“They didn’t come after me here, so either they don’t know where I am, or they’ve already backed off, right?”
“Who knows? What we do know is that you’re not safe. You can’t pretend you are just because you don’t like the idea of being more careful.”
“I’m fine with the idea of being more careful. I’m just not willing to sacrifice results.”
“It’s your only safe option. I’m sorry.”
Elise knew he was trying to help. She also knew she was in danger, but not as much as Ashley was. She had to focus on what was important and let everything else fall away, no matter how appealing it was to sit back and let other people take care of her problems, put themselves in danger.
She looked up at Trent, hating what she knew she had to say. “We had a great time together last night. I like you, and you’re sexy as hell, but I think that the sex has given you the impression that things between us have changed. They haven’t. I’m here to find my sister, and you’re the Hot Lawn Guy who lives across the street. I don’t have the energy to fight you, too, so I think it’s best if I check into a hotel.”
Anger darkened his cheeks. “You think running away is going to fix things? You think that’s going to make you safe?”
“No, I think it’s going to save me valuable time by not having to argue with you over every move I’m going to make.”
“You’re safer here, with me.”
“Maybe, but Ashley
isn’t
safer. Neither are you with me here. If those guys come after me again, I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Outrage made his features tighten and his voice clipped. “I know how to protect myself. I can keep us both safe.”
Elise took his hand in hers. “I’m tired, Trent. I’m scared out of my mind. I can’t stretch myself much thinner without breaking, and trying to convince you what I know I need to do is taking up too much of my attention.”
“I will not let you do this. I don’t want to be the one to ID your body when those thugs find you.”
“Then don’t. This isn’t your business anymore. Forget I was ever here.”
It didn’t take her long to pack her stuff. By the time she was done, the rental car company had already sent someone with her new car—a sporty model with plenty of horsepower. Just in case.
W
hen we hit oil, we usually quit digging,” said Sam.
Trent looked at the deep hole he’d carved into the earth. It was way too big for the bush he was planting, but not nearly big enough to contain his frustration and worry for Elise.
“Sorry,” he said as he started to fill it back in.
Sam bent and tapped the bush out of the plastic pot. “Yesterday, you were like the brother I remembered. Even with Elise in trouble, you still handled yourself the way you used to. Today, you’re back to being a surly bastard. What the hell happened?”
“Forget about it. I’m here, doing the job. I even came in early to make up for the last few days.”
Sam slit the tangled roots with his knife and dropped the bush into the hole Trent had refilled partway. “I don’t give a shit about the lost time and you know it. What I do care about is you.” He stood, brushing the dirt from his hands. “I thought you were coming back to us.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” asked Trent. “I never went anywhere.”
“Sure you did. Maybe you showed up for work, and family get-togethers when we twisted your arm, but it wasn’t really you. Your heart wasn’t in it—not since you moved back from Chicago.”
Not since he’d shot his partner and killed a sixteen-year-old boy.
Trent’s gut flooded with acid and guilt, mixing with the coffee he suddenly wished he hadn’t had.
“Yesterday, when we were driving out to find Elise, you were back. I saw the man you used to be— confident, rock-solid, there to do whatever it takes.”
“I always do whatever it takes.”
“Then why aren’t you out there looking for Ashley?”
“Because I’m not a cop.”
“Neither is Elise. It hasn’t stopped her.”
Much to his dismay. “That’s because she’s not smart enough to know when she’s in over her head. I tried to warn her, but she didn’t want to listen. She packed up and left so I’d quit wasting her time.”
“Are you that bad in bed?”
“No, dickhead. She was tired of me harping about how dangerous looking for Ashley is.”
Sam shook his head, staring at Trent like he was the idiot here. “Ashley is her sister. She’s not going to back off because she almost had a car accident.”
“Obviously.”
“If you really want her to be safe, you’d be with her right now, backing her up, giving her your insight.”
“I’m not a fucking cop, Sam!”
“Yes, you are! You don’t wear the badge anymore, but you were born for the work. You never stopped being a cop; you just stopped going to work every day, and it’s killing you. It’s eating you alive from the inside out. We were all sure you’d see that by now, but apparently, you’re either too blind or too stupid to see the truth. You never should have quit.”
Trent thrust the shovel into the ground and gripped the handle hard to keep from reaching for his brother. Anger burned hot and bright inside him, fueled by each careless word Sam flung his way. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Back the hell off.”
Sam took a belligerent step forward, just like he used to do when they were teens. “No. There’s too much at stake here. You’ve had plenty of time to sulk and pout over what happened two years ago, but it’s over now. Move on.”
“Move on? You’ve been saying that for years, like I can flip some kind of switch and make all the shit I did disappear.”
“You made a mistake. According to John, it wasn’t even that—just a case of bad timing.”
Bad timing. Trent would have laughed out loud at Sam’s ludicrous statement if there had been one shred of humor to be found. “I shot my partner in the back. I killed a kid.”
“Shit happens.”
“Just like that. You dismiss the destruction of so many lives with a fucking bumper-sticker slogan?”
Trent had to walk away. If he didn’t, he was going to punch Sam in the head to knock some sense into it.
Sam grabbed his arm. Trent tried to jerk away, but Sam was strong, and he refused to let him go. “It would be great if you could give up this guilt you’re carrying around, but at this point, I’m not going to ask for miracles. What I am asking you to do is get out there. Help Elise find Ashley before it’s too late.”
What he wouldn’t give to be able to do that—to do something meaningful again, something real. “The cops don’t need me.”
