“At first, I thought he was nuts. But now I think his theory’s got legs.” Quinn nodded at Nick. Continue.
“Killer had to have twenty-twenty vision, nerves of steel, and the patience of Job. Even with all that, it’d be nearly impossible to take out a guy with Illinois plates, going down the road at sixty-some miles per hour in broad daylight. Until one unlucky man from Buffalo Grove, Illinois, just happens to have some kind of car trouble along the same stretch of road. Thus, becoming victim number three.” Nick said. “And how many guys would know where to find the perfect kill spot up on Pigtail Alley?”
“Pigtail Alley?” I remembered the feel of raw, equine power flowing underneath me, Red Chief and me scaling the ridge for the sheer joy of it. Fifteen years ago? Twenty? “Local boy?”
“Who else would know about the deer trails winding up and down the ridge? Whoever it was didn’t leave much of a trail.” Quinn tapped his fingers against his thigh.
I voiced my thoughts. “How could he have known the guy would stop on the highway? Did he know the victim? Was this a random hit, or did the shooter somehow set him up? Maybe had a partner working the road for him?”
“I think so,” Nick said. “Had to have been working with someone non-threatening enough to cause the vic to pull over.” Amateur … or trying to look like one by leaving lots to go on at the crime scene.” Nick got up, reached the stove in three strides, stirred the red sauce, and adjusted the heat. “And what kind of hunter uses a semiautomatic rifle to kill Bambi?”
“Plenty of ’em.” Cliff joined in. “You don’t want to know.”
I nodded. “Sad but true. So, the guy used a semiautomatic. Any luck with the DNA tests?” I pictured the top of the ridge. I’d been up there many times.
“No,” Quinn said. “Everything came back clean. He camped out at the clearing. There were two shots fired. That we can verify from casings found at the scene.”
“Nobody gets that lucky from that distance,” Nick said. “He knew what he was doing, who he wanted to shoot. And if he was up there more than once, who knows how many actual rounds he may have gone through. If he were a careful man, he’d have picked up after himself on the other trips too.” He pulled plates out of cupboards, placing a stack of five on the island.
“Military?” I asked. “Shooter like that has to have a history.” I pictured the distance from the side of the road to the killer’s perch. “Quinn’s geography theory has to be right. Killer either knew the car, or he was waiting for the right license plate to come along. It’s out there, but we might as well put it on the table until we can eliminate it. Or come up with something better.”
Georgi leaned forward, looking from me to Quinn. “So, some guy was hanging out on the top of Pigtail Alley with a high-powered rifle, watching the highway for a car with Illinois plates, ready to shoot whoever was driving it?”
“That’s a pretty accurate summary.” Nick chimed in from the kitchen.
“Four bodies in four weeks?” The Mac truck weight of it all hit me, hard.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Quinn’s jaw ticked. His tell.
No wonder he’d called Nick in. He was in way over his head.
So much for my doctor-ordered vacation. And my reunion with Nick.
What was it they said about a woman scorned?
Chapter Nine
“Four bodies in four weeks, you two team up out of the blue, and not even a courtesy call my way?” Fog rolled around in my head. “What if I hadn’t gone golfing this morning? Would I still be in the dark?” It was a cheap shot, childish even, but I was ticked. And they were in my house, around my table.
Sparks nipped my spine. I stood and went to Nick in the kitchen, hands on hips. “What made you decide to just show up here today? Did Quinn call you?” Heat flushed my cheeks. Could I really accuse them of working together behind my back? Did they have any obligation to tell me what they were doing?
“I thought inviting him here might be the fastest way to catch us all up to speed at once.” Quinn surprised me for the second time today.
“You invited him?” I pointed at him, my face wrinkling into an angry scowl. I willed my face to loosen. I had to relax my brows, or those worry lines I’d been noticing lately might decide to stay.
“And you know I’ve always enjoyed a good mystery.” Nick put a lid on the saucepot and turned down the burner.
