Mac glanced up from the report he’d been reading, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I should have left you in the car. You’re picking up on it, aren’t you?”
“His name is Clay.” She nodded to the file he was working on. “The murder victim is Clay.”
“Wrong, his name is Noah.”
Rennie shrugged. “Suit yourself, detective.”
Mac turned one of the photos over, studying it for several minutes before looking up again. “Okay, I give. Why do you think his name is Clay?”
"He was afraid someone was trying to kill him and he was right. He trusted the wrong person.”
“That doesn’t explain…”
“How I knew his name? That’s because I can’t explain it, Mac. Sometimes, I just…know.”
“Look, honey, I realize you’re trying to help, but we have two witnesses that say they saw Noah go into the building alone. Within a few minutes the place was on fire and only one body was discovered. How do you account for that?”
“I can’t,” she replied, confused as to how she could have gotten it wrong when the man’s name had come to her so clearly. “Do you have a positive ID on the body?”
“Not yet,” Mac admitted, “but we should have something back today.”
“Well, you must suspect it was homicide, otherwise you wouldn’t be investigating it.”
“We need to rule it out,” he explained patiently, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean we suspect it was murder.”
Rennie knew she was being obstinate, but even the fleeting image she’d gotten was enough to press Mac further. “What about the fractured skull?” she asked, lifting her hand to rub a spot on her head that suddenly seemed very tender.
Mac’s eyes shot to the photo. Taken from the shoulders up, it clearly showed the charred face of a young man, but there was no way Rennie could know about the fractured skull, and if his memory was correct, it was in precisely the same place she was touching on the back of her own head.
“That does raise a few questions.”
“Like whether this Noah person is responsible for Clay’s death?”
“Are you telling me that’s what you saw in your vision?”
Rennie shook her head. “It didn’t play out like that. It was more like getting a glimpse of a few snap shots. Clay was struck on the back of the head by whoever it was he was meeting there. He fell to the ground, but he wasn’t dead until this other man started the fire. If witnesses saw Noah entering the building, it only stands to reason that he was the one who killed Clay.”
Mac grunted and shuffled everything back inside the file. If she was right and the body in the morgue really wasn’t Noah, it did make him the number one suspect. What it didn’t do was make Rennie’s revelation any more palatable. “I’ll have to look into this later,” he said, knowing how unfair he was being, “although I’m not sure why I should bother spending hours on these cases when you can waltz in here and figure it out in two minutes.”
Rennie leaned forward. “Mac Logan, are you serious? You know I can’t pick up on every case, and even then I can’t always tell you the whole story. Anyway, you would have figured it out eventually.”
“Eventually, yes.” His tone was caustic. “Which means Noah would have been hell bent and gone before I even knew he was still alive.”
Rennie sat back in her chair, hurt by the way he was behaving. It was almost as though he resented her for being able to pick up on the details he hadn’t discovered on his own yet. Turning her face toward the window, she found herself once again having doubts about their relationship.
“I’m sorry, Mac. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to snap at you, honey.”
Rennie drew in a slow breath. “I warned you about this, Mac. I told you I couldn’t always control it. But you don’t have to worry about me butting in again. From now on, I’ll just keep my mouth shut when I have a vision. God knows I’ve spent most of my life keeping it to myself, it shouldn’t be too difficult to go on pretending I’m not a…a freak. Who knows, maybe if I’m good enough, I can make you believe it too.”
With blinding speed, Mac was out of his chair and rounding his desk to haul Rennie to her feet, locking her in a fierce embrace. “You are not a freak and I don’t want to hear you say that ever again. I should have thanked you for cutting out a lot of leg work instead of acting like an insensitive egomaniac.”
Mac loosened his hold on her just enough to see her face. Her eyes glistened with tears, and he cursed himself for hurting her so deeply. She would shut down on him now and face the visions alone just as she had always done in the past. Unless…
“We should work together,” he blurted out.
“W-what?”
“Sure, it’s a great idea,” Mac said, genuinely excited by the prospect. “The Captain can hardly object, and he’s kept you to himself far too long as it is. I could use you as a consultant. At a discounted rate, of course.”
His cocky grin made Rennie smile. “And what makes you think I would cut my fees for you, Detective Logan?”
“Because you would receive certain…fringe benefits by working with me.”
She inched her arms around his neck. “I’ll probably need a demonstration of these fringe benefits before making a commitment.”
“I think that can be arranged. Now be a good girl and give me a kiss so I can get to that meeting.” Her soft body melted into his when he dipped his head to kiss her. “I won’t be long,” he promised, then leveled a stern look at her. “Under no circumstances are you to peek at any of the files on my desk, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” she saluted.
“I mean it, Rennie.”
“I know you do. I also know those files are confidential so I wouldn’t presume to look through them unless I was officially on the case. Now, go to your meeting so we can leave.”
Forty-five minutes later, Mac returned with Ryan and another man. Ryan greeted her with a warm hug, which earned him a menacing growl from Mac.
“It’s nice to see you again, Miss O’Neal,” Ryan said, “although I have to admit I’m a little concerned about the company you’ve been keeping.”
