Killing Secrets (18 page)

“If you can please give me your complete attention,” Jack said dryly, “I’d appreciate it. We do have a city councilman sitting in the back of a cop car and that’s just the tip of the mess we’re dealing with at the moment.”

With Rachel out of sight, Patrick was able to release his hold on the pain burrowing into his side. “If you don’t mind, Jack,” he growled, “can we talk over a paramedic?” He sagged into his brother.

Jack cursed, grabbed him under one arm, and helped him across the open area to a nearby truck where they were intercepted by two paramedics. “You idiot, you’re supposed to dodge the bullets,” he muttered to Patrick easing him down onto the open tailgate. He winced when the first responder cut his work shirt away from the wound. “The good news is it looks like the bullet only furrowed your sorry ass.”

When the man flattened a sterile pad over his burning ribs, Patrick flinched. “And the bad news?” he asked his brother.

“It’ll probably need stitches.” Jack’s grin was crooked, relieved.

Patrick smiled back, already feeling better just sitting there. At least the world had stopped spinning. He shifted on his butt and listened to the second responder radio in his vital signs. He looked over the shoulder of the man working on his side to the councilman sitting in the police car twenty feet away. “You found her,” he murmured, working through the events of the last few minutes.

His brother didn’t ask who he meant. “Yeah, we found her.” He scowled at Manning, hunched over his knees, the heave of his shoulders his only movement as he continued to sob. “He identified her remains less than an hour ago.”

Patrick cursed. He knew how heartbreaking it was to go to the morgue to identify someone you cared about. He’d had to do it when Karly died. But, he’d never seen the kind of desolation that darkened Manning’s eyes before he shot Patrick. “It was
him
, wasn’t it? It was bad.” He knew he didn’t dare identify the man, not when the paramedics could hear everything they said, but his brother knew he was talking about the Angel Killer.

Frustration and anger flashed in Jack’s green eyes. “Worse than bad.”

He looked down at the red blotch seeping through the white bandage on his side and forced images out of his head. He knew the basics of how past Angel Killer victims were found. No father should have to see their daughter that way. It was no wonder Manning had gone insane with grief and lashed out. “He thinks I did it. Why?”

Jack considered him for several moments as if unable to decide whether to respond. “The mayor’s office is kept apprised of our investigations. The councilman must have learned we’d asked you to come in after your vandalism, assumed you were a suspect, and we just weren’t telling him.” His lips tightened briefly before he continued. “Patrick, I’m not saying I think what he did was right, but you didn’t see—”

He paused and shrugged, like he too had to shake off the image burned into his brain. “I should have done something though. I should have made sure Manning was escorted home.”

Patrick shook his head. “You can’t have known how he’d react.”

“I know how
I’d
react.”

Seeing the stark rage in his brother’s eyes, he knew exactly what Jack would have done to the animal that hurt someone he loved. Patrick couldn’t hold that against him. He might do the same given the right circumstances, if he loved someone that much.

Two faces, both with haunted brown eyes, jumped to the forefront of his mind.
Rachel. Amanda.
The thought of either of them brutalized, lying dead in some sterile morgue was more painful than the bullet wound to his side.
Whoa. Are you so far gone on that you’d kill for them?

He sat a little straighter on the truck bed when the answer immediately slammed into his brain. He was already prepared to go the distance for them, to keep them safe from Bishop. “I’m not pressing charges, Jack,” he said with a nod toward the police car.

His brother nodded his understanding. “Manning’s still facing charges, but with your unwillingness to pursue it and the extenuating circumstances, he’ll have an easier time of it.”

“Just make sure he’s solid on my innocence before you release him from custody again, okay?”

Jack grinned. “You’ve got it.” He sobered, glancing at the white trailer sheltering Rachel and the children from view. “You have enough on your plate.”

The paramedics finished up their work with him and started packing up their gear. “Yeah, I do,” Patrick said, looking to Jack for assistance. “Too much to be sidelined by a trip to the hospital.”

“Patrick, you should get checked out.”

“I need to be with Rachel and Amanda twenty-four, seven, remember? You saw that note,” he reminded him. “Can you spare anyone to protect them?”

“You know we don’t have the manpower.”

Patrick didn’t say anything. He let his brother work through his options, which he knew were limited, especially with the discovery of a new Angel Killer victim. “I’m patched up for now. Sam can come to the house to stitch me if it becomes necessary.” It wouldn’t be the first time their doctor brother stitched one of them at home and Jack knew it. Patrick figured he had just enough energy to speak to Skip—his brother-in-law
did
save the day when he tackled Manning and he owed him a huge thank you, at the very least—before he could take Rachel, and the little girls, home.

He watched his brother talk to the paramedics for a few minutes. There were a lot of frowns and shaking heads, but a few minutes later with a sidelong glance at Patrick, they picked up their gear and left without him.

Flexing his torso, Patrick cringed at the sting of pain that immediately raced up his side. He schooled his expression when Jack returned to the truck bed where he sat. “Are we done here?” he asked. “Can we go?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to work on your ‘He-Man’ routine before you let Rachel see you. If I can see the amount of pain you’re in, she will, too. If we want her to stay safely put in the house tonight, you need to convince her you’re good to go. She’s already in enough danger. We need to lock her down tight.”

Patrick frowned. “Then, I was right. The note I gave you was a direct threat. Bishop will kill her if he can’t have her?”

“Our resident shrink believes it’s a real possibility. With enough anger, anyone is capable of murder. When we told him about Rachel’s doctor friend in a coma, he said anyone standing in Bishop’s way, real or imagined, could become his next target.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Patrick, we need you behind a wall of security as much as we need Rachel and Amanda there. This could get ugly if we don’t find Bishop soon, and we still haven’t figured out how you’re tied to the Angel Killer.”

