield had found was yet another reason to be extremely worried about the man’s stability. Every time they learned something new about Nathanial, Braydon’s concern for the safety of Lisa, Amanda and Sophia intensified.
He ran a hand down his face as he pulled up to the station. He may not have killed Trixie or James with his bare hands, but he was the reason they were dead. The kidnappings, too, were just Nathanial’s scheme to punish his mortal enemy. If anything happened to Sophia... He punched the steering wheel.
He wasn’t going to let anything happen.
Chapter Twelve
Braydon lived in a small, traditional two-bedroom, one-bathroom house in the middle of Gothic Street. Though the name inspired dark images, most of the houses sported a variation of tan, beige, yellow and orange siding. His was a rich cream color with a blue front door and a large wooden front porch. That front space had sealed the deal the moment he saw the house.
The house at 2416 Gothic Street was the first and only property Braydon had ever purchased alone. It might not have been the biggest house but it had hardwoods throughout, nice butcher-block counters, and a backyard that was big enough for a Great Dane. He was proud to call it home, and he couldn’t deny it felt good to see it. Inside he pictured his king-size bed that barely fit the room, the tall shower that he no doubt needed after such a humid day and the refrigerator that was full of food. He sighed. The last time he had been grocery shopping was the week before; aside from a bag of chips and canned vegetables, the food selection was slim.
“This is nice,” Sophia said as the truck came to a stop in the driveway. “I like the porch.” Braydon smiled a genuine smile.
When they got inside he gave her the grand tour, which wasn’t much. The front door started a hallway that led to the back door and screened-in porch, splitting the living room to the right and the kitchen to the left. Behind the kitchen was the bedroom that stood opposite the bathroom and guest room that doubled as his office. She was politely interested as he pointed out each room and once she even complimented his taste. He knew it was her reaching for a generic compliment—his decor was wood on wood on wood with two leather couches thrown in. He was what some people would refer to as “married to the job.” When he had time off, he had higher priorities than decorating.
“Make yourself at home,” he said, walking to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator to confirm its near emptiness. Sophia peeked around his side.
“Looks like you don’t cook much,” she said. “I guess you go out a lot?” It sounded like an innocent question but Braydon had a feeling it was pointed. Sophia wasn’t meeting his gaze. He realized with a smile that, while he knew she was romantically unattached, the subject of his dating life hadn’t been discussed in detail. All she knew was that he wasn’t married.
“I admit, I’m a big fan of takeout.” He shut the door. “Looks like it’s time to order some now.”
“Hold that thought.” Sophia walked to the open pantry and picked up the bread. She checked the expiration date, nodded when it was okay and went back to the refrigerator, taking out the lone pack of cheese. When she made sure it was good to eat, too, she held up both in victory. “How do you feel about grilled cheese sandwiches?”
“Marry me,” he said, taking the hand that held the cheese. It was supposed to be a humorous gesture but as soon as their skin touched, he knew neither of them were thinking about sandwiches. The kitchen became heated. It felt exceedingly smaller and much more quiet than it was seconds before the contact. Her hand, soft and warm, was cradled in his own large, slightly calloused hands. They fit together like two puzzle pieces. Braydon looked down at them, convinced the warmth he felt was a moving, tangible entity.
Sophia returned the gaze, her head tilted up a few breaths away from his lips. He could do it. He could kiss her, let her know that what he felt for her had changed and was still changing. Her sage-green eyes were wide yet soft.
“So I take it you like grilled cheese?” There was an undercurrent to her question. He didn’t let go of her hand.
“It’s grown on me,” he answered, wondering if they were even talking about sandwiches anymore.
A small smile started to form across her red lips. Braydon wondered if the color was lipstick or natural. He wondered what they felt like, too.
Why not find out?
* * *
SOPHIA HELD THE BREAD and cheese as if they were life preservers and she was a drowning swimmer. Which wasn’t too far off in her mind. This was uncha
rted territory she was sailing. The desire she felt for the detective had seemingly come out of nowhere. True, it had been two days since she had met the man, but that still didn’t discount the way she felt.
