Killer Heat

by Brenda Novak

  Francesca winked. “Now you’re thinking like a sociopath. That might be part of his ritual, part of the fun.”

  “So he’s kind of like a fisherman who gets a bite, then plays with his catch as he slowly reels it in.”

  “That seems accurate.”

  “It’s disturbing!”

  “The reality is disturbing,” Francesca said.

  Adriana tapped the page as she continued to read. “Where do you think he got the name Harry Statham?”

  “I don’t know. But I’d like to find out.”

  Adriana dropped the sheet into the space between them. “I thought you were off the case.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re not going to accept that?”

  If she pursued the investigation, she could be charged with a crime. Finch had made that clear. But if she walked away, she’d feel she was letting Jillian and Vince—and April—down. “Maybe.”

  “This Butch guy is scary, Fran,” Adriana said. “So’s his weird brother-in-law. I say you leave it alone. And what about your other cases? Don’t you have enough to keep you busy?”

  “I have plenty to do. I haven’t made it through my voice mail in days.” She hadn’t been running or doing anything else she normally did, either. “But—”

  “But nothing,” Adriana broke in. “Play it safe.” She held up Butch’s picture. “Why provoke him? He’s already shown up here once.”

  Reminded of Butch’s last visit, Francesca rolled over to check the phone. Still dead. But she had her iPhone; she wasn’t cut off, like before. “He could come after me again.”

  Jonah had considered it unlikely, and Francesca wanted to believe him. But she knew the animosity Butch felt toward her might not disappear so quickly. What if making her look bad with that interview on TV didn’t satisfy his desire for revenge? What if it had only whetted his appetite for more? He’d tried to hurt her, if not kill her, last night when he turned Demon loose….

  Adriana sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

  Francesca thought about the panties she’d passed on to Jonah. Would Butch realize they were gone? Would he suspect that she’d taken them? If so, what would he do about it? If he responded violently, she didn’t want Adriana to be at risk, too. “You can’t stay with me. You have a family. Stan leaves at, what…six-thirty every morning? Who’ll be there with the boys after he goes?”

  “He can go in late.”

  “He wouldn’t like it. He uses that time to go over his patients’ files.”

  “One morning won’t set him too far behind.”

  “One night might not make any difference, either, so there’s no need to put him out.”

  “Then…what will you do? I don’t want you to be here alone. Or…is Jonah coming back?” She started reassembling Butch’s file as if she’d never performed such an interesting task.

  Francesca wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, that gave Adriana away. She’d waited long enough before mentioning Jonah, and she’d kept the reference casual. Over the years, they’d had similar discussions about any number of men. Are you going to see him again…? Don’t tell me he’s spending the night…! So, how was it…? Is it serious?

  And yet this conversation felt different. If Francesca hadn’t been able to read Adriana quite so well, maybe she could go on pretending Adriana was no more interested in Jonah than in all the other men Francesca had dated over the years. But Francesca had been through this with Adriana once before. She couldn’t be fooled a second time.

  Suddenly doubting everything she’d ever believed about what had happened between Adriana and Jonah, other than the fact that a baby had been created, she clasped her hands in her lap. “You’re in love with your husband, aren’t you, Adriana?”

  Adriana shifted uncomfortably. “Of course. You know Stan and I are happy. Why do you ask?”

  Why? Because there was love, and then there was love. Regardless of Adriana’s denials and protests, did she still care for Jonah?

  Although Francesca had been reluctant to discuss him with Adriana for fear the truth would ruin their friendship, she felt compelled to finally broach the subject. She wanted to hear what Adriana had to say about Jonah and Stan, needed to know why what’d happened ten years ago had happened—probably because it no longer seemed fair to place so much of the blame on Jonah. She supposed she’d originally done it because his betrayal hurt more. And doing so made it possible for her to save at least one of the two relationships that meant so much to her. But the time she’d spent with him this week had convinced her that he couldn’t be defined by that incident alone.

