Deadly Bonds

by Anne Marie Becker

  “Your weekly chess games. They’ve resumed, right? I hope so, because he really enjoys them. He’s determined to beat you. He’s been practicing every night on that game you gave him.”

  She laughed. “I thought his technique had improved. The chess was a way to keep him close, get to know him. When he started getting in trouble, I thought I’d failed Elizabeth by not keeping better track of him.”

  “I know the feeling,” he muttered.

  Yeah, failure wouldn’t sit well with either of their personalities. “And he’s so smart and introspective, like you. I thought he might enjoy a game of strategy. So I started it as a way for me to get to know him. It evolved into some pretty good chats, especially about the storylines in his comic books. He’s really talented.”

  Holt frowned. “He still hasn’t shown them to me.” He tipped his head back against the back of the couch. “I have to find something like that. A way to connect.”

  “The connection’s there, Holt. It’s the timing that has to line up.” She realized her toes had migrated until they touched the seam of his pants so she bent her knees to pull them away. “He really is doing much better.”

  “Because of you.”

  “Maybe...but the passing of time helps too. I’m glad you brought him back for another year at the Academy, though.” She chewed her lip before plunging forward and asking the question that had bugged her for a year now. “Did you approve of Elizabeth’s decision to send Theo here?”

  “Truthfully? Not at first,” he admitted after a long moment. “But looking back, it was a good decision. He needs the stability of a strong school, and a strong female influence. Two years ago, none of this was even on the horizon yet.”

  “None of what?”

  “The notoriety.”

  “From your current case, you mean?”

  “That, but also becoming known for what I do within certain circles.”

  Her brow crinkled as she tried to understand what he was getting at. “You mean fellow professionals?”

  “And serial killers.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh. Over the past year, a couple of them started writing to me from prison. Nothing threatening. In fact, some were admiring, inviting me to interview them.” He gave a half smile, but his grim amusement quickly disappeared. “But it woke me up to the fact that I had a little boy who needed me to be both father and mother now. Being both has been a strain, and I see him pulling farther and farther away from me.”

  He was becoming increasingly agitated as he spoke and she felt the need to touch him, to comfort him. She leaned forward across her bent knees and laid a hand on his arm. “Being a parent isn’t easy. You’re doing your best.”

  “And yet our relationship is getting worse.”

  She could see that the distance between him and Theo was hurting him. “He still needs you.”

  “Not as much. Not anymore.”

  “Don’t let his bravado fool you. Inside, he’s a scared kid who wants his dad to wrap him in a hug and protect him from the world.”

  Holt examined her a moment. “You’re pretty in tune with these kids, huh?”

  “Sometimes too much.” John Rochard definitely didn’t appreciate her being in tune with his kids. Neil needed a firm hand to hold him in line as he approached graduation. Jeremy seemed overlooked and was desperate for attention. He’d earn it in a healthy way—on stage, if he were allowed to. If he couldn’t do that, he’d choose less healthy ways. It was one reason she was fighting so hard. “Some parents don’t appreciate my involvement, but I decided long ago that I would be a hands-on, from-the-heart administrator.”

  “I bet the kids appreciate your involvement.”

  “I like to think so. And I like to think I’ve learned some hard lessons, wisdom I can share. I’ve worked hard to make a life I could be proud of, and that included mending fences with Elizabeth. And with you.”

  He eyed her for a long moment before raising his glass. “To healing relationships—all kinds of relationships.”

  She leaned forward and clinked her glass to his before they took the final swallows. The room spun a bit and she put her glass down. “I warned you two should be the limit. I think that was the equivalent of number three. Maybe four.”

  “Guess we’ll find out if it’ll be sinning or spinning after all.” That heated glance was back, but he quickly averted his gaze and she convinced herself she must have been mistaken. Holt Patterson had disliked her up until a month ago. No way was he now looking at her as if he wanted to do tequila shots off her abdomen. Though he was being kind and forgiving, this was Holt My-Moral-Compass-Points-Due-North Patterson, after all.

  “What brought you to the Academy?” His gaze was penetrating, as if it could see into her soul. She wasn’t sure she wanted to share the intimate details of her failed marriage, and the self-examination that had led her to this point. Even the tequila wouldn’t encourage that much revelation.

  “The Academy was hiring at a time I was looking to come back home.” Even if her family was gone, it still had the feeling of home for her. “Of course, they couldn’t say it outright, but the board wanted a woman. Though it’s a boys’ school, they thought a female might encourage a gentler tone here. Things had gotten a little too competitive and nasty, and morale, as well as enrollment, was dropping. Before this, I’d worked my way up to principal at a public school and had the appropriate credentials.”

  “Quite a different atmosphere here, I would guess.”

  “Yes. But I needed a change of scenery after my life went to hell. My parents died, I was married, blinked, and then divorced.” Suddenly cold, she sat up and tucked her feet under her, smoothing her skirt over her legs like a blanket. She covered her awkwardness with a laugh. “See, I can admit to my mistakes.” One of the problems with her marriage to Dillon had been her constantly comparing him—though only in her mind, and she hadn’t even realized she was doing it at first—to Holt. “Dillon and I were completely wrong for each other...but then, I didn’t even know who I was at the time.”