Patrick’s shoulders tensed at the reminder of how the task force had torn his life and business apart. They knew more about him than even his parents, but not one name popped up as a potential serial killer. With over fifty employees and the number of clients he had and competitors and…well, it was the task force’s job to sort it all out.

Concentrate on the threats you can see.
“I can look after myself, although after today, I’m going to start carrying my gun for extra insurance,” he said.

“You’ve kept your conceal carry up-to-date?”

He nodded. “I’m not taking any more chances with Rachel or Amanda. I’m going to call Rachel’s dad, too, and ask him to put the security outfit he hired back on duty.”

“Rachel will never forgive you,” Jack said.

He shrugged with a negligence he didn’t feel. “She has to be alive to not forgive me and that’s all that matters to me at this juncture. Bishop will think twice if he has to get through two walls of security to get to them.” And after what he’d heard this morning about Rachel’s father, it was about time her old man did something to protect his daughter and granddaughter.

~~~

Three Weeks….

Two Days….

Three Hours….

…’Til death.

“We have to kill Skip.” The monster’s growl reverberated up from the depths of Robby’s pounding skull as he watched the emergency rig and ambulance drive away from the Southgate construction site.

Standing on the sidelines listening to a couple of the crew discussing the shooting, he shook his head.
We need him
.

“You do. I don’t!”

He agreed with a slight nod.
I need him right where he is. Close to Thorne.

“Lot of good that will do you if the goody-two-shoes keeps saving the son-of-a-bitch.”

When it matters, Skip won’t be an obstacle. He’ll die with Thorne.

“When?”

The plan is in place.

“Death doesn’t need a plan.”

You’ll get your chance.
Robby pushed the monstrous voice away.
We have other things to do.

“This one will disappoint you, too, you know. Just like the others.” An awful chuckle slithered through Robby’s mind. “Then, I get her.”

You’re wrong.
Robby headed for his truck with the dispersing work crew. Thinking of his Angel, of how soon they’d be together again—thank God he’d driven past that Auraria campus bus stop yesterday after he’d cleaned up what the monster had done to his last plaything—he couldn’t help but smile. He wouldn’t allow past mistakes to stop him from doing what he must.
It’s her. When I get everything in place and bring her home, you’ll see.

The monster chuckled again, but he slunk back into the darkness prepared to wait. “We’ll both see.”

Chapter Fourteen

By the time Patrick parked at the curb in front of the elder Thorne home more than an hour later, Rachel was ready to scream to break the silence between them. She longed to talk to him about the incident with the councilman, about the news the man’s daughter had been added to the growing list of the Angel Killer’s victims. She wanted to ask about the bullet wound in Patrick’s side. She couldn’t see any blood on the fresh work shirt he’d changed into before he came to get her and the children from the trailer, but she longed to beg him to hold her, just for a moment, so she could assure herself he really was okay.

She could do none of those things because then she’d be forced to confront the stupidity of her actions. Why had she jumped between Patrick and the gunman when she had a little girl who was depending on her? Amanda was her life, her reason for everything she’d done these past five years. Yet, in that one moment, her only thought was to save Patrick.

Unprepared to go down that path of self-discovery, she remained silent and stared blindly out the passenger window. Even the precocious Suze hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left Southgate. The moment Patrick turned off the truck Rachel opened her door and climbed out into the late afternoon sun. Then, she helped the girls out of their seats. They each picked up a travel bag filled with toys and books, while she carried her laptop, leaving Patrick to trail behind them toward the front porch on the house.

They had to wait for him to unlock the door, but they were soon inside the foyer. She would have dashed up the stairs with the children, put some distance between her and Patrick, but he forestalled her. “Girls,” he said quietly. “There are chocolate graham crackers in the cookie jar on the kitchen counter for a snack. We’ll be there in a minute to pour your milk.”

Rachel glanced at him, saw his taut expression, and took a step toward the kitchen. “I’ll help them.”

Patrick shook his head. “Go ahead, girls,” he said.

His highhanded order irritated Rachel but she smiled at Amanda, watching them with her too serious brown eyes. “Go ahead, baby,” she said. “I’ll be along just as soon as I take everything upstairs.” Once in the bedroom that she shared with Amanda she would take a few moments to pull herself together, away from Patrick’s scent, his searching gaze, and the uneasy questions he’d raised in her head.

She had to get away from it all, if only for a few minutes. She’d call Jack. She hadn’t had the opportunity to ask him if they had a line on Greg’s whereabouts. Deep down, she knew if her ex-husband was behind bars, Jack would have told her. But that didn’t stop her from hoping he’d tell her otherwise. Then she could pack up Amanda and be back on the road to Dallas. Tonight.

The children shot off toward the kitchen in a flurry of sneakered feet, leaving her standing in the foyer with Patrick. Rachel heard the lid come off the cookie jar before she turned toward the stairs. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Wait, Rach,” he said.

Suddenly exhausted by everything that had taken place in the last three days, she sighed. “Not now, Patrick. Please?”

He studied her expression. Then, he frowned. Before he could say anything the front door opened behind him, and a monster walked in.

She gasped at the sight of the biggest dog she’d ever seen lumbering across the door’s threshold into the foyer. Easily two hundred pounds, the English Mastiff’s massive head would have butted her in her chest if he hadn’t been pulled up short on the leash held in Patrick’s foster brother, Joe’s hand.

He smiled as he followed the dog into the house. “Hi, Rachel,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Again?” Patrick raised an eyebrow in question.