Dangerous Passage (Southern Crimes Book #1): A Novel (14 page)

J
ackson glanced at his watch, then quickened his steps down the narrow hall of the precinct toward Avery’s office. Five till midnight. He shouldn’t worry. Of all the people he knew, Avery was capable of taking care of herself. But even that realization couldn’t stop him from driving across town just to make sure. Not when he’d called her cell phone a dozen times—with no answer. If she wasn’t in her office, he was going to have to end up putting out a BOLO for her.

He rubbed the back of his neck and felt the tension spreading. Overreacting wouldn’t help, but the incident at tonight’s party had everyone involved on edge. It was one thing to lead an investigation by following up on all the forensics, evidence, and a list of suspects. It was another thing when the killer tried to turn things into a game of cat and mouse.

Ahead, a yellow beam of light from Avery’s office spilled into the darkened hallway that had been freshly mopped, leaving behind the strong scent of industrial cleaners.

Jackson wrinkled his nose at the odor and stopped in the doorway of her office. Relief swept through him. She sat behind her desk, surrounded by crime scene photographs, forensic reports, and an evidence box, so intent on what she was looking at that she didn’t even notice his arrival.

He leaned against the wooden door frame, content to watch her work for the moment. She still wore the black dress from the party, complete with tiny diamond earrings dangling from her ears. She looked tired, but just as stunning as the moment he’d picked her up for the party. Relief mingled with the worry he’d felt over the past few hours, confirming that he was smitten. Funny. He’d once told his grandfather that he’d never get involved with a detective. Their job was simply too dangerous and time-consuming. But none of that seemed to matter right now.

Once, before he and Ellie married, she’d asked him how he could work with dead people every day. While she’d always encouraged him, he knew she’d be the last one to show up in his autopsy room. He’d smiled and told her that they never talked back like the patients she saw on a weekly basis at their church’s counseling center.

Ellie had been his first real relationship, and he’d loved her fiercely. But Ellie was gone. And while he wasn’t looking for someone to replace her, he’d never stopped longing for someone to fill the emptiness she’d left.

Avery was managing to do just that. Somehow, she’d found a way to wrap herself around his heart—and at the same time change his mind about detectives. She understood his desire to fight for justice—no matter what the cost.

Which meant they both knew it was worth the risk and the long hours to track down killers. His motivation came from seeing young girls like Tala lying dead on his autopsy table.

The fluorescent lights overhead crackled, pulling Avery’s attention toward the ceiling. Her gaze stopped on Jackson. “Hey. How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long. I tried calling your cell, but you never answered.”

“I’m sorry.” She shot him a sheepish grin and shrugged. “My phone . . . it’s somewhere around here, more than likely with a dead battery.”

“I was worried.”

“I came here after we finished up at the florist, hoping that if I went through everything again, I might find something we’d missed. We’ve got to find this guy.”

“We’re going to.”

She didn’t look convinced. “He used my brother’s name to sign some stupid frequent buyer form. Why would he do that?”

Jackson sat down on the empty seat across from her. Except for the cluttered desk, the rest of the room was immaculate. “He’s toying with you, Avery. He’s trying to get in your head, distract you, scare you, and lead you on some wild-goose chase. That’s what serial killers do. They’re psychopaths who would like nothing more than to take you down as well.”

“I guess finding out who is in charge of the case wouldn’t be hard.”

Every lead they’d followed up on in the past five hours had seemed to focus on that very fact. The deliveryman, the prints on both the card filled out at the flower shop and the bag, and now Michael’s signature . . .

The only thing they could do at this point was continue searching and pray he made a mistake. Which he would. And then they would catch him. Until then, they’d have to keep examining the evidence and trying to turn up new leads.

Avery leaned forward, allowing the dimmed light to catch the fatigue in her expression. Five days working on an intense—and personal—case wasn’t just physically exhausting, it was emotionally draining as well. She needed a day off, but since he was sure she wouldn’t go for that, at a minimum she needed a good night’s sleep.

“You need to go home. You’re exhausted.”

She shot him a half smile. “So it shows?”

He had no intention of falling into that trap. “I’m not answering that question.”