  In order to be fair—to Jonah, to Adriana and to herself—Francesca felt she needed to look at the past a little more objectively.

  Realizing the answers to the questions she had to ask wouldn’t be easy to hear, she took Adriana’s hand as if physical contact might thwart an emotional separation. “What happened that night?”

  Adriana’s fingers remained limp in her grasp but she didn’t pull away. “I—I told you. We’ve gone over this.”

  “You told me you made a mistake. That because of the alcohol you’d both consumed, things got out of control. You said you were sorry and never meant for it to happen.”

  “That’s true.”

  “How did things get out of control? Why? What part did you play in sleeping with my boyfriend? Did you two care about each other? Was I keeping you apart? Did you give him up for my sake? What?”

  Adriana stared at their joined hands but didn’t speak.

  “Are you going to tell me?” Francesca prodded.

  When Adriana lifted her eyes again, they were filled with misery. “He never cared about me. You were everything to him—”

  Francesca let go of her hand. “Don’t you dare do this again!”

  “What?”

  “Say he loved me just because it’s what you think I want to hear!”

  “I wish that’s what I was doing, but…you’re giving me too much credit.”

  Because her best friend had always been such a Goody Two-shoes, Francesca had assumed Jonah must have been the aggressor, but… “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying it’s true. He loved you.”

  She struggled to accept that. “Then why’d he do it?”

  “Who knows? He never responded to me before.”

  Francesca caught her breath. “What do you mean by ‘before’?”

  Adriana’s shoulders rose in a weak shrug.

  “Addy?”

  Tears rolled unheeded down Adriana’s cheeks. “I don’t have all the answers. What he was going through. Whether or not he was as drunk as he seemed. I believed what I wanted to believe, okay?”

  “Which was…”

  She jumped off the bed. “Do I have to spell it out? There’s only one thing that could make me betray you, Fran.”

  The truth hit with surprising clarity. “You were in love with him. It wasn’t an ‘accident.’ It was an opportunity.”

  She managed a pitiful smile. “In a way, I’m still in love with him.”

  All the excuses she’d received—the apologies, too—passed through Francesca’s mind. None of it was sincere? And now Adriana claimed she still had feelings for him? “You’re married! You have kids!”

  Adriana closed her eyes. “Have you ever read The Bridges of Madison County?”

  Francesca hadn’t read it, but she’d heard enough about it from her mother to know that the story revolved around a woman, married to a good man, who unexpectedly met a photographer traveling through the area while her family was away. The photographer was far more exciting than her plodding, dependable husband, and she fell in love with him. They had a torrid affair, but knowing her husband would soon be back, the woman chose to tell the photographer goodbye and stay with her family. Her brief relationship with this man was a secret she kept hidden until she died and the truth came out via a journal and some clippings found by her children.<
br />
  Adriana identified with this character? She saw Jonah as the photographer and herself as the tragic figure who chose to sacrifice her true love to stay with her family?

  Dropping her head in her hands, Francesca laughed bitterly. “Get out,” she said, and thankfully, when she looked up, Adriana was gone.

  25

  Due to the fallout from his confrontation with Dean, Butch had changed his plans. Instead of driving to Chandler, he’d spent the better part of the afternoon and early evening at the Pour House. He’d had a shitload of soda water and only two beers, which wasn’t enough, but he didn’t dare drink more. As distasteful as it was, he had a job to do.

  Sitting in his truck, he let the engine idle while searching, one more time, for a viable alternative. But he couldn’t see one. If Francesca took those panties, she hadn’t given them to the sheriff’s office or Hunsacker would’ve mentioned it when he called earlier. Instead, the investigator had said that Francesca Moretti had been kicked off the case and Jonah Young had been fired at the same time. That was good, overall. Butch was damn sick of them and their constant scrutiny. But it didn’t mean he could relax. What if Francesca went ahead and did some more digging? Found out who Julia was and that she’d gone missing? It wouldn’t be hard. She’d lived with them for several months. Been seen. And what if Francesca had those panties analyzed? If the lab managed to get a DNA sample and the police were able to match it, via relatives or whatever, to Julia, they’d have grounds to get a search warrant. Then they’d come into the salvage yard and discover her body in the freezer….

