by Lynn Shannon
“Weston Donovan, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. Call me Marla. Or Nana, if you prefer.” The harshness of her words were softened by the look of affection she sent his way. “Anyone who saves my granddaughter’s life has earned an honorary place in the family. I’m glad you’re watching out for Avery.”
“I’ll do everything I can to keep her safe. That’s a promise.” He glanced at Avery, still pacing in the office. “Although I wish I could do more. This case is weighing on her.”
Avery had been quiet for most of the day, and Weston knew she was hurting. Mike’s potential involvement had taken things to a new, personal level. He was a family friend who’d eaten at their dinner table, sat next to them in church, and attended her father’s funeral.
Marla tilted her head. “You help more than you realize, Weston. You’re working together and sharing the burden. I know the case isn’t moving as fast as either of you would like, but the Lord’s timing is sometimes not our own. That’s where prayer comes in.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll work on remembering that.” Weston gestured to the pot of tea. “Would you like me to pour a cup so you can take one up to Savannah? She wasn’t feeling well after dinner.”
“No. I checked on her a little bit ago and she was out like a light. Her husband, Henry, finally called today. Savannah’s had a lot of sleepless nights since his deployment. Hearing from Henry eased some of the worry she’s been carrying around.”
“I’m glad. I mentioned his deployment to my parents. They’re keeping Henry in their prayers.”
Weston had also asked them to pray for the entire Madison family. Every little bit helped. Marla said goodnight and shuffled out of the room. Cooper, Avery’s dog, came to sniff the pie, but Weston shooed him away.
The door separating the living room from the office nook opened. Avery came in. She tossed her cell phone on the coffee table and collapsed on the couch. The familiar scent of her wildflower perfume tickled Weston’s nose.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “The dean refuses to cancel classes. He says there isn’t enough proof the killer is targeting the university specifically and he’s launching a new media blitz to counter the bad publicity. To make matters worse, we have the annual open house coming up this weekend.”
“Open house?” Weston asked.
“It’s a huge event the university holds every year. Prospective university students visit the campus. There are football games, theater performances, and parties.” She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. “The dean sees money and future students. All I see are potential victims.”
Pain vibrated in her voice. It didn’t matter that Avery wasn’t responsible for the killer’s actions. Weston had come to realize she took the burden on herself. She cared. Deeply. It’s what made her a great cop.
He slid his hand over hers, unable to resist the need to comfort her. “We’re doing everything we can, Avery. I know none of this is easy for you. Especially now that Mike could be involved.”
She bit her lip. “I keep turning it over and over in my mind. We haven’t found anything connecting Mike to these murders.”
“No, but he also aided in the investigation. Mike could’ve destroyed evidence and covered his tracks. Every step of the way, he’s been informed of everything we know.”
Avery hesitated, then leaned closer until her head was resting on Weston’s arm. A quiet stillness settled over them. Her hair was freed from its usual knot and flowed over her shoulders and down her back. It shimmered in the light from the end table. Her feet were bare, the toenails painted a pale pink.
The intimacy of the moment struck him. Weston considered ignoring the shift in their relationship but decided against it. Too much was left lingering since their near kiss yesterday. And he had a feeling Avery needed honesty and transparency in her life.
“I have to tell you something,” Weston said. Heat climbed his cheeks. Just say it, man. Rip off the Band-Aid. “My feelings for you are growing beyond friendship.”
She sighed, long and low. “I feel it too. I’d be lying if I said otherwise, but it scares me.” She tilted her face to look into his. “The case has to take priority, and emotions are heightened. I don’t want to mess things up between us. The timing is terrible—”
The vulnerability in her eyes made Weston’s chest tight. “Your grandmother just reminded me that God’s timing is sometimes not our own. Which is where prayer comes in.”
“That sounds like her. It’s good advice.”
“It is. And, Avery, you aren’t the only one worried about messing things up.” Weston squeezed her hand gently. “I loved Melissa very much, and although a part of me wants to move on…I don’t know if I have it in me.”
