Secret Sanctuary

by Amanda Stevens

  “Lock the doors,” she whispered desperately.

  “They’re locked. Now tell me what happened. As quickly as you can.”

  “I’d just gotten out of the shower, and I heard a noise. Someone whistling. I looked out the window, and I saw her hanging in the tree. I started to call the police, call you, and then I heard something else. He was in my house, so I ran.”

  “You ran all the way from Heathrow to here?” he asked incredulously.

  She nodded. “When you stopped just now, I thought you were the killer. He was in a car….”

  “Did you see the car?”

  She shook her head.

  “You didn’t see him?”

  “No.”

  Cullen unlocked the glove box and removed a small-caliber weapon. Thumbing off the safety, he placed it on the console between them. “All you have to do is point and shoot.”

  She stared at him in alarm. “What are you going to do?”

  “Have a look around the cemetery.”

  She clutched his arm. “You can’t. He could still be out there.”

  “And if he is, we can’t let him go free.” Cullen’s features hardened. “We can’t let him kill again.”

  He removed his gun from his shoulder holster and checked the clip. Then he placed his cell phone in her hand and curled her fingers around it. “Call headquarters. Tell them you’re with me. Tell them what happened. We need officers over here and at the college. They’ll probably need to call in the state police for backup. Can you do that?”

  “Of course, but Cullen—” She gripped his arm, unwilling to let him go into the cemetery alone. She was terrified he would never come back out. “I’m scared.”

  “Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” he said with a tense smile.

  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later they were back at Heathrow. Officers from both the Moriah’s Landing Police Department and the Massachusetts State Police were combing through St. John’s Cemetery and the woods surrounding Leland Manning’s property. Additional officers were on the scene at Heathrow.

  Cullen didn’t bother parking in the faculty lot where Elizabeth kept her car, but instead drove over the neatly kept lawn and cobblestone walkways to pull alongside several other police cars that had done the same.

  “Wait here.” He got out of the car and walked over to join the officers grouped in a semicircle around something lying on the ground.

  It was the body, Elizabeth knew. The medical examiner was already on the scene and had undoubtedly pronounced death. Now it would be up to the officers and a crime-scene unit from the state police to gather evidence.

  After a few moments, Cullen came back and got in the car. Elizabeth stared at him expectantly. “Well?”

  “Same as before.” He stared straight ahead. His features looked frozen, unnatural in the colored glare from the police flashers. “No blood on the body or on the ground.”

  Elizabeth shivered. “Her neck?”

  “There’s an incision. It’s difficult to see out here, but I’m pretty sure we’ll find needle marks on her arm, too.” He paused and threw her an apologetic glance. “I hate like hell to ask you to do this, but I need you to take a look at the body. See if you can identify her.”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “You’re okay with that?”

  “I’m fine, Cullen. I know what has to be done.”

  They both got out of the car, and he slipped off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. As they walked toward the body, the group of officers parted and let them through.

  The headlights on the police cars had been left on, and someone had set up a temporary light. Elizabeth stared down at the body. She recognized her at once. Waves of shock and nausea rolled through her. “I know her. She wasn’t in any of my classes, but I’ve seen her around. She worked on the school paper. Her name was Morgan Hurley.”

  “You’re positive?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “Any idea how to get in touch with her family?” Cullen asked.

  “You’ll have to get her address from Administration, but the office is closed for spring break. It won’t be open until Monday.”

  “Does the guard have a key?”

  Elizabeth hesitated. “I’m not sure, but I assume he has a key to all the buildings.”

  “What about the dorms?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Private residences?”

  She glanced up, startled. She’d never even thought of that. “No, I’m fairly certain he doesn’t, but you’d have to ask him.”

  “I intend to,” Cullen said grimly. “Just as soon as I find him.”

  Elizabeth’s heart quickened. “George is missing? What if the killer—”

  Cullen cut her off. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, okay? Let’s just stick to the facts.” He glanced back down at the body. “You said after you’d climbed over the wall, you heard the gates open and a car drive through. But George wasn’t in the guardhouse when you were there a few minutes earlier.”

  “No.”

  “So the suspect must have already been on campus.”

  “No, not necessarily. Curfew is at eleven, and George makes his rounds shortly after that. Someone could have come in then, and he wouldn’t have seen them.”

  “How?” Cullen frowned. “Doesn’t he have to let all visitors in through the gates?”

  “The faculty are issued remotes so that we can come and go even when George is off duty or on rounds. Even the staff who live off campus have remotes.”

  Their gazes met for a moment, and Elizabeth knew they were thinking the same thing. The killer could be anyone, but the remote gave them a new lead. A new focus. As a member of the faculty, Paul Fortier had access to the campus. So did Lucian LeCroix. Elizabeth felt weak with fear, thinking of either man pursuing her through the darkness with evil in his heart.

  “This doesn’t necessarily mean someone who works at Heathrow is the killer,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as Cullen. “With so many people away for spring break, someone could have broken into a car, stolen a remote, and it wouldn’t be missed for days.”

