Chapter Thirteen
Brody pulled into the driveway of the Barrett house. Pizza box in hand, he exited the vehicle. A Honda Accord parked next to his sedan, and a redheaded woman got out.
“Thanks for doing this, Kailee,” he said. “I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. I’m glad to help.” Her long red ponytail flipped as she pivoted and walked toward the front porch. Brody rang the bell, and a dog exploded into barking.
A few minutes later, the door opened. Hannah stood in the foyer, blinking at the light as if she’d just woken up.
Brody ushered Kailee into the house. “Hannah, this is Kailee. She’s a police sketch artist. She’s not here in an official capacity, but as a favor to me.”
Hannah brushed a hand through her hair, but instead of settling into place neatly, it remained stubbornly disheveled as if she’d been sleeping on it. Disheveled looked good on her, he decided. Real rather than perfect and polished. Sexy. Not many women could pull off the just-out-of-bed look.
She held out a hand to Kailee. “You worked with Carson, didn’t you?”
Kailee smiled. “Yes.”
“He talked about how nice you were.” Hannah gestured toward the kitchen. “Please come in.”
Brody set the pizza box on the island and opened the lid. “I told you I’d bring dinner.”
Hannah sniffed. “Mushrooms?”
“Of course,” Brody said.
“You seem to know all my favorite foods.” Suspicion laced Hannah’s voice.
“Must be a coincidence,” Brody lied.
She cast him a quick not-buying-it glance before opening the fridge. “I have Coke, beer, wine, and iced tea. Or I could make coffee.”
Kailee slid a sketch pad and thick pencil out of her bag. “I’d love a Coke.”
“Me, too,” Brody said.
Hannah poured three drinks and pulled plates from the kitchen cabinet. Brody opened the box, took out a slice, and folded it. He didn’t bother with the plate. Hannah ate two slices, then broke off a piece of crust for the dog.
Kailee stopped at one, then wiped her hands on a napkin. She lifted her pencil. “Why don’t we get started?”
Brody got up. “I’ll walk the dog while you work.”
Kailee did her best work if the witness was relaxed and open, two words that did not describe Hannah. The fewer people in the room the better.
He headed for the edge of the woods. They skirted the forest at a leisurely pace. The scent of wood smoke tinged the air, and Brody wondered if Grant’s fireplace was usable. The dog sniffed and snuffled along the ground. Brody was in no rush. Kailee would need some time, and maybe if he gave the dog a long walk, AnnaBelle wouldn’t wake Hannah in the middle of the night.
They looped the property twice and started back. A twig snapped. The dog’s head shot up, and her tail went rigid. She lunged into her collar. Brody two-handed the leash as the retriever went from docile to defensive in a heartbeat.
“Easy.” He pulled her back to his side, but the fur on her back was up, and a growl sounded low in her throat. AnnaBelle didn’t growl often. Something was out there. Something only the dog could sense.
And Hannah hadn’t reset the alarm when Brody went outside.
Keeping the retriever close, Brody hurried back to the house. Through the kitchen window, he could see Kailee and Hannah working together. Kailee was smiling, talking, and sketching. Hannah’s body was tense, and her brows were furrowed in concentration. The young artist had her hands full getting Hannah to relax.
Brody led the dog inside. He unsnapped the leash and locked the door.
Kailee set down her pencil and turned the pad around. “We did two drawings. Hannah has a good eye for detail.” Kailee turned the sketch pad toward him.
The first sketch was of a scroungy-looking man in his late twenties. Goatee. Thin. Mean eyes. The second sketch made Brody suck wind. Beyond the physical characteristics—young, dark hair and eyes—Kailee had captured the terror and hopelessness on the young girl’s face. Brody didn’t have to ask to know Hannah was seeing that face every time she closed her eyes. No wonder she was exhausted.
“Are you satisfied with the pictures?” he asked Hannah.
“Yes.” She nodded. “Both of these look accurate. I’m not as comfortable with my memory of the second man to attempt a sketch.” She turned to the artist. “Thank you so much, Kailee.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Kailee tore the sketches from her pad. “I need to go. I have a date.”