Avery was quiet for a long moment, and Weston was at a loss for words. He didn’t want to hurt Avery. Ever. But he wouldn’t lie to her either.
“So essentially, you and I both think this is a terrible idea with bad timing and a questionable outcome.” Avery lifted her gaze to meet his. “And yet, I can’t manage to talk myself out of it.”
“Me either.” Weston’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “Avery…”
She leaned forward, her hand coming up to cup his jaw. Her thumb skimmed his lower lip and the touch sent a wave of heat through him. The desire in her eyes matched his own, and Weston was powerless to resist it. He closed the distance between them, and his heart rate skyrocketed as their mouths met.
Everything around them faded away, and Weston lost himself in the kiss. There was nothing but Avery. Her kindness, her bravery, her faith. Everything she was touched him and made him ache for more.
When the kiss ended, they were both breathless. Weston pulled Avery into his arms, and she rested her head on his chest. His heart was still beating a mile a minute. No doubt she could hear it. As his emotions settled, Weston braced himself for a pang of misgiving, the familiar sense of betrayal that had haunted his forward momentum with Avery. But it never came. Instead, a feeling of rightness settled over him. He didn’t know what the future would bring, but Weston was grateful for this small moment.
Footsteps pounded over the hardwood seconds before Savannah came rushing into the living room. Her hair was mussed and her eyes wide. She had a cell phone in one hand.
Avery sprang from the couch. “What is it? Is it Henry?”
“No, it’s one of my friends. Her dog was running around the yard and the back door is open. The neighbor said he’s tried knocking several times, but Rachel won’t come to the door. She’s missing.”
It took twenty minutes to drive across town to Rachel Long’s house. Red and blue turret lights flashed from different patrol cars, casting patterns on the asphalt. The cold air stung Avery’s lungs, and she kept an arm wrapped around Savannah’s waist. Her sister’s expression was pinched with worry.
Beside them, Weston walked protectively. Less than an hour ago, they’d been sharing a passionate kiss. Now they were at a crime scene. The twisting events served as a stark reminder for Avery to tread lightly. She didn’t regret sharing the truth with Weston about her feelings, nor was she upset he’d shared his. But the conversation confirmed what she already knew. Her heart was in trouble of being broken.
Beyond the cordoned-off area, reporters shouted questions. Avery spotted a familiar face. Greg Kilbourne from the Texas Tribute. He was pushing against the barrier. “Chief, is Rachel the latest victim of the serial killer? Did the killer leave a note for you like he did with the other women?”
Avery froze, midstep. She glanced at Weston. “How did he find out about the notes?”
Weston’s jaw tightened. “Mike?”
“Take Savannah up to the house. I’ll be right there.” She pressed her lips together and waved at a nearby officer to let Greg approach. The reporter rushed up, his tie flapping in the breeze of his own making. Avery didn’t let him get in a question. “How do you know about the notes?”
Greg adjusted his dark-framed glasses. “I
can’t reveal my sources, Chief. Are you confirming the notes are real?”
“I’m not confirming anything.”
“They singled you out specifically.” He glanced at the notepad in his hand. “Avery, the game begins with a King’s pawn opening.”
She stiffened. A selected number of people knew about the notes. And only one person benefited from cozying up to a reporter. Mike Steel. By feeding Greg information, he created a relationship that could be used later to cast doubt on his own guilt in the court of opinion. Avery cleared her throat. “Let’s make a deal.”
Greg lifted a bushy eyebrow and a gleam came into his eye. “I’m listening.”
“I’ll give you an exclusive one-on-one interview when this case is closed. You’ll have access to inside information, and no question will be off-limits. In exchange, I want your word that you won’t publish anything until I give my say so. Starting with the notes and their contents.”
The reporter was silent for a long moment. “And if I don’t agree?”
