He thought of the last time he’d seen Tony. How he’d cried and
whimpered as he’d sliced him up. The terror had indeed been beautiful. He
squeezed Nora’s hand. “You’re so much more beautiful than him, Nora. I’ve always
thought so. I’ll make you forget him.”
Nora stared at him uncomprehendingly. Then she flushed and
pulled her hands back. Stiffness transformed her features, and she stood,
stuffing books into her backpack with violence.
“Don’t be scared,” he said. “I love you. I’ll never hurt you
the way he did....”
Nora stopped and looked at him with confusion. “Hurt me? Tony
never hurt me! He was perfect. A wonderful person.”
Jealousy overwhelmed him. “Perfect?” He scowled. “You think so?
Is that why he laughed at you behind your back? I’d never do that. I appreciate
who you are. I’ve been waiting for you. Watching you.”
Nora paled, and he felt ashamed of himself for lashing out at
her. He reached out for her hand, but she flinched away as if he’d slapped
her.
“You’ve been watching me? What—what does that mean? What do you
mean Tony laughed at me behind my back? Why are you saying that?”
“It’s true. He thought you were a joke. He didn’t love you the
way I do.”
Nora’s eyes bulged. “Love me? You’re crazy!”
Brad stared at her and clenched his fists. “Don’t call me
crazy.” Shaking his head, he reached out a hand to her, trying to ignore the
fact it trembled. “I’m not crazy. I love you—”
“Don’t touch me!” She flinched away, grabbed her things then
spied the business cards on the table. She picked them up and threw one at him.
“Here. You need this a lot more than I do. Get some help!”
Nora ran away, and that’s when he noticed the stunned silence
in the café. All of the remaining customers looked at him with varying degrees
of shock and amusement. Brad flushed at their stares, mortification overwhelming
him. He touched his face, feeling the skin that suddenly felt rough.
Distorted.
Bending over, he picked up the card Nora had thrown at him.
Once he straightened, he backed up, stumbling over a table and chair. Rushing to
the restroom, he slammed the door and locked it. His heart threatened to pound
out of his chest, and he looked in the mirror fearfully.
It was faint, barely visible, but he could see it. The once
smooth skin had started to ripple. His complexion was no longer pure.
Pain filled him at Nora’s rejection.
How could she reject him after all he’d done for her? For a
moment, he imagined punishing her. Stripping her naked and torturing her.
Telling her how he’d tortured Tony and how it was all her fault.
He whimpered. No. He loved her. She was his angel. It was
Tony’s fault. Tony must have seduced her. Turned her against him.
Someone knocked on the door, the sound jolting through him and
making him flinch in fear. Had the police returned?
More knocking. “Come on. I’ve gotta use the can, man!”
Tony turned on the water and splashed some on his face. He
opened the door, kept his gaze down and walked out. He sensed the young man
waiting to use the restroom looking at him before he shut the door behind
him.
He tried to ignore the people in the café, but he sensed the
snickers and stares directed toward him. They were mocking him again. Just like
before.
As he passed the table where Nora had sat, he noticed the card
that she’d thrown at him. He bent down and picked it up.
It was a card.
A card for a Dr. Lana Hudson.
The shrink Nora had mentioned.
Calmness descended upon him like a hazy cloak.
He smiled.
He understood now. He’d thought Tony was the final victim. The
one who would complete him. Obviously he’d been wrong. His transformation wasn’t
complete yet.
He remembered the way the cops had shaken his confidence. He’d
shown weakness, however brief. No wonder Nora had turned from him. Females
gravitated to the strongest male because they wanted to be protected. She must
have sensed his weakness and run from it.
He needed to reassert his power. And quickly.
He rubbed his cheek again. It was still there, under the
surface. He wouldn’t allow it to come back. Not the scar. Not the fear. Not the
powerlessness.
He caressed the card he held. He’d go ahead with his plans.
Send the police on the hunt for his foster father. And while they were doing
that, when they thought they’d won, he’d hunt down one of their own.
