“That’s fine,” he answered. “Going to the station will kill time before we find Pope. Hopefully he can describe our killer.”
“If not, maybe he saw the car he was driving,” Rachel added, then waved the remote. “Are we ready to do this again?”
“No,” he and Eden said simultaneously.
He glanced at Eden and realized she looked like hell. Purple smudges marred her tired, puffy eyes, and her face appeared almost ashen.
“Why don’t you sit this one out,” he suggested to her. “There’s some breakfast sandwiches in the lunchroom freezer or you can help yourself to—”
She shook her head and sat. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
He didn’t think she looked fine. But he couldn’t stop her from viewing the DVD again. Well, he could. He just didn’t want to add another item to her bitch list. The arguing had grown old. He wanted to start fresh, and this time, do things right. While it still pissed him off that she’d lied to him about her date, a part of him couldn’t be happier. No date meant no other man was sleeping in her bed.
He nodded to Rachel. “Fire it up.”
Thirty minutes later, the dry erase board had been filled with a list of clues to investigate.
“Okay,” Rachel began. “We suspect the latest victim is a dentist, the previous one a plastic surgeon. We think the killer has his OR in the country, but within driving distance to Chicago.”
She tapped a few buttons on her keyboard. A map of Illinois and the surrounding states popped up on one of the screens. “So if our victims are from Chicago and the killer is doing his dirty work in the country…”
“From what he said on the DVD, it sounds as if he picked up the dentist, drove past my townhouse last night, then drove to his OR and completed his…surgery. Considering the DVD was placed at my door at six this morning, I don’t think he could have driven more than four hours round trip.”
“Maybe even less than that,” Hudson said. “We also have to consider the time it took for him to prep the vic and dispose of the body.”
“It’s time for dinner,” Rachel mimicked the killer. “That line bothers me. Do you think he’s disposing the bodies via dog?”
Eden’s body shuddered. “That’s a disgusting thought.”
“No kidding,” Rachel agreed. “Think about it, though. If we can’t ID the victims or the killer, and the dogs…eat the bodies, what do we have?”
“Shit,” he grunted.
“Exactly,” Rachel said.
“No, I’m saying we have shit. Dog shit. Coyote shit. Ask that lab guy who does our DNA stuff if it’s possible to extract DNA from shit or stomach contents.”
Both women cringed when they looked at him.
He shrugged. “Just a thought.”
“A gross one,” Eden mumbled. “Can we go back to the driving distance thing?”
“After you two leave, I’ll check the areas in Illinois and Indiana that are within two hours driving distance from Chicago.”
“What about Wisconsin?” he asked.
“It’s close to three hours from here.”
“Good enough. Look for farming communities, anything rural. With the amount of screaming we heard on both DVDs, this guy’s got to live on a bunch of acres.”
“Unless he killed the neighbors and fed them to the dogs,” Rachel said as she jotted notes.
“Really, Rachel,” Eden said with disgust.
Rachel reached for a pencil and brought it to her lips. “Just saying.”
He rubbed his hand along his forehead. Although good at her job, sometimes Rachel’s mind went to the macabre. “Anyway,” he said to end the discussion of dogs eating people. “I know this isn’t going to get us any closer to finding our guy, but as clues add up, it may help. Now back to a few other things on our list. Actually, two glaring things. The first, he told us that there will be only two more DVDs, which means two more victims.”
“He also said that he planned to take a few days off,” Eden reminded him.
“Right,” he began. “So we need to—”
Eden held up her hand. “If I may, I suggest we keep our focus on the victims. The killer has made it clear that this is about revenge. During this DVD he said that the victim didn’t listen to him, that this was a tragedy that could have been stopped. That none of them had listened and now they have to pay. There’s got to be a connection to the victims and to the killer.” She turned to Rachel. “Can you pull up any missing persons reports for the Chicago area?”
“Promise you won’t tell?” Rachel asked with a conspiratorial wink.
