by Lexi Blake
“Logan and I have a grid to search all along the valley. Zane’s down there now with Rye Harper. If we find anything that could tell us where the dump took place, it could help.” Nate’s eyes had taken on that steely look he got when he was doing serious police work. It wasn’t hard to remember Nate Wright had once been a top DEA agent. Zane had been the same. Bliss might be a small town, but it had its share of veteran law enforcement.
The door to the clinic’s waiting room opened, and one of those former law enforcement employees walked in. Laura Niles looked slightly flustered, an adjective Stef almost never used for the cool blonde. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes narrowed as they homed in on Nate.
“I have been looking all over the town for you, Sheriff.”
Nate’s eyebrows climbed his forehead under the brim of his Stetson. “Sorry about that. It’s been a long morning. Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions. You used to profile for the FBI, right?”
Laura had been one of their top profilers until an incident that caused her to walk out on a high-paying job. She’d found her way to Bliss, and now the Harvard-educated psychologist rang up tourists buying gas at the Stop ’n’ Shop. She ran her perfectly manicured hands through her blonde hair, and if she had any problem standing in a room with a corpse, she didn’t show it. She’d barely looked down at the body, but now she let her eyes roam over it, a cool professionalism falling over her like a cloak.
“You want my opinion about this?” She stared at the body as though it was a thing rather than former housing for a soul.
He couldn’t quite wrap his brain around it, but then he hadn’t worked for years in a job where death was all around him. Laura, he’d discovered, had made a name for herself by hunting serial killers. It wasn’t surprising that she’d learned to distance herself.
Nate nodded, and the doctor stepped aside, allowing Laura access to the corpse.
She was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her tone was academic, far from the bright, friendly voice he associated with her. Even her husky Southern accent seemed to fade in favor of a flat, professional cadence. “Any signs of sexual trauma?”
Caleb shook his head. “None, but I ran a rape kit anyway. She was in the water for a while.”
“We won’t know how long until we can estimate a time of death.” Nate was cradling his cell in his hand. His face was haggard, and the morning seemed to have worn him down. “I haven’t even figured out when she went missing. Her mother talked to her last week. She was out with her boyfriend.”
“I doubt this was done by anyone who knew her, much less a boyfriend,” Laura murmured.
“It’s too clean,” Caleb pointed out.
Laura’s lips pursed in agreement. “Far too clean. This is an incised wound. It’s going to be hard to determine the exact weapon beyond the fact that it was a knife. The killer stood behind the victim.”
“I thought so, too.” Caleb’s gloved finger traced the line of the fatal wound. “It starts high and ends lower on the neck. It’s also deep.”
“Yes, if he had been in front of her the wound would be more shallow. This is professional. There’s no passion in this kill. It was business, pure and simple, and this man takes pride in his work. There’s a neat efficiency about the kill. You’re looking for a hired killer.” She turned on her heels and frowned at Nate. “Which brings me to why I was looking for you.”
“Laura, it’s going to have to wait.” Nate crossed his arms over his chest. “Right now I need to call some of my old contacts at the DEA. If this is a Colombian cartel, we need to know.”
Laura shook her head. “I doubt we’re dealing with Colombians, Sheriff, unless Bliss has become the battleground for a nasty bit of mob warfare.”
Nate turned to Laura. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She faced the sheriff, looking more serious than he’d ever seen her. “It means I don’t think we’re a hot spot for criminal activity. You aren’t dealing with Colombians, but I would like to know why the hell the Russian mob is in town.”
* * * *
The room was becoming slightly oppressive. Jen stared at the door to the clinic, wondering why it seemed like everyone in Bliss needed to parade in and out of what had recently been designated the county morgue.
“Bad business,” Teeny said, shaking her head. Her little beak of a nose was turned down in what looked like sadness. “I can’t believe it. Would you like some fudge?”
She held out a tray of perfectly cut fudge. She was wearing slacks, a pink sweater, and a lovingly detailed apron.
This was an autopsy in Bliss.
“No, thanks.” She couldn’t think about eating now.
“I’ll take some, Momma.” Logan reached over and grabbed two squares, giving his mother a thumbs-up. “I’m going to take some back for Hope. Nate left her answering the phones for the day.”
“Me, too,” Rachel said, taking three. The dog at her feet whined. She frowned at Jen. “Don’t look at me like that. Baby needs fudge.”
“And cookies.” Callie smiled at them, a huge tray of cookies in her arms. “Stella sent them. Apparently tragedy requires carbs. She’s on a tear. She’s been working nonstop. She made like a hundred sandwiches when she found out the Sheriff’s Department was working on a homicide. I had to tell her that there were really only like five people working the case, but then Zane inhaled four sandwiches, and I just let her work.”
“And you didn’t mention this to us, why?” Rachel asked, frowning at Callie.
Callie set the tray on the small reception desk. “First, Nate asked me to keep my mouth shut.”
“Since when has that stopped you?” Jen asked. It was no secret that Callie Hollister-Wright was the hub for information in Bliss.
