“Yes?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes,” she whispered, wishing he’d push the cotton
aside, moaning when he did.
His thumbs teased her nipples and every muscle
clenched harder as she lowered herself against the sharp ridge of his body. The
sounds he made were harsh and full of want, and need. She took his mouth again
and did some grinding of her own.
Abruptly he stopped, forcing his hands to go lax. A
moment later his hips dropped back and she felt cold. They’d fogged up the car
windows. His eyes were closed and his jaw tight. He was holding on to control
by a thread and the knowledge thrilled.
“Why did you stop?” she asked huskily when he put her
clothing to rights.
“Because I still could. In another minute I’d have
tried something more.”
“Maybe I would have wanted you to.”
He swallowed hard. “We would have been in frostbite
territory,” he said quietly.
Her hand trembling, she pushed his dark hair from his
damp brow. “Did you ever… you know… in the backseat?”
His unsteady grin flashed. “This time of year? No.”
Briefly he patted her bottom, the pat becoming a caress that made her hum with
pleasure. Then his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket, startling them
both. “It’s probably Jack.”
Eve scrambled off his lap and he dug for his phone. He
listened for a minute, then flashed a quick look at Eve. “No, she’s here with
me. What’s the address?” He jotted it down, his expression now grim. “I’ll call
Jack and meet you there. That was Olivia,” he said, hanging up and dialing
again, waiting for Jack to answer. “She found Harvey Farmer, Sr. Come on, Jack,
pick up.”
“That was fast,” Eve said.
“Not fast enough. He’s dead. Jack, dammit, call me.”
He punched more numbers, climbing out of the car. Tersely he repeated the
message to call him and dialed again as he held the garage door open for her.
“Bruce,” he said, letting them into his house. “It’s
Noah. Did Olivia call you?… Good. She called me, too, but when I called Jack, I
didn’t get an answer again. At his home or cell. I’m on my way to Farmer’s, but
you said to call if I couldn’t reach Jack again.” He hung up, grabbed Eve’s
computer bag, and kept walking. “Let’s go.”
“Did Olivia find the son, Dell?” she asked as she
buckled her seat belt.
“No. That’s why you’re still with me.”
“How did she find the father?”
“The LUDs from Kurt Buckland’s phone showed a phone
call from that address. It’s a house rented in Harvey Sr.’s name.”
He’d clicked fully into detective mode. “How did the
father die?”
“Shot in the chest. With every window in the house
open.”
She felt cold herself. “He can’t be the same guy,
Noah. The man killing these women is patient and meticulous. Dell Farmer was
unstable.”
He opened her car door. “I know. I agree and so does
Carleton Pierce.”
“Pierce came to see me again tonight, in the hospital.
He told me you were going to go public on the Shadowland connection, to warn
potential victims.”
“I should have told you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I just hope it saves the next woman.”
Wednesday, February 24, 8:25 p.m.
“Stay here by the door and don’t touch anything,” Noah
said to Eve.
“Okay,” was all Eve said, her eyes fixed on Harvey
Farmer’s dead body.
“Don’t look,” he said, thinking he should have left
her somewhere else, but knowing he wouldn’t be able to think straight if he was
worried about her.
“Too late,” she said and waved him away. “Go. I’m
fine.”
No, she wasn’t, but he had to do his job. “Olivia,
what do we have?”
Olivia crouched beside the body. “One slug to the
chest, large caliber. Body’s still warm. Looks like he took a punch to the
face. I’ve called CSU and the ME.”
“The blue Subaru parked outside? I’ve seen it before.
It was trailing me and Jack on Monday when we left the coffee shop with Eve.
It’s the son’s.”
“Wait,” Eve said from where she stood, exactly where
he’d asked her to stay. “Dell Farmer was there, in the coffee shop. How did he
get to that blue Subaru so fast? The barista said Dell and Jeremy Lyons talked
for a minute before he left. That’s when Lyons offered to give him Callie’s
cell phone number. You and I and Jack were a block away by then and so was the
blue Subaru.”
