Never Tell

by Selena Montgomery

  “He thinks of himself as a sophisticate, and he wants to be seen as someone who is attractive and appealing to women he sees as his equals.”

  “Is he?”

  “Not really. The limited social contact I’ve had with him has been uncomfortable. I dismissed it because academics often are ill at ease in those settings.” Erin toyed with the silver ring on her hand. “The socially awkward will try to show an interest in a woman but fumble it. As though he’s following a playbook, he’ll try to compliment a woman to get closer. However, she will sense the insecurity and respond to it instead. She reacts by being nice to him because she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

  “And he thinks it’s more,” Gabriel summed up. Cursing, he asked, “Has he flirted with you?”

  “Since I arrived. I’ve never been more than polite, maybe a bit friendly.” She thought about last week, when he’d cornered her. And their first meeting. At her interview, he’d spent little time on her curriculum vitae. Then she had welcomed the lack of scrutiny, since Sebastian’s handiwork went untested. Despite the fact that she had finished her doctorate at Callenwolde, the fake diplomas bore the seal of Gorham University in England.

  But the worldly Kenneth had been so impressed by her knowledge of Europe, he’d glossed over the paucity of publications and teaching credentials.

  At the time, she’d chalked it up to necessity. The semester had started and they needed a professor.

  Now his casual decision seemed like more. “He asked me for a date a few weeks after I started. I declined.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “He was cold for a while.” Again his reaction matched the profile. “The man fitting this profile wouldn’t handle rejection well,” she explained. “Especially from women.”

  “What is the typical reaction?” Gabriel posed the question, but he knew the answer. “They become angry and sullen. Determined to retaliate.”

  “Julian. He asked me out just before Julian was killed.”

  “We need to get in touch with Sylvie.” Gabriel punched in her number, fury tangling with alarm. Kenneth worked with his sister. A person he’d pressed into friendship with Erin. He didn’t regret it, but he couldn’t take chances with her life. He disconnected the line.

  “You’re afraid for Genevieve.”

  “Of course. Tell her to meet us here. I’ll use another phone to call the police.” She gripped his hand. “We won’t let him hurt her, Gabriel. Or anyone else.”

  Half an hour later, Erin sat in Gabriel’s office, drinking coffee and listening to Gabriel spar with Detective Iberville.

  “That’s not enough, Gabe, and you know it,” she argued. “Doesn’t come close to probable cause.”

  “You want to wait for another body?” Gabriel roared, slapping his hands on the table. He leaned forward, nose to nose with Sylvie. “He matches the damned profile. He’s had motive and opportunity.”

  “What motive?” She shot a dubious look at Erin. “Dr. Abbott’s pretty enough, but the first time I saw her, she looked like a maiden aunt.” When Erin flinched, Sylvie muttered, “No offense.”

  Erin merely shrugged. “None taken. I realize I wouldn’t seem to be the type to inspire obsession.”

  Sylvie heard something beneath the quiet agreement, but she didn’t probe. Instead, she turned back to Gabriel. The boy was ready to breathe fire, she thought, just to protect his women. At his instructions, she’d swung by the university to pick up Genevieve on her way to his offices. She was pestering Peter Cameron next door, shut out by Gabriel. “I need more than an amateur profiler and alphabet soup.”

  “How about eight dead bodies? Eight men and women that Kenneth Bernard has killed? Or do you want to make it nine?”

  Sylvie reclined in her seat. A thoughtful hand tapped the album that Erin had shown her earlier. She’d read the profiles they’d added, the composites. “I believe you, Gabriel. I didn’t at first, but I do now.”

  “Then do something!”

  “Can’t.” Sylvie focused on the silent Erin. “No judge in the world will give me a warrant based on this. I can run the notes, but the paper isn’t high-quality. You can find it in every office supply store in the city. The handwriting wouldn’t tell us much, either. Every crime scene was wiped clean, except for the weapons left there. We’ve got no fingerprints. No fibers. Not even a stray hair for DNA.” At Erin’s raised brow, she confessed, “After you left the station the other night, I did some checking. I owed you.”

  “What would it take to get enough for a warrant?”

