All the Pretty Faces (29 page)

She looked so damn beautiful, he wished he could freeze the moment. He mentally snapped a picture, storing it away to remember when he was alone at night.

She cupped his cock in her hand, stroking him from base to tip, making his cock throb. He shifted, undulating his hips, and tried to pull her back on top of him. He wanted inside her. Now.

She had none of it. Instead, her head moved south, and she flicked her tongue across the tip of his penis, swirling her tongue over his engorged length until he thought he would explode in her mouth.

Needing to feel her body quivering around him, he finally dragged her back on top of him, cupped her hips in his palms, and guided her to his sex. She lifted her body and impaled him, then moved on top of him. He gripped her hips, pumping his cock inside her until he lost control and the two of them were overcome with sensations. Need and passion reached a crescendo, and they climaxed in each other’s arms again.

Both breathing heavily, she collapsed on top of him.

Grimley was in jail. Josie was safe tonight, and so were the residents of Graveyard Falls.

They fell asleep, both sated and exhausted.

Ellie sat beside her new friend Paula Hamrick, her heart fluttering as Paula squeezed her hand. It was the most movement she’d felt out of the woman since they’d met.

Something had changed today. Paula had learned the truth, that Silas had killed her lovely daughter.

Ellie wanted to tell her that she was sorry, that she should have stopped Silas, but he’d been just a boy, and she hadn’t understood her visions, that she’d had a premonition of what he’d do.

By the time she had, it was too late.

Although when she’d seen Silas cleaning the carcass of the birds he’d killed, washing and bleaching the bones then making collages out of them, she’d known he wasn’t normal.

Lord have mercy on them both. She didn’t want to believe he was evil.

No matter how awkward and strange he’d been, she’d been drawn to him because he had no mother.

She
might be touched in the head, but the devil had possessed his daddy and given him a mean streak. He’d connected more with those godforsaken birds than he had with his own flesh-and-blood son.

Truth be known, she’d felt sorry for Silas.

She’d been naïve.

She’d thought being kind to him, loving him, showing him patience and understanding would help fix the broken boy, but her love hadn’t been enough.

“I heard what your son told you,” she said to Paula. “I know he arrested the man who killed your daughter. I’m so sorry for how you’ve suffered.”

A small sound erupted from the woman’s throat as if she was trying to speak, but then quiet fell. The woman’s pain suffused Ellie as if it was her own.

Some other emotion bled through the pain. A peacefulness washing over Paula.

Ellie squeezed Paula’s cold hand in hers, needing the human touch as much as she sensed her friend did.

Although Paula wouldn’t be friends with her if she knew the truth.

She might hate her.

A dozen gruesome images flooded Ellie, flashing behind her eyes. The sharp blade of the scalpel twisting and digging into the women’s faces. The hand holding that scalpel carving the sharp lines of the talon.

Only Silas wasn’t holding that scalpel.

He wasn’t killing those three young women in Graveyard Falls.

There was someone else.

She couldn’t see the person’s face, but evil had stolen his soul just like it had Silas’s daddy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Dane woke with a jolt.

His arm was asleep.

He shifted, then realized Josie was lying curled against him, her long hair draped across his chest, her breath feathering his neck.

Pleasure shot through him as he remembered the night before. He’d awakened twice, and they’d made love again both times.

It wasn’t enough.

He wanted her this morning. Today. Tonight. Maybe always.

Wind whistled through the eaves of the house, banging the roof and hurling twigs against the windowpanes.

The wood floor felt cold against his bare feet as he forced himself from bed.

He needed the cold to tamp down his morning erection. Because he had to put a stop to this insanity of bedding Josie. If he didn’t, he’d never be able to leave her.

He had to leave her. Didn’t he?

His cell phone buzzed, and he checked the text. The sheriff.

Michaels’s story about the arrest hit the morning news. Press conference this morning at eight.

Dane responded that he’d meet Kimball at the press conference.

Where had that reporter gotten his information?

He brewed a pot of coffee and showered, hoping to scoot out before Josie woke. When he emerged from the shower, she was sitting up in bed, arms folded, holding a cup of coffee. She gestured that she’d poured him one.

Damn, he could get used to this.

Josie half-naked, sleep tousled, and sexy in the morning after he’d loved her all night, coffee in bed.

He couldn’t get used to it.

He had a case to tie up.

Using every ounce of restraint he possessed, he picked up the mug and took a sip, the awkward silence steeped in unspoken memories of their intimate night.

“Leaving?” Josie asked in a husky whisper.

