Authors: Lynde Lakes
Jill stripped and got into the shower. She began to relax a bit as the hot water beat down on her neck, but the warmth did nothing for the bruise on her hip. At least, she was alive.
How had the hit-and-run driver known she was in Dane’s car? Maybe the driver was the person who’d followed her. Did that mean he’d been watching her all this time? Was he outside now—waiting for her to be alone?
As she dried herself, she heard her dishwasher running. It was rather pleasant to have a bachelor around who was used to cleaning up after himself. She felt safer with him there. But, what about when the newscast was over and he left?
****
Morning light sliced through the blinds. Fighting the pain that shot from her neck into her skull, Jill eased out of bed. The accident had cost her a day, and she couldn’t afford another.
Please, God, don’t let the word NEXT printed in blood-red letters on the back of that picture mean the killer already has my sister.
By the way things were adding up she feared her prayer was too late.
Jill shivered and slipped into her robe. What she needed was a pain pill and a hot cup of coffee. She wondered what time Dane had left? Her breath caught at the fluttery feeling in her heart. She’d actually fallen asleep with him there, comforted by his nearness. Memories of his warm touch sent a surge of blood through her veins. He’d stuck by her in spite of her short temper. And he did make a mean omelet.
She didn’t want to like him, but she’d always been a sucker for a little kindness. Who was he really, good guy or part of the video underworld?
Jill stopped and stared at the sofa, unable to believe her eyes. Dane was still here!
The sight of his lean, shirtless body stretched out on her couch as if he belonged, made her heartbeat race. Her gaze trailed over his muscled shoulders, chest, and flat stomach. His dark curly chest hair formed a T and disappeared inside the waistband of his pants.
To her dismay, she felt twinges of arousal.
No. She couldn’t let herself feel this. This nervy reporter had invaded her home. Suppose she’d walked out here naked? She yanked the pillow out from under his head and flung it into his face.
Dane’s hand flew upward. “Hey!” His voice was deep, gravelly with lingering sleepiness.
“Why are you still here?” She raked a hand through her sleep-tangled hair and belted her robe tighter.
“How could I leave you alone after some madman smeared blood on your mirror?” He propped himself up on his elbows. “Besides, your car is still at the newspaper parking lot. I figured you’d need a ride.”
She stood erect and forced a hard tone. “How thoughtful.” It would be a mistake to let him know how he’d stirred her emotions. Really, she was more furious at herself than him.
“It
was
a sacrifice.”
Jill turned up the collar of her robe and scowled, even though deep inside she liked the idea that he’d wanted to protect her. “You’ve overstepped your boundaries, Dane.”
“But you’re safe. Hey, I know a place that makes the best Belgian waffles in town. Hungry?”
She headed for the kitchen. “All I need is my pain pill, some coffee—and privacy.”
“You need to keep your strength up,” he said, following right on her heels. “You were just in an accident. Besides, having breakfast together will give us a chance to brainstorm this thing.”
He leaned against the counter and folded his muscular arms. “To find Tess, you should be willing to deal with anybody who’ll speed the process. Including me.”
Jill lifted her chin. He knew all the buttons to push, but she wouldn’t fall for it this time. “I’m through dealing with the devil.”
His face hardened. “I don’t deserve that. Can’t you see how important it is to me to help you find Tess? I care about her, too.” He stepped forward again, this time close enough to touch. He towered above her. “Dammit, Jill, we’re on the same side.”
“Are we?”
His bare chest, matted with curly dark hair, irked her. A man who flaunted his body like some stallion stud could be involved in pornography.
She grabbed a clean glass from the dishwasher and tossed down a gulp of water and her pill. She slammed the glass down on the counter and brushed past him. “I have to get dressed.” She raked his torso with her gaze. “You might consider doing the same.”
While Jill slipped into a dark slacks suit, she thought about Dane’s connection to the studio and his friendship with young models almost half his age. If he were involved with the seamy side of the video world she would uncover it. She returned to the living room in a worse mood than when she’d left. Dane was waiting. The dark stubble on his face enhanced his rugged-male appearance. He handed her a cup of coffee. “You look like you need this.”
Probably his kindness was just a ploy to get his story. She wished it wasn’t so. “Thanks.” She took a gulp of the scalding liquid, then put the cup down. Were the blisters forming on her palate an omen?
Dane followed right behind her as she stomped out the door. “I like to glance at the headlines,” he said. “Do you get the paper?”
She leaned over the porch rail and yanked aside the camellia bushes, exposing
The Chronicle’s
usual hiding spot beneath her living room window. “Help yourself.”As Dane stooped to get the newspaper out of the muddy soil, he frowned. Jill saw the boot prints an instant after he did.
****
Tess hated her kidnapper, hated herself for being so gullible. He’d left her huddled against a damp concrete wall in inky darkness, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. She was freezing, and her hands and feet were numb from the lack of circulation.
She tried to loosen the ropes that cut into her ankles and wrists, but the more she wriggled, the tighter the ropes became. Now what was she going to do? If only she’d listened to Jill. Time and time again, she’d warned her about her impulsiveness. Tears burned behind Tess’ lids, but she refused to cry.
Don’t give in to it
, she told herself.
Just don’t give in.
Her stomach rumbled from hunger. She tried to swallow past the gag. Her mouth and throat were desert dry. How long could she survive without food or water? How long would her bladder hold out in this cold place before she’d wet herself?
Her heart pounded in a panic-driven beat.