On the outside it must have looked odd—the two of them standing there, her hand and cheese clasped in his, but she didn’t care. She was mesmerized. Raising her chin a fraction, she was able to get a better view of those calming aquamarine eyes. Something inside her ached as he searched her face. She wondered distractedly what it was. She decided that it didn’t matter. Her feelings were turning out to be just as mysterious. She definitely couldn’t ignore them, either. There was the possibility that their chemistry was a result of their heightened emotional states and desperation to find the missing women. However, there was also the chance that Braydon Thatcher could be the answer to a question her heart needed to know, and, if he wasn’t, she could at least give the man a trial run.
Sophia had spent the better part of the past four years trying to climb the career ladder through Jones Office Supply, starting as low as an unpaid intern. She had liked the stability the job had offered and her focus had been on building a financial foundation and not much else. She had been friendly and had socialized regularly, but nothing had seemed to stick. Acquaintances became friends but not close ones. Once she fell into the sad loop of leaving work to go home to an empty apartment, it was hard to break. She hadn’t purposely secluded herself, she had just worked long, unnecessary hours in an attempt to get that heavenly raise or the ever-elusive promotion. It hadn’t bothered her then, but being with Thatcher, smelling his cologne, feeling the heat radiate off his skin, imagining what his body felt like against hers, she realized there was a hole inside her. It had been empty for years.
Overcome with a longing that raced from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, Sophia pushed up on her heels and kissed the detective full on the lips. She believed she was a proactive sort of woman—if she wanted something she went for it—but kissing Braydon Thatcher had been impulsive and an action she hadn’t intended to take when they first entered the kitchen.
At first it was just Sophia’s lips pressing hungrily against his, marveling at the rough skin. Then, after a moment, he returned the kiss with a slow deliberation. Sophia felt a thrill of pleasure as their lips moved in tandem, unveiling a common desire. It may have started off slow but that wasn’t the case for long. It picked up speed and momentum. All of the desperation, anxiety and fear that the past few days had brought had evolved into a single need for each other. A need that burned red hot between their lips. In that moment Thatcher became Braydon in her mind.
Braydon didn’t drop Sophia’s hand after the change in action started. Instead he used the grip to bring her closer into his chest while his other hand wound to the back of her neck and knotted in her hair. His tongue parted her lips and invaded her mouth with his intoxicating taste. Sophia wanted him closer still. She moved her free hand up his back and around his neck, becoming her anchor in the sea of uncertainty that was the town of Culpepper.
There they stood, intertwined in the kitchen, moaning against each other’s lips, all thoughts of the world around them falling away.
Bliss, as Sophia had learned at any early age, didn’t last forever. Their kiss was interrupted by the loud buzz of Braydon’s phone pulling them out of the moment like a gunshot in the empty house. He dropped her hand just as she released him, though she didn’t want to, and stood back in anticipation. If there was a lead in the case, they needed to know and they needed to know right then.
“Braydon here.” His voice was filled with grit, his lips a dark red. Sophia couldn’t hear what the female voice on the other end was saying. Judging by his calm facial expression, she assumed it wasn’t the call that said they had found Lisa, Amanda or Nathanial. Braydon lowered the phone. “Officer Whitfield found out some more information on Nathanial. Give me a sec.”
Braydon took the rest of the call in his office while Sophia took a minute to try and cool down from the heated exchange. It wasn’t as if she had never been kissed before. She’d been kissed enough. However, kissing Braydon had stirred up a new feeling inside. One she hadn’t expected lived there, but one she definitely wanted to explore. It wasn’t until her stomach growled loudly at her that she decided food was important. She searched the kitchen for a pan and began to make what she believed was one of the detective’s favorite foods while her body rode out the remaining highs of passion.
It had been a long while since she’d been with a man and that relationship had just been overshadowed by a minute of kissing Braydon Thatcher. She put her fingertips against her lips. They were tingling with excitement. She could still feel him against her. It was a foreign yet familiar feeling.
Sophia smiled to herself as she cooked alone in the kitchen. Not only had she kissed him, but he had also kissed back.
“I’m going to jump into the shower real quick,” Braydon said when he came back into the kitchen. His face was drawn, a frown living where his smile had been. It pushed the remaining thoughts of being wrapped in his embrace away.