He steeled himself against caring. “I’m meeting the sheriff for a press conference. Apparently that reporter found out we made an arrest and already printed the story.”

Josie threaded fingers in her hair and swept it back from her face. “How did he find out?”

“I have no idea, but I intend to ask him.” He didn’t like the possibility that someone was leaking information. Or that the killer had contacted Michaels. If Michaels had held back information that could have helped them save the girls, he deserved to be punished.

Josie threw her legs over the side of the bed. Beautiful, sensual legs that she’d wrapped around him while he’d driven himself inside her.

God. He wanted to do it again right now.

“Dane, last night before you got here, Sheriff Kimball called. Dr. Grimley wants to talk to me.”

He strapped his gun inside his jacket, stalling to control his anger over the man’s audacity. “Just like we thought. He wants you to make him famous.”

Josie grabbed her robe. “I’m not sure about that, but I have to see what he says.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Then I’ll sit in on it.”

She shook her head. “He asked to speak to me. Alone.”

A scowl darkened Dane’s face. What was the man up to? “He’s dangerous, Josie.”

“He’s in custody, Dane. Besides, maybe I can get him to open up more. I’ll record our conversation.”

Dane checked his watch. “All right, but one of the deputies needs to stand guard. I don’t want you in the room with him by yourself.”

Grimley was a sick, cold-blooded killer who’d taken his sister’s life.

If he touched Josie, Dane would kill the bastard.

A half hour later, Josie drove to the police station. A deputy met her and explained that Dane had phoned with orders.

Not only was Grimley in a cell, but Eddie Easton was still in custody as well.

Hopefully forensics would discover something concrete to help solidify the case. Dane had also contacted LA police and asked them to search both men’s homes.

Josie squelched the spark of sympathy threatening when the deputy led the plastic surgeon into the interrogation room. His hair was sticking out in all directions, his eyes were red rimmed and swollen, and he’d clawed at his face until he’d drawn blood.

She schooled her reaction. She refused to allow him to manipulate her, not when he’d torn Dane’s family apart.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” Josie said, maintaining a neutral voice.

The confident plastic surgeon with the gleaming white teeth and perfect smile had vanished.

In his place sat the insecure, traumatized, abused adolescent who’d been starved for love to the point of transferring his affections to the one person who’d been kind to him—Betsy Hamrick.

Josie removed a recorder from her purse and set it on the table. “You want me to tell your story, then talk to me,” Josie said. “I plan to record our session. I assume that’s all right with you.”

“Fine.” He raised his bleary eyes toward her. Dried blood dotted his face and fingernails. “I know you and Agent Hamrick think I’m a monster, but I’m not this maniac they call the Butcher.”

Josie simply stared at him, refusing to react, even though revulsion at the images of the victims gripped her. He had carved bones from animals he killed. He had stabbed Betsy Hamrick. He had written those gruesome stories. “You killed Betsy Hamrick?”

He gave a nod. “I didn’t mean to. I loved her—”

Remorse tinged his admission. Betsy was still dead, though. “So you said. You still took her life.”

“I know.” He dropped his head forward on a groan and rubbed his eyes. “If I could go back and change one thing in my life, it would be that. I’d jab that knife in my own chest before I’d hurt her again.”

Silence stretched between them, the doctor’s regret palpable.

“You did kill her,” Josie said. “Because you had pent-up rage inside you from your own childhood.”

He kept biting his lip as if he’d developed a tic. Probably one he’d had when he was younger, his reaction to stress. “That’s what my therapist said.”

“So you confided in your therapist?”

“Yes.” Grimley’s voice sounded weak, defeated. “She’s the one who suggested helping others would enable me to forgive myself.”

“
Did
you?”

“Forgive myself?” He made a sarcastic sound. “No. How could I when I killed the only girl I ever loved? I’ve thought about Betsy every single day since. I wish I’d died that day instead of her.” He picked at the dried blood on his face, opening up the wound, a definite tremble in his hand. “If I could trade places with her now, I would.”

Josie breathed out deeply. “What about Eddie Easton’s girlfriend?”

“I was jealous of her,” he admitted in a self-deprecating voice. “I looked up to Eddie. I flipped out because she told him that she didn’t want me around. That I was strange. Spooky.”

Josie tried to picture where he was going with this. Had he decided to confess to Sherry’s murder? “Did Eddie defend you?”

“No, Eddie just laughed. He told her I was harmless. A freak, but harmless.” His last word sounded bitter as if he resented Eddie’s description of him.

