Collin had won the case simply on the merit that he understood the conflict that Brooke would be experiencing, effectively convincing the powers above that he was a much better candidate than his more experienced, but less compassionate, superior. They were unaware of his personal agenda and interests, but then, as long as he kept her protected, they would not care.
Was this a kindness, though? Would she ever understand that he saw more to her than the new shell she now lived in? Collin sighed and slowly dismounted the staircase, walking out into the icy mist to find his babbling Brooke.
Her footprints were clearly visible in the crushed grass that had not seen a lawn mower in months. The thick woods gave way to a wooden dock that stretched into the cove where Brooke sat huddled into a ball, staring over the bleak, gray waters. The boards creaked under his boots as he approached her, and he slowly lowered his body to sit by her side. Collin stretched his long legs to dangle his feet over the side, silently watching as the small waves brushed the bases of the barnacle covered posts, lapping the old wood gently in the low tide. He studied the tiny crabs and water fleas as they scurried above the waterline, the words he wanted to say lying heavily on his heart.
“I’m sorry.” His low voice broke the stillness in the air.
Brooke said nothing, merely clutching her knees tighter against her body and burying her fingers in the soft fleece of her sweats. She visibly shivered.
“I shouldn’t have done that to you. I am really sorry. Please forgive me.”
“You would not be the first man who regretted kissing me. I mean… that is,” she gulped, “if there had been any others.”
“You have never even been kissed?” It was Collin’s turn to be shocked.
“I know several toothless Chinese crested dogs who have been kissed more than I have. It is a fact of life, Collin.” She shrugged. “Natural selection and survival of the fittest.”
“I disagree. I honestly think that if you put out negative energy to people, it is that which repels them. Not the physical appearance.”
“If I am so negative, then why did you kiss me?”
“Because I wanted to. And I want to do it again, and again. Lemme show you something.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Without a word, he handed her a picture. The woman was stunning, with long golden hair, delicately slender features, and big blue eyes. The man…
“This was you?” Brooke whispered. The man was fairly heavyset with no obvious jaw bone, making the skin from his neck hang like a wattle to his collar. His face held several pock scars from adolescent struggles with acne, and a scant overbite accented his wide lips. His hair looked like it loathed the idea of being brushed, and his mustard-yellow shirt accented his pale complexion. There was something approachable about him, despite his translucent appearance, and Brooke found herself liking him. Moreso, this lovely princess leaned against him as though he were arm candy.
“Yeah… And she chose me. She saw me for something more. She taught me how to love with my heart, not my eyes.”
“You said you were in the courtroom during the Gardenia Killer trial…” Brooke bit her lip and looked into his face with watery eyes. “I remember you. You were all the way in the back and directly in my field of vision.”
“I wanted to keep eye contact with you. I remember your testimony and how you extended your condolences to the families of the victims… It made me cry like a baby. Honey… that is who you are. You don’t have to run from it anymore.” He took her hand, gently lifting it to his lips and kissing the back. “Come inside with me now. It is starting to rain again, and it’s colder than a witch’s tit. Not that I have had acquaintance with witches…”
Brooke accepted his offered hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He placed his hands on either side of her face and peered into her eyes. “No more running, okay? You have a new life. Enjoy it. Would you like some hot tea?”
Nodding, Brooke held his hand as he walked back into the house, and she sat at the built-in kitchen cove while he rummaged some teabags and cups from his old backpack. They shared several minutes of silence as the water boiled and he prepared the hot beverage. Collin grinned sheepishly as she wrinkled her nose at the bitter flavor.
“Sorry, it is all I have right now. We can call for delivery and then go do some shopping tomorrow. The moving truck should get here any time with enough stuff to last us a bit. Pizza? The works?”
“Quirk. I only like Canadian bacon, pineapple, onion, and mushroom, and I have to have red wine vinegar to pour on it, so get a lot.”
“That sounds nasty.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“Quirk. Coke, not Pepsi,” he warned.
“Agreed.” She waited until he finished calling in the order before bringing up the next subject. “Collin? Why do you…” Brooke blushed mid-sentence. “For the most part, you seem to be a nice guy and not too much of an asshole. I don’t get this obsession you have with, you know…”
“Putting you across my knee and spanking the tar out of you?” He finished her sentence, her reddening face confirming the assumption. “It is how I am wired. Always been that way. In fact, that was one reason Carol loved me. She always said that she personally witnessed my protection when she ended up over my lap.”
“It wasn’t just a kink for you?”
“Nope. I mean, it was fun when we messed around, but it was a consensual lifestyle with us. Part of the reason we argued that night was because I was so caught up with feeling sorry for myself that I had forgotten how to be the head of the house. She felt abandoned and unloved because I looked the other way when she did self-destructive or harmful things.”
“Like what?”
“Speeding was the worst. That is the behavior that took her in the end. Had I put my foot down…”
“How many times had you… you know…”
“Spanked her? You can say the word. It won’t hurt you.”