Then he’d be back for Nora. One way or another, she’d realize
she was his.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A
FTER
MEETING
WITH
Nora Lopez and doing a bit more investigative work
at the college, Carrie and Jase reported what they’d gathered to Commander
Stevens. Subsequently, Carrie took a detour to Lana’s office. She’d wanted to
discuss their theory about Darwin being scarred, but Lana wasn’t there. She was
heading back to SIG to meet Jase when Carrie caught sight of a familiar face. Bo
Havens, her friend from the SFPD SWAT team.
“Well, look at you, girl. How are you doing?” Bo gave her a
hug. “You should stop by McGill’s and say hello to the boys tonight. It’s been a
while since we’ve seen you.”
Carrie smiled. She really liked Bo and almost all the other men
on her former SWAT team. But she felt drained by the events of the past few
days. By witnessing the incredible grief on Nora Lopez’s face when she’d learned
that her friend Tony Higgs had died.
She shook her head. “No. I won’t be able to make it. But you
have a great time. Tell everyone I said hi.”
“Even Pete?” Bo smirked.
Carrie’s stomach contracted at the mention of the SWAT sniper’s
name, but she simply smiled wider. “Even Pete.”
Bo winked at her and waved. Carrie turned the corner, then came
to an abrupt stop when she saw Jase. The affection she’d felt for Bo was
suddenly replaced by something more intense. More primitive. More alive.
She didn’t know why, but each time she saw Jase, she felt her
heart expand just a bit more, until it was in her throat.
He sat slouched in his chair, his hands shoved into his pockets
and staring up at the ceiling. He looked up when she walked up next to him.
“Hey, Ward. Did I hear you talking to someone?”
“Someone from my old SWAT team,” she confirmed. “Both of them,
actually. He was with the Austin SWAT team with me, too, and we both ended up
working for SFPD. Bo Haven. A good guy. He was inviting me to stop by and see
the team at McGill’s and I…” With the name of the bar echoing in her head,
Carrie suddenly thought of Brad Turner, the young man who’d worked at the
college café. The one who looked a lot like the bartender at McGill’s. Was it
possible that she’d seen him there, too? And if she had, could that mean
anything, especially since Kelly Sorenson had been at McGill’s just before she’d
been killed?
“What is it?” Jase asked.
Carrie automatically shook her head, not wanting to give her
thoughts too much credence before she could actually confirm what they meant.
“The guy at the college café earlier today. His name’s Brad Turner. I thought I
recognized him. I suddenly wondered if it could be because I saw him at
McGill’s. I mean…he looks a lot like the bartender, Lance Reynolds. But he knew
Tony Higgs. Maybe he knew Kelly Sorenson, too? Her picture seemed to ring a bell
with him but maybe there’s more to it.”
“That would certainly be a relevant connection. But you can’t
be sure you’ve seen him there?”
She shook her head. “Still, I want to go to McGill’s and check
it out.”
“I’ll meet you there. I’ll swing by the café first. See if I
can talk to him.”
“Okay. Thanks, Jase.”
Less than thirty minutes later, Carrie stepped into McGill’s.
She was immediately greeted by several people, including some of the guys from
SWAT.
After making brief small talk, Carrie headed straight to an
older woman tending the bar. “Hi, I’m Special Agent Carrie Ward. I’m looking for
someone I’ve seen here before. Tall. Blondish hair. Dimples. Sound
familiar?”
“Sounds like a dozen kids I see in here every night. It even
sounds like a bartender that works here.”
“Right. Lance Reynolds.” She was right. Both Brad and Lance had
similar looks to a few guys at the bar right now. So maybe she hadn’t seen Brad
Turner here. Maybe she’d only thought she had.
“You know Lance?” the female bartender asked her.
“We’ve talked. But I’m looking for someone else. I’ll probably
come back tomorrow with a photo, just to make sure you haven’t seen him before,
okay?”
“Sure, hon. Whatever you say.”
“Thanks.” She turned and caught sight of a glass bowl sitting
on the bar. It was filled with business cards that would be entered into a
drawing for a free this or a free that. It was a common marketing tool, one
she’d seen at many delis and restaurants. Even cafés.
She turned to the female bartender. “Do you mind if I look
through those business cards?”
“Help yourself,” she said before turning to fill an order.