  “He’s gotta make a mistake.” Sylvie drummed her fingers on the table. “And fast. If we could lure him out, make him act carelessly.”

  Thoughtful, Erin rotated the album to read her updated profile. “He would need to feel humiliated, beyond bearing. And provoked. Jealousy and revenge are his triggers. Kenneth must feel that he’s been exposed and found wanting. Worse, he needs to feel that his goal is slipping out of reach.”

  “Goal?” Gabriel repeated. “His goal is to kill you. Which means you should leave New Orleans.”

  “He’ll follow.” Sylvie rubbed at eyes that had seen too much. “If she leaves, he’ll find her. He’s already followed you once, hasn’t he?”

  Erin weighed her words carefully. When she agreed to let Gabriel show Sylvie the notes, she knew she’d have to explain their references. She could give them enough, she thought, to convince Sylvie. Enough to stop Kenneth without throwing her life away. The connection to Nathan still eluded her, but the rest of the profile fit. It had to be him. “From California. I was in a bad relationship there, and I got out.”

  “Like Lindy. Did you know him there?”

  “No. I’d never seen Kenneth before in my life.”

  Sylvie read the note aloud. “What does he mean when he talks about the mountains and the cellar?”

  Erin met Gabriel’s eyes, nausea rising. Still, she kept her voice level. “I saw a man commit murder. In a cellar. I ran away, to the mountains. Kenneth obviously holds me responsible.”

  “Who died?”

  Dropping her eyes, Erin confessed, “I don’t know. I saw her body and I ran. I didn’t even report it.” Red, hot lights. Gleaming flesh. Piercing screams. Nathan standing over the still form, triumphant. Bitter shame coursed through her and she struggled not to tremble. “I left her there. With him.”

  “Do you know who killed her?” asked Sylvie.

  “It wasn’t Kenneth.” Erin lifted her head. “And I know the murderer is dead.”

  Sylvie added a background check on Erin Abbott to her to-do list. For now, though, she could offer some unorthodox advice. “If I have a reason to take Kenneth Bernard in custody, I can work out a way to keep him there.”

  Gabriel glanced at Erin. He noticed how her knuckles tightened in her lap. She was teetering on the brink, and he realized a puff of air could blow her over. “I’ll do a story about him. About how it’s come to the attention of the Ledger that his name has been mentioned in connection with the ABC Murders.”

  “That’s not true,” Sylvie objected. “He could sue the paper for libel and win. You could lose everything.”

  “I could lose my sister. I could lose Erin. That’s enough reason.”

  Moved, frightened, she turned to Sylvie for help. “He could have known all of the victims. Why isn’t that enough?”

  “It’s just a theory, Dr. Abbott. We need proof.” Sylvie simply gathered her bag and stood. “But I’m not here to hear what Gabriel’s planning, I don’t know a law’s been broken. But,” she said to Gabriel, “you hurt him and I’ll have to arrest you, too.”

  “I understand.” Over Erin’s continuing protests, he summoned Peter and Kelly to his office. Gen would come, too, and she wouldn’t like what she heard. But his family was at risk. He would do as he must.

  Peter fixed Erin with a glare. She hesitated to approach him, unwilling to engage the direct hostility. His dark eyes seemed to measure and dismiss her in a fleeting
glance, and he towered over everything in the building, including Gabriel. But where Gabriel was lean and sleekly muscled, the giant was broad of shoulder, a solid mass of cynicism and distrust.

  To prove her sense of his hostility wasn’t a product of her imagination, he grumbled, “What the devil is she doing here?”

  Blindly seeking an ally, or at least a warmer reception, Erin turned to the other person who had come in behind Genevieve. Kelly watched her with curiosity rather than the dark-eyed suspicion emanating from Peter. She bounded up to Erin, who shifted a few steps away.

  Kelly paid little attention to Erin’s retreat and grabbed her into a friendly hug. “Ignore the office curmudgeon,” she warned sotto voce. “He blames you because he actually has to do some work around here.”

  “Impudent brat,” he said in a low, rumbling growl. “You wouldn’t know a hard day’s work if it walked up and bit you on the—”

  “Peter. Kelly. To your corners, please,” Gabriel ordered. “Erin, meet my crack management staff. Peter is the managing editor here at the Ledger. Kelly runs the business department.” He settled into the deep leather chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “I want to run a story on the Web site as a lead for the daily.”