Brody walked her to the door. Then, considering the dog’s behavior in the woods, he escorted her all the way to her car and watched the young woman drive away. When he went back into the kitchen, Hannah was still sitting at the island, staring at the drawings. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.
“You should reset the alarm.”
“What did you see?” Hannah asked.
“Nothing. But the dog was agitated.”
Hannah went into the pantry, and Brody heard a few digitized beeps.
“Are you all right?” he asked. Reliving the attack had obviously been stressful, but Brody knew better than to let her suppress the images. Denial didn’t work in the long run.
She nodded. “I can’t get her out of my head. Why didn’t the Vegas detective have me do a composite image?”
He looked over her shoulder. “I talked to him this afternoon. Because of budget cuts, they’re using a computer program instead of artists. The new software is giving them problems. Composites are a crapshoot, but Kailee is unusually good.” Brody paused. “You have to take these drawings with the knowledge that your mind could be conjuring up details all on its own. It wouldn’t be your fault. It just happens. If Kailee worked with a dozen witnesses, she’d get twelve slightly different images of the same suspect. Everyone sees things from their own perspective.”
“So you’re saying these drawings might not be accurate?”
“It’s hard to say. It’s been a few days since the attack. Memory fades fast.”
“Then why did you bring Kailee here?”
“Because it’s worth a try, and sooner is better than later.” Brody also thought taking action might help Hannah. “The Vegas PD hasn’t had any luck matching the fingerprints they lifted from the rental car, but if they do, it can’t hurt to get these drawings before your memory fades further. Having both fingerprints
and
an eyewitness will strengthen any case.” Brody tapped on the picture of the girl. “I’ll run off a copy of this. I’m trying to identify a dead woman who also had long dark hair.” In fact, Hannah’s victim and the woman in the morgue had a few things in common. “I’ll be checking missing persons cases. You never know. I could get lucky.” His gaze shifted to the sketch of Hannah’s assailant. The girl’s eyes were full of terror, but this man was freezer cold.
Hannah’s gaze was full of the same terrible knowledge. “He’s going to hurt her. If he didn’t kill her already.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It was in his eyes,” she whispered. “And there was nothing I could do about it.”
Brody nodded. “I get it. Even if I identify this woman and find her killer, I can’t really help her or her family. I can’t bring her back to life, and that’s all they really want.”
“You can’t change the past, but you can give them closure.” Her eyes softened. She knew what it was like to have a family member murdered. “It helps to know that the person responsible for Lee’s death was caught. It doesn’t take away the pain, but it’s far better than having his killer on the loose.”
“I’m glad,” he said. What if the dead woman
was
Teresa? Brody would have to take that news to Chet. And even if the dead woman was someone else, he couldn’t bring Chet’s daughter back—she’d been lost to Chet for years—and Brody would have to tell some other family their loved one had been murdered.
“That girl in Vegas
was
very much alive. I have to live with the fact that she might be dead now because of me.”
“You did everything you could. You can’t blame yourself because a man chose to commit an act of violence. You were injured trying to help. Most people would have run the other way.” Brody understood. Most people sense danger and run the other way. Cops and soldiers run toward trouble. Hannah had the same spirit. It was the very quality that drew him to her.
She was silent. She wasn’t going to give herself a break. He glanced around the quiet house. Moping around these empty rooms all day couldn’t be good for her. Hannah needed action.
“What have you been doing all day?”
Her brow crinkled. “Replaced my wallet and license. I took the dog for a walk.”
“That’s it?”
She shrugged. “We napped afterward. The dog was tired.”
Not good enough, and he doubted it was the dog that was tired. She was surely still sore from the assault and accident. “Tomorrow, I’d like to take you out to dinner.”
“You mean like a date?” Surprise lifted her voice.
“Yeah. Exactly like a date.”
Indecision crossed her face.
“It’s just dinner, Hannah. No big deal.”
“Feels like a big deal,” she said.
“We’ll keep it casual.” But it did, indeed, feel like a real BFD. When was the last time he was this nervous about asking a woman out? Dating seemed like a lot of effort, and he rarely connected with anyone. Until Hannah.