  No matter how many ways he looked at the problem, he always came up with the same solution.

  “Quit wasting time, you dumb bastard,” he grumbled to himself. Then he shifted into Reverse, backed out of the parking space and headed for the highway.

  Francesca sat in her living room, staring at the TV. She’d just watched the news, which showed footage from the grave site at Dead Mule Canyon while a voice-over stated that seven bodies had been found “in this remote location near the ranching community of Skull Valley.” Next, a correspondent interviewed Dr. Price, “the forensic anthropologist who’s working day and night at a makeshift lab in the community center to gather as much information from the remains as possible.” The same reporter then spoke with Investigator Finch, who was on hand with a smarmy smile to assure the public that the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Office was forming a task force to look into these murders and would do everything they could to keep the community safe.

  “I feel better already.” Rolling her eyes, she turned off the TV and shut Investigator Finch out of her house. She needed to get some rest, but there was no way she could sleep. She kept wondering if she should’ve listened to Jonah when he tried to apologize all those years ago, if, with enough forgiveness, they could’ve made their relationship work in spite of his betrayal. What was his side of the story? What was the real reason behind what he’d done? He hadn’t blamed Adriana for his infidelity. She knew that much. He’d taken full responsibility. But maybe Francesca’s own lack of trust—of men, of love, of the happiness she felt whenever she was with Jonah—had tainted her willingness to understand, as well as her ability to overcome.

  Both Adriana and Jonah were to blame. It took two to make love. And yet…certain nuances affected her understanding of the situation, the full impact of which she hadn’t realized until now. All the time they were growing up, Adriana had been such a good person, so kind and supportive, that Francesca had been far more willing to give her rather than Jonah the benefit of the doubt.

  Or was she more generous with Adriana because she’d always felt guilty about the way her best friend was so often overlooked or pushed into the background when it came to men? Adriana had seemed content to let Francesca have the spotlight. It wasn’t as if Francesca had ever tried to upstage her. The response they got was the response they got. But what if Adriana secretly resented her? What if, deep inside, she’d wanted Jonah for herself all along?

  She’d just admitted she’d been in love with him….

  And what about Jonah? Had he been dealing with issues she should’ve been aware of but wasn’t? He’d never mentioned having been married or divorced. Had it been such a painful experience he didn’t want to look back? Was it an embarrassment to him? What had gone wrong? He didn’t love lightly, so she couldn’t imagine he’d jump into that kind of commitment without real depth of feeling. She also found it a little curious that Jonah had started acting up—drinking, becoming less reliable and picking fights for no reason—only after their relationship grew serious.

  When he’d cheated, she’d assumed he was shallow and disloyal. She’d made herself believe it so she’d never get sucker-punched like that again. But maybe there was more to it….

  I wish I’d married her, okay? Is that what you want to hear? God knows you won’t believe anything else, so there you have it. I was an asshole with no heart, out to hurt anyone I could, and I tried to destroy your life and hers just for the hell of it. I used you both, like I use all women.

  He didn’t use women. She had to be honest enough to admit that. And it wasn’t as if he’d go to bed with just anyone. She’d seen him gently deflect unwanted female attention plenty of times. Heck, she’d even given him the chance to “use” her the other night, and he hadn’t taken it, although she could tell he wanted to. Why?

  She glanced at her cell phone, lying on the couch beside her. A direct flight to California took less than two hours. Jonah would be home by now. Should she call him? If she did, would he believe she was calling to talk about what she’d just seen on TV? Finch hadn’t divulged any new information. As usual, the police had kept what they released purposely sketchy….

