Criminal Behavior--A Thrilling FBI Romance

by Amanda Stevens

  “Anyone would be on edge after all that.” He took the opener from her hand and uncapped the bottles.

  “And I haven’t even told you everything.” Addie went around and perched on a bar stool. “The guy who hit me? I saw him again today.”

  Ethan sat down beside her. “Where? When?”

  “After I left the churchyard this morning. I took a shortcut through an alley like you suggested, and he came up behind me.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “It happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to call for backup. But there’s no doubt in my mind he was the guy. Same height, same build. And he used a voice disguiser like he did last night. You can get those everywhere these days for less than twenty bucks. He probably clipped the microphone inside his hoodie so that I couldn’t see it.”

  “Could you tell what he looked like?”

  “No, he kept that hood pulled around his face so that I never got a good look at him.”

  Ethan frowned. “You said he used a voice disguiser. What did he say?”

  Addie hesitated. “The whole encounter was pretty unnerving. When I said he came up behind me, he was actually on top of a brick wall, almost hidden by foliage. I’m not sure I would have seen him at all except for a dog behind the wall that kept going crazy. I knew something was wrong. Even after I spotted him up there, I thought I might be imagining things. It was just so bizarre to see him creeping along that wall, and I’ve seen a lot of weird things in this city. He called out my name. Adaline. Adaline. Just like that.” She ran a hand up and down her chilled arm. “So creepy.”

  “That’s all he said? Just your name?”

  “He said it was time I learn the truth about my mother.” She kept rubbing at the goose bumps as if she could scrub away the memory of his taunt.

  Ethan lifted his beer and then set it back down. “What do you think he meant by that?”

  “Who knows? He jumped off the wall, startled me, and then he fled. I gave chase, but...he got away.”

  Ethan searched her face. “Why do I have a feeling there’s more to the story than you’re telling me?”

  “I’ve given you the highlights. Anyway, what I’d like to know is how he found me in the first place. He must have followed us to Naomi’s house and then he tailed me from the churchyard. Maybe he’s the one who called the cops.” She paused in alarm. “You don’t think he’s the one who’s been staying in the attic, do you?”

  “He’s a person of interest, to say the least.”

  Addie let out a breath. “I’ve tried to write him off as just another weirdo who’s latched onto one of Twilight’s Children—me—but I can’t forget what you said about that mannequin and how she was posed with a magnolia petal on her lips. What if whoever is staying in Naomi’s attic isn’t just someone fascinated with the Twilight Killer case? What if he’s practicing to be the Twilight Killer?”

  “It’s a leap, but the thought has crossed my mind.”

  That Ethan didn’t immediately dismiss her theory worried Addie even more.

  The house suddenly seemed unnaturally quiet. Even the hum of the refrigerator sounded menacing. Was her stalker out there right now watching her place? Was he imagining her prone and posed, gushing blood from a fatal stab wound to her heart as he placed a magnolia petal upon her frozen lips?

  Addie shook herself and glanced at Ethan. “Maybe we’re both letting our imaginations get the better of us.”

  “Maybe we are. We need to remain objective. We don’t know enough to draw any conclusions at this point, but the hoodie guy bears finding and watching.”

  “Right now, he’s the one who keeps finding me,” Addie said. “I’m certain I wasn’t tailed when I left the neighborhood this morning, and we were both careful when we walked to Naomi’s house. So how did he know we would be there? How did he know I would be in the alley at that precise time?”

  “If he’s the one staying in the attic, he could have followed us out of the house when the police showed up. Did you have your phone with you this morning?”

  “Yes, of course. I always do.”

  “That’s another possible explanation. GPS has opened doors for law enforcement and criminals alike. It doesn’t take much sophistication for either to track a cell phone. All anyone would need is your number, and not even that with the right equipment and know-how. You should probably use a burner until we resolve this.”

  “You know I can’t do that. I’m a cop. I can’t go off the grid because some sicko has decided to play mind games with me.”

  “Gwen Holloway’s program starts on Monday, right? Your whereabouts won’t be a secret, anyway. Use a burner when you’re off the clock and when you’re working on our investigation.”

  Our investigation. Addie inwardly winced.

  “What else did you have in your bag this morning besides your phone and your gun?”

  She thought for a moment. “My shield and ID. My car key. A tube of lip gloss.”

  “Have you had your car worked on lately? Used a car wash or a valet service? A tracker or transmitter can be powered using the battery in a key fob. If you’ve got a spare, switch it out. Change the code on your security system, too. Do it now before you forget. Then get the locks on your doors changed as soon as possible.”

  “Changing the locks is no small expense,” she said. “Maybe we’re overreacting.”

  “Come on, Addie. You know better than to take chances.”

  “Okay. I’ll call a locksmith in the morning.”

  Ethan sat drinking his beer while she returned to the foyer to reprogram the security panel. She came back with cell phone in hand. “I don’t care if this guy is tracking my number. I’m starving and I’m using this phone to order a pizza. Any objections or requests?”