“Don’t push your luck, Stone,” Mac warned before introducing Rennie to the other detective.
Michael Arnold was a handsome man with a boyish grin that she was sure charmed just about anyone he came into contact with. A few minutes later they headed outside, the three large men surrounding her as if they were Rennie’s personal team of body guards. Despite the sense of security it gave her, it was also a little overwhelming and she was glad when they reached Mac’s car.
“We’ll follow them,” Mac explained as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“I hope this works,” Rennie said, wasting no time yanking off the sunglasses and hat and letting her hair down, “because I feel silly wearing a disguise.”
“I don’t know, I think that mystery woman thing is kind of sexy.”
“You would,” Rennie quipped.
They lapsed into silence, their moods sobering as the car they were following led them to a dingy apartment building in a less than desirable part of town. Again, the three men surrounded Rennie as they escorted her inside and up three flights of stairs. The walls were thin and she could hear televisions, stereos, and the voices of the people inside each apartment they passed. The hallway was dimly lit, the faint smell of urine permeating the air, but that wasn’t what made Rennie feel sick to her stomach.
“He was here,” she confirmed weakly.
Mac immediately picked up on her distress and wrapped his arm around her waist. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. He can’t hurt you if I’m here, remember?”
Rennie actually did start to feel better as they continued down the hall and stopped in front of an apartment where Ryan produced a key and let them in. The living room was bare except for one lone beanbag chair in the corner and a small screen television. She lef
t them to explore the rest of the place, her stomach lurching dangerously when she entered the kitchen.
A pan had been left on the stove and was covered in grease, along with several dead cockroaches that had strayed too far in to extract themselves. Dozens of live roaches scurried for cover when she approached, but some boldly continued to gorge on the half-eaten pizza sitting on the counter. The sink was full of dirty dishes and it stank to high heaven.
Rennie backed away, feeling nothing except revulsion. The bathroom was just as disgusting as the kitchen and she quickly moved on to the last room. The bedroom was furnished with a television, a dresser with two of the four drawers missing, and a mattress. The rumpled sheet was threadbare, and the mattress itself undoubtedly housed bedbugs and varying species of mites. In the corner of the room was a bloodied shirt.
She called out to Mac, but it came out as nothing more than a hoarse whisper. The room was closing in on her, making her feel light-headed and nauseous. In a panic, she turned to flee and nearly collided with Mac’s large frame. The instant his arms enveloped her, the room stopped spinning.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Just…just don’t leave me alone in here.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” Mac told his partner.
Both Ryan and Michael hovered in the doorway, looking uncertain as to whether their presence was welcome or not.
“It’s all right to come in,” she assured them. “Once I get started, I won’t even know you’re here.”
She left the comfort of Mac’s arms reluctantly and ventured to the corner where the bloodied shirt lay and picked it up. For a moment she stood there holding it in her hands, the sense of betrayal so strong it rendered her speechless. Hurt and angry, Rennie whirled on the men and threw the shirt to the ground, acutely aware of the worried glance Ryan and Michael exchanged.
Stomping over to the mattress, Rennie dropped to her knees and placed her hands on the sheet. It was sordid and perverted, the things that had gone on in this bed, but it wasn’t Dalton who had slept here. She rose to her feet, her eyes flashing as they moved from Ryan to Michael.
“He was in the building,” she confirmed, her tone uncharacteristically acidic. “He was even on this floor. Now, which one of you wants to explain why you brought me to the wrong apartment?”
Chapter 12
Mac was furious. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”
Ryan answered for them, but he didn’t look at Mac. Instead, he directed his response at Rennie. “I apologize, Miss O’Neal, but I needed proof that you could do this. I hope you understand why we couldn’t simply take Mac’s word for it, given his relationship with you.”
Mac wasn’t appeased in the least by Ryan’s apology. “Are you satisfied now? Are we through playing games?”
“It’s okay,” Rennie interceded, “I’m used to it.”
Brushing past them, she averted her eyes so they wouldn’t see how hurt she was. It was foolish to have expected these men to place the same trust in her that Mac did, but for some reason she had. She couldn’t hear what was being said in the bedroom but it was evident by how low Mac’s voice had dropped that he wasn’t at all happy with the situation.
Rennie’s hands were shaking and she was totally disheartened by the fact they felt compelled to test her. Well, she would show them, Rennie decided with a determined lift of her chin. Without so much as a backwards glance, she strode purposefully to the door and slipped out into the hallway.
Dalton had walked this hallway. His revolting essence clung to the air around her, and again she felt sickened by it. Turning back the way they had come, Rennie slowly made her way past several doors before stopping in front of one with the number three hand painted on it. She reached out and touched the door, recoiling at how quickly the tingling worked its way up her arm.
Focus, she told herself. Don’t link with him yet. She heard the slamming of a door and the sound of quickly approaching footsteps, but she didn’t have to look to know it was Mac and the two other detectives. She didn’t bothering telling them what they already knew as she stepped aside so Ryan could unlock the door.
