He opened a bottle of Chardonnay, grabbed a couple of glasses and splashed a hearty serving in both. He settled one stemmed glass in front of Jess and to his surprise she didn’t decline. They could both use something stronger but the risk of a middle-of-the-night call was too great.
She took another bite of rice, chewed thoughtfully. “This is really good. Did your mother make it?” She shot him a look. “I know you didn’t.”
“How do you know I haven’t taught myself to cook?” He climbed onto the stool next to her and sipped his wine. “My culinary skills may be quite advanced.”
She laughed. “Then why does your stove have all the markings of never having been turned on?” She swirled the wine in her glass before savoring a sip. “Don’t try to fool me, Burnett.” Then she tore off a piece of chicken and devoured it, closing her eyes to relish the sensations on her taste buds.
He loosened his tie and released the top button of his shirt. Usually he would have gotten comfortable by now. But Jess was here and he had to be careful about getting
too
comfortable. He was already feeling the effect of her presence in ways that had nothing to do with the job.
“It’s Taziki’s.” He shoved a forkful into his mouth to prevent having to answer her next question.
“When did you have time to order take out?” As if the answer to her own question dawned on her, Jess stared at her plate, then at his. “Were you expecting company?” Her gaze lifted to his. “You should’ve said something.” She grimaced as if she’d just swallowed a wad of sand instead of gourmet rice. “Good grief, Burnett, I could’ve hung out with Harper or something while you. . . you
entertained
.”
“No, I was not expecting company.” Why couldn’t she just enjoy the food? He doubted she’d eaten today. He knew for certain she hadn’t since early morning.
“Leftovers from last night then?”
“Let it go, Jess. Eat.”
Why he just didn’t tell her escaped him at the moment. That was a lie. He didn’t want to tell her. This was a conversation he had no desire to have tonight. Or maybe any other night.
She stirred the rice around with her fork. “You said for me to get Spears out of my head for a while, but I guess you don’t want to talk about
this
.”
Now he was losing his appetite. “No more than you want to talk about why you don’t lose the wedding band.”
She was divorced and she still wore the ring. How screwed up was that? Way more screwed up than his need to keep Gina’s impromptu visit off the table. Why couldn’t women be more like men and just skip to the good part in a given situation?
“I told you it wards off unwanted advances. I have no interest in dating.” She twisted the ring around her finger with the pad of her thumb. “This way, I don’t have to say no.”
Dan kept eating. Didn’t want to talk about dating either. To his supreme frustration, the idea of her dating bugged him.
Irrational. That was it. The past five days had been irrational and crazy and unsettling on a personal level.
“Seriously,” she pressed. “What happened? You ordered in and she stood you up? Big deal, getting stood-up isn’t the end of the world.”
“It was Gina Coleman. She showed up with dinner but I already had plans. Both of us were embarrassed. Satisfied?”
Fact was, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten stood-up. He reached for his wine. . . paused. He shook his head. “You did that on purpose.”
She shot him an innocent look. “What?”
“You knew the stood-up remark would work.”
Expression smug, she lifted her glass. “I’ve yet to meet a man who will admit to being stood-up.”
“So you got me.” He swallowed his pride along with a gulp of wine.
Jess dug back into her meal with renewed enthusiasm. Took a long drink of her wine. “So. . . an attractive lady shows up with dinner. She probably brought the wine, too. And you turn her down. Man, you’re heartless.”
Fine. He was heartless. “I was already on my way out the door to have dinner with my folks.”
Jess almost spewed wine across the island. “You blew off the hot reporter for your mother?” At his glare, she waved her hands. “Okay, okay. I shouldn’t have said that. You did the honorable thing.”
Dan filled his glass again. He
had
done the honorable thing.
There was no need for Jess to know his motive. Or that she was right about the wine.
She tore off another piece of succulent chicken and nibbled, then licked her lips. He tried not to watch. Wasn’t happening this side of going blind.
“I’ll bet hot reporter was pissed.”
Her cell vibrated against the granite and she reached for it.
He appreciated the reprieve.
Jess’s breath caught. She turned to him, fear in her eyes, and showed him the screen.