  “No objections. Your vehicle is parked in the driveway. Anyone watching the house would already know you’re home.”

  “Requests?”

  “Are you inviting me to dinner?”

  Something in his voice, a quiet intimacy, quickened Addie’s pulse, but she tried to downplay her reaction with a shrug. “We both have to eat. No anchovies or olives, correct?”

  “You remembered.”

  “Don’t be flattered. No anchovies is a given, and I don’t like olives, either.”

  “I remember.”

  She started to retort, needed to retort so that her defenses remained fortified. Instead, she went into the kitchen to call the neighborhood pizzeria, keeping her back to Ethan while she gathered her poise. When she turned, he was at the kitchen door staring out into the backyard.

  “Mind if I have a look around?” he asked.

  “Knock yourself out.”

  Addie didn’t follow him. She needed another beat to collect her thoughts. She tried to tell herself she was tired and on edge, but spending so much time with Ethan had made her feel things she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. The flutter of her heart at his nearness. Her keen awareness of his heated gaze. She’d forgotten what it was like—the thrill and the terror—to be in those first throes of sexual attraction.

  Addie had dated enough after their breakup to know the kind of connection she’d felt with Ethan was rare. He wasn’t like any man she’d ever known. He was intense and introspective, someone she knew she should run from. But Addie had discovered that with all those dark emotions came deep passion, the kind that had made her lose coherent thought and good sense. She’d known using David Cutler’s computer to open sealed files was morally wrong and professionally indefensible, but she hadn’t cared. Not in that moment. One touch, one kiss, one whisper in her ear and she would have done anything for Ethan Barrow.

  She was older now, wiser, harder and a lot more jaded. Because of Ethan, she didn’t trust easily, and she’d vowed to never again be taken in by a pair of dark eyes and knowing hands. And yet when she w
atched him now as he moved about her backyard, all she could think about were those eyes staring down at her in a dim room, his hands sliding slowly up her thighs, parting her, teasing her until the only thing she cared about was having him inside her.

  She picked up her beer, gulped it down and then, squaring her shoulders, she opened the door and went outside to join him.

  He was hunkered on the walkway staring up at the broken security light. He glanced her way when he heard the door. “When did this happen?”

  “Last night.”

  “Before or after you tangled with the suspect?”

  “After. Actually, it happened while Matt was still here. We heard a crash and came out to investigate. I think someone threw a rock and took it out.”

  “Someone?”

  “Most likely the same suspect.” Addie sat down on the porch steps. The sun was just sinking below the treetops, but the air was still hot. She peeled her ponytail off the back of her neck as she tracked Ethan’s movements. He’d changed his clothes since last she’d seen him. By comparison, she felt grungy, cranky and in bad need of a shower. The day seemed never ending. All the angst over the stalker and her unfinished business with Ethan...the conversation with David Cutler that still niggled at the back of her mind. It all took a toll.

  She got up and brushed her hands on the sides of her jeans. “I’m going in to take a shower,” she said. “I’ll leave money on the bar for the pizza. Can you listen for the doorbell?”

  “Yes, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  Addie went back inside and headed down the hallway to the bathroom. She started the shower, and while the water heated, she went into the bedroom to lay out clean clothes. Tossing fresh underwear on the bed, she opened the top drawer of her chest and removed her picture box.

  After her grandmother died, Addie had become the keeper of the family photographs. She opened the lid and riffled through the cherished images until she found the picture that she wanted. It was a shot of her mother with David and Helen Cutler.

  Addie had always loved the photograph, but now as she stared down at their smiling faces, the unlikeliness of their friendship struck her. Their disparate personalities were reflected in the way they each presented themselves. Addie’s mother wore a halter top, shorts and her signature red lipstick, her overt sexiness a stark contract to Helen’s earth-mother persona and David’s stoicism. Sandra stood in the middle—always the center of attention—with her arm linked through Helen’s, but she stared up at David. He looked straight into the camera, not smiling, not scowling, but something about his posture, an almost infinitesimal lean toward Addie’s mother, reminded her of the way he’d said her mother’s nickname. Sandy. A bright star gone dark too soon.

  Had her mother known she was pregnant when that photo was taken? Had David Cutler?

  Addie put the picture box away, but she propped the photograph against her mirror so that she could study it later. So that she could dissect her mother’s catlike smile and that dark glint in David Cutler’s eyes.

  And the faint worry lines etched in Helen Cutler’s brow.

  Chapter Eleven

  A few hours later, Ethan stood at Addie’s front window staring out at the dark street. They’d spent a pleasant evening over beer and pizza, and when it had come time for him to head back to his hotel, she’d stunned him by suggesting that he spend the night.

  “It’s late and I have a spare bedroom, extra toothbrush, everything you need. What’s the point in calling a cab at this hour?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s no big deal. The most that will happen is that we’ll both get a good night’s sleep and then tomorrow morning, we can go see Vivienne DuPriest together.”

