“Orlund shot the man who took you. He won’t be hurting anyone again.” Ben helped her, slipping a strong arm behind her back.
Her instincts insisted he wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t speaking the truth, either. He was choosing his words too carefully. Katie had seen it in dozens of executives during contract negotiations.
She wouldn’t accept it from her lover. “What is it?”
“You should just focus on recovering.” His warm hand stroked her bare back, and Katie realized she wore a hospital gown instead of her usual clothes.
She frowned. “I thought we were past the don’t-worry-your-head stage.”
He didn’t answer, concentrating on adjusting the angle of her bed.
“Please?” she whispered.
It took another long minute to elevate the bed enough to prop her up at a comfortable angle. Only then did he answer. “Orlund gave a massive press conference, telling everyone the Director has been stopped. He arranged for DNA and fingerprint testing. We’re waiting on the results.”
“You don’t believe he’s gone.” She didn’t have to ask. The reluctance came through clearly in the pauses as he spoke, dragging out the words as if the evidence might change before he finished.
“It doesn’t make sense. I remember the man in the van. I remember his face, his clothes, and how scared he looked when we forced him off the road.” Ben rubbed her hand gently, playing with her fingers.
“I remember him, too,” Katie said quietly. “He grabbed me, and dragged me away. I broke free, but he lifted me up as if I weighed nothing, and threw me in the van.”
“Can you remember anything else about your other two conversations with the Director?”
She shook her head. “No. Only listening to the video, and reading the notes.”
“So why can we remember the driver? It doesn’t match what we know about spectres. Of course, what we know is patchy, and driven by guesswork and legend. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.” He focused his attention back on her. “The only two things I care about are you being all right, and that we stopped him before he took you.”
The echo of remembered pain tightened his voice. His hands squeezed hers as if needing reassurance that she was still there. Anguish haunted his eyes.
“I thought I’d lost you.” His voice broke, and he looked away, swallowing hard.
“I knew you’d come for me.” She hadn’t been certain he would come in time, but she’d never doubted he would rip the world apart to find her.
“I’ll always come for you,” he said fiercely. “No matter what. I’ll give my notice at Special Investigations, and find another job to be with you—”
Alarms went off in Katie’s head. “You can’t.”
His hands went still, their grip slackening. “What?”
It was her turn to choose her words carefully. “I know what Special Investigations means to you. Helping people to deal with the occulata is a big part of who you are. I couldn’t ask you to give it up.”
“You’re not the one asking me to.” His hurt and confusion tore at her heart. “Don’t . . . don’t you want to be with me?”
“I do. I want us to have a future together.” I want it to be possible. She pulled her hand free from his, and traced the line of his cheek with her fingers. Finding the words to explain her instinctive reaction seemed impossible. “That’s why I can’t take away something so important to you. The last few days have been crazy, and intense and, in a weird kind of way, they’ve also been wonderful. I never imagined I could feel the way I do about you. It’s overwhelming.”
“I feel the same way. I love you.”
The words stole her breath, and brought tears to her eyes. “I love you, too.”
“Then why are we arguing about this?” He smiled, turning his head to kiss her fingertips. “We love each other, we want to be together. It’s simple.”
“But life isn’t simple. What we have together has to work when we’re not embroiled in drama, and life-and-death decisions. The way we feel, it’s powerful. So powerful that it frightens me.” Her feelings poured out of her, unfiltered by rhyme and meter. “We’ve never even been on a date. You don’t know what the touring life is like. It’s late nights, constant travel, and relentless media attention. I don’t know what your regular life is like, either. I want a chance to figure these things out before either of us makes any big decisions. Can you understand?”
She held her breath, waiting for his reaction. This wasn’t how true love stories were supposed to play out. They were supposed to rush into each other’s arms, and trust everything would work out because they loved each other. Her cynical side whispered about how even passionate love broke under the demands of opposing lifestyles and viewpoints. Stories had endings. Life didn’t.
“It’s probably the right choice,” he said slowly. “It’s logical and prudent, and I don’t feel like being logical and prudent. I’ve finally found the woman who I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I want that life to start as soon as possible.”
I’ve screwed this all up. She swallowed, afraid to look away from his face. The love in his eyes melted all of her fears before they could dig their claws into her.
He smiled again. “I trust what’s between us. I believe in us. Which means I’m willing to do whatever you need until you trust what’s between us, too. I believe the future is going to be ours, together, which means I don’t have any reason to rush you. Take whatever time you need. I’ll be here, ready for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“One thing I won’t let you do is build a wall between us. I want you to feel safe, but we aren’t going to end up like your parents. If I give you space, can you give us an honest chance to make this work?”
She nodded. “I will.”
He leaned in to kiss her, a brief searing of their lips. She tried to pull him down to extend the kiss, but he held back.
“As much as I want you, right now you need your energy to recover. Because once they let you out with a clean bill of health, I’m going to make sure you know how grateful I am that you’re still here.”
