“Kelly, I thought you’d left.”
“I did, but I forgot a file I’d meant to take home. Aren’t you leaving soon?”
“Yeah. I only have a few more documents to copy. Why don’t you hang around a minute and we’ll go to Louie’s for a drink.”
“I can’t. I’ve got a date.”
“A date, huh? He must be a real winner if you’re taking work home to keep you warm.”
Tom heard the woman’s low chuckle and felt a smile curve his lips at Kelly’s reply. “Oh, he’s a winner, alright. But tonight, he might just have to beg for it.”
The woman whooped and laughed. “I hear some juice in that story. Sure you don’t want to go for that drink?”
“I’m sure. See you in the morning, Gloria.”
“Yes, you will, and I’m gonna want details—lots of ’em.”
Kelly reappeared and blushed beneath his grinning gaze.
“Not one word.”
“Did I say anything?”
As they stepped from the warm office into the crisp night, Tom pulled Kelly close beneath an illuminated street lamp. He lingered in the warmth of her alluring eyes and let his warm breath betray his desire before lowering his mouth to hers.
When he lifted his head, he released a steadying sigh. Her eyes fluttered open to reveal passion simmering in their depths and he smiled, shaking his head in wonder.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he said, his voice rough with pent-up emotion. “If I have to beg, I will.”
“Good. That’s the way I like it.”
Tom grinned and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as an arctic breeze rustled the leaves of shrubs and the needles of pines. He steered her past his Jaguar toward her car. When she pressed the unlock button on her remote, he opened the door and interior light spilled from the Lexus.
“Thanks for doing this for me, Kelly.”
He lowered his head for another kiss and reached for the file she held in her hand. Her retreat was sudden as she took a step back.
“Hold on there, big guy,” she ordered, clasping the file to her breast. “If you think I’m just going to hand this file over without an explanation, you’re wrong, Thomas Shear. You’re not getting anything until you’ve told me why it’s so important.”
Tom stood silent, holding his renewed frustration in check.
“Why won’t you tell me?” she asked. “Why won’t you confide in me? I trusted you by getting this file. Now I’m asking you to trust me.” She waited for his answer and grew impatient with his brooding silence. “Is it Emmy? Has something happened to her?”
“Besides the obvious?” A sardonic grin twisted his lips. “No.”
“Then what is it?”
“I just don’t want you involved, okay?”
“Involved!” She stared at him. “Whether you realize it or not, I became involved the moment we met. I carry Jenny with me everywhere I go. I feel her pain as if everything that happened to her happened to me, and you have the gall to stand there and say you don’t want me involved? I can’t believe you!”
Kelly’s words echoed in his brain and his anger evaporated. Seeing the tears she held at bay, he pushed common sense aside and gathered her in his arms.
“Okay. I’ll tell you what I know. But not here.”
She pulled away from him. “I want to go to the gallery.”
Tom frowned. “I don’t think that’s wise,” he said. “I think it’d be better if I followed you home.”
Kelly’s face softened under his worried gaze, and she raised her hand to his determined jaw. “I’m not going to tell you I’m not afraid, because it would be a lie,” she said. “But I can’t just walk away as if nothing happened. I can’t pretend that Jenny, and what I feel of her, isn’t real. It is and I have to find a way to deal with it, not hide from it.”
Tom stood silent, watching her face as he debated his options. But he knew her determination would dismiss any argument he tried to make.
“My gut tells me I shouldn’t let you do it,” he said, “but I can see I have no choice. I don’t suppose you’ll let me have that file now?”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said, sinking into the driver’s seat of her car. “This file’s my insurance.”
Tom led Kelly to the brick patio at the back of the gallery. A free-standing gas-light at the far corner of the patio washed a tempered glass table with a closed umbrella and six cushioned chairs in its warm light. A large, black Weber grill stood in the opposite corner.
Kelly waited in silence as Tom opened the storm door that had a sign reading “No Admittance. Use Front Door” and inserted his key in the lock. She preceded him into the dimly lit kitchen, the only source of light coming from the sixty watt bulb above the stove, and Tom watched her scan the shadowed room as he reset the security system. She flinched as his hands came around her shoulders to take her coat. Smiling timidly, she took a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked, hanging their coats on the wall mounted coat rack by the door. He flipped the switch to the chandelier above the table and the shadows dispersed.
“Fine,” she said with a closed lipped smile.
Tom took Kelly’s hand and led her across the kitchen to the back stairs. As her eyes traveled upward through the dark, she gave his hand an involuntary, nervous squeeze. Tom squeezed back in reassurance, turned on the stairway light, and led her up. At the top, a beacon of soft light spilled into the dark hallway from the single lamp in the den. As she entered, she released a relieved sigh before settling herself in a corner of his sofa. Tom went to the bar.
“Here,” he said, handing her a snifter of brandy. “You look like you need this.”
“Does it show that much?”
“You’re trembling all over. You know we don’t have to stay here. I’m sure you’d feel better at your apartment.”
Kelly took a sip of brandy and then shook her head. “We’re not going anywhere. Now, tell me what’s happened.”
