“Always.”
She stared at the silent phone in her hand and wished she could call them back, tell them they’d found the maniac and he was dead. He could never hurt anyone ever again. But wishing would get her nowhere.
A soft knock at the door sounded before Ethan opened it enough to stick his head in. “Everything okay?” Ethan. His office. Right.
Maggie squared her shoulders and tried for a laugh, which came off more like a croak. “Define
okay.
” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m complaining about my situation when a woman lost her life last night because of me.” She met Ethan’s gaze. “We have to stop this guy.”
He came forward and put his hands on her upper arms, rubbing them in a soothing manner. “We will. And we’re going to start by looking through those security tapes, at least until Becca returns from the mental health center. Then she’ll take you home and stay with you.”
That still left hours with just her and Ethan. She felt ashamed, but Maggie had hoped Becca could be a shield between her and Ethan’s comforting touches. Touches that sent shivers of longing over her skin.
“I…” She looked down, suddenly sheepish. “I don’t want to go home tonight.” His hands stilled their movement as something hot and predatory flashed in his eyes. “Do you think I could stay at Becca’s?” she hastily added. “Or a motel?”
“We’ll arrange something,” he agreed with a curt nod. His hands dropped away and he took a step back. Whatever heat had been there a moment before was gone.
Fearmonger hid a grin as the shed door swung open. He’d been waiting over an hour for this rendezvous. The afternoon heat was almost intolerable in the confined space, but it would all be worth it.
“Owen?” a hesitant whisper called.
“Here.”
Deborah Frame’s wild eyes, lit by the sunlight that poured through the shed door into the dark interior, darted toward the corner where he sat. He rocked forward so that all four legs of the wooden chair were flat on the ground.
“Hi, Deborah. I see you followed my instructions.”
Her gaze scanned what she could see of the dim ten-by-ten shed he’d selected for their meeting. Seeing they were alone, her shoulders dropped and she stepped inside, pulling the rusty corrugated tin door closed behind her with a bang that made her jump.
“Sorry.”
He shrugged. “No problem. You’re the one on the run from the law.”
“Where’s Maggie? You said you’d take me to her. She’s not still mad, is she?” She nibbled her bottom lip, and Fearmonger hid his disgust as she almost chewed one long, oily strand of blondish hair. Rather, it would be blond if it had been washed in a couple days. But then, she’d just broken out of a mental hospital and traveled two miles by foot in the afternoon heat.
He’d found a guard who could be bought. Nurtured a business relationship with her until she’d given him what he needed. It had been incredibly easy, actually—almost as if fate had ordained it. He’d followed the guard for weeks, learning her routine, then approached her at a bar and chatted her up. Confirmed what his surveillance had already told him, that she could use his money and wasn’t overly particular about loyalty and scruples and such, especially with the economy hitting so hard. His coming from a family with money had come in handy in gaining access to Maggie’s worst nightmare.
No, not her worst nightmare, he corrected with a grin.
He
was Maggie’s worst nightmare. She just didn’t fully realize it yet. “Are you ready for your lesson?”
Deborah’s eyes darted around again. “This isn’t a trap, is it? I mean, why would you help me with this?”
He chuckled. “If it is a trap, it’s too late now, right?” He stood and went forward a few steps, extending his right hand and injecting a large dose of awe into his expression. “And I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m a fan. Remember? I told you everything in my letters. I had to pay good money to get those letters to you. I care about Maggie as much as you do. Why else would I go to so much trouble? Together, we’ll make Maggie understand.”
Hesitantly, she put her hand in his, and he tried not to grimace at the sweat and grit he felt on her skin. After all, she’d made his job that much easier. She’d come to him. Yeah, he’d made it possible by cultivating their “relationship” over the past few months. And by giving her the means and directions to escape. But she’d trusted him enough to follow through. He’d reward his pupil by making this quick.
“I still don’t understand.” She removed her hand from his and ran it over her hair as if suddenly self-conscious. “Everyone hates me for what happened with Dr. Levine. You said in the letters that you know her?”
He nodded and tucked his hands into his jean pockets in an unthreatening way. “I do.”
“Then why…?”
“Why would I show you compassion? Understanding?” God, she was eating this crap up. He could see the way her face softened as he explained. “I know what it’s like to want something, or someone, so much that you do crazy things.”
She scowled. “I’m not crazy. Is that what Maggie thinks? I have to explain everything to her. Make her understand. You said you’d take me to her.”
“You’ll see her soon enough. But you’re going to have to wait just a little bit longer.”
“When? Where do I get to see her? Why would she want to see me? She hasn’t contacted me since…” Her throat worked.
“I’m going to send you somewhere, and you’ll be free.” His hand was out of his pocket within seconds, a knife glinting in the low light. He spun around behind Deborah, locking an arm at her throat as he brought the knife up with the other, holding the point to the pulsing artery exposed there.