“How times had you spanked her for speeding before that night?”
“I lost count. That was the one thing I could not get across to her via her back end. She was a bit of an adrenaline junky.”
“Then it probably would not have made any difference. I’m not trying to sound insensitive, but it sounds like it was a good excuse for her to do what she wanted.”
“You are completely correct, but even the knowledge of that does not assuage my guilt for not stepping in.”
“Is that why you are so bossy with me? Do you think that method will dissuade me from doing whatever the hell I want to? I am not accustomed to being micromanaged.”
“Watching out for your safety and well-being is not micromanagement. It is called caring,” Collin explained, reaching his hand for hers. He led her to the large stone fireplace and sat her on the hearth while he started the fire. “I know that is going to take some getting used to. But if you let yourself relax, you might find you like it.”
“I am not easily convinced.”
“Let’s play it by ear. Was that a horn?”
Brooke watched as the movers brought the furnishings into the house and followed Collin’s directions for placement. She turned to him as they left to bring a mattress up the stairs.
“You were not kidding when you said your taste was worse than your singing. This is hideous.”
“What do you mean?” Collin asked, plopping down on a squared, blue gingham couch. “It’s comfy.”
“It is not comfortable. I would not even let a dog sleep on this thing,” Brooke grumbled, sitting on the other end. “Look! I am sliding off of it! And the cushions feel like bricks.”
“You think you could do better? I mean, you are a woman, but that does not mean your taste is any better than mine.”
“Oh, baby. My taste will beat yours any day of the week. You can take this ugly ass couch and put it in your den. Or in the trash. As long as I don’t have to look at it.”
“But I like this couch.”
�
�Find somewhere else to like it. Excuse me?” Brooke said to the mover. “Will you please put this thing in that little room down the hall? Thanks.”
“And you say I am bossy,” Collin grumbled as his couch was removed out of Brooke’s sight. “That couch reminds me of my grandma…”
“I am not stopping you from enjoying it, so stop the pouting. And I am happy for you that it brings back fond memories, because that couch is where you are sleeping tonight,” Brooke huffed.
“I am not pouting, nor am I sleeping on the couch. There is a perfectly good mattress up in the loft and—”
“Where I will be sleeping. Alone.”
“Really? What if I choose to challenge you?”
“I will stop you.”
“You will?” Collin’s expression took on a playful glint as he started towards her. He backed her against the wall and placed his hands on either side of her head. “Just how will you do that?”
“I have skills!” Brooke retorted, poking him in the stomach.
“We will see exactly how well they work for you later. Let’s get stuff unpacked.”
Several hours later, the two sat on the floor atop two cushions stolen from the offensive couch. The fire was crackling heartily, warming the room and casting shadows on the walls.
“Sorry about the electricity,” Collin said for a third time as he handed Brooke his ‘pizza bone’.
“It isn’t your fault,” she responded, taking a bite. “Anyone who gives up their pizza crust is forgiven. If you really get yourself in trouble, let me have your fried chicken bones to nibble.”
“You are quite the little scavenger, aren’t you?”
“That’s me. Is your laptop working? I want to order some real furniture.”
“Yeah. Here is my card number. What are you getting?”
“Get your nose out of here. Hey! Respect my personal space here, mister.”
“I wanna see,” Collin said, pushing himself next to her.
“You are seriously a pain in the ass,” Brooke said, standing with the laptop in hand. She made some quick selections and then snapped it shut. “They will deliver day after tomorrow. I paid extra for rush.”
“What? How much did you spend?”
“Not much. What is your credit limit?”
“The department is not going to reimburse me for furnishing my house.”
“Write it up as therapeutic preoccupation. Did you say there was a box of clothes for me?”
“Up in the loft. Let me get the fire going for you up there. It is a bit tricky.”
“You are not sleeping with me,” Brooke reminded him firmly.
“Don’t forget your sleeping pill, dear.”
“Don’t change the subject. I’m gonna take a hot bath. Didn’t you say that the propane tank and hot water heater is working? Good. I expect you to be gone from this room when I come out.”
* * *
Collin woke to the sound of screaming. He instinctively grabbed his gun as he simultaneously looked over at Brooke. She flailed under the blankets, her words unintelligible. He placed the gun down and reached across to rub her thigh.
“I’m sorry!” she cried out in her sleep, “I shouldn’t have looked! How could anyone do that? Fish hooks!”
“Brooke? Wake up, baby girl. Wake up. You are having a nightmare,” Collin called out softly, his hand gently making contact without holding her down.
“Not a nightmare,” she cried out, “it is real! Our faces… The men, he took their balls…”
“Come back to me… Look at me. I’m here. It is three in the morning, and you are in my house in Stockton Springs, Maine. It is April. You are under my protection as Brooke Doyle, my wife. Take it in… come back to the present.”
“Collin?”
“You’re okay now,” he pulled her onto his lap and captured her in the shelter of his arms. “Talk to me while it’s fresh.”