Tom remained standing as he swirled the amber liquid in his own snifter watching its movement. He’d already decided not to tell her about Detective Winward’s visit. There was no way he was going to voluntarily involve her in a murder investigation. If it came to that, he’d rather remove her from his life than subject her to that kind of situation.
“I went to the university library today and did some research. What I found was astounding.” He lifted his gaze to her pale face. “I searched newspaper articles and found a series of missing children reports. The missing children were all little girls.”
Tom weighed his words carefully. “Jenny was the first to be abducted. Only one body out of eight was ever found. Her name was Kathy Packard. She was the last victim.”
A heavy silence fell, then Kelly’s voice was subdued as she said, “I don’t know what to say. I remember reports several months back and I was shocked by the outcome, but I’m ashamed to say, as time passed, I gave the matter little consideration after that.”
“I know what you mean,” Tom replied. “I think it’s only human nature to look the other way when something happens that doesn’t affect your own life. But things have changed. It has affected our lives deeply and now we have to deal with it. That’s why I went to the library today. I have to find out for myself what’s happening to us and why.”
Kelly looked thoughtful. “You said there were eight abductions,” she said. “Weren’t the police only able to link three or four together?”
“That’s right. At least that’s what the article said,” Tom replied, remembering what he’d read about the confession found with Theodore Chandler’s corpse.
“What do you mean? You sound as if you think there’s more to it. You don’t think all eight could possibly be connected, do you?”
Tom walked to the window and peered into the darkness. “I’m sure of it,” he answered.
“How?”
“Jenny wasn’t among the ones mentioned in the confession found on the scene of the a
bductor’s suicide.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“The abductor admitted to four cases. The last four,” Tom explained, facing her. “Three of those four are on a canvas hanging in the Rage gallery.”
Kelly stared at him without blinking as she considered the implication of Tom’s statement. “What of the fourth?”
He held her gaze. “I’ve painted eight portraits and they’re all hanging downstairs. With the exception of Emmy, I’ve portrayed seven of the victims. The only one I’m missing is Kathy Packard. Her body was discovered the day after Theodore Chandler was found hanging in my studio.”
“What!” Kelly moved as if ready to leap, then slowly settled back against the sofa. She lifted her snifter and swallowed. After a fortifying breath, she met Tom’s watchful gaze. “I knew Mr. Chandler committed suicide, but I had no idea it was here. You must’ve been overwhelmed when you found out.”
“To say the least. That’s why I need to look at that file. It might tell me something about the house that—” Tom’s voice halted at the sudden expression of horror on Kelly’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Mrs. Dempsey,” she whispered.
“What’s Mrs. Dempsey got to do with this?”
Kelly looked startled. “I thought you knew,” she said.
“Why does everyone say that to me whenever her name’s mentioned?” Tom asked, exasperated.
“She was killed in this house, Tom. She fell down the attic stairs and broke her neck.”
Tom was stunned. “When?”
“It happened the day she showed you the house. She had some paperwork I needed so I drove over. The front door was standing open and her car was in the driveway, but I couldn’t find her. I was just about to call the police when I heard a noise in the attic.”
Kelly paused and took a deep breath to dispel the quaver in her voice.
“I don’t think she recognized me, because my presence seemed to terrify her. She threw up her arms like she was expecting me to attack her and practically pushed me out of her way. That’s when she stumbled and lost her balance. There was nothing I could do,” she said, staring into the empty glass in her hand. “I reached out to her, but she was already falling.”
Tom scowled as he took her glass and returned to the bar. The image of Mrs. Dempsey’s broken body lying with dead, staring eyes at the bottom of the attic stairs flashed in his mind.
“The only thing I was told was that Mrs. Dempsey had been killed in an accident,” he said, pouring more brandy for himself as well. “I assumed it was a car accident.”
“Tom, I’m sorry. I had no idea you didn’t know. I would’ve told you if I’d known. I hope you believe that.”
Tom studied Kelly’s face, then carried their drinks as he went over to her. He squatted in front of her, handed her a glass, and took her free hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “It must have been terrible for you.”
“It was,” she said. “But there’s no excuse for you not being told the truth.”
Ignoring her comment, he rose, turned back toward the window, and stood swirling the brandy in his glass.
“Why was she in the attic in the first place?” he questioned, his gaze probing the darkness outside. “I had the distinct impression she was anxious to settle our business so she could leave. And what could’ve frightened her badly enough to make her bolt from the room?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t remember seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary?” he asked, turning in time to see a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “What?”
“It might be nothing, but as I climbed the stairs, I thought I heard a voice. And when I stood in the doorway, before she turned and ran toward me, there was a whimper. At first, I thought the sound came from Mrs. Dempsey. But now that I think about it, and considering everything that’s happened since, it was definitely childlike.”
“The voice you heard when you mounted the stairs, what did it say?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It was muffled.”
Tom’s eyelids closed in weary thought.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
Tom heaved a sigh. “I think Mrs. Dempsey was exposed to something she couldn’t handle.”
Kelly pondered her next question before she spoke. “Do you suppose there’s a connection between what happened to her and Mr. Chandler’s suicide? There’s got to be more to it than mere coincidence that both deaths occurred in the same location.”