Carrie walked to the bowl and rifled through it. Then she
dumped the whole thing out onto the bar before sorting through the cards. One—a
green one—caught her attention, and she swore. She picked up another one. And
then another. Three of Kelly Sorenson’s business cards. Not the purple one she’d
given Jase, but the kind that DeMarco had gotten from Lance Reynolds.
The minute she saw Jase walk into McGill’s, Carrie moved toward
him. She handed him one of the green cards she’d found.
He read it and frowned. “Kelly Sorenson. Her business
card.”
“Yes. The same kind Susan Ingram gave us. There’s two more of
them in the bowl by the bar.”
“So?”
“So anyone could have seen her drop her card in there and taken
it. Or jotted down her contact information and given her a call. Maybe that’s
why we can’t verify she left with anyone in particular that night. Maybe she
didn’t leave with someone per se, but maybe someone called her after she left.
And told her he got her card from McGill’s. That’s what Susan Ingram said. That
Kelly met a client from McGill’s. Not that she actually left McGill’s with
one.”
“Okay. So it’s a distinction. But what does it mean?”
“It means maybe no one saw her leave with someone from
McGill’s, but she still met up with someone from McGill’s. Someone that was here
that night. Someone I saw.”
“Someone, meaning the guy from the café?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. But we need to push for those records
from Kelly’s cell-phone company.”
“I swung by Steam, but the place was shut down.”
“Damn. And I haven’t had any luck verifying whether Brad
Turner’s been here, not without a photo. But we can rectify that tomorrow. Maybe
even see if Steam has a bowl filled with business cards, too.”
“Right. If Sorenson dumped her cards here, why not there, too?
And if she did, why not Tammy Ryan? Maybe we can connect Darwin’s vics that way.
But until then…it’s late. What now?”
What now? Now she wanted to take some aspirin. Her head was
beginning to pound and she suddenly remembered Stevens’s orders to get some rest
before she broke. It was now sounding like very sound advice. “Should we head
home?” she asked Jase, noting that he looked pretty shot, too.
Then she realized what she’d said.
Home. As if they had a common home to go to. Except for the one
night they’d spent together at her place, she’d been sleeping at his place. Even
after they’d discovered Ryan, even though her house was habitable once more,
she’d crashed on his sofa. She’d left her stuff at his house.
His.
Not hers. Never hers.
“Our respective homes, I meant,” she clarified, trying to hide
her embarrassment, as well as her disappointment. She didn’t want to go back to
her place. Not without Jase.
“I know what you meant,” he said quietly. “Listen, I know your
house is fine now, but how about—”
“Hey, Carrie! You decided to join us. Awesome.”
Carrie stared at Jase, willing him to complete the offer he’d
been about to make. But he didn’t, leaving her with no choice but to turn toward
the man who’d called out to her. “Hi, Bo. This is Special Agent Jase Tyler.
Jase, this is Bo Haven.”
“Hi, Bo. Carrie thinks highly of you.”
“Wish I could say the same, Tyler, but I haven’t heard of
you.”
Jase just grinned. “Doesn’t surprise me a bit. Carrie tends to
be closemouthed about what’s really important to her.”
Bo laughed and Carrie blushed. “We were just about to leave,”
Carrie said.
“Come on over and say hello to the rest of the guys first.”
“I don’t know, Bo. We’re both tired.”
“Too tired to say a quick hello? Come on, girl. You’re not on
the team anymore, but we’re still friends, aren’t we?”
She looked at Jase. “You can go ahead—”
“No. I’d like to meet your old team.”
The way he said that had her frowning, but it was too late. Bo
led them to a table in the back.
* * *
A
S
J
ASE
WATCHED
, the group of men greeted Carrie warmly.
She, in turn, seemed to take genuine pleasure in seeing them
all. Jase remembered what she’d said about feeling more like a team member on
SWAT than she did on SIG. But he also remembered what she’d said about SWAT not
being fully ready for a female member. He saw no sign of that here and wondered
what she’d meant. Hoping to get some insight into her past, he decided to stay
awhile. “I’m going to get us a drink. Beer?” he asked her.
She frowned slightly, then nodded her head. “Sure. A Bud Light,
please.”