  “Elizabeth missed you, you know. All those years.”

  “I’m glad she gave me the chance to be her friend again before...” Before she died. Sara shook her head and sent the room spinning again. “Boy, I think I’ve had enough to drink. I’ve turned this celebration into a somber occasion. Elizabeth would have had music blaring.”

  He chuckled. “She would have had me clearing the furniture away to make a dance floor.”

  Sara snorted. “Yeah, and we would have been propping up the wall.”

  “Or holding down the couch.”

  * * *

  Was he really thinking about holding down the couch with Sara? Holt put down his empty glass and stood. Time to get back to reality. “I think I should get going.”

  “No way you’re driving. You aren’t sober.” She jumped up, then swayed. He reached out a hand to steady her and felt the skin-to-skin contact jolt through him. She laughed. “Neither of us is. Stay. Unless, of course, you have to get home to Theo and relieve a sitter. I could call you a cab.”

  “Theo’s with my parents for the night.”

  “Good, then there’s no reason to leave.”

  There were many reasons, not the least of which was he needed time to process this friendship with the new Sara. He was about to opt for a cab, but his niggling conscience and the determined look in Sara’s eye swayed him.

  He sat down and tugged her down next to him, if only to keep her from tipping over. She wasn’t kidding when she’d said two drinks was her limit. “You’re right.”

  She bounced right back up and moved away from him, almost as if she were nervous. “Just what every woman likes to hear. You can sleep in my bed.”

  “Just what every man likes to hear.” He was surprised at the heat th
at shot through him, landing in his groin, at her innocent invitation.

  “You’re not every man. You were my best friend’s husband. And I was planning to take the couch.”

  “I wasn’t coming on to you,” he assured her. But he might very well have been flirting with her, just a little. “Thank you. A place to sleep is a generous offer, and I’ll accept only because I’m seeing two of you right now. But I’ll take the couch.”

  Chapter Eight

  The hot water ran through Sara’s hair and over her face, leaching some of the pain from the pounding headache. Despite a touch of hangover, this morning she felt lighter...happier. It was amazing what some forgiveness could do. She and Holt had made a huge step together last night.

  She’d risen early so she could shower and dress before he woke. Then, he could use the apartment’s only facilities while she made coffee. That was the plan, anyway, but as she entered the living room, still wrapping her wet hair back into a twist, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee nearly made her weep with gratitude.

  “You certainly found your way around quickly,” she said.

  Holt took two mugs out of the cupboard. “I thought you could use a cup. I know I could.”

  “It smells wonderful. Thank you.” She took the full cup he offered. He looked crisp and fresh, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing the same clothing as the night before. “The bathroom’s all yours if you want it.”

  “Thanks, but I had my travel bag in the car. Already brought it in and used the boys’ bathroom downstairs to dress.” His gaze ran over her quickly before darting away. “Thanks for the couch.”

  She winced. “I hope it wasn’t too short.”

  “I made do.” His expression was hidden as he took a swallow of coffee. Was he regretting what they’d shared with each other?

  She ran a finger around the rim of her mug, unsure how to go back to the more comfortable manners they’d had with each other last night.

  His next words relieved her anxiety. “I thought maybe Theo and I could sit with you at the family-faculty breakfast this morning.”

  “That would be great.”

  He downed the rest of his coffee and rinsed the mug, then set it in the sink. “No dishwasher, huh?”

  She set her own cup down and waggled her fingers. “That would be these puppies. Magic fingers.” She stuck the fingers in the pockets of her slacks as the mood turned awkward again. But maybe it was all on her end. How had her attraction to Holt Patterson flared up again? She’d managed to shut it down for so long. Apparently, it had been a dormant seed, just waiting for a bit of rain to encourage it to bloom brightly again.

  He glanced at his watch and her gaze went to the hair on the back of his hands. Brown, like the hair on his head, with highlights as if dusted with sunshine. “I promised Theo I’d pick him up at eight-fifteen so we’d be at the breakfast on time. I’d better get going.”

  “I’ll see you there.”

  He paused as he passed her at the breakfast counter. “Thank you for last night. It meant a lot to be able to talk to someone who understands.”

  “To me too.”

  In the wake of Holt’s departure, the apartment seemed quieter than the normal Saturday morning. Sara hurried to straighten up, washing the mugs and coffeepot, as well as the tumblers they’d drank from the night before. She paused in the process of folding the couch sheets, and resisted the urge to hold them to her nose and inhale Holt’s musky scent. She left them on the couch. She was in a hurry anyway, she told herself. She was so good at telling herself what she needed to hear.

  * * *

  The family-faculty breakfast at the Heather Hedge Lodge was located in the restaurant across the lobby from the bar where they’d had the mixer the night before. A fresh flower adorned each table, along with crisp white tablecloths. The students who attended filled up on the buffet brunch—most of them returning two or three times—while the teachers and parents seemed to have no problem engaging in conversation as they ate.