“This is serious.” Callie pushed her glasses up her nose. “I knew it would upset Rachel, and after what you went through, it should upset you as well. Besides, I only knew they had found a body early this morning. It could have been an accident. We have a town full of tourists. The last thing we need is some sort of panic.”
“That is very mature of you.” Rachel frowned Callie’s way.
Callie nodded. “Thanks.”
But Jen knew what that frown on Rachel’s face meant, and she agreed with it wholeheartedly. “It wasn’t a compliment. We’re your best friends. You aren’t supposed to hold out on us.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Rachel pointed a finger in Callie’s direction. “Don’t start talking about your husbands. Who did you call when you put that dent in Nate’s new truck? Should I remind you that it wasn’t Nate? Was it Zane?”
“It was you, and you know it.” Callie crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course I called you. You have a really devious mind. I would never have thought about saying I was installing a satellite radio for his birthday and getting the damage fixed so he never knew about it.”
Jen grinned and gave Rachel a high-five. “I would have gone with tinting his windows. See, Callie, you can love your husbands, but your girlfriends are the ones who get you out of trouble. I should know. If you two had been with me, I’m sure one of you would have pointed out what a damn weasel my boss was. Such a jerk. I was supposed to be the artist-in-residence, but he had me doing the stupidest crap.”
“Some men.” Rachel shook her head. “I remember my boss at my last job before coming to Bliss. He treated me like his barista.”
“Yeah, well, Jean Claude seemed to think I was a handy man. One of the last things the bastard had me do was—oh, yeah.” Just like that it fell in place, and she wanted to smack herself for not seeing it sooner. The day before she’d been arrested, he’d had her mess around with the security cameras. He’d complained that the security company would take too long. Bullshit. Bastard. Son of a bitch. He’d set her up, and she’d been too stupid to see it.
“What?” Callie asked, her eyes round under the glasses she wore.
“I know where that p
ainting is.” Jen started for the door. “I was about to give the damn thing to Rachel as a baby gift.”
“Whoa! You were about to give me a half-a-million-dollar, black-market Picasso? I thought it was just one of yours. Though they are beautiful.” Rachel’s mouth hung open. “That’s the awesomest present ever. Way better than the baby monitor that also acts as a SETI receiver. Baby boy’s going to college.”
She reached for her coat. “You don’t get to keep it, Rach. It has to go back, but at least I know where it is. The nasty jerk hid it under the painting I was going to give to Rachel. He pulled the canvas off and hid the Picasso under mine. I wouldn’t be able to tell because he was a dipshit when it came to his personal life, but brilliant at what he did. Of course he didn’t count on me being a crazy perfectionist. I decided I could do better. I painted the whole damn thing again in one night and changed some of the colors. Renard must have called the police the minute he realized he no longer had the painting. Asshole.”
Rachel flushed slightly. “Uhm, I kind of talked to Holly. The one you put back for me really didn’t go with the room. I might have talked Holly into switching it with the blue one. Don’t look at me like that. It’s a boy. Blue is for boys.”
There was no pleasing a client. Every artist knew it. “It’s fine. But that means the others are potentially up for sale. I need to get my hands on that painting. Tell Stef I’ve gone back to town hall, and he should meet me there when he can.”
Callie was right behind her. “I’m going with you.”
Jen brushed past Logan and Marie and out of the door of the clinic. The glare of the sun off the snow made everything seem vital and alive. She loved winter in Colorado, but her mind was on getting to the town hall. Her heart wasn’t going to slow down until she pulled the canvas off that painting and made certain that the Picasso was underneath. It was her sure ticket to getting that potential felony off her record. Once that oppressive weight was off her, perhaps Stef could see her as something other than a girl constantly in trouble.
The clinic was on the end of Main Street. It was quieter here. Up ahead, she could see that the festival was in full whirl, but here, there was an almost eerie quiet. She turned to tell Callie to follow her when she noted the two men standing with her friend.
“Callie?” Jen immediately recognized them as the two men they had seen earlier in the day.
The smaller one with the dangerous eyes was standing far too close to Callie. The big, gorgeous one was walking her way.
“Miss Waters?” His deep voice rumbled out.
“Yes.” She had a terrible feeling that the smaller man wasn’t helping Callie balance on the snow. She caught the glint of metal at Callie’s waist and the way her face tightened. “Let my friend go.”
“I can’t to be doing that.” There was an almost sympathetic look in his eyes, but it didn’t move Jen because the bastard still had a gun in his hand. “You have something that belong to my employer.”
Jen took a deep breath. Trouble, it seemed, just kept finding her.
Chapter Thirteen
Alexei stepped close to the brunette, who now resembled a frightened deer in the presence of a tiger. The fact that he was the predator was not lost on him. The gun in his hand felt pounds heavier than he knew it to be.
“Don’t scream.” Ivan’s voice was low, but there was no way anyone could mistake the steely threat in it.
Alexei wound his hand around the artist’s elbow and looked back at what was happening behind him. Ivan had the woman with glasses in a dangerous hold. His arm was securely wrapped around her waist, their bulky coats hiding the gun Ivan had shoved into the woman’s side.
“You scream and I have no reason not to shoot you. Understand?” Ivan looked down at his victim.