His growled promise sent a delightful shiver down her spine.
She smiled. “It’s a date.”
“Knock, knock, lovebirds,” Ray parted the privacy curtain, and beamed at the two of them. “I’m glad to see you’re looking better, Katie. I was loathe to interrupt such a touching protestation of affection, but the test results are back and I thought you’d rather hear them from me than Orlund.”
“You heard us?” Katie’s stomach fluttered.
“Honey, the whole floor has been listening in. The ladies at the nursing station are split between you go girl, and she’s crazy. Either way, they’re all dabbing their eyes, and wishing they were the ones hearing such sweet words.”
“The test results?” Ben’s dry reminder halted the enthusiastic recital.
“DNA and fingerprints match the Director’s. It’s confirmed. The man who hunted you lies in the morgue, and even in today’s wacky world, he is not getting up. You’re safe.”
The wave of relief sweeping through her was much fainter than she’d expected. Of course, I could be distracted by the entire hospital gossiping about one of the most intimate moments of my life.
“Even better, guess who’s publicly eating crow.” Ray pulled out his phone, and played a video.
Razel’s face filled the tiny screen. “Earlier, I aired an interview in which I implied that Katie Ballard, the sister and songwriter for pop star sensation Aggi, attempted to use the press for free publicity by falsely claiming to be stalked by the notorious serial killer, the Director.”
“Implied? She said it right out,” Katie said indignantly.
“Since the interview aired, Miss Ballard was kidnapped by he
r stalker. and was only rescued through the valiant efforts of Special Agent Tarek Orlund of the FBI.”
The face on screen switched from Razel’s to the FBI agent’s.
“Not surprised he’s taking sole credit,” Ben grumbled.
“During the pursuit, the Director tried to escape, and I was forced to fire two shots to protect Miss Ballard, myself, and my fellow officers.” Orlund spoke into a vast row of microphones and popping flashes. “I regret the need for lethal force, but as my actions stopped an unpredictable madman from further terrorizing our citizens, I’m satisfied.”
“Sounds like a politician.” Katie shook her head, and immediately wished she hadn’t. A dull ache blossomed between her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Ben asked attentively.
“My head hurts.” Rubbing her eyes and forehead didn’t help.
Ben pressed the call button to summon the nurse.
“I’ll sum it up.” Ray switched off the video. “After Orlund’s self-aggrandizing statement, Razel admitted she had been approached by Trevor’s people to expose Aggi as a fraud. They put her in contact with Bernice, who claimed all sorts of unsavory goings on. When you called her, she saw it as the perfect opportunity to collect evidence of what she already believed to be true. She kept probing through the layers, certain there must be something depraved under all the political activism and stand up for yourself messages. At the end, she admits she misjudged you both. She’s releasing a documentary about her inspiring journey to the truth.”
Because it’s all about her. The vindictively glad part of Katie was overwhelmed by the rapidly growing swell of pain behind her eyeballs. She closed her eyes as the staccato tap of hard soles announced the nurse’s arrival.
“Her head hurts. She needs a painkiller,” Ben ordered.
A few moments later, a pinch on Katie’s arm preceded blessed relief chasing away the pain. The drug also stole her remaining reserve of energy, drawing her into healing sleep. She clung tightly to consciousness, fluttering her eyes open.
Ben stared down at her, a worried expression furrowing his brow. “Should I get the nurse back?”
“It’s better.” She yawned. “Will you stay with me while I sleep?”
His smile was the last thing she saw before her lids slid closed. He kissed her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 41
“I can’t believe the two of you aren’t running off to a tropical island somewhere.”
Ben ignored Ray’s commentary as he packed his things. He’d already done all the explaining he intended to. Both he and Katie had jobs. They’d spent the night together after she was released from the hospital, but reality returned with the morning. She was leaving for San Francisco, and he would return to Denver. He’d join her after the next round of concerts, and they’d spend a few days together.
A mature, sensible plan. He hated it.
It didn’t take a profiler to see the distance growing behind Katie’s eyes. Her old worries had resurfaced. He’d promised her the space to prove their relationship would survive their ordinary lives, but it felt wrong. How can I demonstrate this is more than high-stakes drama connection if we’re not in the same city?
Ben shoved a shirt into his duffel. “It is what it is. She has her job. I have mine.”
“Lots of couples manage two careers and a relationship—”
“I know!” Ben shouted. And immediately regretted it. “Sorry.”
“I’m not surprised I hit a nerve.” Ray continued folding his shirts with precise care. “What does surprise me is you not being at your lady’s side.”
“She wants to take things slowly,” he replied through gritted teeth. He would honor her request no matter what it cost him. After his outburst at the Malibu house, he needed to prove himself to her. And to himself. I will prove to her that she can trust me. The hours he’d spent by Katie’s bedside were the worst hours of his life. He’d watched, hoping she would wake up from whatever drug had been in the dart. The agony easily surpassed what he’d felt during the days sifting through rubble searching for Peter’s body. Anything is worth it if it gives us a chance. Except the words gave him no hope. The universe hated him. It would be typical of fate to give him a taste of joy, and then take it away.