He and Olivia shared an impressed look. “Girl thinks
on her feet,” Olivia murmured.
“She does,” Noah said. “Dell’s car is the black SUV
that he used to run David off the road. The Subaru must belong to the father.”
“I didn’t know about the Subaru before,” Olivia said.
“I’ve got uniforms canvassing the neighborhood for anyone who saw a black SUV.
Dell isn’t in the Minnesota DMV database, so he’s probably registered—”
“Noah.” Eve stood in front of a bookshelf, her
expression stricken.
He was next to her in an instant, looking over her
shoulder. “What?”
“That.” She pointed to a framed photo, not touching
it. “That’s V, the son that died. Look at the woman with him.” She looked over
her shoulder, eyes dark with dread. “It’s Katie, from the bar. Jack’s Katie.
Noah, this isn’t just about you. It’s about Jack, too.”
“Where is Jack?” Olivia asked tightly.
“Not answering his phone,” Noah said, his heart
starting to race. “I have to—”
“Just go,” Olivia interrupted. “I’ll call it in, have
backup meet you there.”
Wednesday, February 24, 8:30 p.m.
Eve had actually given him the idea, which was
delicious in its irony. He sat in his car, watching his laptop screen as the
video played. It was an interview, downloaded from the archive of a TV station
in Asheville, North Carolina.
It was slightly more than six years old. It would do
very nicely.
“And then what did you do?” the reporter was asking,
mild revulsion on his face.
The camera switched to the handsome face of one of the
more brutal serial killers he’d studied. “I killed her,” Rob Winters said with
a smirk. “I overpowered her, threw her on the bed, and said, ‘Didn’t your
parents teach you not to get into cars with strange men?’ Then I wound a string
of twine around her neck and pulled, really hard. She fought, so I stabbed her.
Six times I think.”
“Eight,” the reporter corrected, slightly paling.
“Eight times in the abdomen.”
“You must be right,” Winters said with another smirk.
“You reporters do your homework after all. I stabbed her, eight times. She
tried to claw at me.” He smiled, remembering. “Feisty little thing she was. So
I slashed her hand, then her face.”
“Why her face?” the reporter murmured. “I mean, you’d
already all but killed her.”
“Because.” Winters shrugged. “Because she thought she
was pretty. Because I wanted to. Because I could. She stopped fighting, so I
pulled the twine again. I really thought I’d killed her. But that’s okay. I’m
in here, but she’s out there, scarred for life.” He sobered, his black eyes
going cold. “So neither of us are free. I can live with that.”
“I see. Well, then let’s move on. What happened next?”
What happened next was Winters chronicling a chilling
description of brutality, an uncontrolled killing spree that ended in his own
capture. And two weeks after the interview was completed, Winters had been
stabbed in the prison shower.
Because he lost control
. Shame, that. Such… evil was intriguing on its face.
Fascinating to study in depth.
I would have liked the opportunity to talk to
him myself
.
But even though Winters was gone, his legacy remained.
Eve Wilson was still afraid. You could see it in her eyes if you knew how to
look.
And I do
.
He took from his pocket the same cell phone he’d used
to text her that morning, then rewound the video to the exact frame he’d
sought. He dialed Eve, then frowned. She wasn’t answering. He would have loved
to have heard her gasp when he played the little snippet from her past. No
matter, he’d see that fear in her eyes soon enough.
When the tone beeped for her voicemail, he hit the
video play button, then held the cell to his laptop speaker. When he was
finished, he disconnected with a smile.
Then he started to drive, flipping his police scanner
on. He wanted to know when Webster discovered the Bolyards. When Eve retrieved
his little message she’d be rattled, but it was Noah Webster who’d be
terrified, especially after that attempt on her life earlier today. Webster
wouldn’t let her out of his sight.
Which would be bad, except that he knew where Webster
would be soon.