“I’m sorrrrry,” she cried into his shoulder. “I looked on your computer and saw them… me. He put fishhooks in our mouths! Why?”
Collin stiffened. “You broke into my private files? How?”
“I’m a great hacker. It was stupid of me. I should have listened to you. Please, don’t be angry. I need you right now.”
“I am not going anywhere. Damn it, Brooke…”
“Hold me,” she whimpered, clinging to him. “I can’t erase those images.”
“We will talk about what you saw in the morning. Are you okay to sleep?”
“Don’t leave me. Stay here.”
“I am not budging. You are safe with me, pipsqueak.”
“I need to tell you what I saw and the clues he left,” she sobbed.
She told him that when she had come out of the bathroom and saw him snoring quietly on one side of the mattress, she also noticed the hand gun on the floor near his head. It was then that she hacked into his laptop.
As Collin had said, each murder had occurred on the third Wednesday of the month. The crime occurred in different Eastern states at different intervals, confirming her suspicion that the killer was being selective in his choice of victims and willing to exercise patience so he could catch them unaware. He had also chosen locations fairly close to a source of deep, living water—the ocean, a harbor, large lake, or river.
She had been correct when she had raised the question about the victims having a common involvement in a criminal case. They were all present at one time or another during the Gardenia Killer’s trial or execution, indicating that the perpetrator had either been present or had access to records that allowed him to pick and choose. She had been an expert witness, but the others were less involved. Several had served on the jury panel, one was an ex-bailiff, and two others were minor reporters for different agencies. All the victims were unattached and without anyone who would notice their immediate absence. Either way, the pattern had emerged, directing them, daring them to find the killer.
Brooke paused in her recitation as she struggled to maintain her focus. She had discovered a major glitch. This was not the same person as the one she had sent to death row. The original Gardenia killer had been named because he had placed a gardenia blossom in the empty cavity which once contained the victim’s heart. He had killed directly and had not relied on the elements to finish his work. This suspect used a burlap root bag to restrain his barely-living victims before throwing them into moving water. There were no flowers left as calling cards, either. He left only the bodies… bodies he had obviously wanted to be found.
Collin allowed Brooke to clutch his hand as she continued to verbally process her findings. She had seen the photographs of her own body and knew that the river’s current had hastened unexpectedly and brought her to the surface before she drowned. She had been life-flighted and placed under guard due to the likelihood the killer witnessed the unexpected rescue. Investigation of the area revealed large footprints made by a man’s boot, as well as findings of broken twigs and brush, suggesting the perpetrator to be fairly tall and of normal width. There was no blood, no vehicles, and no tire marks. These clues were consistent with the possibility that the butcher had taken a boat upriver, did his business once he arrived, and then hid in one of the myriads of swamp caves before letting the current take him back down.
She admitted that she panicked when she heard Collin stir and had stopped snooping. The images would not leave her mind, so she took the sleeping pills. She then admitted that he had been right and that she was too vulnerable to handle the truth objectively. She knew she had made a huge mistake by defying his requests to not be involved.
Collin sighed, taking in the confession and contemplating the situation. His thoughts were interrupted by a tiny voice that broke the dark stillness in the room.
“Collin? Are you going to spank me for not minding you?”
Unprepared for her question, Collin remained silent until her tears exploded in a torrential outburst.
“Yes,” he said softly, praying he was making the right decision. �
�Yes, I will spank you for that. Because you chose to disobey, you caused yourself more hurt, and I care too much about you to allow that. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Brooke sniffed, relaxing in his arms. She yawned. The drugs were helping lull her back to sleep again. “Thank you. I guess you really do care,” she murmured, her head dropping heavily against his shoulder.
Collin stared up at the ceiling, perplexed. The only thing he knew for certain at this point in time was that Brooke Doyle was going to give him a damn good run for his money. And that was one race he would not miss for the world!
Chapter Five
Brooke squinted at the shaft of light that assaulted her through the eastern facing bedroom window. She slowly sat up and rubbed her stiff neck while she watched the sun rise like a giant red phoenix from the misted waters.
Damn, she thought, remembering the old rhyme… Red at night, sailors delight… Red in the morning, sailors take warning… It was going to rain again. Did it ever stop that infernal downpour in this part of the world? Grabbing a quilted throw that she had found in the box labeled ‘linens’, she padded over to the sliding glass door and walked out onto the small balcony. The thick fog covered the ground like gray cotton candy, hiding all but the very tops of the trees as they pushed through the haze. Tendrils of fog poured over the bank and extended over the waterfront with skeleton-shaped fingers reaching out from the shoreline and tickling the edge of the horizon. The sunlight cast a blood red glow to the fog bank, making Brooke shudder.
The image of her mutilated body returned to her mind. She had prayed that the event had merely been an awful dream. A dream that Collin could reassure her had no substance beyond being the product of an overactive imagination. She turned to the sound of footsteps. Collin.
“How are you doing today?” he asked, planting a kiss to her temple before sitting on the chair next to her.
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