She thrashed and bucked, but he tightened his grip until she passed out. He let her fall to the ground and stepped over her to the duffel bag under the chair. He pulled a roll of duct tape out and taped her wrists together behind her back, so tight that she moaned in her unconsciousness. Bending in front of her, he moved to strap her ankles together. Before he realized she’d regained consciousness, her other ankle swung out and kicked him in the arm.
“Moron,” he muttered, slapping her so hard that her neck made a popping noise that echoed in the shed. But it was his father’s voice he heard in his head.
Moron. Should have seen that coming, you idiot. Didn’t move fast enough. Never do. Lazy piece of shit. Can’t even get through school. Always flunking out of your courses. How could I ever leave the business to you? Over my dead body.
“Go to hell!” a frightened Deborah Frame yelled. For a moment, he was confused. His father had a woman’s voice?
But then the face became that of his mother—the rich bitch, trophy wife that she was, tottering around in ridiculous three-inch heels with drink in hand. Her nose was crinkled in disgust—or at least as much as it could be. It had seen the knife of more than one plastic surgeon. Her face barely registered any emotion at all anymore. It didn’t matter. Her words dripped enough venom to convey her hate.
You’re worthless. You’ll never fill your father’s shoes. Even after his stroke, he’s more man than you’ll ever be.
Her voice, even in his head, was like nails on a chalkboard.
“Stop it!” he yelled, slapping his hands over his ears.
Then the only thing he heard was the rasping of Deborah’s breath as she struggled to control her fear. He could already see understanding dawning in her eyes. Pathetic, really. Snot slid down to her upper lip as she started pleading for her life. Repulsive. And this woman had thought she deserved a spotlight in Maggie’s world. Granted, she’d succeeded in scaring Maggie—and
that
he would have paid good money to see.
Well, he would show Maggie who deserved her.
He
was her teacher. Her master. Her conscience.
This was his gift to her.
He smiled and raised his knife. “Time for class.”
“Could you repeat that, please?” Damian rubbed his forehead. The team had dispersed hours ago, but he’d waited at the SSAM offices, hoping for good news. This call wasn’t it.
“Deborah Frame escaped from the state hospital.” Becca sounded distracted by the background noises. He could hear people arguing and someone shouting orders. Deborah’s disappearance had obviously thrown things into an uproar.
“How could she have escaped? She must have had help.” There couldn’t be two separate stalkers after Maggie at the same time. That would be too much of a coincidence. Damian’s gut told him Fearmonger, who seemed to get off on making power plays in Maggie’s life, had a hand in this.
“My contact at the hospital won’t say, exactly. They’re embarrassed and are covering things up as well as they can. They’re afraid what will happen when the press gets hold of this.”
He’d double the protection on Maggie until her stalker was behind locked doors again. “What’s being done to find her?”
“They already have.”
“What?”
“The trail was pretty simple. A Cub Scout could have followed it.” Becca’s tone indicated disgust.
“So she’s back in custody?” Damian felt his chest relax as he released the breath he’d been holding.
“Not exactly. Deborah Frame is dead. They found her body a couple of miles from the hospital in a rusty old shed on an abandoned property.”
“How’d she die?” But he already knew. In his sixty-two years, he’d learned there were no coincidences in life.
“Death by serial killer.”
“Fearmonger.”
Becca made a sound of agreement. “Has to be, and it was pretty brutal, though he didn’t use his usual MO.”
“No words in blood?”
“Actually, there were. Just not the words you’d think. He smeared
For Maggie
across the woman’s abdomen.”
Damian wiped a hand over his tired face. He refused to give in to fatigue. He would sleep when he was dead. In the meantime, he had monsters to catch.
“He probably thinks he’s invincible about now,” Becca said. “Not only getting away with murder, but also successfully breaking a woman out of a locked, guarded facility? That takes some major planning and skill. Yeah, he’s got to be feeling pretty confident.”
Which was both dangerous and fortunate. He’d probably continue killing at this new accelerated rate, but maybe, just maybe, he’d get sloppy and make a mistake.
Her butt was cold. And numb. The folding metal chairs at the university’s security office were unforgiving.
Maggie rubbed the back of her neck, dutifully keeping her eyes on the TV screen on the table in front of her, though she had to fight to keep her mind on the task at hand. Her thoughts kept wandering back to the call Ethan had received from Damian. Fearmonger had claimed another victim. Somehow Deborah Frame had broken out of the state hospital to meet up with him. Fearmonger had done his homework, learning of Deborah’s connection to her. Was nobody safe? Despite the warm night, she shivered.
“Need a break?” Ethan asked, watching his own video screen beside her.
“We’re almost done, right?”
“Yeah.”