Her entire body thrummed with awareness the moment she was inside. Rennie’s eyes moved around the room but she wasn’t really seeing it. The living room was sparsely furnished, but it held no interest for her. Dalton hadn’t spent much time there. The men followed her to the bedroom but it was only mildly distracting. She felt like a bloodhound on the trail and her senses led her to the room he had occupied almost exclusively during his stay at the apartment. It was sheer will power that kept her from linking, and Rennie was proud of herself for preventing it from happening when the pull was so strong.
Besides the bed and a dresser, an armchair had been placed just off to the right of the window. He’d sat there looking down, keeping watch so he would be ready to flee if the police showed up. The burning in her shoulder began to ache just as it had the first time she linked with Dalton and she rubbed absently at it.
Mac must have sensed what was happening because he was suddenly by her side offering silent support. His hands, so strong, so warm, grasped hers and the tingling immediately began to ebb away. Whether it was his love for her or Rennie’s love for him, she didn’t know, but it kept the link from forming. The room came back into focus, as well as Mac’s anxious face.
“I can do this,” she told him. “I’ll need to sit in the chair but don’t think I can keep from linking as soon as I do. I’ll need you to keep me anchored.”
Mac was scared to death to let her do it but was careful to mask his feelings behind a confident smile. If she hadn’t been so distracted he was sure Rennie would have picked up on it, but she was too concerned about Dalton and what was going to happen once she sat in that chair. He’d already made up his mind to do everything in his power to call her back if she went into a trance for more than five minutes, even knowing it would inevitably make her angry.
Let her be angry, he thought. He could live with that. What he couldn’t live with was seeing her eyes staring blankly at him again as they had the night he found her sprawled on the floor.
“Tell me what to do,” Mac said, hoping he sounded encouraging.
“Hold my hands. No matter what happens, don’t let go.”
With her hands in his, Rennie sank into the chair. The burning in her shoulder returned, even more intense than it had been before. Mac was kneeling down in front of her, and though she knew he must be worried about her, he was doing a wonderful job at maintaining an unruffled air. She smiled softly as she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.
Rage smoldered inside her. They thought they would find me, trick me into coming out into the open, but I’m much too smart for that. Rennie’s brows drew together. No, those were Dalton’s thoughts and emotions, not hers. Her shoulder was on fire and she wanted to rub it but couldn’t seem to move her hands.
“It’s infected,” she said out loud. “The wound opened up again and…”
I’m watching you.
Rennie started to shake. “I think he’s stalking someone.”
“Can you see around you, honey?”
Rage, murderous, maniacal; he wanted to make her pay. Make who pay? Oh, no you don’t, she thought, you’re not claiming another victim, Dalton. Not now, not ever. Rennie focused on one single thought. She threw it back at him.
I’m watching you, Dalton.
His mind stopped spinning, then…fear. It was brief, fleeting, but he’d felt her, and for a moment it had gotten past the wall of hatred he guarded himself with. She had rattled him, she knew, because now she felt his wariness. He was searching. Searching for what? Rennie shivered. For me, he’s searching for me!
“He knows I’m not dead,” she squeaked out. “He’s watching from high up, just like he did when he was here. He knows we’re close but he’s not afraid that you’ll find him.”
“He’s nearby?”
“Yes.”
“How clos
e, Rennie? Close enough to see us?”
The bitch is still alive.
Rennie’s eyelids snapped open. “Mac…” Her voice caught in her throat.
She couldn’t breathe. Oh God, he knows, he knows, and the things he wanted to do to her were terrifying. She tried to wrench her hands free, frantic to get out of here, out of this awful place, because somewhere out there, Dalton was watching her. Abruptly, it all stopped and Rennie realized she was being carried out of the room. Mac was talking to her, telling her she was safe, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
“He knows,” she finally managed to say. “He’s been watching us the whole time.”
Mac’s jaw flexed. “Where, honey, where is he?”
“Across from the bedroom, but higher up, one floor…maybe two. He wasn’t sure it was me at first, but he knows now.”
Mac lowered her feet to the ground, his face set in grim determination. “Stay here and lock the door. Don’t open it to anyone except me.”
She wanted to protest, to beg him not to leave her alone, but the three men were already moving towards the door. The fierce look on Mac’s face softened when he glanced back at her, and then he was gone. Rennie’s legs felt as if they were made of rubber as she crossed the room and locked the door. She wanted to bolt from the room and race after him, but it would serve no purpose. He would only order her to go back inside the apartment.
Cold fear wound its way around her heart and squeezed. Dalton would see the men and have time to arm himself or lay in wait to kill them. No, he would kill Mac because that’s who would be leading the charge. She needed to distract Dalton and she had to do it fast.
Rennie raced back to the bedroom and dropped down into the chair. Without Mac, the link was instant, sucking her down into a dark, endless abyss. She fought it with everything she had, using her fear for Mac’s safety to fuel a rage of her own. She would protect him, just as he had protected her.
She envisioned Dalton being led to the electric chair, throwing out the image of his body writhing in pain as he drew in his last gasping breath. She tortured him with the voices of his victims, turning their fear on him, letting him experience the pain and anguish, the incredible hopelessness. He struggled against her but she’d found his weakness and used it; Dalton was terrified of dying.
WHISPERS TO THE HEART Page 15