“I’ll have you arrested for interfering with a police investigation. You’ll get out of jail eventually, but do you really want to waste time in front of a judge?” She gestured to the other reporters. “Especially if it means one of them will get the scoop.”
His gaze narrowed. “Fine. But I want some information now. I need something to keep my editor happy.”
She pondered the offer. The dean wanted to put the university in a better light. This could kill two birds with one stone. “Meet me in my office tomorrow morning at ten a.m. You can interview me and the dean.”
“Done.”
She sent up a silent prayer that making a deal with the reporter was the right thing before waving to the officer standing nearby. Greg went behind the yellow line while Avery followed the walkway around the side of the house.
Savannah was leaning against the brick, one hand pressed to her stomach. The other held a small, white dog. Avery rushed to her sister’s side. “Are you okay?”
“Just nauseous.” Savannah’s chin trembled and she swallowed hard. “Rachel’s dog was running around the yard and the back door was open, just like the neighbor said. I overheard Grady say…it looks like the scene at Marianne Jenkins’s house.”
She squeezed Savannah’s arm. Avery had never met Rachel, but she knew her sister and the other woman were close. They worked together at the crisis center. “Is Rachel single?”
“Yes. Divorced actually. It became final last year. That’s why the neighbor called me. Rachel told him months ago that I was her emergency contact. Her parents are both dead, and she doesn’t have children.”
“Does she have any connection to Harrison University?”
Savannah nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “She’s attending part-time. She’s one semester away from completing her bachelor’s degree.”
Avery bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. Her sister’s grief was heartbreaking. “I’ll have an officer take you home.”
“No. Not yet.” Savannah closed her eyes and leaned her head against the brick. “I’ll be fine. I just need a moment. Go do your job, Avery.”
She wanted to argue with her sister, but that would only waste time. Instead, she squeezed Savannah’s arm once more before approaching the back door. It was splintered at the lock. Someone had pried it open.
Troopers were in the kitchen. One of them directed her to the back of the house. Avery walked through the living room on hollow legs. She took a deep breath, settling her emotions, before crossing the threshold into the master bedroom. Bedsheets were tangled and hanging from the bed. Items from the nightstand—a cell phone, a lamp, and a romance book—were scattered across the carpet. Grady and Weston turned as she entered, their conversation abruptly ending. Both men wore grim expressions.
“He attacked her while she was sleeping,” Avery said. “That’s consistent with Marianne Jenkins.”
“Yes,” Grady said. His jaw tightened. “It appears she was taken sometime earlier this evening. The neighbor spotted the back door open an hour ago and called it in.”
Avery’s chest tightened. Photographs lined the top of the dresser. She moved closer and Weston joined her. He pointed to a pretty dark-haired woman with a wide smile and a high forehead. “That’s Rachel.”
“The picture was taken during her first international trip last year,” Savannah said from the doorway. The color had returned to her face. “She went to Spain. It was one of her lifelong dreams—”
Avery’s cell phone rang, cutting Savannah off. She fished it from her back pocket. The number was blocked. “Hello.”
“Avery, we finally get the chance to speak. I’ve waited so long.”
A cold shiver ran down her spine. The caller was using a voice distorter, but the words were still clear. She waved a hand to hush everyone in the room and put the call on speaker. “Who is this?”
“You know exactly who this is. Normally I would never talk during a chess game, but we’re in between moves, so it’s permissible.” He paused. “Watching my television is very enlightening. I see from the news you’ve figured out Rachel is missing.”
Her heart leapt into her throat and a sick feeling twisted her stomach. Grady was already whispering to someone on his cell phone, no doubt attempting to trace the call. Weston used his own phone to record the conversation and waved his finger in a circular motion to indicate she should keep talking.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Ahhh, that is the question, isn’t it? Poor Avery. Must be hard for you. Not knowing why you’ve been selected to play the game with me.”
She kept her tone conversational. “Enlighten me then.”