She looked away, her smile quickly fading. “Tell me what you would have me do. I can’t ignore what happened tonight.”

“But you also can’t let him start leading this case. You’re in charge of this investigation. You have to find a way to keep the lead.”

She shook her head. “That’s the problem. I’m not in charge. He chooses his victims. Determines their fate. Kills them in cold blood. I’m not in control of anything. Everywhere I look ends up being the wrong direction, which means all I’ve done is run around chasing a bunch of crazy red herrings. And to make it all worse, he’s made it pretty clear that someone else is going to die.”

She shook her head and drew in a deep breath. “Tess came too close to things tonight. What if the killer had been the one delivering the flower?”

“He wasn’t.”

“Still, it’s not right for me to put my family and my child in danger. Which is why sometimes—like today—I have to ask myself if it’s worth it.”

Her doubts took him by surprise, or maybe more accurately what struck him was the fact that she had the courage to verbalize them to him. Avery wasn’t a quitter, he knew that, but neither was she the kind of person who would put her career above her family. It was a tough balance that many officers in her field struggled to find. And why many of those he knew had given up having a family for their career.

He tried to read her expression. “Maybe it’s time to give this case to another team.”

“No.” A spark of determination was back in her eyes. “But I can’t stand by and take any chances when it comes to Tess. I’ve had run-ins with criminals, threats against my life, but this . . . this was personal, Jackson. It’s made me think about just how dangerous my job is, and no matter how much I love it, it’s not worth losing someone else I love.”

There it was—that irresistible mixture of competence, persistence, and smarts thrown together with a hint of vulnerability that made him want to wrap his arms around her and promise her everything was going to be okay. Except that wasn’t something he could guarantee. “It is a risk.”

“I don’t think I ever told you that Ethan died in the line of duty. A car wreck in a high-speed chase in north Atlanta.”

“No. You hadn’t told me how he died.”

“I don’t talk about it much. I guess I figure most people around here know. Do you know how many times I planned to quit after his death? I even typed up a resignation letter and brought it to work.”

“What stopped you?”

“A case I was working on at the time. A young girl had been found murdered in one of the neighborhood parks. She was nine years old. The same age as Tess at the time. Like this case, I remember thinking it could have been Tess. I could have lost her too. When we found the man who killed her, he had another girl in the back of his vehicle. She would have been dead in another hour. Knowing that she was going to live, seeing the joy in her mother’s eyes, gave me what I needed to keep going. To do everything I can to save one more.”

“We live in a fallen world. Death, hatred, jealousy, everything that motivates man . . . none of it was ever a part of God’s plan.”

She looked up and caught his gaze. “But when you see it day after day, it’s easy to wonder if what you do really makes a difference.”

“We make a difference to the ones we save.”

“And the ones we don’t?”

“Do you want my advice? At least for tonight?”

She smiled, but the fatigue was clear in her eyes. “I have a feeling you’ll give it to me no matter what I say.”

“I know this entire case has become personal, but you need
to go home and get some sleep. You’re exhausted. You’ll be able to think clearer come morning. You’re not going to be able to help anyone if you’re not able to do your job.”

“It is morning, if I’m not mistaken.” She rubbed her eyes, then glanced at the mound of paperwork covering her desk. “But—”

“No buts.” He stood up and moved to rest his hands against the back of the chair. One way or another he was going to get her out of here and home where she should be this time of night. “Where’s Tess?”

“She’s at my parents’. For tonight anyway.”

“Good. That’s where you should go.”

“I’m not ready to move out of my house because of this guy, Jackson. I’ve got an alarm system and my Glock. I’ll be fine.”

“And don’t forget Freddie the frog, a couple rats, and a few other animals that can protect you.”

“Very funny.”

She switched off the light on her desk, then reached for her purse hanging on the chair behind her. She might still be arguing, but at least she was moving.

“I just want you to be careful. This guy might be smart, but more than likely he’s off balance, which makes for a dangerous combination.”

“Is that your professional opinion?”

“I might spend a lot of time with dead people, but I’ve been around enough murder investigations to learn a thing or two.”