“I take that as a yes.”
“Uh-huh. The problem with that is we don’t have a good description of the vics.”
“But we suspect what they do for a living,” he added.
“Still,” she countered. “These are grown men. Unless the killer left behind evidence of foul play, their families might not even report them missing. Maybe they think they’ve gone on vacation or on a business trip.” She tapped the pencil against her chin. “On the bright side, I do have data to go through from our first vic. I’ve got a list of plastic surgeons who live in Illinois and Indiana, and were members of the Sigma Alpha Mu fraternity. I’ll do what I did with Evan Pope, pull up their driver’s licenses and see if any of the men even come close to the hairy guy on the first DVD.”
“Good. Call if you come up with anything,” Hudson said, and reached for his jacket. He needed to take Eden to her townhouse, and then to the station. As a senior, Pope might finish school early, and he wanted to catch up with the kid as quickly as possible. Right now, he was their only link to the killer.
Eden grabbed his arm as she rose. “Wait. What was the second thing?”
“Your stalker’s back.
Chapter 8
HUMMING, PUDGE LEFT the uniform store. Thanks to the new purchases, phase one of their plans would begin tonight, then it was off to phase two. After that, they would have only one more thing to take care of…Eden Risk.
yes yes kill her take her boy toy take her life her life
Pudge smiled. They would take her life, literally. Pudge would become the next Eden Risk. Only better. After a few months, Chicagoans would have forgotten all about Eden. Mama would hopefully be dead, and Dr. Dread would have become an unsolved mystery.
Standing on the curb of the busy street, Pudge waved at a passing taxi. The car came to a stop, and after entering, Pudge set the packages and backpack on the seat.
“Where to?” the cabbie asked as he looked in the rearview mirror.
Phase one wouldn’t begin until later, but plans for phase two needed to be set in motion. For that, Pudge needed to do some serious recon. If they screwed up…
wont happen wont happen youre too smart too smart
Pudge stuffed the packages into the backpack, then looked at the window. Not even Mama would recognize the person in the reflection. Neither would Eden.
“Take me to WBDJ, Channel 5 news station on Clark Street.”
“Yes, sir,” the cabbie said as he shifted the car into drive, and pulled away from the curb.
*
Eden hugged the toilet bowl as her stomach revolted again. Over the years, she’d learned to become a quiet puker. A talent, an extreme necessity, and the only way she’d been able to keep her bulimia a secret from her family, former roommates and co-workers. While she’d controlled those barf sessions, she couldn’t control this one. Maybe she had the flu. She’d drunk four beers—if not more—in the past, and had never felt this shitty.
With nothing left in her stomach, she clutched the toilet and now endured painful dry heaves. Because she hadn’t had a chance to exercise yesterday, she hadn’t bothered to eat. Because she’d felt like crap when she’d woken up today, she hadn’t touched a morsel of food. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she sat and ate a meal. Two days ago? Maybe?
Sweating and shivering at the same time, she used the hand to
wel to wipe her mouth. A few minutes later, she dragged herself off the tile floor, then started the shower. Although lethargic and achy, she moved through her toiletries. Since her series aired on Sundays, she needed to give the last segment of Beauty Pageant Queen Bees a few final touches before her station manager could review it for approval. God, she really didn’t want to talk with Rodger Jeffries. She hadn’t seen the station manager since the on-air debacle with Kyle Edwards had happened two nights ago. She’d tried calling Jeffries, and had also approached his office yesterday. But her calls had gone into voice mail and his secretary had told her he was too busy to see her.
“Bullshit,” she muttered as she dressed. She’d heard Jeffries in his office, and had also heard Kyle’s distinctive voice. Since accepting the Network job, she’d noticed that the anchor and station manager had become quite chummy. What did she care? In a matter of weeks, she’d leave them in the dust.