“I don’t know, Brody. I’m only in town for another week. Then I’m off to London for who knows how long. I’m not looking for anything permanent.”
“I’m aware of that.” Too aware. “Just dinner. Say yes. Take a risk. Unless you’re afraid,” he dared.
Her chin lifted, a spark of challenge brightening her eyes. “You’re on. But no funny stuff. Just dinner.”
“Deal.”
“It’ll have to be late, though. I have a follow-up with a neurologist tomorrow.” An irritated frown tugged at her mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Feel all right?”
“Yes. I’m still a little achy, and my ear isn’t a hundred percent, but otherwise, I feel fine.” She sighed. “I only made the appointment because my boss won’t let me come back to work without official clearance.”
Good for him.
“So if you pass, you can get back sooner?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Then why don’t you want to go?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to go.”
He said, “You looked irritated.”
But not as irritated as she looked now. Unfortunately—and perversely—he found the annoyed purse of her lips sexy.
She folded her arms across her waist. “Commuting to New York for a doctor’s appointment is inconvenient.”
“You couldn’t find a doctor closer?”
“My boss is picky. He insisted I see this particular doctor, which is ridiculous and unnecessary.”
Brody almost called bullshit and was instantly thankful that she had a boss who was concerned enough to look out for her. “Why don’t I take you? Three hours is a long drive if you’re not a hundred percent.”
“Not necessary. I wasn’t planning on driving. I can take the train into the city.”
“I didn’t say it was necessary. I’ll take you to New York. We can have dinner afterward.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“I’ll take the day off.” He was spinning his wheels on his case anyway, and the chief had been on him to take some of his unused vacation. Tomorrow would likely be another day of waiting, and even if the chief wasn’t happy, Brody didn’t like the idea of Hannah making that long trip alone. Either the victim or the perpetrator of the Vegas kidnapping had e-mailed her—twice. Two thousand miles could be covered in five hours by plane. As a bonus, he’d get to spend the whole day with Hannah. The longer they were together, the more he liked her. And the less he cared about her transient nature or their complicated relationship.
Brody collected his keys from the counter. “What time is your appointment?”
“One o’clock.”
“I’ll pick you up at nine. If we don’t get held up by traffic, we’ll have lunch before your appointment.”
“All right. Though we both know that won’t happen. Traffic in and out of New York is a given.” Hannah walked him to the foyer, flipped on the porch light, and opened the door. “Thank you for helping me.”
“You’re welcome.” Brody turned to face her. Tired, her face looked soft. His gaze dropped to her lips. Would it be inappropriate to kiss her now? Because he really wanted to do it. But this wasn’t the time, just as it hadn’t felt right early this morning. Some things couldn’t be rushed, he decided. When he kissed Hannah for the first time, he wanted her completely on board, not upset or confused. It was inevitable, though. He would kiss her. Soon.
“Good night, Hannah.”
“See you tomorrow, Brody.”
The door closed firmly behind him. He glanced over his shoulder as he stepped off the porch. She was watching him through the sidelight, and he instantly regretted not kissing her when he had the chance.
Chapter Fourteen
Frustration churned in Mick’s blood, making him edgy. He lowered the binoculars. Who was the guy walking the dog? His shape was obscure in the dark. Mick could see just enough of the figure to know it was male.
Mick had been staked out in the woods behind the blond’s house since darkness fell. His plan had been to snatch her while she was out back with the dog. He wasn’t worried about the mutt. Golden retrievers weren’t threatening, and Mick was good with dogs.
But that man had stolen Mick’s opportunity. He eased back into the woods, taking his time. Dead leaves formed a damp and quiet carpet under his boots as he sneaked away from the house. He crossed the street and ran back to his car, concealed behind some trees.
In the vehicle, he cranked up the heat. The temperature had dropped thirty degrees since they’d left Vegas. Maybe he and Sam should head south after they took care of business here. Forget the frigid Northeast. Everything about this trip had sucked.
He drove back to the house. The dogs were barking so he went out back and tossed them some more food. Sam had wanted to shoot them all, but Mick talked him out of it. The dogs hadn’t done anything wrong. Inside, Sam was sitting on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table, remote in his hand, eyes fixed on the TV.