“That must have made you angry.”

“Yeah, it did. He made me sound like a psycho.” He studied his hands. They were scarred. And trembling. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were clear, though. “I didn’t kill Sherry. I saw her leave with another guy. Eddie was pissed, but he didn’t go after her. He got drunk and hooked up with another girl.”

“So who killed her?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Grimley said. “Rumor was that she’d messed around with some junkie and that he killed her.”

“Did the police pursue that lead?”

He nodded. “Yes, once they stopped considering Eddie as their only suspect. They found the junkie dead behind Sherry’s dorm. He had Sherry’s wallet on him, so they thought he killed her for money.”

Josie stewed over what he said. That scenario sounded plausible. “Tell me about you and Eddie.”

His brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

Josie decided to run with Dane’s theory. While Grimley was opening up, hopefully he’d tell her everything. “He meets the women through his business and refers them to you. Then you perform the cosmetic work and give him a kickback.”

Dr. Grimley shrugged. “That’s only fair.”

“His photography studio is a great way to solicit new clients,” Josie said. “It also could be the perfect way to take advantage of young women.”

“That’s not the way it is,” Grimley said. “I help people be the best person they can be. Most of the women who come to me have self-image problems. Cosmetic work gives them confidence and changes their futures.”

Josie bit back a comment about vanity. Someone born with a deformity or scarred from an accident definitely deserved cosmetic work. She had to steer him back to the facts. “We found a Mitzi doll in Easton’s closet. Judging from the photographs on your website, you fashioned women to look like her.”

“Not to look like
her
, to look their best,” Dr. Grimley said. “That doll is just a personification of the fact that women strive for physical beauty and perfection.”

“You repair those flaws so they won’t be imperfect anymore?”

“We’ve already discussed this,” Dr. Grimley said. “How can you think I could desecrate a woman’s face like this Butcher?”

“You and Eddie were the last people to see these women alive,” Josie said. “Just look what you did to your own face.”

He frowned as if he had no idea what she was talking about. She gestured toward his nails and pulled out her compact, then handed it to him.

When he saw his reflection, he gasped. His hand shook harder as he wiped away the blood. “God . . . I did that?”

“Yes, you did,” Josie said, contemplating his mood changes. He pinged back and forth between the injured, insecure boy and the self-confident surgeon.

He shoved the mirror toward her. “Take that thing away.”

“You don’t like mirrors, do you?”

“No. At least, I didn’t when I was young. I don’t mind them now.” He looked down at his bloody finger.

“Is that why you left a broken mirror with each victim?”

Surprise flickered in the doctor’s eyes. “The killer left a mirror with the victims?”

Josie nodded, playing along with his denial. “A broken one. As if he wanted us to know that underneath the women were too ugly to look at.”

Brows furrowed, Dr. Grimley stood and began to pace, chewing his lip more frantically with each step. The deputy gave him a warning look and pointed to the seat.

Grimley cursed but sat down, his movements agitated.

“Listen, Miss DuKane, Agent Hamrick is too blinded by the fact that I killed his sister to really look for the truth about the Butcher.”

Dane was emotional, but he had a right to be. “He’s an excellent agent, and he has evidence that points directly to you.”

“I don’t give a damn what he has. It’s not true. Someone is framing me. I think I know who.”

Dane braced himself to deal with the press again. As much as he despised them, the residents of Graveyard Falls had a right to know they could rest easy in their beds tonight.

A small group of press members, the mayor, half the residents of Graveyard Falls, and the film crew had gathered for the press conference.

Michaels’s story had hit the morning news, and everyone in town wanted confirmation that the Butcher was in custody.

Unfortunately, some were starved for the grisly details.

“Yes, we have made an arrest,” Dane said.

Whispers echoed through the crowd, and several people raised hands to get his attention.

“We’ll address questions in a minute,” Dane said. “First, I’m sure you’re anxious to know who we have in custody. We arrested a man named Dr. Silas Grimley. He’s a plastic surgeon who received referrals from the photographer Eddie Easton. At this point, no charges have been placed against Easton, but we have detained him for questioning.”

Although that twenty-four hours would be up soon, and if he didn’t make a case against Easton, he’d have to release him.

“I’m not at liberty to disclose key pieces of evidence we have against the doctor for his alleged crimes, but suffice to say, it was adequate for a warrant, and we are putting together a case now. Dr. Grimley also confessed to a prior murder, which we believe is linked to his history of violence.”

“Did he admit he killed Charity?” Bailey Snow asked.