After checking her reflection, she shook her head. Damn, she looked terrible. Even the extra make-up couldn’t hide the bags under her eyes or brighten her ashen complexion. But she had a job to do, and an infuriating man waiting for her in the living room.
Leaving the bedroom, she forced her achy legs to move. Flats would have been the way to go today, except she needed the height of the three-inch heels to elongate her legs. While vanity could be an ugly thing, on her, stubby legs were uglier.
“Feeling any better?” Hudson asked as he wadded a wrapper from the fast food breakfast sandwich he’d just eaten.
The thought of the sausage and egg concoction made her stomach queasy. She pressed on her belly, and quickly moved into the living room to avoid the lingering, greasy odor.
“I’m fine,” she answered when he entered the room.
“You sure?” he asked. “No offense, but you don’t look fine.”
“I think I have the flu. What’s your excuse?”
He chuckled. “I’m suddenly starting to miss the silent treatment you gave me in the car.”
She hadn’t meant to keep quiet during the ride from CORE to her townhouse. Actually, she’d wanted to go off on him about a few things. The only reason she’d kept her mouth shut was to avoid puking all over the Trans Am’s upholstery.
“Sorry if I’m not looking dapper enough for you. I had a long night at the office,” he said, then looked to the floor where Brutal pawed at his pant leg. When he picked up the dog and stroked him behind the ears, she nearly melted.
She must be sick—in the head. The little cuddling he gave her dog shouldn’t have any effect on her. Damn it, he’d tricked her again. Yesterday, even when she’d been spouting off about her date spending all night with her, he’d probably been scheming. Thinking he’d spy on her and her date with his stupid security cameras. Instead, he’d caught her in a lie.
“Yeah, I know. Spying on me,” she blurted, then instantly regretted her words. First the vomiting, now she had diarrhea of the mouth. While showering, she’d sworn she wasn’t going to bring up anything about the security cameras. She didn’t want Hudson to know how he’d upset her, even if the drunk girl from last night thought they were made for each other. Maybe that drunken girl had been right, but it didn’t matter. Too much had happened between them in the past to consider a future. He hadn’t changed, she knew she certainly hadn’t, and she was leaving for New York in a few weeks. Period. End of story. Enough said.
After Brutal gave his stubbled cheek a lick, he set the dog on the floor. “I wasn’t spying. I was looking over information for the case.”
Keep your mouth shut, she reminded herself. Don’t let him goad you.
“Hmm,” she grunted while gathering her computer case.
“It’s true. The only time I bothered to look at the security camera feed was when you walked into your bedroom. Alone.”
She dropped the case on the couch. “You son of a bitch,” she shouted. “You spied on me in my bedroom?”
“I didn’t—”
“Pig.”
“Any other names you want to call me, or are you going to let me explain?”
“There’s nothing to explain. Actually, it all makes sense to me now.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “How’s that?”
“I should have known you were up to something. After the he-man, ‘I remember how you screamed my name’ crap, I figured you would have called at some point last night to interrupt my date. But, you didn’t need to because you already knew there wasn’t a date.”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and nodded. “True.”
“True? That’s all you have to say?”
“Make it easy on me. Tell me what you want me to say.”
“Sorry would be a start.”
He shrugged. “Okay, sorry.”
“Like you mean it.”
Narrowing his eyes, he pulled his hands from his pockets and took a step forward. “That’s all you’re going to get from me.”
Shaking her head she glanced to the ceiling. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she asked then looked at him. “God forbid if you actually own up to something when you’re wrong.”
“Back atcha.”
“Really,” she began, and took a step toward him. “I love how you’re turning this around on me. I didn’t do anything wrong. Then or now.”
“Oh, here we go,” he said, and threw his hands in the air. “You never do anything wrong. You don’t lie. And you sure as hell don’t avoid the truth.”
“I only lied last night because I wanted you out of my house. You, on the other hand, have a lot of room to talk. You spent the entire time we were together avoiding the truth…and lying.”