“But Elise does. She’s not going to back down.”
Not even when thugs were out to hurt her.
Sam sidestepped in front of Trent, barring his path. “Please, Trent. If you won’t do it for Elise, do it for me. Ashley’s a sweet girl. She’s delicate, fragile. She needs you right now, and apparently, the police do, too. Help them.”
What if he couldn’t? What if he tried and failed?
A small, hopeful voice inside him whispered to him, taunting him. What if he
didn’t
fail?
What if he found Ashley? Saved her? What if he stood by Elise and somehow made a difference?
A sense of purpose trickled into him, filling him up. He had to try. He had to help. He couldn’t stand by and plant bushes while Elise threw herself in harm’s way, all alone.
“I’ll need some time off,” he told Sam as he headed for his truck.
“It’s yours. Take as much as you need.”
Trent didn’t even take the time to gather his tools. He left them on-site. He didn’t give a shit if he ever saw them again, so long as he found Elise before it was too late.
* * *
Gary paused the TV, stopping on the image of Elise McBride’s tearstained face as she pleaded with the public to help her find her sister.
She was beautiful in her grief. Perfect.
He’d thought Gloria had been a gift, but now he realized he’d taken the wrong woman.
Of all the women he’d found, Elise looked most like his beloved wife. Maybe it was the tears, the sweet pain straining her features, but Elise was almost the spitting image of Wendy.
Gary closed his eyes, remembering the moment he lost her. She’d stared at him from the passenger’s seat of their wrecked car. He’d gone too far and hurt her that night. She liked the pain he gave her, begged for it, but that night, he’d given her too much, and she’d stopped breathing.
Gary had panicked, packed her into the car and driven like hell itself was nipping at his heels. He hadn’t seen the patch of ice until it was too late.
He could still smell the cold, mixed with the scent of blood and gasoline. He could still feel the slight weight of Wendy’s severed hand in his lap, so beautiful and perfect in its stillness.
It was the last gift she’d ever given him.
Wendy had woken during the accident. She’d stared at her hand, too, shocked and confused, as the last of her life drained from her crushed body onto the floorboards. Gary saw the realization that she was dying set in, saw the fear and panic as it changed her face from merely pretty to breathtakingly perfect.
In her last moments, as death swept over her, as she realized she was helpless to prevent it, Wendy had been the perfect woman.
As hard as Gary had tried, no matter how many women he’d been with during their last moments, he’d never again been able to find that perfection. Until now.
Elise McBride.
He needed her. He needed to bring her home, where she belonged. If Ashley’s disappearance had made Elise’s face glow with tears, Gary could only imagine how lovely she’d be when he allowed her to be with her sister again and witness Ashley’s final moments.
It was Ashley’s turn to die, but Elise would be there to take care of her. She’d be there to hold her sister’s hand.
Elise felt like she was being watched. She could feel her skin crawling under the contact of a stranger’s eyes.
She scanned the street in front of the Haven police station but saw nothing out of place.
Maybe it was just her imagination running wild. All of Trent’s worry had gotten to her, and now she was seeing things that weren’t there. She hoped.
At least she was at the police station for her appointment with Bob Tindle. If she was safe anywhere, it was here, surrounded by cops.
As she headed inside, she realized that even though there were armed officers everywhere, she still didn’t feel as safe as she had with Trent. She was pretty sure it was some kind of sick joke the universe was playing on her, but she wasn’t laughing.
Lawrence saw the proof of the hired help’s failure walk inside the police station. Not only had the men he’d hired failed to kill Elise McBride, they’d also failed to kill her desire to find her sister.
He wasn’t a picky man. He didn’t ask that they shed her blood simply because they could. All he asked was that they scare her away, make her crawl back into whatever hole she’d crawled out of. If she’d done that, he would have left her alone.
But no. She had to keep digging into her sister’s disappearance.
Pretty soon, she, or someone like her, was going to uncover the truth. Gary wasn’t going to stop. Lawrence accepted that fact. His brother was a sick man, and he would continue to dismember and kill women for as long as he could hold a bone saw.
It was Wendy’s fault. If she’d lived, Gary would have continued on as he’d been doing, entertaining himself with their games.
But Wendy was gone now, and Lawrence had to step up and take care of his brother. His only options were to stop his brother by killing him or to take care of the nosy woman.
As tedious as it was to find good hired help, Lawrence had no choice. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his own brother, nor did he want to dirty his own hands with Elise McBride. That’s why he hired professionals.
He dialed one of his contacts in Chicago—a man who owed him a favor for the drugs he’d transported inside the lining of a casket. If anyone would know where to find dependable help to deal with Elise, this man would. He probably had a little black book full of reliable hit men.
* * *
Trent wasn’t going to go to Elise empty-handed. If she thought he was trying to butt in, she’d never let him help, and although what she was doing was dangerous, it was a lot more dangerous without him there to cover her back.
The more he did to help her, the faster this would all be over, and she’d be safe again.
A lot of people at the Chicago PD owed Trent favors after his years on the force. He called in every one of them before noon, and what he got in return was a phone call from Detective Ed Woodward.
Trent told him everything he knew, everything Elise had found, and what she suspected about the connection to Susan Maloney.
“Ashley lives farther away than all the other girls, but she fits the profile,” said the detective.
“What profile?”
“She’s young, single, attractive, and artistically gifted. I hadn’t seen that part of the pattern until last night when I was looking through the old case files. That seems to be the unique thing that links the women together.”