“Kara told the book club Dr. Aubrey Flood was her sister, then she and Paige went into business together?” That must’ve been how Kara Flood had been able to afford her apartment in that neighborhood, but she’d never told Aubrey, and the BAU hadn’t found any evidence of recording equipment in either of their apartments. A coil of unwanted protectiveness twisted in Nicholas’s gut.
Aubrey wasn’t the only one who was afraid to close her eyes after what’d happened in that slaughterhouse, but he’d managed to get through his past cases alone. He’d do it again. “Funny you should mention Dr. Flood, because the same day we discovered your fiancée’s body on that pier, someone about your height and weight attacked Aubrey Flood. Hung her upside down by her ankles in a slaughterhouse and nicked her carotid artery to make her bleed out.” The anger Nicholas had struggled to contain before he’d stepped inside this room with Simon Curry flared. “That takes medical training, and it turns out you dropped out of medical school last year in pursuit of becoming a crime scene photographer. You see this photo?”
He extracted the Polaroid of Paige Cress’s remains that’d been recovered in the back of the cargo van near Kara Flood’s death scene with her dog inside.
“The killer left this picture of Paige at the crime scene where you were spotted hugging the perimeter tape with your camera. You had knowledge of that case, and you’re good with a camera. The killer lured my team to the pier so we could recover her remains, knowing Dr. Flood would be invested in finding out the connection between Paige and her sister. You admitted yourself you were fascinated with Dr. Flood and her work on the X Killer case. The killer also used a scalpel to nick Dr. Flood’s carotid artery with a steady hand. You have a medical background.”
Nicholas pressed his elbows in the table and leaned forward, his gaze locked on Simon Curry. “I think you lured us there to get Aubrey Flood all to yourself, Simon. I think you’ve read so many books about serial killers, you’ve convinced yourself you’re capable of outshining them all, but you needed practice first. So you killed Paige, and when that didn’t give you the satisfaction you craved, you moved on to Kara Flood to complicate the game and draw her sister closer. It’s the love of the chase, isn’t it? That’s what you crave. You want to prove you’re better than the killers you’ve idolized all these years. You want to prove you’re better than me and my team, but that’s not how this is going to end, Simon. You’re not better. You’re just a copycat.”
Simon pried his hands from the back of the chair and calmly took his seat across from Nicholas. He interlaced his fingers on the surface of the table and dropped his chin, severing eye contact. “I’m not saying another word without my lawyer.”
* * *
THEY HAD HIM. Simon Curry had the means, the motive and the opportunity, not to mention a connection to both victims, but doubt curdled in her stomach. It was the voice. That wasn’t the voice of the man who’d abducted and tried to kill her. She was sure of it.
Aubrey studied the suspect on the other side of the glass before the door to the observation room swung open. Goose pimples climbed her arms and puckered across her back as Nicholas settled that intelligent gaze on her. “All the evidence seems to line up against him, and he has no alibi.”
“But you aren’t convinced he’s the one who attacked you.” Not a question. He didn’t need to ask. Nicholas seemed to see right through her, understand her, and the unexpected connection between them vibrated stronger. He faced the one-way glass, his reflection highlighting the stitches and deformities along the curve of his jaw, but the damage hadn’t lessened her attraction. Nothing could. “He has a medical background, a connection to both victims and the knowledge base of how serials work. Hell, he even admitted his admiration for you.”
It all made sense. She couldn’t argue with that, and the people pleaser she’d allowed herself to become over the course of her life screamed at her to sit down and avoid rocking the boat. But she wasn’t that woman anymore, and she wouldn’t help put Simon Curry behind bars unless she was absolutely positive he’d been the one behind that ski mask. It would be easy to agree with Nicholas and the BAU about the man in the interrogation room, but she couldn’t. “It’s not him.”
Nicholas shifted his weight between both feet, and the tension in the room notched higher. Lowering his gaze along the edge of the bottom of the large window, he turned his head slightly toward her, disappointment clear in his expression. “You’ve been through a lot over the past few days, Aubrey. Trauma alters memories of things we’re positive happened or that we heard. It’s possible you’re misremembering details of your attack or you’re afraid of confronting those memories fully in order to protect yourself.”
He didn’t believe her.
“You think I don’t want it to be Simon Curry? That I want the man who did this to me to go free?” But worse than that, that she wasn’t strong enough to face what’d happened to her? Uninhibited betrayal exploded through her as she stepped away from the window. “I’ve been at your side every step of the way on this case, Nicholas. I almost died trying to help you find the killer who murdered my sister, and now you’re telling me I can’t be a reliable source because of what I went through? I remember what he sounds like because of what I went through.”
His expression remained cool, under control, when everything inside her wanted to scream and rail, and suddenly this wasn’t the man who’d attempted to make her doughnuts, who’d held her while watching her favorite cartoon. Who’d kissed her and helped her realize she needed to put her needs first for once. “It’s not me, Doc. Claiming that’s not the guy who attacked you on the pier based off his voice isn’t evidence, and it won’t hold up in court. You know that.”
