by Meg Allison
He looked back at the drawing and shuddered. “Call him. I just want to get rid of that thing now. I want it gone.”
“It’ll be okay,” she assured as she reached for her purse near the door and pulled out her cell phone. “They’ll be able to stop him before he hurts anyone else.”
Half an hour later, Adam buzzed them from the security door downstairs. “Come on up,” Nathan told him as he pressed the button that activated the lock. He looked at Samantha and smiled. “I really hope they figure this out quickly. There are so many other things I’d rather be thinking about right now.”
Her face warmed and she looked away. Too fast. This relationship had moved entirely too fast and it was all her fault. Her and her stupid, sexy dreams.
A knock at the door made her jump a little.
“Okay, I’m here,” Adam announced as he entered. “What’s the big secret that couldn’t wait until morning?”
“We found a clue,” Samantha said as she rose from the sofa and smoothed her slacks over her thighs. “Over here, the drawing on Nathan’s wall.”
The men met her in front of the long, narrow street scene. She noticed Nathan stood several feet away as if he couldn’t bring himself to stand any closer. She understood how he must feel. The thing made her skin crawl.
“This is the connection between Nathan and the man who killed those women,” she told Adam. “There’s a whole boatload of residual emotional energy embedded in the paper…in every stroke of charcoal. The killer drew this scene and Nathan wound up buying it at a silent auction held at Liam’s gallery. It somehow linked them psychically—that’s why Nathan sees the murder scenes through the killer’s eyes.”
Adam frowned at her. “How did you figure all this out?”
She raised a brow. “I can sense the emotions in this picture. It’s filled with violence and anger. I felt the same thing at the crime scene you took me to, Adam, and from the pictures Nathan has drawn of the murder scenes. This picture was drawn by your killer, I’m sure of it.”
“I don’t suppose he signed it or left a forwarding address?”
“No, it wasn’t signed,” Nathan replied. “But Liam probably keeps some kind of records of what is donated and who buys the pieces. He may know the artist or at least who donated it.”
Adam slowly nodded. “Yes, yes, he probably does.” He looked at the two of them. “You both realize that I can’t tell anyone how I figured this out, right? If this does lead me to the killer, I’ll have to fudge my report.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” she said. “The last thing any of us need is to go public with the full story. I like life just the way it is. Mostly.”
Adam looked at Nathan. “Do you mind if I take this with me? I’m not sure you’ll get it back anytime soon.”
“No, please, take it. Keep it. I don’t ever want to see it again. You can put it in a shredder or set it on fire when you’re done.”
“Gives you the heebie-jeebies now?” Adam guessed.
“Yes, very much so.”
“Okay, then I’ll take the evidence with me and drive it right to Liam’s door. Hell, if we get really lucky we could have this case solved by morning.”
“At least now you have a direction to look,” Samantha added.
Adam chuckled. “Now that’s my practical red-head. Nathan, do you have a large plastic bag for the drawing? Something to keep it from getting wet or dirty?”
“Yes, I think so, if a trash bag will do.”
“Anything, as long as it’s clean. Thanks.”
Samantha watched Nathan leave the room and then turned to Adam.
“Do you really think this will help find the killer?” she asked.
He shrugged, his gaze still riveted on the drawing. “Maybe, maybe not—but it’s a hell of a lot more than we had before.” He glanced back at her and forced a smile. “You and Nathan? Things are getting serious kind of fast, baby girl.”
She looked away, unable to deal with the hint of accusation in his green eyes.
“Yes, I know. But I’ll be all right,” she told him. “Besides, I thought you liked him.”
“Oh, I do, I suppose. But no one will ever be good enough for my only sister. You should know that by now.”
She smiled then, all the love she felt for the man sending fresh tears to her eyes. “Oh, stop. You can’t get all mushy on me now, Adam Ant. Who will I torture if you’re being so nice?”