It was getting late and they were both tired, but between the two of them, they’d managed to get through Tuesday night and early Wednesday morning’s videos of not just the psych building’s parking lot, but of a couple others nearby. Despite gritty eyes and a need to review her lesson plans for her morning classes, Maggie was determined to do her part. At least Marconi was going to replay a recording of an old show, so she and David had the night off from the radio station.
“I can hang in there.”
Twenty minutes later, Ethan sat back with a sound of disgust. “Nothing. You?”
She switched off the screen in front of her. It showed the parking lot outside the psych building, with a nearly clear view of the sidewalk leading into the door nearest the classroom. “Nothing but a couple of mischievous raccoons doing some dumpster diving.”
Ethan’s screen showed the other side of the building. There had been no footage of the inside.
“I don’t get it.” Ethan stretched his shoulders and back so that his plain white T-shirt pulled tight across his chest, hinting at the finely sculpted lines underneath. The window-unit air conditioner in the trailer that served as a security office was on the fritz, so the temp in their tiny quarters—more like a supply closet, really—was warm. Ethan had long ago discarded the dress shirt and tie he’d worn for the meeting.
He rubbed his stubbled jaw. “They both had to enter—and he had to leave—by some means. I just don’t get it. There’s something we’re missing.”
He shifted forward, leaning his forearms on the table. His T-shirt rode up a little higher on his biceps as they bulged with the movement. The man really should wear short sleeves more often, especially in the heat of summer.
“T-shirts!” she exclaimed.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Your T-shirt—it reminded me of summer.”
“Yeah?” The doubtful look he gave her was not encouraging.
She quickly explained. “It made me think of seasons. In winter, it gets bitterly cold here.”
“And?” The doubt was still there, but he was going with her, willing to see where she was headed.
“And I’ve heard students grumbling about how they wished the tunnels between buildings on campus were still open, to avoid going outside.”
Ethan sat up straight. “There are tunnels?”
“Well, maybe,” she said, backpedaling. “It could all be legend, I suppose.”
He lunged forward and hugged her. She was suddenly engulfed by his warm male scent, his sinewy strength pressed against her curves. He pulled away, grinning. “You’re amazing.”
“Well don’t get too excited yet.”
Unless you’ll wrap your arms around me again. If you’ll do that again, by all means, get excited.
“From what I’ve heard, if they exist, they’ve been locked for years, maybe decades. I don’t know if anyone has access.”
Ethan was already rising from his chair. He went to the door and stuck his head out, calling to the chief security officer on duty. The short, balding man was growing a paunch but his eyes were sharp. He’d introduced himself as Officer Archie Lewis.
“Do you have video footage of the tunnels or their openings?” Ethan asked.
Officer Lewis huffed out a laugh. “No. Waste of time. Haven’t used them in thirty years, except for some maintenance upgrades back in the nineties.”
“But they do exist?”
“Oh yeah. The builders thought the tunnels would provide easy access for maintenance issues, as well as a way for students to get between buildings on cold, windy days.” He scratched at his chin. “Unfortunately, vagrants decided to move in during the winter months, and students didn’t feel safe anymore. A couple kids got stuck in one of the old supply rooms down there, too. Took a day to find them. Damn waste, if you ask me, but they shut the things down.”
“Do you have maps,” Maggie asked, “of where the tunnels come and go? Specifically, the ones that connect to the psychology building.”
He nodded, grinning. “That, I do.”
A few minutes later, Ethan and Maggie had purchased a couple sodas from a machine in the hallway. While indulging in a much-needed caffeine and sugar rush, they cleared a table in the tiny break room, where they could roll out the dusty blueprints of the tunnels beneath the school.
“Wow,” Maggie breathed, aware of just how close Ethan leaned next to her. The hint of salty sweat that dampened his skin had her licking her lips. “That’s quite a labyrinth.”
“Most of the tunnels are blocked off at their openings.” Ethan tapped a finger on one of the marked doors that had an
X
scrawled in black over it. “Locked or permanently sealed?”
“Not sure about all of them,” Officer Lewis replied with a shake of his head. “But I’d guess most of them are just locked. We have a set of keys for them somewhere around here. Locked ’em for the students’ safety, but a lot of the buildings’ pipes run through those tunnels, so I doubt they’d permanently seal them.”
“Can you find those keys?”
“Sure thing.” Lewis left to search.
“Well, they sure wouldn’t want students getting lost in this maze.” She glanced at Ethan’s profile, so intent on the labyrinth spread out on the table. “What are you thinking?”
“That our guy might just work at the university. He had to get a key to these doors somehow. And it would explain better why Fearmonger seems so attached to you. You spend most of your days and nights here.” He put a finger against his lips as the chief returned. Maggie understood. He wouldn’t want the man thinking they suspected someone within their ranks. Officer Lewis’s accommodating attitude just might take a turn for the worse.