Nicholas faced her, something along the lines of regret pulling the tendons between his neck and shoulders tight. “You went to medical school. You’ve seen the research. You’ve read the studies proving trauma affects people differently, and you have to admit the only reason you kissed me is because you needed someone to help you get through it.”
His words registered as though he’d physically thrown a blow, and she backed up until her thighs hit the edge of a table positioned a few feet away for balance. Disbelief gripped her heart in a vise. Was that what he really believed? That she’d used him for her own selfishness and coping? What kind of person did he think she was? “That’s not...that’s not why I kissed you. You think that’s why I kissed you?”
“All I’m saying is your memories of what happened might not be accurate, Doc. Simon Curry fits the profile, and he doesn’t have anyone to corroborate his whereabouts when Paige Cress or your sister were killed,” he said. “Do you want a jury to find him innocent after your testimony because one detail feels off to you?”
His blow struck again, harder, and if she hadn’t been braced against the table, Aubrey feared she might’ve crumpled right there in the middle of the floor. Her heart jackhammered in her chest, pounding so wildly that the cracks around the edges started to shatter. She’d requested Nicholas James to solve her sister’s case, but she’d stupidly taken his affection and promises to heart. She’d imagined them closing this investigation and moving on to the next. Imagined waking up to the smell of burned doughnuts and hearing the voices of her favorite cartoon each morning before they left for their respective jobs. Imagined them trying to top one another with funny sayings and laughing, committed. Together. Happy. She deserved to be happy. Why was he doing this?
Aubrey forced herself to stand a bit straighter, to retreat behind the barrier she’d built from having one more person take advantage of her. He wasn’t going to be the one to walk away this time. Anger bled into her voice. “I remember everything that happened after I pulled you from the ocean, Agent James. Every second, every minute. I remember the pain as he knocked me unconscious with a wrench. I remember the pressure in my head and chest when I realized he’d hung me by my ankles. I remember what he smelled like,
his voice in my ear and the way his gloves warmed against my neck before he cut my throat. I remember the agony I sustained after I hit the cement so I could make sure you were alive.”
She pushed away from the table, closing the space between them. She slid her hand into his jacket pocket and extracted his SUV’s keys. “And when you and I were in that safe house, I remember how good it felt for someone to put me first for once, and how I’d finally found someone I didn’t have to hide myself from. Someone who I could imagine being happy with, but maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t rely on my memories after all.”
Aubrey headed for the door and swung it wide, stepping out into the hall. She secured the door behind her but didn’t have the strength to release her grip from the knob as everything she’d recounted came into question. The evidence pointed to Simon Curry as her sister’s killer, but she wouldn’t be able to walk into a courtroom to testify unless she was sure.
There was only one way to prove he hadn’t murdered Kara.
She had to see her sister’s remains for herself.
Prying her fingers from around the observation room door handle, she wound her way through the FBI’s Seattle office and out into the floor’s lobby. Two bays of elevators pinged, and she waited for one of the cars to clear before stepping on, tears burning in her eyes.
The doors started to slide closed, promising escape, before a hand slipped through and triggered the automatic sensor. “Hold it!”
A familiar smile flashed back at her, and Aubrey moved aside to allow the passenger room. She almost hadn’t recognized him without his lab coat and face shield, but the long, straight nose, thick eyebrows, and smallish eyes punctured through the haze of spiraling hurt. Graying temples emphasized his elongated facial structure, but his five-o’clock shadow instantly set her at ease. She smoothed her uninjured hand down her slacks. “Dr. Caldwell, I didn’t expect to see you here. I imagine the FBI’s case is keeping you quite busy.”
“Dr. Flood, how good to see you. Yes, it’s been quite the experience working this investigation with the BAU. Now I know why you’ve been keeping them all to yourself.” His rich laugh hitched as the elevator descended from the penthouse. “I’d heard you’d been attacked. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the extent of your injuries. May I ask the diagnosis?”
“Fractured scapula along with two of my right sternal ribs. It’ll be a few months of recovery, but I’m managing. I should be able to return to work soon.” The lie fell from her mouth easily enough, but she wasn’t about to break down in front of a colleague, and sure as hell not in this building. Her gaze flickered to the security camera in the corner of the elevator car. No. She wouldn’t give Nicholas the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Denial charged up her throat as Nicholas’s accusation filtered through the county medical examiner’s concerned expression.
“Always the optimist. That’s one of the things I like about you. If anyone could force a fracture to heal quickly, it’d be you.” Dr. Caldwell’s voice lowered an octave, and the walls seemed to close in around her. “You always were the best. I imagine that’s why the FBI chose you to work the X Marks the Spot Killer case over me three years ago.”
“In perspective of experience and years dedicated to your work, Dr. Caldwell, you are obviously the choice the FBI should’ve made for that case. It was simply being available when the case agent needed a pathologist at the time. I believe you were tied up with another homicide investigation when Agent James invited me to investigate the case.” His hint of jealousy spiked through her, and Aubrey forced herself to stare straight ahead at her reflection in the steel doors, but the weight of being watched pressurized the air in her lungs. She cleared her throat. “I was actually headed to your office. The BAU has a suspect in custody—Simon Curry. He had the means and opportunity to target both victims without a confirmed alibi, but I’m not convinced he’s responsible. I’d like to take a look at my sister’s remains, if that’s possible. See if there is something that can tie Simon Curry directly to both murders.”