* * *
J
ASE
WINCED
AND
THE
GUYS
groaned at her wimpy choice in alcohol. She
shrugged her shoulders. She could barely stomach the taste of beer anyway, but
she’d learned to adjust while she was hanging out with guys. And since that’s
pretty much the only gender she spent time with…
As Jase walked away, Carrie followed him with her gaze until he
got to the bar. There, an extremely short and feminine-looking waif of a woman
with long blond hair and lots of cleavage started talking to him. Jase smiled,
and the sight made Carrie both happy and sad. He looked good, when he smiled. He
always looked good and that was something that women would forever be drawn to.
Jase would never lack for female company. As soon as they caught Darwin, he’d
remember why he’d dated so many of them before getting involved with Carrie.
Rich Andrews spoke up. “Good-looking guy, Carrie.”
Carrie couldn’t help it. She laughed at his exaggerated drawl.
Andrews was gay, but the only people who knew that were sitting at the table
with him.
Luke French and Bo groaned again, and Bo hit Andrews in the
arm. “Shit, man. Cut that crap. You need to get your gaydar fixed. There’s no
way that guy’s gay.”
“So?” Andrews laughed, shrugging. “I can still enjoy the view.
Besides, no one would think I’m gay, either, dude. Gaydar is a myth.” He had
something there. Andrews looked about as alpha-male as one could get without
scaring little children on sight.
Bo turned to her. “Heard you closed a big case. Good for you,
gal. A serial killer, huh? Man, you’ve got balls.”
She winced inwardly. Cojones. Courage. She remembered what
Mansfield had said to Jase at the Sorenson crime scene. Something about her
being made of steel. If only they knew. She just shrugged. “Someone has to work
them. Why not me? What have you heard about it? Anything about the guy’s
M.O.?”
Something bumped her in the shoulder, and she turned to find
Jase standing behind her with a couple of beers, noting that he’d chosen a dark
pilsner for himself. She took her light beer and sat in one of the vacant seats.
Jase joined her.
“Nope,” Bo said. “I figured you guys were keeping that on the
down-low for a reason.”
“We were,” Jase said. “But someone’s been talking. Now we have
a copycat on our hands.”
“Shit. Talk about double trouble. You close to finding him? Or
her?” he said with a playful glance at Carrie.
Jase shook his head. “We’re still knee-deep in interviews and
link analysis. Trying to find a connection between the victims. If he could have
targeted them from a single location. We haven’t come up with anything solid
yet.”
“Copycat, huh? I wonder if the first guy knows about it? If he
didn’t like being copied, well, that would be one way to draw both of them out,
don’t you think?”
She sensed Jase stiffen next to her. “What do you mean?” she
asked.
Bo shrugged. “Even stone-cold killers, maybe
especially
stone-cold killers, have their pride. If
someone was going about methodically killing people, he probably wouldn’t like
it if he knew someone was passing off the killings as his, you know?”
Jase nodded. “That makes sense.”
Carrie agreed. “It does. And it would go both ways, wouldn’t
it? Maybe the copycat wouldn’t want the competition being dished out by the
killer he was copying. What if—”
“Well, well. If it isn’t Wonder Woman,” came the voice of the
last man Carrie wanted to hear.
* * *
J
ASE
WATCHED
THE
TALL
,
muscular man with the
blond buzz cut walk up behind Carrie and grab her shoulders, kneading them
roughly for several seconds. He tamped down his immediate desire to cut the
guy’s hands off and instead studied Carrie’s face. She looked like she was
bracing for battle.
“Hey, Ward. Good to see you,” the man said to her before
turning to Jase. He held out his hand. “I’m Pete Taylor. SWAT sniper.” He said
it like it was an official title.
Jase looked at Carrie, then back at Pete. Raised his right
hand, which still held his beer. “Jase Tyler. Not a sniper.”
Pete looked at him for a moment, confused. He then laughed,
obviously not getting Jase’s sarcasm. High-fiving the other men, Pete sat down
on the other side of Jase. He rubbed his hands together.
“Shit, did you guys check out the Grade-A tail that’s in here
tonight? Look at the chick in the red miniskirt. We are going to get some
serious action tonight.”
Jase almost choked on his beer at Pete’s crass words. He looked
at Carrie, but she avoided eye contact. Silence descended while all the men
sitting at the table glared at Pete. He pretended not to know why. “What? What’d
I say?”