I left you a gift at Detective Wells’ apartment.
While they stared at the heart-stopping words another text appeared.
No need to thank me, Agent Harris. It was my pleasure.
Five Points, 10:21 p.m.
All the way across town, Jess clutched at the door, ready to bound out of the vehicle. A deep breath wasn’t possible. She needed Burnett to drive faster.
To get her there
now
.
The tires whined as he took a hard right onto Lori’s street. He skidded to the curb and Jess wrenched the door open.
“Jess! Wait!”
Ignoring him, she rushed up the walk and toward the steps that would take her to the second-story apartment. Sirens wailed in broken harmony with their throbbing lights. Tires squealed as back-up arrived.
A big body rushed around Jess.
Harper
.
Jess nearly stumbled. Almost dropped her bag.
Burnett caught her, steadied her. “You’re not going in there until we know it’s safe.”
Two uniforms sprinted past. Burnett grabbed the next one. “Make sure she stays put,” he ordered.
Then Burnett was gone, too.
Lori was his detective. If she was in there. . . Jess’s knees betrayed her.
“I’ve got you, ma’am.”
It could be Lori or Belinda Howard. Adrenalin fired through Jess. What the hell did Spears want from her? Was she supposed to read his mind? Oh, she got the part about him wanting
her
. But where? When? She needed a fucking clue! She was more than ready to face him.
Fury roared in her like a ferocious beast. Her fingers squeezed into fists. Never in her life had she wanted to kill another human being, but she wanted to kill him. She wanted to watch him die a slow, agonizing death.
“I’m fine, officer.” She put a hand to her chest, offered a faint smile. “Really. Thank you.”
His hands dropped away from her arms. “Would you like to wait in –”
Jess bolted. Hell no she wasn’t waiting.
“You can’t go in there, ma’am!”
“Oh, yes I can,” she muttered. What was he going to do? Shoot her?
She was halfway up the steps before he caught up with her. He nabbed her by the elbow. Jess twisted away from his hold and lunged for the deck on the second level. Burnett blocked the door to Lori’s apartment.
Jess jerked to a halt. She sucked at the hot, heavy air but it refused to reach her lungs.
“It’s not Lori.”
Jess’s knees wobbled. “Belinda Howard?”
Burnett nodded.
“I need to be in there.” Why didn’t he get out of her way?
“She’s alive, Jess.”
“Alive?” Her breath deserted her again. The Player, Spears, never left a victim alive.
“Just barely,” Burnett warned. “An ALS unit’s en route.”
“Okay.” Jess mentally scrambled to get her bearings. “Good.” She glared up at him. “Can you let me pass now, chief?”
Burnett dragged shoe covers and gloves from his pocket and offered them to her. Stepping out of the blasted heels one at a time, she slipped the covers onto her bare feet. Her hands shook hard. She swore at her shoes. . . at her shaking hands and at that monster Spears.
Burnett moved aside. Jess took a breath.
Do this right. Clear your head
.
She walked into the apartment, mindlessly tugging the gloves into place, and instantly slipping into analysis mode.
She had done it hundreds of times
. The overturned stool and spilled orange juice were just as they had been earlier that morning. Signs of the evidence techs’ work after Lori’s abduction were everywhere. Harper and another officer were doing what they could for Belinda Howard. Jess moved closer. As much as she wanted to see what Spears had done, she didn’t want to get in the way.
“Pulse is barely there.” Harper spoke softly. “But it’s there.”
The comforter had been thrown aside. Howard’s body was positioned on the bed with her arms stretched out crucifixion style and her legs slightly spread. The wounds on her wrists had been wrapped in something yellow. . . torn cloth.
Why would he wrap her wounds?
Her nipples had been cut away from her breasts, a thin flap keeping them attached. A classic Player technique, always executed while the victim remained breathing and conscious. But the work was sloppy. The blood had dried on the thin fabric, leaving the jagged outlines of the wounds. Jess could understand him wrapping the wound he’d made at the abduction scene to staunch the flow of blood once he had what he needed. But this was more than that.