It still might. Their night had been glorious, until their phones began ringing. Calls from Patrick, the media, the tour crew, all nibbling away at Katie’s time and attention. Add in the pointed text messages from Delacroix about other cases pending at Special Investigations, and any idiot could read the writing on the wall. Real life would destroy their romantic interlude.
Ray didn’t seem to be on the same page. “You love her, she loves you. Sweep her off her feet—”
“Do you know the difference between the romantic hero who pushes through all obstacles, and the controlling bastard who won’t take no for an answer?” Ben didn’t give his partner a chance to guess. “The outcome. That’s it. The controlling bastard becomes an abuser, and there’s no way to tell which one is which from the start.”
“Except you’re not an abusive, controlling bastard.” Ray’s dry comment didn’t improve matters.
“After Malibu, I don’t blame Katie for thinking I might be. I’m respecting what she’s asked for.” Even if it makes me miserable. “If it’s strong enough to last, it’s strong enough to wait until she’s ready.”
“Even if you don’t want to take it slow?”
“I want her to be happy. I want us to be together.” If he worked hard enough, he’d find a way for both.
Luckily his phone rang before he could work himself deeper into depression. His heart rose until he recognized Adler’s number instead of Katie’s. His curiosity prompted him to accept the call despite his low spirits. He’d asked Adler to examine the final confrontation with the Director. Something about it still didn’t feel right.
Adler delivered the facts in a cool, crisp monotone. “I’ve searched through your reports and the limited records available. The DNA profile and fingerprints are clear matches. The odds of an accidental match are greater than one in a trillion.”
“Why can I remember him?” Ben asked.
“You are asking me to extrapolate from a limited dataset. Perhaps our assumptions on how spectres work were wrong. Perhaps they erase memories rather than blocking their creation. We can’t be certain.” Adler’s mild tone delivered the reprimand with the verbal equivalent of a sharp rap across the knuckles. “When Lucy returns to work, she can search the databases.”
“Lucy’s not there?” Ben frowned,
Ray’s head lifted in interest.
“She requested some personal time to deal with an emotional matter. As her friend, and noting the effect of her distress on her work, I granted it.” An undernote of steel crept into Adler’s voice.
Ben flinched at the censure. “Is she okay?”
“She is quite upset. It can be difficult to learn otherwise after convincing oneself to wait for the reward that one seeks.”
“I can understand.” Ben exhaled heavily. “I’m dealing with something similar.”
“You refer to your romantic entanglement with Miss Ballard, which is on unstable territory given your recent emotional outbursts, and the high demands of your chosen careers.” It wasn’t a question.
Ben glanced at Ray, who shook his head. His partner enjoyed sharing harmless gossip, but wouldn’t spread painful personal details.
“You know, Investigator Morgan, I enjoy working with you in particular because you rarely ask me to justify my deductions when we both know they are accurate. It saves considerable time and effort.”
“Umm . . . thanks.”
Ray received a text. He mimed lifting the phone to his ear, and left the hotel room.
Ben took a deep breath. “I still th
ink there’s something off about this whole situation. Before, when we encountered the Director, there was a feeling of dread and anxiety.”
“A reasonable phenomena. A spectre’s presence could create an instinctive anxiety.” Adler paused. “This seems like rather basic reasoning which implies your question is a pretext to discuss a deeper emotional concern.”
He scrubbed his hand over his scalp, catching the first edges of stubble. Need to shave again. “I could use an impartial opinion.”
“When I identified your use of social pretense, I did not intend it as an invitation to further discussion. There must be other options who would be more temperamentally suited to this line of inquiry.”
“I’ve already heard Ray’s opinion. You get to the heart of human behavior better than anyone I know.” Ben’s shoulders slumped. “Please?”
A long silence filled the line. “This puts me in a difficult quandary, Investigator Morgan. I am not skilled in romantic relationships. In my opinion, they are dangerous, causing a disproportionate amount of trouble for the level of emotional satisfaction.”
“I’m caught between my instincts. I need to stay with Katie, and make this work, and I have to respect what she’s asked for, time to build a relationship without crisis pressure.” Ben rubbed at his tired eyes. “I can see her point, but everything is telling me that going back to our old lives is wrong.”
“Do you truly wish my advice?” Asking wasn’t like her. Usually she delivered whatever advice or information she had to offer in her clipped British accent.
Ben needed that precision. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“People are rarely happy with the answers they receive from their oracles. But nonetheless, here is mine. Romantic interludes rarely obey the expectations of those involved. People spend a great deal of mental energy on discussing those expectations. Any conflict between the parties involved creates a great deal of anxiety, and leads to an increase in tension.”
Deadly Potential Page 27