He laughed. “I’m sure Dylan will fit the bill. You two always find something to argue about.”
Nathan found them laughing together when he handed Adam the large black bag.
“This should work,” he said as he sent a curious glance in Samantha’s direction. “I haven’t touched the thing since I hung it up there—except to dust it now and then.”
After snatching a couple of tissues from a box on the end table, Adam used them to carefully lift the frame from wall. Sam held the bag open while he slid it inside.
“I doubt there would be any usable prints on it after all this time,” Adam said. “With it going through the donor and the gallery and then the auction—it could have a hundred sets on it. Now I need to wake up Liam. If anyone has the info on it, he will.”
“Let us know if you find out anything?” Samantha asked as she reached up to place a quick kiss on his cheek.
He glanced over her head at Nathan. “I take it you’ll be here?”
Samantha squeezed his arm lightly, a silent entreaty not to cause a scene. “Just call my cell.”
Adam smiled and kissed her forehead. “Will do, Red. Goodnight,” he nodded at the other man, “Nathan, take care of her.”
“Yes, sir.”
After her brother left, she heard Nathan sigh.
“You okay?” she asked.
He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head slightly. “Not sure, actually. But I will be--if your brother doesn’t kill me before we get through this.”
“Oh, Adam’s a sweetheart,” she teased. “Just wait until you meet my dad.”
* * ‡ * *
Adam sighed. It had been over an hour since he’d brought the drawing to his brother, Liam’s house. Sixty-plus minutes of sitting and waiting and wasting time. They should be out chasing down leads and pounding the pavement; flashing badges and questioning suspects. Instead they sat and drank pot after pot of coffee as they first waited for Liam’s server to come back on-line so he could access the art gallery’s records.
Adam sat in a large, wing-back chair, the cup balanced on the armrest as he bounced his leg frenetically in time to the nervous rhythm pounding through his entire body. Liam turned in his office chair and glared at him across the room.
“Do you have to do that? You’re shaking the entire room.”
Adam glared back. “Yes, I do. You know I can’t help it. It’s a nervous tick.”
“It’s a pain in the ass, is what it is. Ever talk to a doctor about it?”
“No, and I’m not going to,” he grumbled as he tried to soften the movement, but to little avail. “They’ll just want to run tests or put me on some kind of pill. I’m fine. I’ve done this ever since I can remember. I don’t think it’s going to kill me now.”
“No, but I might,” Liam muttered.
“Are the records up yet?” he asked, ignoring his brother’s threat.
Liam sighed. “Don’t you think I would have said something if they were?”
“What the hell is taking so long? You need a different server, Liam, this is asinine. How can you run a business like this?”
“Listen, big brother, I don’t tell you how to run—” A loud chime drew their attention. The screen filled with the front page of Liam’s gallery website. “Finally…” he clicked a few times, “Now when was this auction? Last Spring or the Fall before?”
“Spring, I think. Nathan said it was your last silent auction for the widow and orphan’s fund.”
“Okay, yes…that’s the one we hold in the Spring. We had a decen
t turnout last time—raised a good amount of money. You should come to the next one.”
“You tell me who donated this drawing and I’ll go to every auction you have for the next year. I’ll even buy something and hang it on my freaking wall.”
Liam grinned. “Now that I would like to see…” a few taps on the keyboard and he began to scroll down what appeared to be a list, “Okay, a charcoal street scene, already framed. Huh…well, I have good news and bad news.”
“Get on with it.”
“I can tell you who donated the piece—but the artist is listed as unknown and …oops, the donor requested to remain anonymous.”
Adam cursed. “Are you going to make me get a court order?”
“Of course not, calm down. It’s not a legal agreement or anything—just a request,” he clicked again, “Now this is interesting. The donor’s name is Dave Miles.”
Adam frowned as he jotted the name in his small spiral notebook. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“Maybe because he’s the owner and president of Miles Graphic Design, the company where Nathan works.”