He took another step forward. “Bullshit. You were the one who couldn’t handle it.”
“It? What do you mean?”
Another step and he invaded her space. “Me.” He reached and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Us.”
“I handled you and us just fine,” she murmured, and fought the urge to rest her cheek in his strong palm. She felt like crap and until she had time to consider the truth behind his words, she needed to keep herself guarded. She refused to allow him to hurt her again.
“Yeah, the moment you found a chance to run, you did.”
Damn the man was perceptive. Here she’d thought she’d been so smart, and he’d been onto her the whole time.
“That’s not true,” she lied. Again. “I—”
He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Stop. Please. Just stop. I screwed up during the Winters case. I should have kept you in the loop. But Winters was your source and you’d become tight with him. I couldn’t risk…I couldn’t let anything happen to you. I apologized to you then, and I’m apologizing to you now. I should have treated you better. I should have trusted my gut and told you everything.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Now, trust me when I tell you that I’ve been regretting my actions for two long years.”
Thank God he held her shoulders. Otherwise she might have dropped to the floor in a puddle of mush. His words, his apology… Damn, the shame, the pain, and the longing in his eyes. She’d never meant to hurt him. She’d honestly thought ending their relationship before it became ugly had been a smart move. In her heart, she’d truly believed things between them would grow ugly. They were too alike to make it as a couple. Both married to their careers, both hardheaded, both ready to step on anyone’s toes to achieve their goals. And neither one of them could admit to their feelings. Yet, Hudson had changed since they’d been together. He seemed determine to break past both his and her emotional barriers. Was she ready for that?
She needed time to think. She needed space.
God, she needed to puke.
“Hud, I’ve got to—”
“Let me finish. I need to tell you the truth about something,” he said, and cupped her face. “Holy shit, Eden. You’re burning up.”
Clapping a hand over her mouth, she shoved past him and ran for the bathroom. His shit kickers made a
racket against the hardwood floor as he followed her.
“Go away,” she shouted as she reached the toilet. “I need to be—”
Unable to fight the urge, she retched.
Instead of leaving the bathroom, Hudson stayed and held her hair away from her face. When her stomach settled, he released her hair, then ran a washcloth under the faucet. He flushed the toilet, then gently dabbed her mouth and forehead.
“Do you have a thermometer?” he asked.
“No. I’m sure my temperature is fine. My face is probably hot from…exerting myself.”
“Too much of a lady to say puking?” he teased as he soaked the washcloth again.
She cracked a smile, then released a deep sigh when he rubbed the cool material against her face. “Yeah, I’m the picture of a proper lady right now.” She grabbed his wrist. Their gazes collided. “Thank you. And…I’m sorry, too.”
He set the washcloth on the counter, then began to help her stand. “Shh, not now. Let’s get you out of these clothes and into bed.”
“Where have I heard that line before?” she asked with a grin, then stopped him. “I’m fine. Really. Besides, I have to get to the station. My show airs Sunday. If I don’t go today, and Rusty has to help me over the weekend, I’ll have to buy him a dozen donuts for the rest of my life.”
“Make him work the weekend or give him the flu. Tough choice,” he said as he forced her to sit on the edge of the bed. “Which do you think he’d prefer?”
Too weak to argue, she let him remove her heels. If she weren’t sick, she’d have been completely turned on right now. Watching this sexy, badass man cup her foot with his big hands made her temperature rise. The flu bug didn’t help, either.
Knowing he was right, and too exhausted to change her clothes, she lay back on the mattress and closed her eyes. “You’re right. I’ll just doze off for a few hours, then see how I feel. If I owe Rusty a lifetime’s worth of donuts…”
He smoothed the hair away from her face. “Don’t worry about Rusty,” he said, and pulled the comforter over her. “Remember the blonde who was here with John Kain the other night? She’s his fiancé and, according to Rachel, is about to open up a bakery. Maybe she’ll extend the CORE discount to you. Anyway, get some rest.”
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