They didn’t really owe me anything. I knew that. I was just … what? Jealous? Desirous? Spoiled—wanting to be the center of attention? Or a good cop wanting to get to the bottom of the dead guy messing up my bogey on the sixth hole?
“And mysteries never cease around you, do they?”
Georgi topped off her wine glass, handed her husband a bottle of Spotted Cow, and headed for the door. “Honey, let’s enjoy a moment together out on the porch.”
“Right behind ya.”
“And then there were three.” Quinn watched them leave and came into the kitchen.
“When did you boys get so cozy together?” I pulled out a stool and sat down at the island. “And why?” I glared at Nick.
“Contrary to popular belief, my world didn’t stop turning when a certain beautiful chief of police asked me to stop pursuing her. I was going to drown my sorrows in expensive liquor and start playing piano bars in Paris, maybe ask for a transfer, take up a teaching gig at Quantico for a month or so. But then Chase Lafferty up and died of a heart attack.”
“The FBI profiler?”
“The same. I was invited to take his place teaching a few special seminars in Mad Town.” He pulled a stool around the island and sat down to face me.
“And, hick investigator that I am and lifelong fan of the deceased, I had a front row seat in his class.” Quinn pointed his bottleneck at Nick.
I pursed my lips, brows arched high.
“I wasn’t exactly thrilled to see your secret-agent man teaching the class I’d waited weeks to take.” Quinn flicked his eyes at me and then looked down at his beer bottle.
“Teaching this class was the best way to keep myself sane and in the game. After leaving you alone in the hospital that night …” The tremor in Nick’s voice stirred a torrent of self-blame within me. Silence enshrouded us. Were we all remembering how close I’d come to being murdered by a crazed killer? I had a feeling Nick hadn’t yet forgiven himself for leaving me alone in the hospital room that day. Was that what had kept him from finding me sooner? Guilt or shame? Either way, powerful forces like that could destroy a man from the inside out.
“In any case, the minute our killer chose to mess with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, he chose to work with me.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot all things Native American are federal affairs. Lucky you. Wait a minute. Could triggering the Bureau’s involvement be intentional?”
The men looked at each other. “Seems like a strong possibility,” said Quinn.
An uneasy détente settled around us. I’d grown up with Quinn—he was the brother I’d never had. Nick and I shared a complicated past I hoped one day might form a solid future. But it was a future I didn’t believe I deserved. So, I’d married someone I thought I did deserve. And now with all the detritus of my near-death experience, and me being such a selfish baby, half the—baby!
Samantha! A glance at my watch told me Samantha would be going to bed soon.
“I gotta make a call. You two talk among yourselves.” I jumped off the stool and hurried down the hall behind the kitchen into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. In the excitement of the day, while I thought about Sam constantly, I hadn’t found a minute to call her.
She answered on the first ring. “Hey! Where you been?” Her voice carried sorrow and the question of her life. You’re coming back for me, right?
I winced, shut my eyes tight and offered a quick prayer. Please God, give me wisdom. Let me show Samantha my forever love … a
nd Yours. “Baby, you’re always with me—in my heart and on my mind—no matter how far apart we are. I love you, Sam. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from you.”
“Zombies neither?” Her voice relaxed, transforming her from a wizened old woman back into her seven-year-old self.
“Zombies neither. Not even giant wild boars.” We’d spent a day hunting priceless objets d’art through the central Wisconsin countryside last fall. Our highlight had been a pair of house-sized wild boars, jumping over an impossibly large fence, meticulously sculpted out of innumerable bales of straw. The pair graced brochures for the event, becoming an overnight sensation on last year’s Farm Art D’Tour. Only in Wisconsin.
She giggled. “When are you coming back?”
“Soon, sweetie. And then you’re coming here to spend time with Uncle Cliff and Aunt Georgi and me.” I moved the conversation forward, asked about her foster family’s new puppy, shielding my heart—and Sam’s—from thoughts of Nick. I knew how sad it’d make her if she knew he was here and he hadn’t even asked about her.
More giggling. A dropped phone. “Sophie, no!” A happy girl sighing.