“What did Cara have to say?”
“Nothing that leads us to him yet, but enough to make everything more complicated.” He sighed. “Let me take a shower, then I’ll catch you up. Deal?”
Sophia nodded. The moment between them was gone, replaced by overwhelming concern for Nathanial’s victims. They didn’t have time for a kiss to become anything more. They needed to stay focused. Though, Sophia wondered what that “more” would be like.
Braydon came back smelling of men’s soap and wearing a white undershirt and a slick pair of gym shorts. He certainly looked more comfortable than he had before.
“Sorry, I needed a shower really badly,” he said, looking sheepish. “I haven’t been home in almost three days.”
“You could have fooled me,” she said with a wink, the aftermath of the kiss making her feel more comfortable with flirting with him. He laughed and sat down at the small, round dining room table. It sat four but with their plates and cups on top, only two could fit comfortably. Sophia bit into her grilled cheese while Braydon started.
“Nathanial was fired from Microne a month after his mother killed herself. He had been caught doing unauthorized testing on a new product for people suffering from severe sleeping disorders brought on by high levels of anxiety and stress.”
“Unauthorized testing?”
“He apparently thought it was a good idea to take it home and use it on himself, which, I don’t have to tell you, is a big no-no,” Braydon said. “Cara talked to a former member of his research team who described Nathanial as meticulous and almost obsessive when it came to this specific drug.”
“What was the drug?”
“They couldn’t tell us because it’s still in the first stages of testing. Which is another reason Nathanial got the boot. Human trials were at least a year away, if not more.”
Sophia took another bite of her sandwich, absorbing this new information.
“Let me tell you why this information is a little more interesting to me,” Braydon said. “Trixie Martin didn’t put up a fight when she was strangled, or at least as far as the medical examiner can tell. Trixie is a strong woman so the ME suspected she was drugged.” Sophia’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped. “There was a welt on her neck with a tiny hole in the middle.”
“Like from a needle?”
He nodded. “The ME sent off the blood work to confirm if it was or wasn’t a drug that kept Trixie from fighting.”
Sophia rubbed her neck, subconsciously thinking of Trixie being strangled. Officer Murphy had met with the same fate. Did that mean he would do it to Lisa and Amanda, as well?
“Was there anything else the medical examiner found that could be useful?”
“Only that she was strangled around Monday morning and the gunshot was post
mortem. Everything else is just speculation at this point. I also think that she was killed there in the field.”
“But her boss said she hadn’t been to work in two days, right? She couldn’t have been killed Monday,” Sophia said, not understanding.
“Cal confirmed that Monday was her day off. She lives alone and keeps to herself so no one knew that she was even missing then.”
“But what was she even doing there? Why did Lisa go to the lot on Sunday, then Trixie on Monday?” Sophia blew out a frustrated sigh. Braydon put down his sandwich and held up his index finger.
“I might have the answer to why Trixie was there.” He left the room. Sophia finished off her sandwich with interest.
“This is a map of Culpepper,” he said, coming back with a pocket-size road map. He put it on the table. “This is where Trixie’s house is.” He pointed it out with one index finger. “And this is where Dolphin Lot is located.” He placed his other index finger on it. “It’s roughly 10.5 miles apart.” The detective slid his fingers across the space until they touched. Sophia still didn’t understand. She shrugged and cast him a look that said “So?”
“Trixie was big on running. When we searched her house there were runner’s medals and trophies everywhere. A lot of those were for marathons and triathlons. The medical examiner said she saw Trixie run by her house almost every day for part of training.” He pointed to an area that was within the 10.5 distance between Trixie’s and Dolphin Lot. “I think the Dolphin Lot road was part of Trixie’s running route.”
Sophia was alarmed. “But that’s a twenty-one-mile run!” she exclaimed.
“Marathons are around twenty-six. Twenty-one miles wouldn’t be unheard-of for her.”
She sat up straighter in her chair. “Okay, so she goes for a run and then what? She sees something she isn’t supposed to? Then he gives her some kind of weird ‘pass out in a hurry’ drug and then kills her before staging her death just like his brother’s?” As she said it out loud, she felt a chill run up her spine. Braydon nodded.
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