For a moment he wished for a normal life. One where they didn’t have killers breathing down their necks. Where the stakes weren’t so high.

They’ll all fall down.

More girls? Tess? Avery? They wouldn’t know until they stopped him. Which meant they had to find him.

He grabbed his keys out of his pocket as they walked out the front door. “Let me drive you home.”

“I’ve got my car.”

Stubborn as always. “Then I’ll follow you.”

“Jackson—”

“Do it for me. I’ll sleep better tonight if I know you’re home safe.”

“Okay.”

He brushed his hand across her cheek. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

She took a step forward, nodded, then slipped her hand into his.

A
very jerked into a sitting position in her bed, her heart pounding with a flood of adrenaline. Something had awakened her. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and at the base of her neck. Her light capri pajamas felt sticky against her skin. Maybe it was nothing more than the frightening dreams she’d had all night, but she’d heard something.

She moved to the edge of the queen-size bed, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Now that she was awake, the vivid scenes began to vanish. But not completely. The killer had chased her across the medieval courtyard surrounding a looming castle with dark clouds hovering overhead. He’d taunted her, playing a game of cat and mouse where she was no longer the hunter but the prey. She’d been forced to run through the tangled bodies of dead girls—girls she hadn’t been able to save. And then, just before she woke up, she’d stopped where Tess’s lifeless form lay sprawled out, sticky red blood pooling beneath her.

Avery gulped in a lungful of air. No. None of the images that had played through her head were true. Her dreams were nothing more than warped versions based on a slender thread of reality. Tess was fine. Sensing the elusive killer stalking her as she slept was nothing more than a nightmare—her mind playing tricks with her.

Her breathing began to slow. The last time she remembered waking up feeling panicked had been after Ethan’s death. For weeks her dreams had been plagued with nightmares. Every night they would take her back to those final moments. Waiting up for him, the knock on the door, the two officers whose job it was to tell her he was dead. They had apologized and told her how sorry they were. Everyone had been sorry.

Tess had been her only motivation to get out of bed in the weeks and months that had followed. Then slowly, she’d begun to believe again that she could make a difference out on the streets and that Ethan would want her to do that. One day, the haunting dreams finally vanished. She had been free of them until tonight, when this case brought them back.

She flipped on the bedside light and reached for the Glock nestled beneath the extra pillow on the far side of the bed, grasping it tightly between her fingers. She might have allowed the tragic death of a Jane Doe to become too personal, but Tala’s death had reminded her of the fragility of life and brought with it fresh concerns about Tess.

Avery wiped the back of her neck with her hand and listened to the familiar sounds of the house. The hum of the air conditioner . . . the water heater clicking on in the bathroom . . . the squeak of the hamster’s exercise wheel . . . the neighbor’s yappy dog barking next door . . . The dreams had disturbed her, there was no denying that, but something else had awakened her. She was certain of it.

Someone was in the house.

She shoved the covers aside. The digital clock on the bedside table read 3:37. She wished it were full morning, even though she knew the accompanying sunlight wouldn’t completely erase her unease.

They’ll all fall down.

The words shot through her. She’d wanted to convince herself
that the message scribbled on the card was not pointed at her, but instead was only a reminder that their killer wasn’t finished with his death spree. But if that were true, it would also mean that her current fears were irrational and nothing more than her imagination. Whether or not the physical threat to her was real seemed secondary. He wanted to mess with her emotions, and he’d done exactly that.

But what if she was wrong? What if the words had been meant as a personal threat, with implications that they would one day meet face-to-face? She dropped her cell phone from the nightstand into her pocket. She had to be ready. If he had come after her, she would find him first.

Years of training automatically kicked in, helping to deaden the haunting fears the dreams brought with them. Avery started a systematic sweep of the house, turning on lights as she went. Room by room, searching the closets, behind doors, anywhere someone could potentially hide. She looked beneath the frilly pink ruffles of Tess’s single bed and was reminded again of how grateful she was Tess was safe with her parents.

She intended to do everything she could to keep Tess away from any danger, both perceived and real.

Avery continued the search, swung open the bathroom door and flipped on the light. With her gun held level, she pulled back the shower curtain. The faucet dripped. Was that what she’d heard earlier?