  “That’s possible.” Cullen took her arm. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your house and you can pack a bag. You can’t stay here tonight. It’s not safe with everyone gone.”

  “What about George?

  “Yes, what about George?” Cullen said, his expression dark. “I have a feeling he’s around here somewhere, lying low. Question is, why?”

  AS THEY NEARED Elizabeth’s house, she hesitated. The thought of the killer invading her private space, touching her personal things with death still on his hands made her physically ill. “I can’t go in there, Cullen. Not yet.”

  He nodded. “No problem. I’ll go in and throw a few things together for you. You okay with that?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “You wait in the car.

  A few moments later, they were headed back toward town. “I’ll drop you off at your parents’ house. You can spend the night there.”

  Elizabeth remembered the conversation she’d had earlier with her mother, and an uneasiness crept over her. She still couldn’t understand why her mother had been so evasive, so secretive.

  And why had she gone to Brussels so unexpectedly five years ago? Coincidence?

  Elizabeth wanted desperately to believe that it was, but her mother’s reticence was not exactly reassuring. Elizabeth didn’t think she wanted to face her mother just yet. And besides, she didn’t relish answering a lot of questions.

  She tried to think of somewhere else she could go. To Kat’s? That was no good. They weren’t that close anymore, and besides, Kat owned her own private detective firm. Sometimes she had to work odd hours. If she was out on a case tonight, Elizabeth wouldn’t want to alarm Kat’s younger sister, Emily.

  Brie? Unfortunately, she and Brie had lost touch as well. Actually, Brie had been the one to pull away, and Elizabeth had sometimes wondered if it was because Bri
e was afraid she and Kat would find out the identity of her child’s father. As far as Elizabeth knew, Brie had kept the paternity a secret from everyone, and though Kat and Elizabeth had speculated about it plenty back then, they’d never been able to figure out who it was.

  So Brie was out. Kat was out. And her closest friend at school, Rada Kilmeade, was off skiing in Vermont. Elizabeth turned to Cullen. “Just take me to the Moriah’s Landing Inn.”

  He glanced at her nightgown. “Dressed like that? That should raise some eyebrows.”

  She shrugged. “I really don’t care.” Besides, she had no place else to go. But when Cullen passed downtown and headed toward the waterfront, she sat up. “You missed the turn.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Then where are we going?”

  He kept his eyes on the road, staring straight ahead. “I’m taking you to my place. You’ll be safe there.”

  His place?

  Elizabeth sat back against the seat and digested this turn of events. He was taking her to his place? She was actually going to see where he lived? Maybe get some insight into his life?

  Was this a new step in their relationship, or was Cullen simply being kind to her?

  Elizabeth was still trembling by the time they reached his apartment building, but she thought it was as much from excitement as lingering fear. “You don’t think my staying here will raise eyebrows?”

  He shrugged as he led her up the stairs. “I really don’t give a damn either.”

  But Elizabeth didn’t think that was true. Not in the literal sense. She and Cullen both cared deeply what others thought. Why else had she hidden behind her aloofness and intelligence all these years? Why else had he turned bad as a teenager? Because they were both trying to pretend they didn’t care when the fact was, they cared too much.

  His apartment was on the third storey, and when he unlocked the door and stepped aside for her to enter, Elizabeth glanced around with great interest.

  It was a small place with a living/dining/kitchen combination and a small hallway that led, she presumed, to the bathroom and bedroom. The area was clean and sparsely furnished, but the items he did have were nice—leather sofa and recliner, a new TV and sound system.

  The main focal point, however, was the large bay window where, if she craned her neck far enough, Elizabeth thought she would be able to glimpse the sea. The window faced east, and she imagined glorious sunrises. Tonight, however, there was only a pale dusting of moonlight.

  “Make yourself at home,” Cullen said behind her. There was something in his voice, an odd, strained quality that Elizabeth had never heard before.

  She turned from the window to face him. He’d moved back to the door after placing her bag on the sofa, and he watched her with a simmering intensity that caused Elizabeth’s heart to skip a beat.

  Then she realized the source of his fascination. Standing in front of the window, with moonlight drifting through the glass, the silky fabric of her nightgown must have been all but transparent.

  She felt her face heat as her heart skipped another beat, then started to pound in overtime. “You’re going back to Heathrow?”

  “Yeah, but you’ll be fine here. Lock the door after I leave. The bedroom’s just through there.” He nodded in the direction of the hallway. “Try to get some sleep. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so no sense waiting up for me.”

  Elizabeth swallowed. “All right.”

  He opened the door, but at the last minute, he turned back to face her. “By the way, while I was getting your things together, I found a book on the floor of your bedroom. I thought you might want it so I brought it along. It’s in your bag.”

  Elizabeth caught her breath. Their gazes clung for an instant, and she could have sworn he smiled ever so slightly before he turned and left the apartment.

  Face flaming, Elizabeth flew across the room and tore open the bag.

  Nestled among a change of clothing and her toothbrush was a rare first edition of Juliette’s Diary: Her Secret Life, Elizabeth’s favorite volume of Victorian erotica.