  John Rochard passed by, his two sons trudging behind him. There was no sign of his soon-to-be ex-wife, but rumor had it they could barely stand to be in the same room together. Sara knew the feeling. Despite the wonderful smells coming from the buffet, her stomach clenched up tight in protest of John’s appearance.

  “Hi, Neil. Jeremy. John.” Sara smiled at each male in turn.

  Jeremy beamed. “We get to eat whatever we want?”

  “Whatever your stomach can hold. But I recommend you try a little at a time. You don’t have to pile it on all at once.”

  “We’re not heathens,” John said. “Unlike some people, we practice manners and good morals.”

  She stiffened. He’d attack her in front of the kids? As usual, it was an insult disguised as vaguely helpful advice. “Practice makes perfect.”

  From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a smirk on Neil’s face before he quickly wiped it away and followed his dad to a table. Damn. They were sitting with the president of the board. She should have snagged that seat. But she’d much rather sit with Theo and Holt at a table with friendlier company, anyway.

  When Holt arrived a minute later with Theo at his side, he almost looked shy. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she returned.

  Theo looked from her to his dad but didn’t seem to note anything odd. He scouted out the restaurant. “I see some friends over there.” They found seats with a couple of Theo’s classmates and their parents, as well as the elementary-level English and Social Studies teachers. For once, she didn’t feel like an outsider looking in. She actually felt like she had a family to sit with.

  Don’t kid yourself. You don’t belong with Holt.

  Last night she and Holt had broken through the barriers of their past to form some kind of friendship, but would it last now that the tequila bottle was nowhere in sight?

  After they’d filled their bellies—Theo had returned to the buffet three times—they walked to the parking lot together and stopped at her car.

  “I’ll see you at school Monday,” she told Theo. “You two enjoy the rest of your weekend.” Hers would be painfully quiet after the engaging company she’d had.

  “You too.” Holt’s gaze held hers over Theo’s head. “Thanks again for the talk. It helped.”

  “Same here.” Her heart pulled as they walked away, as if there were an invisible string connecting it to them. Holt had offered friendship. The thought had originally been laughable considering their history, but after a taste of Holt’s friendship, she found herself thirsting for it. He was quick-witted and kind.

  He’s also Elizabeth’s. The angel on her shoulder was relentless.

  The devil opposite her whispered “was.” He was Elizabeth’s.

  * * *

  The woman looked so forlorn that Toxin’s chest tightened with sympathy. His father would have called him a pussy if he’d still been alive. Emotions make a man weak. Might as well grow a vagina.

  Shit. Now he was hearing his old man’s voice in his head, after all these years. He’d have Henry tweak the latest batch. Apparently, he was becoming tolerant to the pleasant effects of the drug, which were intended to enhance the senses and creativity...not feelings. Christ.

  He’d learned the hard way that his goddamn bastard of a father had been right. Didn’t that beat all?

  But the look Sara Burns cast toward Holt as he walked away with his son was nothing short of miserable. He knew that feeling well, and it dredged up old memories. Longing. Loss.

  She and Holt had spent the night at her apartment. He’d followed Holt there from the Lodge and watched him go inside. The man hadn’t come out in the hours Toxin waited.

  But now, Holt left her standing alone in a parking lot, a look of hopelessness on her face? What a jackass. Sara was one ripe woman. Hair like s
weet, flowing honey. Eyes without guile. Curvy in all the right places. A laugh that tugged at a man’s genitals.

  And yet Holt kept walking. All the way to his car.

  But, what have we here? Sara got into her car, and in doing so missed the look Holt shot her way over the roof of his own. She wasn’t the only one wanting more.

  At breakfast, their body language told him everything. They wanted each other but didn’t want to want each other. Or maybe they didn’t even know they wanted each other yet. What the hell had they been doing all night in Sara’s apartment? His studies of Holt told him this behavior was out of the norm.

  Toxin smiled. Sara was something special, and she was getting to Holt. The so-called mindhunter hadn’t even noticed Toxin following him. He hadn’t noticed the prick in the flashy sports car between Toxin’s and Holt’s, either. Or that said prick had crept into the school and spied on whatever was going on inside. It appeared Holt or Sara had another admirer.

  If Holt liked Sara enough to deviate from his self-enforced celibacy, she was some damn good piece of ass. He’d like to taste a bit of that sweetness for himself.

  In fact, Holt’s life was a very nice one indeed. Toxin wouldn’t mind slipping it on like a comfortable pair of shoes and walking around a while. He’d spent the night imagining that. And planning. He’d already taken the initial steps.

  One day soon, everything he’d lost, everything Holt had, would be his.

  Chapter Nine

  Another body, and Toxin had been brazen enough to call it in to the CPD himself. That Monday, the sun was just appearing as a big orange ball on the horizon when Holt arrived at the scene to which the killer had directed them—an abandoned lot on the south side of Chicago. Thankfully, his father had been available to come over to watch Theo and deliver him to school.

  Holt pulled behind a plain vehicle he assumed was Noah’s car. Max’s pickup was already across the street, parked behind a cruiser. The sharp rap of knuckles on the passenger window startled him. The hand belonged to Max. Holt got out of the car and fell into step beside him as they headed for the small group of people standing in the distance.