The incision beneath her bellybutton appeared to be more a gouge than a smooth, precise line, but fairly wide. Something bloody protruded as if he’d stuffed an object in the wound.
There were no other marks visible. No bruising. . . no scrapes. A few similarities to the Player’s work were obvious, but the rest was wrong. Howard’s skin was unnaturally pale and, of course, clean, even around the wounds. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll ready to shatter.
How terrified she must have been until the merciful darkness dragged her into unconsciousness.
Between the damage to her breasts and the one to her abdomen, it looked as if he’d attempted a gory smiley face. The Player’s contempt for women always showed in his work, although, usually with a little more style. Jess had dug deep into Eric Spears’ background in search of the event or events that had set him on that path. He had grown up in southern California. No siblings or extended family. Parents died when he was in his mid-twenties. He’d turned his aptitude for creating into a wildly successful software business. By the time he was thirty he owned the world of security software. He’d faded into obscurity while his corporation, SpearNet, which was headquartered in Richmond, grew into a giant.
In Jess’s assessment, with his professional challenge conquered and with no wife or kids to distract him, he’d found a new hobby to assuage the evil urges pulsing beneath the seemingly normal surface.
But Jess couldn’t prove that theory. . . her gaze lingered on Howard. And she couldn’t get right with how the evidence was stacking up in this case. Way out of character for Spears’ alter ego, the Player.
“Let’s cover her up, Sergeant Harper.” Jess pointed to the closet. “I think I remember seeing clean linens in there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Harper got a clean sheet and covered Mrs. Howard. Whether she lived or died, there was no need for her to be humiliated any further. The paramedics wouldn’t mind. The evidence techs could go to hell.
Jess leaned close to the poor woman and whispered, “Hang on, Belinda, we’ve got you now. We’ll make sure you get home to your husband and children.”
Pushing back the swell of emotions, Jess walked the room, checked the closet and bathroom. No messages, nothing out of place that hadn’t already been disturbed that morning. Why would he bring Howard back here and risk being seen since the residents of the neighborhood were no doubt watching more vigilantly for strangers?
The Advanced Life Support unit arrived, two paramedics burst into the room, weighed down with gear. Harper got out of the way, huddled nearby, a strange combination of shock and relief creasing his face. The victim was alive but it wasn’t Lori. Like Jess, he likely felt a nauseating mixture of gratitude and regret. The officer whose duty it was to protect the victim and the scene stepped aside and waited for further instructions.
Burnett lingered near the island, on his cell. Notifying the family or the Bureau. Jess had no idea.
“Sergeant.” It wasn’t until the paramedics focused on Belinda Howard that Jess noticed the bottoms of her feet. At the moment that was all she could see.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Get a swab from the bottom of each foot before they take her away.”
Harper nodded and went in search of the tools for the task. The crime scene unit should be outside by now. If not, Burnett had a collection kit in his SUV. Harper probably did, too.
The Player always carefully cleansed his victims before dumping their bodies. It was another of his vile rituals. That he had forgotten the bottoms of Howard’s feet was either an enormous oversight or a clue purposely left for Jess to pursue. As long as it ultimately led her to Lori and to
him
she would follow even the vaguest hunch.
Jess checked the kitchen, opening the cabinet doors one by one, then the fridge and stove. Nothing in the microwave or dishwasher. The apartment was neat and compact, making the effort quick and easy.
Harper joined Jess, the swabs bagged. “I have a buddy at the lab I can get to process this for us.” He tucked the bag into the interior pocket of his suit jacket.
“As in now?” Jess inquired. The techs would do the same but she wanted the results now.
“Absolutely, ma’am.”
“As soon as we’re done here, I’m going to the hospital with Burnett. Go see your buddy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And, sergeant,” Jess surveyed the kitchen area again, “does Lori do her laundry at a laundromat or at her mother’s?”
“Her mother’s every Sunday afternoon. They have an early dinner. And yeah, she went there yesterday.”
Oh, yes. The Player had decided Lori would be the one and he’d watched her. That Sunday ritual had made his next move as simple as breathing. She had unknowingly led him right to her mother’s home. Afterward, he’d obviously followed Jess to her sister’s. He’d lined up his prey that easily.