  TO HER SURPRISE, she was able to sleep after all. Locating a blanket, she curled up on the sofa so that she could hear Cullen when he came in. She dozed fitfully at first, but then, as the hours passed, she drifted into a deeper slumber.

  When she awakened, dawn was breaking outside Cullen’s window, and a gray light had settled over the room. Her first waking thought was that she was glad it was daylight finally, and her second thought was that she wasn’t alone.

  Gasping slightly, she sat up and looked around. Cullen stood at the window. He must have come in very late, and she hadn’t heard a sound. The knowledge that she could sleep so soundly after a murder had just occurred was a bit unnerving.

  He heard her stirring and glanced over his shoulder. “Morning.”

  Elizabeth stretched, then pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. It was chilly in the room. “When did you get home?”

  “A little while ago.” He looked as if he’d just stepped out of the shower and pulled on a pair of jeans. He was shirtless, and his hair was still damp.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said. “You could have been the murderer, for all I knew.”

  “I can be pretty stealthy when I want to be.”

  The better to slip from a woman’s bedroom in the wee hours of morning, Elizabeth thought. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I’ve been anxious to find out what happened.”

  He ran a hand through his damp hair. “There’s not much I can tell you. The body will be autopsied later today, but I think we pretty much know what the findings will be.”

  “No sign of the killer?”

  He shook his head.

  “What about George? Did you find him? Is he all right?”

  “Yeah, we found him.”

  Elizabeth’s heart jumped at his tone. “Is he—”

  “Oh, he’s very much alive,” Cullen said.

  “Where was he?”

  “In one of the dorms. With everyone away, he decided to use the opportunity to catch up on his sleep. Or so he says.”

  Elizabeth glanced up. “You don’t believe him?”

  Cullen shrugged. “He may have been in one of the dorms, but I doubt he was taking a nap.”

  “What do you mean—” Elizabeth broke off suddenly, remembering Kat’s words the night George had caught them scaling the fence. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s planted a few hidden cameras in the dorms. Everybody knows the man’s a perv. She swallowed. “Do you think George could be the killer?”

  Cullen hesitated. “Let’s just say, I intend to keep a closer eye on him from now on.”

  Elizabeth glanced down at her hands, seeing them tremble. Could she have been that wrong about George? She’d thought him harmless. Now she didn’t know what to think. Who else might she be wrong about?

  She gazed up at Cullen, watching the shadows across his face, glimpsing the darkness in his eyes. “You didn’t find anything in the woods or in the cemetery?”

  “No. But the fog made it damn near impossible to spot footprints or tire tracks. We’ll go back out later once the sun burns off the mist and see if we can find anything, but I don’t expect to. This guy doesn’t seem to make mistakes. At least he hasn’t so far.”

  “What about me?” Elizabeth asked softly. “I was able to get away from him. That was a mistake.”

  “Was it?”

  His tone made her shiver. Elizabeth got up and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders as she walked over to the window to join him. “What do you mean?”

  Cullen’s expression turned grim. “There was no sign of a forced entry in your house. No evidence that he ever got inside. Maybe he wanted to make you think he’d gotten in so that you would run, so that he could pursue you. Maybe this is part of some sick game of his.”

  “But why me?” she asked a little desperately.

  He shrugged. “Because he knows you’re helping me on this case. And maybe you’re the
one person he’s afraid will find him out.” Cullen paused. “Think about it, Elizabeth. You’re not only brilliant, you have a Ph.D. in criminology. The perfect foil for him. The perfect match.”

  Elizabeth clutched the blanket. “But why let me go last night? If he’s afraid I’ll find him out, why not kill me when he had the chance?” She stopped and glanced up at Cullen. “Because he isn’t finished, is he? The game isn’t over.”

  Cullen shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “This scares me, Cullen. Someone that cunning. That evil.”

  He put his arms around her. “We’ll find him, Elizabeth. We’ll stop him. I promise you that.”

  “But when? Before he can kill again?”

  He drew a weary breath. “I don’t know.”

  They stood by the window for several minutes as the sun slowly rose over the sea. But it wasn’t glorious as Elizabeth had imagined. It was the prelude of another day that the killer went free.

  She lifted her face, and her gaze met Cullen’s. There was something in his eyes…something dark and needy. Something that matched the urgency she felt inside herself.

  He searched her face for a moment, and then seeing what he needed to, he kissed her.

  HE LAID HER on the bed and placed one knee on either side of her. Then, planting his hands beside her head, he lowered his head to hers, kissing her again and again until Elizabeth thought she must have surely died and gone to heaven.

  His body hovered over hers, barely skimming her, but everywhere they came into contact, her skin flamed from the intimacy, from the thrill of being so close. She lifted her hand and tentatively stroked his chest. He was so hard! His physique reminded her of those male models who did the designer underwear ads. Sculpted. Muscular. Intensely masculine. Looking at him was such a turn-on.

  She grew bolder, running her hand up over his shoulders and down along his arms. Everywhere she touched was new male territory explored and conquered.