“Oh, there’s more to it, all right,” he said in a rough voice. “I don’t believe in coincidence anymore. Everything happens for a reason.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I’m right, the attic above us is where the children were held captive. My gut also tells me it’s where they died.”
Tom’s words poured over Kelly like iced water. Her face drained of color and her eyes grew wide with shock. Kneeling in front of her, he took her drink from her hand and placed both of their glasses on the coffee table before gathering her in his arms.
“We’re going to find the truth, Kelly. We couldn’t help them in life, but maybe we can help them in death. And when we do, maybe their souls will be set free.”
Tom held Kelly close and she clung to him as she shook and nodded her understanding against his neck. His heart ached for her and only served to magnify the need to protect her from all that was happening.
Suddenly, the overwhelming realization of just how much she meant to him and what he stood to lose washed over him with a sobering effect. His determination to find the truth strengthened tenfold and he felt an uncanny calm fall over his emotions.
Kelly pulled away from Tom’s embrace and wiped the tears from her face. “I’m sorry.”
“Darlin’, you don’t have to apologize. It’s a lot to take in.”
She shook her head. “When I see you calmly accepting things and moving forward to the next logical step,” she smiled ruefully and shook her head again, “I must seem like a weak, sniveling female to you.”
Tom harrumphed. “I’ve had weeks to come to terms with what’s happening,” he replied. “You’ve had, what, three days? I know you’re a strong woman, Kelly. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Yes, I do,” she stated, holding his dark blue gaze. “I want you to have the confidence to come to me, to know I’ll stand by you, no matter what. I want to be your comfort and the one who helps you realize when you’re screwing up. I want you to know, without a doubt, that I’m worthy and strong enough to be your woman.” She held his gaze a moment longer, then her cheeks flushed and she lowered her eyes. “Maybe it’s too soon to be saying these things, but it’s the way I feel.”
Tom was captivated. He didn’t know what to say. He’d hoped, but had never really expected, to hear such declarations from a woman he was falling—had already fallen—in love with. When she lifted her eyes to his, the longing they revealed made his groin tighten. The mere closeness of her body made his hands tingle with the urge to caress her smooth, bare skin.
“What can I do to help?” Her voice was thick with emotion.
“Just stand by me and be my sounding board,” he answered. “If I had to deal with it alone, I’d probably go insane.”
“What are you going to do now?” she asked, her question a mere whisper.
Tom’s gaze fell to her soft lips and he breathed “This” before smothering her gasp beneath his kiss. As her tongue moved in a slow, sensual dance with his, he pushed her skirt up, letting his fingers glide along the silkiness of her gartered thigh-high hose until he met bare skin. He then guided her legs apart, positioned himself between her thighs and pulled her close until he felt the heat of her crotch pressed against the hardness beneath his zipper. She trembled as he cupped her breasts, grazing their peaks with his thumbs, and his body grew rigid as her nipples tightened beneath her clothing in response to his touch.
“God, Kelly. I never knew I could feel this way.”
<
br /> His whisper was hoarse with longing as he nibbled a path from the mole at the corner of her mouth to the tender flesh of her neck. He pulled back, meeting her heavy lidded gaze, and slowly began freeing the buttons of her blouse.
“If this isn’t what you want, stop me now,” he warned, his voice low and strained. “I’m aching to make love to you and it would be damned hard to stop if it goes much further.”
Kelly’s eyes had darkened and her moss-green gaze held Tom prisoner as she unbuttoned his shirt. She pushed it back from his shoulders and ran her hands across the broad expanse of his bare chest before shrugging out of her own gaping blouse.
“It’s too late for either of us to stop. Make love to me, Tom. Hold me in your arms. Love me.”
The last command was lost in a breath as Tom found the front clasp of her bra and slipped his fingertips beneath the white lace to push it aside. At the sight of her naked breasts, his erection became like stone and throbbed. He cupped their weight in his hands and couldn’t help a groan as his penis twitched with anticipation.
He gently pinched, then pulled her pink nipples, watching them tighten even more, begging to be suckled. “I do love you, Kelly. I always will,” he growled. “God, you’re beautiful.” Tom lowered his head and licked her left nipple before pulling it into his mouth. As he sucked and rubbed with his tongue, his fingers found the right and began rubbing in circles, pinch-pulling with a gentle twist. Her nails scraped across his scalp, sending a sensual shiver over the back of his neck, across his bare shoulders, and down his back before she fisted his hair in her hands to pull him closer. Her back arched and she gave a low moan as her head fell back.
“That feels so good.”
She then lifted her head and lowered her eyes to watch what he was doing as he moved to the other breast and began the process over again. Her lips parted and her breath quickened. Her eyes smoldered as she lay back on the sofa and pulled him down on top of her. His heart swelled as her whispered “always” caressed his lips.
As he deepened the kiss, his dazed mind ignored a gentle tug for his attention. The tug grew stronger and part of his brain registered the smell of roses. He lifted his head and realized the scent hung heavy in the air.
Portrait of Rage (The Marcel Experience Book 1) Page 13