“It’s simple,” he said. “Your father and mine were adversaries. Their battle ended in a shootout, and your father killed mine. I want a rematch.”
Avery mind raced. Was he talking about Jack Starin? Had to be. Her father had only used deadly force once during his career. But they’d done a search on Jack and hadn’t uncovered any children. “What’s your father’s name?”
“Tsk, tsk, Avery. You don’t expect me to do all the work for you. I’ve given you a clue to run down. I’m sure you can take it from there.”
She sensed he was about to hang up. Panic set in. Had Grady managed to trace the call? Think, think.
“How do I know you’re the Chessmaster?” Avery asked, stalling.
“I thought you might ask for proof,” he said. The distorted voice was creepy. “Rachel, dear, give a shout so Avery knows it’s you.”
A woman’s terrified scream came over the line, distinct and clear since the voice distorter had been switched off. The woman muttered some incoherent words before screaming again. It iced Avery’s blood. “Stop! Stop hurting her.”
The scream cut off. Savannah swayed, her face pale, and Weston wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her up. Avery met her sister’s eyes. Savannah nodded, her expression stark, answering Avery’s silent question. The woman was Rachel.
“Do you see me now, Avery?” the Chessmaster whispered. “Do you understand?”
She shook, her hand gripping the phone so tightly it was a wonder she didn’t snap the thing in two. “If you want me, then come and get me. Let Rachel go. This is between us.”
He let out a breath that whispered over the line. “Soon, Avery. Very soon.”
Fifteen
Rain pattered against the window in Avery’s office, as she escorted Greg Kilbourne to the door. The interview had eaten an hour of her time, and she was anxious to have it over with. Her entire morning had been spent dealing with the dean, arranging for the open house, and talking to reporters. The rangers were tackling the murders, but every minute in the search for Rachel counted.
Avery opened her office door. “The dean is expecting you in his office. I can have an officer escort you.”
“No need.” Greg smirked. “I know the way. You have your hands full between the murders and the open house kicking off this afternoo
n.”
Avery had delegated security of the open house to her deputy chief. He was capable of handling the event, although it left her shorthanded in the murder investigation. Frustration nipped at her, and she had the sense Greg knew it.
Weston came out of the break room and joined them. Greg shook his hand before heading to the front of the station.
“Something about that guy bugs me,” Avery muttered, once Greg was out of earshot.
“Me too.” Weston rocked on his heels. “Some reporters have a sense of conscience, but I get the impression Greg isn’t one of them.”
“No, he isn’t.” She went back into her office. Weston followed, and she shut the door behind him. “But Greg’s agreed to hold back the notes, along with the handmade bracelets each woman was wearing. In exchange, I agreed to admit the two murders and this recent abduction are related. He’s going to run a full-page spread and give interviews with local news stations. I pray the increased attention will yield some new leads.”
“Every little bit helps,” Weston said, setting the file folder on her desk. “The crime scene investigators searched Rachel’s house and came up empty-handed. No prints and no DNA. We’ve canvassed the neighborhood, but none of the neighbors saw anything suspicious. According to Rachel’s friends and coworkers, she never complained of anyone watching her or expressed concerns about her safety.”
So, they had nothing. The weight of it pressed down on Avery. She sank into her chair and yanked open her desk drawer. She rummaged around until she found her secret stash of chocolate peanut butter cups. “I’m really hoping you have some good news in that folder of yours.”
He chuckled. “How about mixed news?”
“Better than nothing.” She tossed him a chocolate and opened one for herself. “Hit me with it.”
“We located some cousins of Jack Starin. Turns out he did have a son. Nolan Starin.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Weston pulled out a mug shot and pushed it across the desk toward her. The man staring back at her was hardened by time and middle age. Gray streaked his dark hair at the temples and he had a nasty scar along his chin. The information under the photo was from three years ago. It listed Nolan as a forty-five-year-old white male, 6’2”, with brown eyes.