“No one’s come looking for our host?” Mick asked.
“Nope. Phone hasn’t even rung.”
“We can’t stay here long. Someone will come looking for her eventually.” Mick jerked his thumb toward the back wall. “And the owners of those mutts will start showing up.”
“Closest neighbor is a half mile away, but you’re right. We should leave before we wear out our welcome.” Sam looked up. He took one look at his brother’s face, pointed the remote at the TV, and turned it off. “Let’s go out.”
“Where?” Mick went to the table and scooped a spoonful of coke. His supply was getting low. He hated this town. He hated the whole fucking state of New York.
“I don’t know. Must be a bar around here somewhere.” Sam stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “We need some noise. The quiet is creeping me out.”
Mick drove to the highway and cruised a couple of miles. They passed one restaurant. “Is that it? A fucking Applebee’s? This sucks.”
“Keep going. I’m not in the mood for screaming unless it’s female.”
Mick was feeling itchy, too. He’d been pumped to take care of the blond tonight. A couple of drinks would smooth him out. His stomach growled for a meal that didn’t come in a white paper sack.
“I see something.” Sam pointed.
Mick steered the Charger off the next exit. They spiraled the ramp and emerged at an intersection. Andy G’s Sports Bar occupied the near corner. A hundred yards up the road, a Hampton Inn glowed. A strip mall sat dark on the other. It was only ten, and the grocery store was closed. Small towns fucking sucked. Vegas started to roll at midnight.
“Doesn’t really look like our kind of place, does it?” Sam commented.
Mick didn’t feel like driving for another hour. He backed the Charger into a spot in the rear of the lot. Not that there were many other cars, but he didn’t want some asshole to ding his door. “It’ll do.”
They got out of the car. The wind blew straight down the back of Mick’s neck. He flipped up his hood. Fucking A, he hated the Northeast.
Locking the car, they crossed the asphalt to the entrance. The skinny white bitch who greeted them had a dozen eyebrow rings and ear gauges the size of quarters. A talent show played on a flat-screen mounted on the wall. Across the bar, another TV played a UFC fight.
“I wanna watch the fight,” Mick said.
“
’Kay.” She deposited them at a table with a direct view.
Mick pulled out a chair and sat, still edgy.
Sam tapped his fingers on the table. “Where the fuck is the waitress?”
Only two tables were occupied. A family of four sat in a booth near the door, and a single businesswoman read an electronic tablet over a plate of pasta. The two white-blond rug rats yammered. The nonstop whining tempted Mick to pull out his knife and slit both their pasty little throats. “Place is dead. Probably isn’t one. Go on up to the bar and get drinks and a menu.”
On his way back, Sam eyed the lone woman as he passed her table. He set two menus and a double shot of vodka in front of Mick. He jerked his head toward her. “I’d be interested in some of
that
.”
“
That’s
not on the menu tonight.” Mick unfolded the laminated cardboard.
“It could be.” Sam’s pupils were big as manhole covers. No wonder the coke supply was low.
The woman glanced around as if she could sense his scrutiny. The family gathered up their belongings and headed for the door. The two young boys shoved each other.
“Knock it off.” The father separated them. A pleasant quiet fell over the bar as they left.
Mick sipped his vodka. “Kids are fucking annoying. Why do people want them?”
But Sam didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the woman. Mick glanced at her. Wearing a black suit jacket and pants paired with a white shirt, she was in her mid to late twenties. Her brown hair fell in shiny waves just past her shoulders. With little makeup, she was normal-pretty. Wedding ring on her left hand. She was the sort of woman Mick wanted. Sam usually went for T and A. This woman didn’t have much of either. Course, that hadn’t stopped him with Joleen Walken.
Mick studied his brother. “Not your usual type.”
“I know.” Sam’s eyes gleamed with malice. They should have brought some weed to mellow him out. Coke brought out Sam’s mean streak, honed his nasty edge ’til it was switchblade-sharp. “Women like that don’t want anything to do with the likes of us. You got to
make
her do what you want. Woman like that might put up a good fight, too.”