Go see the Bolyards. Find out what they know
. Like a good
soldier, Webster would follow those orders. Where Webster would be, so would
Eve.
I’ll be ready
.
Wednesday, February 24, 8:45 p.m.
“Oh my God.” Noah ran from the curb to Jack’s house,
pulling Eve by the hand, then he stopped, his stomach dropping to his feet. ME
techs were going into Jack’s house, a folded body bag on their gurney.
Abbott met them at the door, looking grim. “Jack’s not
dead,” he said.
Noah’s breath shuddered out as he pointed to the ME
gurney. “Then who?”
“Katie. She was shot in the head with a gun from
Jack’s collection.”
“He didn’t do this,” Noah started intensely, but
Abbott held up his hand.
“Jack’s on his way to the hospital. He’s in bad
shape.”
Noah felt his legs tremble and resolutely locked his
knees. “What happened?”
“We found an empty bottle next to his bed, but the
paramedics thought he’d taken some pills, too. We couldn’t find any.”
Noah wanted to say Jack wouldn’t have done that, but
he wasn’t sure that was true.
“Jack was the one who chased V Farmer into the
highway,” Eve said quietly. “This is part of Dell’s payback.”
“You know Jack didn’t kill Katie,” Noah added and
Abbott nodded.
“But we’re following procedure. No accusations of
cover-up. Noah, you can’t go in.”
Noah closed his eyes, knowing Abbott was right. “Tell
me what you saw.”
“Katie was lying in the bed, shot in the head.” Abbott
hesitated. “She’d been beaten up. Jack was lying next to her, passed out, his
gun on the nightstand, with the bottle. If we’d discovered this tomorrow
morning, Jack would have been dead. It was a good thing you called me when he
didn’t answer. And, Eve, nice work. Olivia told me that you made the connection
from the news archives. And seeing Katie in that picture with V Farmer will be
important to clearing Jack.”
Eve’s nod was calm, as was the hand she rested on
Noah’s back. “Are you assuming Dell killed his father?” she asked.
“Yes,” Abbott said. “Why?”
“Because I’m wondering why he did it. And who else is
on his list.”
“It’s fair to say you are,” Noah told her, trying to
stow his worry.
“And you,” she replied. “Where did they take Jack?”
“County,” Abbott replied, “but they won’t let anyone
see him. I’ve called his father and I’m about to meet him at the hospital.”
“I need to talk to him,” Noah said. “He thought I was
asking for a new partner today. He took Rachel Ward’s death hard. I want him to
know he’s got my support.”
“And you’ll be able to tell him that, after he’s
stabilized,” Abbott said. “For now, the best thing you can do is your job.”
“You’re right. We were going to check on that couple
who phoned in the Martha tip. The Bolyards. I still have time to do that. Eve
can stay with me while I talk to them.”
“No problem,” she said. “I have my laptop. I can keep
busy wherever.”
Abbott walked with them, waiting until Eve was in
Noah’s car and her door shut before motioning Noah a few feet away. “If Jack
survives, he won’t be on his feet for a while. You’re going to need a new
partner to see you through this investigation.”
Noah didn’t want to consider either option, but knew
Abbott was right. “Who?”
“I don’t know yet. If this had been next year, I’d say
Olivia, because Kane’s up for retirement soon. I’ll make some calls and let you
know as soon as I do.” He looked over Noah’s shoulder to where Eve waited in
the car. “She needs to go to a safe house.”
Noah thought of all the years she’d hidden in that
shelter. “I don’t think she’ll go.”
“Convince her,” Abbott said tersely. “I can’t have you
carting her around with you. If you can’t find a safe place outside, we’ll find
a safe house and keep her inside.”
Noah nodded, once more knowing Abbott was right.
“Anything else?”
“Just focus on your own case. Five women dead.”
“I haven’t forgotten them, Bruce,” Noah said levelly,
then was saved anything further when a sleek Mercedes drove up.
Carleton Pierce got out, his face tight with concern.
“What’s going on?”