“You think I missed something during the autopsy?” he asked.
“No. Not at all, Dr. Caldwell. I’d simply like to see Kara for myself. Call it a personal favor. I’d owe you.” The elevator jostled as it descended to the parking level, and she clutched the keys she’d taken from Nicholas hard enough to bite the skin of her palm. The doors opened, and a wall of humidity settled against her face and neck. Relief coursed through her veins as she stepped off the elevator and added another few hundred feet between her and the profiler upstairs. She called back over her shoulder. “We could drive together, if you prefer.”
No response.
Aubrey slowed her escape and looked back. The elevator doors remained open, exposing the empty car within. She searched the parking garage, but there wasn’t any sign of him. The nearest vehicle was still a few feet ahead of her. He wouldn’t have been able to reach his own car that quickly. She’d just have to meet Dr. Caldwell at his own office. Forcing one step in front of the other, she kept herself together long enough to reach Nicholas’s SUV, but the tears were already breaking through. She hit the button to unlock the driver’s-side door.
She’d spent most of her life feeling alone, unwanted. She’d get through this.
Pain exploded across the back of her head as she reached for the SUV’s door handle, and she slammed up against the window. Inky blackness spidered across her vision as Aubrey battled to face her attacker, but it was no use. She was slipping to the ground and into unconsciousness.
Chapter Thirteen
He hadn’t seen the threat coming.
Nicholas tossed the case file onto his desk and slumped into his seat. Aubrey Flood had walked into his life and taken out his defenses with a sweet smile and an underhanded charm. And hell, he hated himself for it. He hated that he could be manipulated so easily, that he hadn’t been able to protect himself against her warmth and patience before it was too late. Cole Presley had done the same thing. The bastard had used Nicholas’s own trust against him then shattered his world when the truth surfaced. The X Marks the Spot Killer had worn a human mask to hide the monster underneath. How was he supposed to trust Aubrey hadn’t done the same, that her mask wasn’t as much of a lie as Cole’s had been? How was he supposed to know if the vulnerable, intelligent, beautiful woman he’d grown closer to over this investigation was real?
His cell vibrated from his slacks pocket, and he pulled the device free, answering in the same move. “Tell me you were able to confirm AfterDark is the location the book club met and find a barista or a customer who can give a description of all the members.”
“Yes and no,” David Dyson said. “For a coffee shop, AfterDark prides itself on ensuring their customers’ privacy. Neither the owner nor any of the baristas would talk to me, and they don’t have any cameras. But I was able to match purchases from both victims’ financials to purchases made at this location. I’m waiting outside to catch a couple customers as they leave. See if I can’t get something more from some of the regulars.”
“Good work, Dyson.” Nicholas leaned back in his chair. “Let me know what you find.”
He disconnected the call. The evidence pointed to Simon Curry as the killer, but damn it, Aubrey’s confidence they’d brought in the wrong man tunneled through logic and straight past rationale. He believed her. It’d been in her voice. In the way she’d studied the suspect and held her ground. Any other victim would’ve collapsed after facing the possibility of being within arm’s reach of the person who’d tortured them, but not her. She’d gone against his every instinct and demanded he see things her way instead of bowing down to the inner people pleaser she’d sacrificed herself for, and hell, he admired her for it.
Loved her for it.
“Well, call me a purple hippo.” Nicholas ran both hands through his hair. He loved her. He wasn’t sure when it’d happened, wasn’t sure he cared, but he’d fallen
for the medical examiner he hadn’t been able to forget for the past three years. He’d been an idiot. Of course he’d fallen for her. Despite the fact she used to make her sister play pretend homicide victim as kids and her taste buds had stopped working, as evidenced by her eating the doughnuts he’d made her, Aubrey was the most generous, driven and unselfish woman he’d known. She’d gone out of her way to put others first, to the point of losing herself in the process, and he couldn’t hold her newfound confidence against her.
If anything, her defiance to comply with his suspicion against Simon Curry only made him love her more. She’d stood up for herself, and damn, that fire in her gaze had been one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen. Until he’d doused it by using her mental trauma after her attack against her. Nicholas set his elbows on his desk, staring at the case file without really seeing anything clearly. “You sure are a son of a bitch.”
He’d taken his own fear of trusting again and weaponized it against the one woman who’d calmed the uncertainty he’d carried all these years. It’d been easy to discount her claim of Simon Curry’s innocence, especially given the evidence seemed to line up against Paige Cress’s fiancé, but Nicholas had never felt more wrong in his life. The past three days had shown him a life he hadn’t imagined for himself. Aubrey had single-handedly broken through the doubt he’d held on to since discovering who Cole Presley really was that day. She’d looked at him as though he were the most capable, most intelligent and innovative BAU agent, to the point he’d started believing her. She’d done that. She’d given him the confidence and forced him to look at his positive qualities rather than focusing on his failures, and he’d thrown that service in her face.
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