Adam stared at his brother. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, believe me, I’m very careful with my records. I have to be. Very few people trust cops in general these days. I need to make sure everything is documented in triplicate.”
“They still think you’re stealing from the evidence locker?”
“Not that I know of, but you can never be too careful.” Liam stared at the computer screen a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I remember Mr. Miles. He’s an odd duck.”
“Odd?” Adam asked, his interest perked. “In what way?”
Liam shook his head. “Not sure how to describe it and I can’t quite put my finger on it—but he has this air of…” Liam sighed, “I don’t know, secrecy? It’s like he’s hiding something—something dark. I get this just crawled out from under a rock vibe around him.” Liam shrugged and offered a sheepish grin. “Hey, what the hell do I know? I’m not the empath in the family. Maybe I’m just paranoid since the guy hit on me while trying to get a female client’s phone number for less than reputable reasons.”
“Ah, gotcha, so he’s not particular about his playmates. Anything else more concrete?”
“Nope, but good luck questioning him—if I read him correctly, Miles isn’t someone who enjoys being put on the spot about anything. And try not to get Nathan fired, okay? The guy needs a break and his job. He’s been a mess since these damn drawings began.”
“Can’t make any promises, and it seems to me a lot of people have been a mess lately. Women are dying, Liam, and the next one…” he looked away but not before his younger brother caught the fear he’d been trying to hide.
“The next? Come on Adam, out with it. What the hell is going on?”
He looked Liam directly in the eye for a long moment. “You can’t tell Samantha, yet, but Nathan has drawn her.”
Color drained from Liam’s face and his mouth gaped. “What?”
Adam nodded sharply. “Yes, that’s why I let Davu talk her into going to Nathan’s apartment. I don’t want her alone for even one minute, but I don’t want to worry her about the reason, either. As long as she’s with Nathan, I can concentrate on catching this murdering bastard.”
“God, Adam…this can’t be happening…”
“No, it shouldn’t be happening, but it is for some reason. You and I are going to stop it, Liam. No one messes with our baby sister and lives to tell about it.”
Liam scrubbed a now shaking hand across his face and blew out a breath.
“So, this drawing is your only lead so far?”
“Yes, but it’s a damn sight better than what I had earlier today.” Adam rose and walked to his brother’s side to look down at the computer monitor. “Now let me see if I have this straight: the drawing, done by our killer, according to Samantha, was donated to your auction by the boss of my material witness, who then, in turn, purchased the drawing?”
“It seems so, yes.”
Adam grinned as he slapped his brother across the shoulders.
“I think it’s time to bring Dave Miles in for questioning.”
“It appears that way.” Liam gazed at the screen for a long moment before he turned to face Adam. “Is Samantha sure about this? About the drawing being done by your murderer?”
Adam nodded. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”
“I thought you didn’t believe in coincidences.”
He smiled. “I don’t, but I do believe in Sam’s gift. She’s never steered me wrong before.”
“Adam, I’ve known Nathan for a few years. I really don’t think he’s capable of murder.”
“No, neither do I. That’s the only reason Samantha is with the man right now. But this circle is getting tighter by the moment. Whoever drew this street scene has killed at least four young women—and now he’s after Samantha.” He looked at Liam then. “What about our Mr. Miles? Is he capable of murder?”
Liam shrugged. “I wouldn’t swear to it in open court but he’s the last person I’d trust in a dark alley.”
Adam nodded. “That’s just what I thought. He’s the common denominator between that picture and Nathan.”
As he turned to leave, Liam called after him. “I want to know what happens, Adam. Before the press, okay?”
“You got it,” he said as he lifted a hand in farewell. “Thanks, bro.”
“Wait!” Liam called and Adam turned to find his brother jogging after him. “Are you sure Sam’s safe?”
“No, I’m not, but I’m giving your pal the benefit of the doubt.”