The woman bit her lip as though forcing herself to comply when all she wanted to do was yell. Slowly, she nodded her head. She took a deep breath, and though Alexei could still see the fear in her eyes, a stubborn will took over. She would fight. That small woman, with her sweet face and round glasses, would not go down easily.
“It’s going to be all right, Callie.” Jennifer Waters kept her voice steady. Her jaw firmed as she stared at her friend. “I’ll get us out of this.”
He hated the way his stomach churned, acid rising to his throat. He’d been worried about tears and pleading, but this suddenly seemed worse. These women were calm though afraid, their solidarity obvious in the way they encouraged each other. It was completely different from the others he’d dealt with. He and Ivan had specialized in dealing with other criminals. They had often worked over “partners” in an attempt to get information or simply to send a message. The people he’d interrogated always gave up their “friends.” They begged and pleaded and lied about their partners in an attempt to throw the violence on someone else.
These women loved each other. These women, he had no doubt, would sacrifice for each other.
There were tears in the artist’s eyes as she looked up at him. “I know what you want.”
He had to force the words to come out harshly. “The painting. My employer pay for painting. He is not a man to cheat.”
Her jaw firmed with pure stubborn will. “Well, he didn’t pay me. Did he pay you, Callie?”
The woman named Callie shook her head. “Nope. I haven’t had a single check come in for a stolen painting.”
Jennifer nodded his way. “See, big guy, there’s no reason to go all Godfather on us—or whatever the Russian equivalent is. I can get you your painting, and you can go on your happy way.”
But it wouldn’t be like that, and he knew it. They couldn’t afford to leave these women alive. They would need to kill them, stash the bodies, and get out. There was far too much at stake, and this wasn’t some piss-poor, mob-run rural town in Russia where they could bribe their way out of anything. Pushkin’s name didn’t mean anything here.
An image of his brother flashed across his brain. Mikhail had been a handsome, smiling young man who had never been impatient with his brother. He’d taught Alexei with a gentle smile. What would his brother think about him killing this woman? One day, he would have to stand in front of his brother and account for the things he’d done in Mikhail’s name.
“Move.” Ivan walked behind them, his gruffness letting Alexei know he was growing tired of waiting. “If either one of you makes a wrong move, we will kill you both and then start on the crowd. If you care at all about the people around you, you will behave.”
Jennifer slid her arm around his waist. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Pretend you’re crazy about me. Otherwise, people might wonder why we’re walking so close. We have to get to town hall, you see. We can go in from behind, but there’s a good hundred yards before we can move to the alley.”
He saw what she meant. There were people milling around all over the place up ahead of them. He saw the place where she pointed, a small road that led to the back of the buildings on their left. “All right. We’re just two couples enjoying day together. You can handle that, can’t you, Ivan?”
“I think so.” Ivan switched to Russian. “Perhaps we can enjoy much of the day. I like this one. I think she’s got nice breasts under all the clothes she’s wearing. Let’s get the painting and then go back to the motel. We can enjoy their bodies before we kill them, my friend.”
He could taste the bile in his throat but forced himself to laugh and agree with the man he hated. How much? How much of his own soul was he willing to give up? Panic threatened as he started to walk Jennifer toward the opposite side of the road. It was all happening so fast. His life seemed to be coming to a point. His revenge seemed further away than ever before, and yet so tantalizingly close. All he had to do was get the painting and take it to Pushkin.
Nick’s words kept coming back to haunt him. He was giving up the rest of his life, the rest of his soul. If he walked further down this path, there would be no going back.
His feet moved along the ground, the thud
in time to his beating heart. All he had to do to avenge his gentle brother’s life was kill two women after watching Ivan brutally rape them. All he had to do was go against everything his brother ever taught him. All he had to do was give up his soul.
A man in a cowboy hat strode confidently down the sidewalk. “Hey, Jen! I’ve been looking for you. Did you hear what’s going on around here?”
“Be very careful,” Alexei whispered. “He will kill your friend.”
“And you won’t?” Her words were returned quietly.
That was the question that ran through his head. Could he pull the trigger and end an innocent life?
Jennifer turned on a bright, charming smile. “Hey, James! How are you doing today?” She winked at the cowboy who stopped and stared at the four of them. “Callie and I are having fun, if you know what I mean.”
The cowboy’s mouth came open and then closed. Alexei felt a thrill of terror that the man would call them out.
“I thought you were with Stef.” The cowboy’s eyes narrowed in obvious anger.
Jennifer shrugged. “I’m with a lot of guys, James. You know that.”
He shook his head. “Yeah, I heard that, too. And Callie. Biggest slut in the county. I thought I was different. I thought I meant something to you. I was willing to wait for you to wake up to what a creep Stef is, but I won’t watch you go through tourists, too.”
“You’re an asshole, James,” Callie spat out. “And Jen was right not to sleep with you. I was bored when I slept with you.”
“Bitch.” The cowboy named James stalked off without a backward glance.
Ivan laughed. “Dumb bitches,” he said in Russian. “American women are all sluts. Perhaps they will like what we do to them, eh?”