  But it was a very big deal to Ethan. Addie could have sent him away the moment she saw him on her front steps. He was certain that had been her first inclination. Instead, she’d invited him in for drinks, dinner and a sleepover. If that didn’t constitute a major step forward in their relationship, he didn’t know what would.

  Still, he knew better than to get ahead of himself or to read too much into a gesture too soon. The worst thing he could possibly do was push Addie in a direction she didn’t want to go, and Ethan was more than a little gun-shy himself. What if instead of proving his father’s innocence he only cemented his guilt? How would Addie feel about him then? How would he feel about himself?

  For years, Ethan had lived in the shadow of James Merrick’s dark deed. For years, he’d tried to tell himself the sins of his father had no power over him. Unlike James, Ethan had grown up in a stable home with a mother he loved and a stepfather he respected. He’d had all the advantages, gone to all the right schools, had companionship whenever he craved it. He was a loner by choice, not necessity. He was dedicated and persistent, not obsessive. He wasn’t his father’s son.

  But there was no fooling DNA. Ethan supposed it was ironic that in a very real sense, his future now hinged on someone else’s DNA.

  There was no fooling chemistry, either. The more time he spent in Addie’s company, the deeper his attraction. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she felt something for him, too. He saw a glimmer in her eyes now and then, heard a certain timbre in her voice on those rare occasions when she let down her guard. But Ethan wouldn’t let himself revel in her lapses, and he certainly had no intention of taking advantage of her confusion. If anything, he wanted to protect her.

  Leaving the window, he made the rounds through the house. Addie had turned in some time ago. Her door was closed, and Ethan stood for a moment listening to the quiet before he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up.

  In the guest room, he peeled off his clothes and climbed under the covers in his boxers. The bed was comfortable and the temperature pleasant, but he couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. He watched the rotation of the ceiling fan until he finally grew drowsy.

  The shrill blast of the security alarm woke him some time later.

  He bolted upright while simultaneously reaching for his weapon. Rising, he moved silently across the floor and stepped into the hallway just as Addie came out of her room. She wore a T-shirt that hit her midthigh, and her hair flowed loosely about her shoulders and down her back. She took aim when she first saw him and then instantly refocused. They went down the hallway together. The front door stood open.

  Clearing the immediate area, Ethan went out on the porch. Addie came up behind him after she’d turned off the alarm. “What’s going on? Do you see anything?”

  “There!” He pointed to a darting silhouette a few houses down. “He’s cutting through your neighbor’s backyard. Get in the car and see if you can head him off at the next street.”

  Ethan was down the steps and on the sidewalk before he remembered that he was barefoot and in his underwear. Propriety didn’t stop him, nor did the bite of cracked concrete as he pounded after his quarry. He sprinted for the bushes, lifting himself easily over the fence and then pausing to listen for footfalls. He heard Addie’s car start up behind him. The engine faded as she made the block.

  He moved through the yard, weapon ready, senses alert. A dog barked nearby, and as he turned toward the sound, he glimpsed the interloper from the corner of his eye. The man wore a dark hoodie that blended almost seamlessly with the shadows. Ethan whirled, but before he could close in, the suspect disappeared. Just...vanished.

  Ethan wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but as he cautiously approached the back of the fence, he realized an opening had been created in the slats through which the man had slipped.

  Easing through, Ethan hugged the side of the house as he made his way out to the sidewalk. The suspect was nowhere to be seen.

  A vehicle came toward him without lights. Ethan recognized the car. He stepped off the curb into the street, forcing the Charger to stop. Then he rapped on the glass until the driver lowered the win
dow.

  Ethan ducked his head so that he could see both agents. The driver stared up at him while the passenger kept his head turned toward the side window. “Let me guess. You just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

  The driver shrugged. “Why not? Last time I checked, it’s still a free country.”

  “I would think the FBI could find a better use of your time,” Ethan said. “You’re not denying you’re federal agents, are you?”

  “Not denying or confirming anything. Just minding our business.”

  “Minding your own business, huh?” Ethan glanced at the passenger. His face remained suspiciously averted. “I’d like to see some ID.”

  “Show us yours first.” The driver looked to be in his mid-to late thirties, with dark hair and a cocky attitude.

  “You know who I am,” Ethan said. “And we all know why you’re here. Is this a sanctioned surveillance?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Someone broke into Detective Kinsella’s house just now. I don’t suppose you know anything about that, either.”

  “We don’t break into houses, Special Agent Barrow. That’s more your thing.”

  “So you do know who I am.”

  “Let’s just say your reputation precedes you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Gwen Holloway has briefed you well.” Ethan glanced at the second agent, trying to get a sense of his age and body type. “The suspect was on foot and wearing a dark hoodie. Average height, average build. You’re certain you didn’t catch a glimpse of him?”