Liam smiled slightly. “Now that does not sound like big brother Adam. You gave control of our only sister to someone you barely know?”
“Oh, she can control herself,” Adam assured. “But for some reason, I trust Nathan—maybe because you do. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.”
“The only thing that might bite you in the ass is not telling Samantha about Nathan’s drawing of her. She’s a strong lady, Adam. You know she can handle it. She went through worse with that Johnny bastard.”
“That’s why I want to keep her sheltered for just a little longer,” Adam said. “She’ll understand.”
Liam raised a brow and chuckled. “You just keep telling yourself that, bro.”
Chapter Ten
He sat in the shadows near the balcony window, his back to the wide-open space of the large room. Moonlight poured around the shutters to dance along the strands of his short black hair. It looked soft and almost blue in the silver light. She smiled. He was busy at his drawing table, shoulders slightly hunched as his right hand moved over the slanted space.
Her smile faded when she drew closer and realized there wasn’t enough light to draw by. At least, not consciously. She slowed her steps and slipped behind him, careful not to make a sound. His breathing was shallow and quick. His movements were jerky, uncoordinated. She took another step around his chair and peered up into his face. His eyes were wide open, but glazed as if his mind were very far away. He stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused, as his hand moved the pen across the page. Other features were lax, unmoving.
A shiver coursed down her spine and she took a step away. Even his emotions were distant, almost non-existent. She couldn’t feel anything from him but need…intense, irrational need for something. But what? Was it for the drawing process itself? Was he addicted to the act? The power that coursed through him? It brought back a flood of memories, none of them good. Memories of Johnny and the man he’d become when heroine filled his veins.
She didn’t know what to do. Nathan was unreachable, caught in some sort of trance, his mind a thousand miles away. Samantha quietly returned to the bedroom. She didn’t want to disturb him. Not while her own emotions were such a mess. She would let him finish and then go to him. Maybe then they could figure out the next step, together. He had to gain control of this thing before it was too late; before it pul
led him under.
The room began to blur and small, sparkles of light floated over vision. Soon her view grew dim as it narrowed to a small tunnel surrounded by gray. A migraine. Damn. She hadn’t had one in months, but the events of the last weeks must have finally triggered it. She cursed silently as a pain began to thrum behind her eyes. Her medicine was in her make-up case, which she’d left in Nathan’s car. She looked at the door, thinking of him as she bit her lip. He made her promise not to go anywhere without him. But surely a quick trip to the car wouldn’t hurt anything?
She slid her feet into her sandals and quietly made her way to the front door, out into the hall and hit the button for the elevator. For a moment, Samantha hesitated as the portal slid open. A small knot twisted in her stomach. Damn it, she hated being afraid. Weak.
She straightened her spine and stepped into the empty elevator, her thoughts awhirl with warning voices from the past few days: Adam, telling her to be careful; Nathan, telling her to not to go anywhere without him; Davu, insinuating that she needed a man in her life again. They were treating her like a child and she was beginning to resent the hell out of it.
But as the door swished shut, the knot in her stomach seemed to swell. She took a deep, labored breath. Stale air filled her lungs, yet didn’t relieve the tightness in her chest. She bit her lip. It would be fine. She’d go to the car, grab her bag from the passenger seat where she’d left it, and then get right back upstairs. Maybe, by then, Nathan would be out of his trance. Maybe then they could talk. She smiled softly as the tactile memory of his hands on her skin slipped into her thoughts. Then again, talking could wait until morning.
The car lurched to a stop and the doors slid open. Samantha stared into the dark hall as she fought back a surge of sheer panic. What the hell was wrong with her? No, this wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. As a matter of fact, it seemed down-right stupid now. But she was safe. There was nothing in the dark that hadn’t been in the light. Still, the sensation remained. She was starting to worry about herself. Had she really become the useless damsel in distress? The knowledge that she did indeed, feel sheer terror at the idea of facing an empty hallway set her back on her heels.