“Found them.” Lewis held up a ring containing several keys.
“Thanks.” Ethan took the keys. He didn’t say anything more and the officer took the hint, leaving them.
“What do we do now?” she asked once they were alone again.
“I’m taking you to your place to check on Sigmund and get whatever you need, then to Becca’s for the night. She said she’d be done at the state hospital soon and would meet us at her place.”
“And you?” She suppressed a shiver at the thought he would no longer be with her. Not that she didn’t trust Becca’s capabilities, but just being near Ethan made her feel safer—at least physically. Emotional safety was a whole other issue, and one she didn’t want to explore.
“I’ll get some rest, too.” But he kept surveying the maps.
“Bullshit. You’re going to go down in those tunnels. By yourself. At night.”
Her curse brought a ghost of a smile to his lips. “Did you just say ‘bullshit’?”
She put a hand on her hip. “I did. It’s something my family says. Whenever someone is, you know,
bullshitting
one of us. We don’t let each other get away with it.”
He grabbed her then and tugged her close, his warm lips hovering for just a second before she leaned into him, meeting his hesitant mouth with her eager one. She got the feeling he’d surprised himself by initiating their embrace, but he quickly recovered, deepening the kiss as he slanted his mouth to claim her. His passion, once unleashed, built in urgency and demanded a response, and she didn’t hesitate to give him one. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, digging in and not letting him retreat.
This
was what she’d wanted for the past two days, and it was worth the wait.
Delicious sensations swarmed over her as he groaned and wrapped his arms even tighter around her. She lost herself in the moment. In the heat.
Oh God, the heat.
And she’d thought the room was hot. This was downright combustible.
After a long moment, his lips left hers with obvious reluctance, but he didn’t move far. His breath fanned her burning cheeks. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
She pulled out of his embrace. “Just what every girl loves to hear.”
He grimaced. “Shit. That didn’t come out right.” He caught her back to him when she tried to step away. “I just meant, with everything you’ve been through this week, now’s not the time to…”
She said the first thing that came to mind. “Combust.”
His smile was back. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. With a brush of his thumb over her lips, he pulled away and started collecting the maps, rolling them up again. He was clearly avoiding further discussion, but she wouldn’t let him back away.
“So why did you?”
He paused in his actions, but didn’t meet her gaze. “Kiss you? Because I had to. You’re so damn sweet.” He heaved out a breath. “Nobody except my mother has worried about my welfare in a long time. It’s…seductive.”
She snorted. “You’re comparing me to your
mother?
At a time like this?” Her surprise erupted into laughter and she pushed her fingers to her mouth as he scowled at her.
“I meant…” He looked so flustered that she quickly sobered.
“I know what you meant. And I’m sorry I laughed.”
“I’m not very good at this.”
“Kissing?” She gaped. “You’re kidding, right? Because that was incredible.”
He gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah, it was. But what I meant is…” He blew out a breath. He was clearly struggling to find the right words to describe his feelings. And that was the sweetest, most touching thing she’d ever seen from a man. “I’m not very good at letting my guard down.”
But if he could be vulnerable with her, wasn’t that the ultimate sign of trust? And that endeared him to her all the more. “You can trust me with your feelings.”
“But that’s just it. I don’t want you to care about me.”
She ached to reach out to him, to touch him, to make him turn and look at her. But he was throwing up caution signals everywhere, so she held still.
“And when this is over,” she said, “if I get through this, then what?”
His jaw hardened. “There is no ‘if’ about this. You will be safe. That’s my priority.
You’re
my priority.”
“Well, now that
is
what a girl likes to hear. But I don’t want to hear you’re going down into those tunnels alone. Fearmonger seems to be everywhere.”
“If it’ll get you to Becca’s for some rest, I’ll call in another agent to go with me. I promise to wait for them to arrive before I go in.”
She could see the idea didn’t please him.
“And, of course, I can call Noah and Maria to come over, if they’re not too busy.”
“At—” she glanced at the clock on the wall, “—ten o’clock at night?”
“This case is everyone’s priority.”
“Man, oh, man,” Noah muttered, peering into the darkness of the tunnel opening Ethan had selected as a starting point. “We need some megawatt flashlights.”
That and a semiautomatic weapon
might
make Ethan feel less creepy about the black void that gaped before them. At least Maggie had agreed to let him drop her off at Becca’s, so she was safely away from whatever he’d find in here. And his gut told him he would find something. Besides, whenever Maggie was around, his attention was inevitably on her.
He shouldn’t have kissed her. Even now, his mind was on her sunflower scent and the softness of her lips under his as he’d taken what he’d wanted for days now. It had taken some serious refocusing to get his attention off the searing heat of that kiss.