  “More on the serial killer. You’d better have something about him,” Peter said. He kicked the office door closed and propped his shoulder against the frame. “We’ve carried all the victim profiles. I doubled up with the two you brought in yesterday.”

  Kelly said, “We’ve been getting thousands of hits and phone calls from adverstisers.” Hearing her glee, she covered her mouth in shame. “God, Erin. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “I understand,” Erin said, trying to soothe Kelly’s conscience. “If the newspaper is going to help find their killer, you need the financial support.”

  Peter wasn’t as shy about the bottom line. “Which will run out if we don’t get something new in soon, Gabe. I’m pacing this out, but we’re running out of teasers.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Gabriel cocked his head. “We’re going to run a big story tomorrow. Make the serial killer angry enough to make a mistake.”

  “How?” The one-word question came from a suddenly pensive Genevieve.

  “We’re going to make ourselves bait,” Erin answered. “Gabriel will use my profile to write a story that will break his control.”

  “Desperate times lead to stupid actions,” Peter said angrily. He shook his head before Gabriel could respond. “I won’t print it.”

  “That’s not your decision,” Gabriel said mildly. “The Ledger is my paper.”

  Gabriel rotated his chair toward Gen. She reclined against the sidewall, staring at him as though he’d lost his mind. Perhaps he had, but it might save her life. “The police can’t help us, Gennie. Not without proof.”

  “Your dead body?” She glared at Erin, who squirmed under the accusation. “And hers?”

  “I don’t like this, either. But he won’t listen.”

  “He wouldn’t need to if you hadn’t brought him into this!” The accusation burst out of her. Gabriel couldn’t walk away from a fight, especially when there was an underdog. Usually the stakes were low, but this could mean his life. And all because Erin had brought a killer into their lives. “The killer is after you. Not Gabriel.”

  Before Erin could respond, Gabriel moved to Gennie’s side. He clasped her hands. “Erin did her best to keep me away from her and this story. But I’ve never listened worth a damn.”

  “The killer is after her,” Gennie protested. “And you’re taking stupid chances because you feel responsible for her. I know the pattern, Gabriel. I’ve lived it.”

  When his eyes darkened, she plowed on. “When Mom got sick, you came home to help Dad with the paper. After she died, you nearly drove yourself crazy trying to hold on, even when Dad wouldn’t.”

  “He needed me to.”

  “No, he didn’t. That was your mission. Like protecting me by staying at the Chronicle. Afraid I couldn’t handle losing Mom and Dad.” She leaned toward him, resting her forehead on his. “You make yourself everyone’s savior, Gabriel. Me, our parents. Even Peter.” She ignored Gabriel’s warning look as he pulled back. “Mirren didn’t do right by Peter, so you start a new paper and give it to him to run.”

  Gabriel studiously avoided Peter’s narrowed gaze. “I got fired.”

  “You got yourself fired. Because you think you let Mirren take the paper.”

  “Dammit,” Peter cursed. “I told you I was fine at the Chronicle. And, by God, you didn’t let them take it. Mirren Enterprises is a media beast and it eats papers for lunch. The Chronicle in New Orleans, the Gazette in Atlanta. The Richmond Star. It didn’t matter. Unless you were Rupert Murdoch, Mirren was going to take the paper. He’d already started with your dad, before your mom got sick. You just happened to be at the wheel when we ran out of gas.”

  “Enough. I’ve made my decision.” To Gennie, he said, “I survived wars and famine and your adolescence. I can do this.” When she still refused to relent, he decided he’d give her time. “Erin? You want to tell them what you found?”

  “We need to humiliate him,” she began, and sketched out her theory.

  CHAPTER 19

  The showdown occurred at the Ledger’s office at high noon.

  “I demand to see Gabriel Moss!” Kenneth’s shrill order could be heard throughout the converted warehouse. Faces peeked over cubicle walls to watch the drama unfold.

  The receptionist pressed the intercom. “Gabriel? A Mr. Kenneth Bernard is here to see you.”

  “Doctor Bernard!” Kenneth shouted. “My name is Doctor Bernard!”