  Why did she even need a reason? So what if he realized she wanted to talk to him? What was so bad about that? Did she really have to insulate her heart to such a degree? Or was it her pride she was protecting?

  Probably both. But at this point, she had nothing to lose.

  Except everything she’d guarded so fiercely for the past ten years…

  She remembered their kiss at the motel and how quickly it had brought back all the desire she’d ever felt for him. “You scare me,” she said, but she picked up her phone, anyway, and punched in his number.

  Jonah was just drifting off to sleep when his phone rang. He almost let it go to voice mail. He wasn’t feeling quite as sanguine about getting fired as he’d tried to convince himself before leaving Phoenix. The more he thought about that meeting in the conference room, the angrier he became that Hunsacker and Finch hadn’t stood by him or Francesca.

  But in case the call was important, he checked to see who was trying to reach him. And when he recognized the number, he answered. It was Francesca. Had Butch tried to contact her again? Was she frightened? Hurt?

  “Are you okay?” he asked without so much as a hello.

  “I’m fine. Sort of.”

  She didn’t sound fine. Something was wrong. “What’s the ‘sort of’ all about? You haven’t heard from Butch, have you?”

  “No.”

  “But you have your pepper spray ready?”

  “It’s on my nightstand.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the living room.”

  Just seeing her number had spooked him, made him realize he wasn’t as sure as he wanted to be that she’d be safe without him. Denial could hit anyone, especially someone so eager to get back on stable ground, and it had hit him.

  He already regretted letting that happen. What had seemed reasonable in the light of day no longer seemed that way in the dark of night. “Go get it. Right away. Then you can tell me what’s wrong.”

  She seemed to be moving when she spoke again. “When Adriana came by earlier, she had a few things to say about you that were a little different than anything she’s told me before.”

  If he never heard Adriana’s name again it would be too soon.

  Rolling over, he gazed at his da
ughter’s picture in the moonlight coming through the windows overlooking the cityscape. What could’ve changed? And did he even want to know? He’d hurt so many people…. “What’d she say?” he finally said.

  “You seem reluctant to ask.”

  He was reluctant. But he was also resigned. “You’re entitled to your pound of flesh, remember?”

  She didn’t laugh. She was too serious for jokes tonight. “Adriana told me she was in love with you when she slept with you ten years ago.”

  He said nothing, didn’t know what to say. Hearing that made him feel even worse, because, for the most part, she’d been both nameless and faceless to him. He’d only been reacting to the desperate panic he experienced whenever he realized how much he loved Francesca. It made him feel too out of control, too vulnerable—placed him right where he’d been when he was married, and he couldn’t deal with that.

  “This doesn’t come as a surprise?” she asked.

  “I guess I sort of knew she felt…something. Or thought she did.” He wasn’t sure her emotions had ever been stronger than a crush. Until that night, he hadn’t so much as flirted with her.

  He would’ve explained that to Francesca, except he feared it would look as though he was minimizing his mistake or trying to excuse his own actions, and he refused to do either. Francesca had made the right decision when she cut him out of her life. She deserved better.

  “Did you guess before you were, um, together?” she asked.

  He pulled his eyes from Summer’s smiling face and sat up. “Are you holding your pepper spray?”

  “I am now. Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Can we get back to the discussion?”

  Massaging his left temple, he slumped onto his pillows. “Do we have to?”

  “You’d rather not?”

  He sighed. “I could sense some…interest. Why?”

  “I don’t know what to think about it. It’s not every day you hear something like that from your best friend.”

  Adriana had hurt Francesca all over again. Remembering how Francesca had thrown up during the drive to Prescott, he decided it was time to quit being so damned selfish and put a stop to her pain, if he could. “Listen, that night was entirely my fault, okay? Every bit of it. If I’ve ever claimed otherwise, I was just…passing the buck. I knew she had a thing for me, and I took advantage of it. Hate me, not her.”