No. She’d heard more than water pinging onto the porcelain tub. Avery drew in a slow breath and forced herself to focus while Jackson’s words replayed in her mind.
He’s toying with you. Trying to get in your head. Trying to distract you.

That’s why their killer had sent her the flower. And used her brother’s signature. None of it would lead them to him. It would only lead her on the trail of a ghost. And keep her running in circles. Which was exactly what he wanted her to do.

Avery finished checking the second story.

Clear.

She made her way down the stairs to the ground floor, turning on lights that swallowed up the darkness. Jackson had done a sweep of the house when they’d arrived to ensure no one was hiding inside. It had been a futile attempt to reassure both of them that she was safe and to erase the visions of magnolia flowers with their sickly lemony scent. Instead, the haunting words had played over and over in her mind.

Ashes, ashes . . . they’ll all fall down.

He was out there. Somewhere. A shiver ran down her spine, playing on her nerves, making her feel vulnerable. Who would be next?

Light from the streetlight streamed through a break in the curtains in the front window of the living room. Avery pulled back the soft ivory fabric, crumpling it in her fingers, and looked outside. Nothing about the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood looked out of the ordinary. No suspicious cars or people hanging around from her vantage point.

Avery squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She had to have imagined whatever woke her up. Upstairs was clear. The windows were all locked. Nothing looked out of place. The front and back doors were still locked. Security alarm set. She opened the closet near the front door and rummaged through the coats hanging there that wouldn’t be used until winter. Empty.

All that was left was the kitchen and basement.

Avery stepped into the kitchen. The refrigerator’s motor clicked on. Avery tensed, hating the fact that every unexpected noise had her nerves set on edge. She caught movement out of her peripheral vision near the floorboards. She lowered her gun, aimed, and searched the shadows. Shards of blue glass were scattered across the brown tiles. She flipped on the light as Mrs. Whiskers—with her chocolate-brown and white fur—skittered
across the tile floor toward the living room. Tiger, the cat, tensed on the counter, her gaze on the prize.

Avery lowered her weapon an inch and blew out a soft sigh of relief. She didn’t have to be much of a detective to figure out what had happened. She’d left one of the cobalt tumblers on the counter last night. Tiger and Mrs. Whiskers—who had a tendency to escape her cage—had a tenuous relationship at best. Tiger had found her, taken chase, and knocked over a glass in the process.

Which only posed one problem besides the mess left behind. Like she’d told her sister, she might chase down murderers for a living, but she didn’t deal with rodents. Tiger clambered down from the counter to the bar stool, still stalking Mrs. Whiskers. So what had awakened her was nothing more than a real game of cat and mouse. And it was up to her to catch Mrs. Whiskers before Tiger did. Something that wasn’t going to be easy.

But first, she needed to clean up the broken glass. She grabbed the broom, then paused. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled.

The door to the basement was half open.

Avoiding the scattered glass with her bare feet, she leaned the broom back against the wall. Holding the gun steady in front of her, she walked slowly across the kitchen toward the basement. She’d closed the door last night. She was sure of it. She always shut it as a part of her bedtime ritual.

Check the locks . . . turn on the alarm system . . . run the dishwasher . . . shut the basement door.

It shouldn’t be open.

Avery moved forward slowly. The basement was the last place to look. But if someone were still in the house, she could have missed him if he’d slipped into the living room—

He grabbed her from behind.

Avery reacted instinctively. She thrust her elbow back as hard
as she could, striking the intruder in the ribs. He groaned and took a step backward. Glass crunched beneath his shoes, but he didn’t loosen his grip. Avery fought for control of her Glock. He squeezed her wrist, forcing her to loosen her grip on the weapon, then clasped his other hand over her mouth and nose. Her gun hit the floor as his hands tightened around her face and torso.

Avery fought for air while grasping for the ski mask he wore. She twisted her body and kneed him hard in the groin. He groaned and dropped to his knees, but instead of releasing her, he pulled her onto the hard tiles with him. She cried out at the impact. A shard of glass dug into her arm as he came at her again. Her forehead slammed into the flooring, and everything went dark.