  Rolling her eyes, she dutifully repeated to the dead air, “Doctor Bernard.”

  Gabriel ambled up to Kenneth, shoulders deceptively relaxed. He thanked Patrice for her help, then took his first good look at a sociopath. They’d met before at university functions that Gennie had dragged him to. Kenneth Bernard wasn’t the remarkable type.

  But he was the murdering kind.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Bernard?” Gabriel stressed the title. “Having a problem with your subscription?”

  Nearly apoplectic, Kenneth waved crumpled sheets of paper in Gabriel’s face. “This is libel, sir. I plan to sue.”

  “I’m not sure I understand why you’re angry. Care to explain?” Keep him talking, Gabriel reminded himself. Kelly should have phoned Sylvie by now. Wait for the signal.

  Kenneth noticed the interested folks watching him, and he tried to calm down. It wouldn’t do to disgrace himself in public. No, what he planned to do would be done in private. “If we can go into your office?”

  Gabriel smiled pleasantly. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’d rather not discuss this out in the open,” Kenneth hissed.

  Relenting, Gabriel walked up to him and clapped him on the back. “We can use the alcove.” Kenneth’s shriek of pain careened through the building. Gabriel quickly drew his hand away. “What’s wrong?”

  Kenneth had fallen to his knees. There, he bent over, whimpering.

  Patrice circled her desk and rushed to his aid. She tried to help him stand, bracing him.

  He recoiled at the touch of her hand. “Don’t touch me!” Kenneth reared up, shoving Patrice away. She slipped and fell against the desk.

  The act of violence was all Gabriel needed. With a single swing, he smashed his fist into Kenneth’s jaw. Down he went for a second time. Gabriel stood over him, waiting for another shot. Kenneth surged to his feet and rammed his head into Gabriel’s gut. Both men went down. Fists flew, each man landing hard punches. Gabriel stayed down, letting Kenneth pummel him.

  To keep him going, Gabriel taunted, “You get off on hurting women, Kenny?” He kneed him in the gut. “Like pushing them around, do you? Makes you feel like a real man?”

  Enraged, Kenneth elbowed Gabriel, glancing a blow off his chin. “Shut up!”

  Gabriel flipped the smaller man into the alco
ve wall. The sickening thud had onlookers wincing. He got to his feet and dragged Kenneth up. “You don’t have the balls to pick on someone your own size!”

  “You son of a bitch!” Kenneth yelled as he charged at Gabriel and both of them crashed through the plate-glass window beside the alcove.

  Having arrived just in time to see them fly through the window, Sylvie and her partner pulled the brawling men apart. She wrestled Gabriel to his feet and thumped at his arm. “For pity’s sake, Gabriel. Now I’ve got to take you in, too.”

  Erin bailed him out a few hours later. Gennie, Kelly, and Peter tagged along, all wanting to see their hero and his mug shot. Disappointed that they’d missed the booking, Sylvie had provided each one with an autographed copy. In the late afternoon, the air was damp with the promise of rain. Tourists packed every square inch of the Quarter, spilling out onto the streets beyond. Music and voices filled the air and dueled with the weather. For now, the weather was losing.

  Genevieve broke away from the trio and fell in step beside Erin, who had faded to the rear of the group. Leaning down, Gennie whispered conspiratorially, “The Moss family has a genetic disorder.”

  Erin didn’t look over. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s called foot-in-the-mouth-itis. At least, I think that’s the Latin name for it.”

  Refusing to chuckle, Erin kept walking. “Is there a cure?”

  With a dramatic sigh, Gen admitted, “Copious amounts of groveling with a smidge of forgiveness.”

  Erin gave in then and laughed. “You’re forgiven.”

  “Wait, I have to grovel first.” Suddenly serious, she placed a hand on Erin’s arm to stop her. Gen faced her. “Gabriel is my family. All that I’ve got left. It’s hard, going from a group of people you just know will always love you and be there, to waking up one morning to nothing.”

  “I understand,” Erin said softly.

  Genevieve believed she did. Sighing, she continued. “I’ve seen Gabriel do this before. Take on a problem and make it his. Like he really is supposed to be a guardian angel.”