“We don’t want to attract any attention.” Mick set the menu down. “I’m getting a burger.”
“Sounds good.” But Sam’s eyes remained on the brunette.
“Cool it.” Mick went to the bar and ordered two hamburgers and another round of drinks, hoping the vodka and food blunted Sam’s mood. Ten minutes later, the bartender brought their order to the table. Mick settled the bill with cash. They ate in silence. Sam didn’t mention the brunette again, and Mick hoped he’d let it go.
He tossed back the rest of his drink and stood. “This place isn’t helping. Let’s go.”
“I’ll meet you at the car.” Sam veered toward the men’s room.
Mick hunched his shoulders against the night air. Vegas might be hell on earth in the summer, but he didn’t miss the East Coast damp. He walked across the lot and slid behind the wheel. The leather froze his ass. He’d go back to the house and sleep. Tomorrow, he’d face the blond rested and fresh. She was going to challenge him, and he had payback to administer. His balls ached at the memory of her well-placed strike. She’d pay for that. The thought of extracting his vengeance from her perfect skin sent his pulse on a trip.
Anger and ideas of how to get even churned in his head. He’d never sleep if he was this excited. He opened his wallet and took out the blond’s license. Staring at her picture, he imagined her bound, gagged, and naked.
Tomorrow.
You’re mine.
He turned the key in the ignition. A faint cry from behind the car caught his attention. He glanced in the rearview mirror. The brunette slumped against Sam. His brother opened the back door and laid her on the seat. The girl stirred.
“Where did you get her?”
“She was walking toward the motel. No one saw. I had a stun gun in my bag.”
What else did his brother have in his duffel?
“Go.” Sam slid into the backseat.
Mick leaned across to the glove box. He pulled out a few zip ties and a roll of duct tape. He tossed the items over the seat to his brother. While Mick drove, Sam trussed the woman like a Thanksgiving turkey. She started getting lively, and he zapped her again. When they reached the house, Sam pulled her out and threw her across his shoulder. The dogs barked as they walked up to the mobile home and let themselves in with the key.
The woman let out a scream, the volume muffled by the duct tape across her mouth.
“Shut it.” Sam slapped her on the ass. “Or I’ll cut your tongue out.”
She went quiet, her voice dialing down to sobs.
Sam carried her to the bedroom. Tossing her on the mattress, he secured her bound wrists to the headboard. The brunette flopped.
“Why her? Why tonight?” Mick’s head spun with the possible complications. “We can’t keep snatching women. This isn’t Vegas. It’s a small town. People will notice.”
“I got her for you.” Sam sounded hurt. “And I told you no one saw.”
Above the gray rectangle, her eyes were round and bright with fear, but she was still struggling.
Women like that don’t want anything to do with the likes of us.
The thought of being with men like him or Sam was the end-of-the-world scenario to her. Rage rose in Mick’s chest. He deserved a woman like this. Clean. Classy. But they all thought they were so superior. There was only one way he’d ever get one. As usual, Mick would have to take what he wanted. It didn’t matter how much money he made, a woman like this brunette or the blond bitch could see through his new car and clothes to his dirty origins. He and Sam were garbage at the curb.
“We can’t keep her,” Mick said. “She’s too old.”
A woman like this would be useless to them. Men paid extra for young bodies. The demand was highest for underage girls, and the younger ones were easier to intimidate. Didn’t take much to control a teenager. Show them who’s boss, feed them some pills, and most of them were compliant. If they weren’t, there were profitable ways to dispose of them. This woman had to be near thirty, and she was anything but compliant.
“I wasn’t planning on keeping her for long.” Sam sat down on the chair by the bed to wait his turn.
Mick turned his attention to the woman. She twisted like a fish on a hook. High-pitched screams sounded behind the duct tape gag.
God damn, she’s loud.
“No dead bodies in my trunk.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.” Sam lit a cigarette. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his spread thighs. His posture was relaxed, but excitement danced in his dark eyes. “Want me to tie her feet down?”
“No. I’m in the mood for a fight.”