“Sounds like somebody’s getting kiss-attacked.” I pictured the taupey-gold fur ball.
“Sophie says come home soon. She misses you.”
“I love you, Sam. Let me talk to your foster mom now, okay?”
“I love you, Mama. And so does Sophie. Come back.” She slipped the last words out and retreated from me. Footsteps running.
After checking in with the crazy-generous couple with Texas-sized hearts who’d fostered Sam for months, I ended the call and sighed. Hold on baby, just a little while longer. Mama’s coming. I sat on my bed, watching the waves shimmer off Devil’s Lake. The pull of the waves drew me back to another place and time.
I closed my eyes and gave in to the luxury of sweet dreams for several seconds. My thoughts reached back to a golden afternoon Nick, Sam, and I had spent together, cooking and coloring and laughing in front of a fire. I’d have staked my shield on Nick’s commitment to making our happy little family permanent. We had fit. We were all in love, tenderly making our way to each other. It was perfect. Too bad it was only in my head.
Too bad I’d pushed perfect away before my release from the hospital. Too bad perfect hadn’t come back, hadn’t waited around to help me through recovery, to hold Sam while she cried herself to sleep at night. Too bad perfect was just another pale horse passing through our lives.
Was it too late for us? After everything we’d lost, was there any chance at all of redeeming this love? Could Nick and I wrap our hearts around each other and reclaim lost time? Warmth rushed over me, and I closed my eyes. A beautiful vision of Nick and me pulling Samantha solidly into our hearts and creating a forever family blossomed in my mind. In my vision, I was beautiful and sure, smiling at the future, finally able to invite the fantasy family out of my head and into my life—to stay.
With God, all things are possible. I turned the tried-and-true verse from Matthew around in my mind like a prism, thoughts igniting off the angles in my mind. As I blinked open my eyes, the thoughts evaporated, leaving me with a feeling of peace and the assurance of being deeply loved.
Chapter Ten
I sucked in air and blew out, rounding the corner into the heat of the kitchen. Way too much heat. Too much to handle? We’ll see. The men looked up. Cliff had joined them.
“How is she?” Nick stared at me.
Is it any of your business anymore? His hi-def gaze brought goosebumps up and down my legs. I didn’t owe him anything, right? Sam wasn’t ours. Just mine. And I was a fierce protector of my own. Nick should have remembered that.
“She’s fine.”
Cliff surprised me by jumping in. “You wouldn’t recognize her. She’s growin’ right up. Gonna be my fishing buddy.”
Nick turned away, struck by an urgent need to stir a different pot.
“And a Packers fan.” Cliff pulled out his phone, thumbed through pictures, pulled up a series featuring him, Georgi, Sam, and me at Lambeau Field.
I snorted, shaking my head. “That was a blast and a half. Sammie still wears her jersey to bed too.”
“She loved that jersey, didn’t she?” Cliff beamed.
I nodded, smiling. “She loves it. And we’re still enjoying reminiscing about the spanking the Pack gave the Bears. Almost as good as the brats.” Sharing recollections of our family moments in front of Nick and Quinn felt awkward.
“How you doing on beer, Cliff? Ready for another?” I grabbed his half-full bottle, tossed it in the recycle bin, and walked to the fridge without waiting for a response.
Nick clanked a lid on the sauce pot. “I really would like to see any new pictures of Sam you’ve got. I miss her. How’s she doing, really?”
He turned around, faced me and trained his impossibly beautiful eyes on me, pulling me into his orbit. I snapped my eyes shut, trying to break the spell Nick cast over me just by being near. I opened them with a slight shake of my head, willing away his magic.
I stared at Nick’s perfectly formed lips, hunger roiling through me. Out of the frying pan … Life flickered through me in places I’d thought long dead. Warm apple-pie images flicked through my mind, followed by peonies opening in the early days of June. Only it wasn’t that precious floral scent wafting through me. It was Giorgio. It was Nick.
Cliff leaned over to take the beer still dangling from my fingertips, popped the cap and walked out saying something about finding out where Georgi had disappeared to.