No, no, stay calm.
If she wanted to get out of this she had to keep her head and pay attention. Sounds. Smells. In the darkness, it was all she had.
Earlier she’d heard a foghorn. How long had she been here? Was it day or night? She smelled fish and salty air. That didn’t tell her much. She could be anywhere along the coast.
Vanity and impatience had drawn her into the grasp of a crazy man. In the beginning, he’d been so charming. What did he want from her? Maybe ransom. She hoped that was all he wanted.
Oh no!
Ellen had seen her pack a bag and believed she was going away on business. Her heart sank. That meant that no one would even know she was missing. And even if they learned about it, her circuitous route had made her trail impossible to follow.
She’d been duped big time by that slimeball. And all because she was in such a rush to make it big.
Had he left her here to die? The possibility that he might return scared her even more than a slow death.
Chapter Sixteen
As Dane and Jill passed Golden Gate Park, she closed her eyes and prayed—
please, Lord, let Tess be safe.
The words on the back of Tess’ picture, the blood-smeared mirror, and boot prints were all left by the serial killer. She was convinced of that now. The same lab techs who had dusted for fingerprints the night before had cast the footprints. Being part of the joint local-federal team, they were well aware of the possible Snuff-Video connection and the urgency.
The maniac had narrowed his scope, coming up close, threatening her sister, now stalking her. He wanted her to cringe in fear. To back down. He had to know she’d risk anything to find her sister.
It wasn’t until Dane pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant that she realized he hadn’t taken her back to her car. “What the devil are we doing here? I don’t have time to eat.” The clock ticking in Jill’s head grew louder, the hands circling on fast-forward.
“If you insist,” Dane said, “we’ll grab something to go. But I think we’ll both do a better job if we take a few minutes to fuel our furnaces. Do you want to land back in the hospital flat on your back?”
Before she could protest further, he was out of the car and had opened her door. She hated to give in. But as she stood, she knew he was right. Her legs almost buckled beneath her. “This’d better be quick.”
Jill was acutely aware of Dane’s firm grip on her arm. He seemed to know she needed steadying. She would have jerked away except the warmth of his fingers pressed into her skin felt so good. And she didn’t want to fall on her face, especially in front of him.
For a moment she allowed herself to fantasize that he was as straightforward and caring as he claimed. But he was as big a fake as this pancake house—this colonial sham of frilly curtains and maple furniture. He wanted his story and was probably only being kind to her to get an inside track.
The hostess seated them across from each other at the only unoccupied table. Waitresses bustled around them, arms loaded with plates of food. Breakfast smells of bacon and freshly baked breads made her realize how much she needed food. She glanced at her watch. “Let’s order something fast and easy.”
“The Bureau’s investigating that. Almost pinned down the creator of the website. Then he disappeared.” She clutched the hot mug between stiff fingers. “Do you have a line on a new site?”
“I have someone working on it.”
Dane’s husky voice struck a vulnerable cord with her. He sounded so determined. His face was lean, the lines of his jaw rugged. For a moment, her mind blocked out everything but Dane and the electricity that charged between them.
Dane’s pupils darkened. He touched her hand. “Maybe the killer made his first slip-up with those boot prints.”
Jill moistened her lips. “I’d like to believe that, but carelessness doesn’t fit his profile. He’s clever, unpredictable.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” His voice deepened with concern. “The prints were probably made with someone else’s boots and left on purpose, to frighten or to throw you off.”
Jill shredded her napkin with the tines of her fork. “That fits. The killer thrives on escalating his victims’ fear.” She looked away, not wanting Dane to see how well it was working.
She felt like there was a hurricane in her head, a depression with a mass of swirling rain clouds, with speeds increasing, confusing and heading for a full blown hurricane, with Dane Clark pretending to lead her out of the eye of the storm to a safe haven for herself and her missing sister.
A customer at the counter turned and glanced their way. This wasn’t the first time he’d looked at them. Her edginess rubbed her nerves raw.
He wore an oversized leather jacket and a baseball cap that nearly met the top of his dark glasses. The base of Jill’s neck prickled. Did those glasses conceal the eyes of the driver who had rammed into them?
Dane captured and held her gaze. Those warm brown eyes held the same sultry look they had earlier that morning when he lay on her couch, bare-chested and all male.
With burning cheeks, Jill reached for the glass of cold water and almost knocked it over.
Jill felt the man in the leather jacket staring at her again. She snapped back into control. He might not be the person who had rammed them, but she wasn’t taking any chances—she locked his bulldog likeness in her mind.
Another man sat down next to the truck driver and filled the whole space with his broad, firm-muscled presence. Her breath caught. It was the night manager from the Jester’s Motel. His bad-boy calendar shady looks were unforgettable.
“Nothing.” She often had to keep things back to protect her case and the Bureau. It was part of the job. So why did she feel a twinge of guilt?
Fortunately, the waitress chose that moment to bring the food. “Good grief, would you look at those waffles.”
But it wasn’t the golden cakes, buried in fresh, plump strawberries and topped with high mounds of whipped cream that held her attention. It was the Jester’s Motel night manager.
Was he here by chance? This was a popular restaurant only a mile from the motel. But it was too much of a coincidence.
Jill mentally listed what she’d learned in the last few days: the killer had a connection to the studio, the Jester’s Motel, and the university. Who else besides Dane had a connection to all three? The night manager could be linked to only two. But what if he was also connected to the university?