Nick moved like silk around the counter, inserting himself between Quinn and me, lethal good looks draining away my resolve. He stood so close, I felt the rhythm of his breathing, and I wanted for all the world to feel his arms around my waist, his lips on my skin. Heat flowed over my face, my heart jackhammering through my ribs, through my temples.
Nick brushed his forearm against mine, sending liquid fire through me. Ringing in my ears distracted me as Quinn mumbled something about having to get back to the office. He kept his eyes lowered as he stepped back from the counter, grabbed his jacket off a stool and walked out the door in a haze of white noise. The tongue of the door’s lock clicked into place, cracking like a rifle in the winter. Strong arms circled my waist from behind, and the tall, slender, delicious warmth of Nick enveloped me. I leaned back into him, wrapping his arms tighter around me, closed my eyes, and sighed.
So much for being mad at him.
We stood as one. Me, leaning deeper into him. Nick, resting his chin on the top of my head, drawing me ever tighter. His heart beat against my spine, pulsing throughout every fiber of my being, sending shimmering waves of heat through me.
“Josie, my Josephine. I’ve missed you so, so much.” He kissed my head, holding me.
“Are you really here?” I let myself fall deeper into him. “With me?” Are you here to stay?
“I’ve always been here with you. Sometimes more visibly than others.” He breathed into my hair.
I felt his ribs expand and contract with the rhythm of his breathing. Peace, sureness, a solid sense of yes emanated throughout my body, mind, and soul.
And want. I want this. I want this man. I want us. I want. And wanting is a good thing.
I pulled his right hand up to my lips and kissed it, then leaned my head back and crooked my neck into his chin. Sighing out his name, I closed my eyes.
“Let’s clear things up between us?” Nick said, sliding his hands from my shoulders to my waist. One palm touched my bare skin, I stopped breathing.
Nick turned me to face him, placing a finger under my chin, gently tilting my head up. He waited for my eyes to find his before continuing. “Josephine Oliver, I’ve given you everything you said you wanted—time and space apart. I promised you this, and I’ve given it to you. You asked me to give you some breathing room, time to think things through, and I
did. But seasons change. And that time—our season of separation—it’s time for that season to come to an end.” Masculine eyes bored into mine as he edged closer, thighs touching mine, and curled his right leg around my left, pulling me into him. “My Josephine.”
I gasped, turning my face to meet his. Love and desire radiated from him like a tropical rainstorm. I stretched onto my tiptoes, needing to feel his lips again.
I. Want. This. Man.
I licked my lips, brushing them, feather-light, against his. He responded, teasing my lips with his, dancing his tongue over them before pressing his lips to mine. I kneaded my way through his muscular back, pleasure firing through my hands, warming other long-cold parts of my being.
My mind filled with sights and smells of velvety dark chocolate poured over sea-salt dotted caramels … filet mignon, drizzled in a fine, dark glacé … cinnamon, nutmeg apple pie wrapped in a hazelnut crust … all leading me to delicious images of Nick’s amazing body entwined with mine.
We took a reluctant breath.
“I don’t want to make a bigger deal out of it than necessary, but Quinn and I are teaming up on this borderline killer.”
My head snapped back, and I winced. “Whoa, so you’re taking this Illinois-Wisconsin thing seriously?”
“Yes. So, should you.” His jaw muscles twitched under his smooth skin.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annoyance slipped under mine.
“It means you’re the only one of us who has a foot in both worlds.” I tried to pull away, but he held onto me. “Probably doesn’t mean anything. But what if it does? I’m done taking chances with you, Josie.”
Heat rolled off his body, snuggling around mine like a blanket. I sighed, feeling a dam of reserve break within me. He reached his arms around my hips and pulled me toward him.
Tiny stars burst across a dark sky in my mind. “I’m going to need a little time to get used to …”
“No. No more time.” His hands reached up my back, and my neck curled up in pleasure. He put his lips to my ears. “I’m back, baby.” He gave a little nip, whispering, “Get used to it.”
Anchored by Death (A Jo Oliver Thriller Book 3) Page 6